From the History Books Historical Archives of Altin Text related to the ancient history of Aalynors Nexus & the world of Altin. Creation from the Void up to recent events. The History of the Realms The History of the Realms has been posted in several parts, and will continue to be added to as the story unfolds. A significant amount of time has transpired between each chapter of the history. The Beginning In the beginning, there was Void. From Void were born two brothers, Aalynor and Tilnar, unique and alone in Void. While their own companionship and love for each other was great, the brothers grew bored of Void, and so, began to create. The brothers forged the world from Void, populating it with bird and animal, fish and flower, until the world teemed with life. The brothers then created creatures in their own image. The Daer'lin, were beings much like the brothers themselves, able to reason, and to create. For a millennium, the Daer'lin thrived, and there was want for nothing. The Daer'lin built a great society with poetry, artwork and literature beyond any seen since. However, as the first thousand years passed, the Daer'lin began to stagnate. No new artwork were created, their society was frozen in place. The oldest of the Daer'lin grew bored with their pointless existence, there was no need for them to improve themselves as the gods provided them with all they needed, no need to do anything today when it could be done the next day. The brothers were saddened to see what had become of their beloved creations, and pondered the situation greatly. They assembled a council of thirteen, the greatest minds of the Daer'lin, one from each region, to discuss what could be done. Each member of the council discussed the issue with their fellows in the area, and then went to meet the Great Council. The Council decided that things would need to change for the Daer'lin, although each had their own idea for what would improve their people. However, all agreed that immortality was one of the greatest problems. And so, as the brothers created life, Tilnar sadly accepted the responsibility to end it. Each of the Daer'lin's solutions to improve their race were used upon the Daer'lin in that area, and so were born the races of Human, Elf, Dwarf, Hobbit, Gnome, Troll, Orc, Giant, Goblin, Dragon, Gnoll, Ogre and Renis. The Council members were each assigned a task to watch over, and given the power to do so. For five centuries, the world flourished once more. Tilnar would only Touch those who had led full and complete lives, or who suffered greatly. The diversity and new challenges met by the races caused them to once more grow and better themselves. Tilnar married Dilanis, one of the ascended Daer'lin. The remaining Daer'lin handled their responsibilities well, although their powers and influences began to define them. Malakai became Lord of Justice. Pandora became Mistress of Hope. Dilanis became Mistress of Love. Vrackon became Lord of Hardship. Twilia became Mistress of Night and Darkness. Enchantress became the Mistress of Greed, Lust and Desire. Novind became Lord of Chaos. Plekto became Lord of Theft. Erisar became Lord of Hunt and Battle. Maana became Mistress of Magic. Rudestyle became Lord of Wine and Revelry. Arskol became Lord of Knowledge. Andaras became Mistress of Arts and Beauty. And so, the world knew fifteen gods. The cooperation between the races was great, and the thirteen races combined to build the Nexus, City of All Races. Each of the races built a settlement in the area around the city, and trade between them and the Nexus flowed freely. The spirit of harmony was such that interracial marriages became a common thing, to the point of Half-elves and Half-Orcs nearly being considered races in their own right. But the power corrupted some of the Daer'lin, and so, they began to scheme amongst themselves. Enchantress, Novind, Twilia, Plekto, Vrackon developed a scheme that they thought would keep the other gods busy... She set the races to war. Enchantress seduced Erisar, that his battle skills would be used for Darkness. So ended the golden age. The War of the Races was bloody and horrible. The pacifistic Renis were completely destroyed, while the Dragons removed themselves from the affairs of the 'lesser' races. During this war, the elven people were divided, as they are now, between the sylvan elves of Light, and the drow elves of Darkness. The gods of Darkness waited for the others to enter the conflict, to attempt to stop the battles and bloodshed. Tilnar cried as he was forced to Touch multitudes wounded cruelly in battle and his realm filled with the souls of innocents, killed before their appointed times. His tears formed a sea on the world, its water bitter, yet full of life. As Aalynor and Malakai led the gods of Light in fighting the gods of Darkness, Tilnar retreated to his realm. The gods fought each other, a battle across the skies that devastated the world, killing over half of those who dwelled upon it. Energies of battle spilled over into the world, creating strange and deadly creatures. The land was ravaged, new seas filling over grassland, and old fertile land being blighted. The battle was fierce, with many of the gods of Light, unused to battle, perishing at the hands of the gods of Darkness. Andaras was the first to fall, followed by Arskol. The gods of Light managed to fell Erisar, using Maanaa's magic. Plekto fled the battle, and the tide seemed to be turning. The gods of Darkness had lost their strategist and warrior, and were being forced back. Victory seemed assured for the Light. Plekto, who had not fled, but hidden, emerged from his hiding place to strike down Dilanis. As Dilanis' soul appeared in Tilnar's realm, Tilnar's scream could be heard across all the planes of existence. His beloved wife was now a shade of what she once was. Tilnar's eyes began to burn with a black fire, and he tore a hole across the realms to emerge at the battle. Tilnar appeared, and Aalynor drew the gods of Light away from him, sensing the madness and sorrow that had overtaken him. The gods of Darkness surrounded Tilnar, attempting to strike down the newly arrived god. Tilnar screamed with pain from their attacks, feeling his life-force flowing out from him. Tilnar's gods-powers were fading, and his fevered mind demanded vengeance. Tilnar, now consumed by the black fire, Touched Plekto. A horrible wail ensued, and Plekto's form and spirit both fell to pieces, then to ash. Plekto's power began to flow into Tilnar, black and violet streams of pure energy. The gods of Darkness attempted to flee, but Tilnar, strengthened by Plekto's energies, Touched them each in turn. As the powers of the gods of Darkness flowed into Tilnar, Maanaa approached him, to try to heal the wounds of his form. Tilnar, reveling in power, Touched her. Maanaa died, as horribly as had the others, her power flowing into Tilnar. Tilnar began to approach his fellow gods, those of the Light, when Aalynor stood before him. Aalynor said nothing, and stared into his brothers eyes. Tilnar's blood lust was broken, the madness faded from his eyes. Tilnar fired a bolt of black fire from himself, scorching the earth, and opening a great chasm. However, the influences of the Dark powers that flowed into him, and of the sadness and hatred he felt would not allow Tilnar to join the Light. Tilnar returned to his realm, and asked Aalynor to remove the souls of the truly innocent. Tilnar's realm became a place of pain, madness and torture. And so, the world knew five gods, with Tilnar fallen into Darkness. The war of the races ended soon afterwards, without the divine aid, the goblins were small match to the assembled races. While the gods-battle seemed to only take a few hours, it had spanned several centuries on the world, and most of the races grew weary of battle. The elves sealed themselves in the forests, the dwarves in their mountains, and one by one, the races were divided. Humans remained in Nexus, as Pandora visited them, maintaining the spirit of Hope within them. As the centuries went by, humanity made contact once more with its former allies. Favourable relations were forged, based on Pandora's hope, with nearly all of the original races. However, magic spilled over from the gods-battle had changed many of the races. The Giants, once a proud and noble race, had been divided based upon the magic that struck them. Many had degenerated becoming the unintelligent and brutish Stone and Hill Giants; others maintained some of their intellect, but the influences of the dark gods had made them evil and crafty, thus creating the Frost and Fire Giants. The few who were not changed in mind absorbed some of the magic released with the death of the gods, becoming the Storm Giants. In an attempt to 'save' their brothers, the Storm Giants magically combined the essence of the Stone Giants with the essence of humanity, creating the Half-Giants known today. But, the worst effected of all the races were the kobolds and goblins. Once a beautiful race, the goblins, who had freely embraced the shadow, were given forms to meet their black hearts. They viewed this as unfair punishment, and sought to regain their lost beauty, or to inflict a similar punishment upon the other races. While their new physical forms were in no way dangerous, the goblins too had absorbed some of the magic from the gods-battle, giving them each a unique magical ability. With each goblin having what they call "Tilnar's Gift", they had become a force to be reckoned with. They were quick to enslave the kobolds, who like the goblins, had lost their beauty and intellect during the wars, and had so become a cowardly race, wanting to walk in darkness, without the courage to do so. While the races rebuilt, each free to choose their own destiny, to walk in Aalynor's Light or in Tilnar's Darkness, and the bonds of unity slowly grew between them, the goblins gained garnered their strength, adding the physical might of the Hill and Stone Giants to their own. The goblins found the Dragons, and saw that they had suffered a similar fate to the giants, made worse, no doubt, by their natural affinity for magic. The Dragons, unheard from in a millennium, had become a people divided, who's power and ethos were now based upon the colour of scale. The goblins sought out the Dragons of Darkness, and promised them power and wealth, if they were to join in the army. So were born the goblin hoardes. The peoples of Nexus enjoyed another age of peace, their rebuilding complete, and their fellowships restored. This age came to an end, however, with the flowing tide of the goblin hoardes. The goblins struck quickly, and from all sides, sealing off the racial settlements around the Nexus. The Goblins then laid siege to the City of All Races, and only the magical barriers in the City Walls, and the powers of the assembled adventurers has kept them at bay. The Time of Darkness And so came the eighth sign of Void. A month of perfect darkness - blackness so deep that not even the infra-vision of the elves, orcs and dwarves could penetrate it. Nothingness so heavy that even the power of the gods themselves could not pierce it... The flickering flames of candles were all but invisible against the 30 days of unnatural night, with even the light of torches and lanterns barely piercing the blanket of gloom, shedding little more than enough light to cover those who held them..... Yet, still, Nexus prepared for war - what choice did it have? The mages, clerics and bards were spread thin, using their magic to try to combat the eternal, starless night, their spells keeping the training fields lit as the fighters, barbarians, paladins and rangers tried to impart their skills to those that were once farmers around the city, now part of the Nexus Militia. Adventurers, Nexus' greatest strength, have been integrated into the War Machine, training these new troops, obtaining new equipment for them, planning strategies for the inevitable attack, and holding the town against the unleashed hoardes of demons.... Aalynor and Tilnar called together their children, the gods, to plan as well. Unable to put an end to the eternal night, powerless in the face of Void's power, so much greater than their own, they were to use the time to plan and prepare, to garner their strength, for even as Nexus prepared war with the stronger goblins, so did the gods have to face Void. Trista, Pandora, Novind, Kyorl, Erisar, Andaras gathered with the Brothers.... All of the gods, save one, heeded the call. He who had left the world and refused to perform his tasks months ago, turned his back on the Tribunal - forsaking the World which he was to watch over. Tilnar demanded Malakai join the Tribunal, screaming that only the allied power of all the gods could stand before Void, and fight to ensure that there was still a world over which to watch. Malakai was unswayed by the words, stating that Void had come to destroy creation, and not the gods - and that only creation had refused Justice - and so it would be without it. As Malakai spoke, the black fire burst from Tilnar's eyes, dropping the Lord of Death to his knees.... mortals were dying by the thousands due to Void, each death sparking a new flame within Tilnar's soul. Malakai approached, to attempt to ease Tilnar's pain, for in his mind he had not forsaken the gods, only the mortals, and Tilnar repeated that only the allied powers of all the gods would be sufficient, and reached out his dark hand, Touching Malakai. As Malakai's soul withered into nothingness, the powers of the Lord of Justice flooded into Tilnar. The black flames escaped, exploding around him, destroying Malakai's realm in their dark fury. Aalynor appeared, demanding to know why Tilnar had broken his word about killing another god, and Tilnar spoke through clenched fangs, the pain within him still raging as he fought to bring it under control. "All of the Powers of the Gods must be present when we face Void..." he gasped, as the Black Flames around him attempted to consume Aalynor even through the aura of Light he wore. "... now, we know that the Lord of Justice's powers will be present, even if somewhat twisted by my Darkness." Tilnar rose, pulling the flames into himself again. The new Lord of Justice and Vengeance turned to his brother, as the Light around Aalynor seemed to pull away as he approached. Aalynor looked into his brother's eyes, and wrapped him in the Light "It was the only way, my brother." he whispered gently. As he did, Novind faded into nothingness, as Tilnar's madness broke. The true Novind had been slain long ago, his powers part of Tilnar - this "new" Novind was merely a persona of Tilnar, projecting itself out with a new form... with the madness broken the persona faded into nothingness.... And so, while the mortals toiled, so did the gods... Losses were heavy in the realms with members of all races falling on all corners of the world to Void's forces. No race, no age, no living thing was safe from the attacks, Ancient Dragons and young sprites alike fell to the 666 Storm Dragons and their demon forces. And then, suddenly as it began, the stars reappeared, their alignment having shifted. The Night ended, and the Storm Dragons vanished, leaving behind the demons, the scars, and the painful memories. The Rejoining The mortals reveled below. He could hear each cry of joy, each drunken voice, each moan of pleasure as the mortals flung themselves at each other with wild abandon. Each one cut his soul, a reminder that he did not want. He stretched dead flesh over the sockets of his eyes, and reached out with his mind. The red and black flames, warm and cold, both surged throughout the Realm, and the horrible wailing of the False who burned within grew louder. Even with the additional noise, however, the joy from the mortal plane echoed... Memories of past joys flooded him. He dug his daemonic claws into his dead palms, hoping that the physical pain would drive away the other. Even as thought began to return in the crystalline clarity of physical pain, other sounds came to him... more merriment, this time of an Immortal origin, as the gods and immortals gathered together to partake of the Nectar of the Gods. Black fire began to blaze from his eyes as the pain and anguish took him, even as he pulled his gore-covered claws from his hands. He added his tormented scream to those of the False in his Realm, his single voice drowning out the punished. The numerous Daemons in the Realm threw themselves into their work, or portals to elsewhere, their fear obvious. Even the Thirteen Daemonspawn who were his honor guard showed fear, waiting for him to lash out. Instead, he screamed again, his divine energies crackling through him, blasting pieces of flesh from the corpse he wore. The scent of flowers was the first thing that he noticed, the first thought he had as his near-infinite mind dwelled only in its pain. He was aware of another presence, and his mind leapt on that awareness, that rational thought, in an attempt to quell the rage. There, standing before him in her remembered armor stood Paelina, the first Daemonspawn, the Fallen Angel, Tilnar's first Mortal Avatar, now serving as one of his Thirteen Guards. Concern was etched upon her face, contrasting with the cruel and evil daemonic features the she wore. As Tilnar looked at Paelina, a shiver went through him as something cold and ethereal touched him. The touch brought with in a cold pain, and he knew its source at once. He turned to see Dilanis' shade, having come from Tilnar's Paradise into the darkest heart of his Hell. Each touch soothed him, even as the ethereal hands cut through his dead flesh, and tore at his heart with every stroke. He sighed, the rage fading from him, and his powers once more trapped within his body. He stood again, noting as he did Paelina's wounds even as her daemonic flesh worked to repair the damage. Understanding dawned on him, and he saw confirmation in her sad eyes. She had crossed the Wall of Realms, a daemon breaking through the barrier between the Paradise of Twilight and the Hell of Night. He conjured a new set of gloves for his hands, and reached out to touch Paelina's shoulder. As he did, a microscopic part of his attention cataloged the damage of her body, even as another tried to grasp at how much worse it had been - how much lost flesh and energy had been regenerated. He looked into her eyes again, and smiled directing the tiniest fragment of his power out to erase the damage. The smile seemed to do more for her than the healing, however, bringing a smile to her face, one which did not contain the cruelty that all daemonic smiles had. "I should never have allowed you to come with me." he thought at her, her denial and insistances in his mind before she even responded. "I pledged all that I was to you, my Lord, and so I shall serve." "It is but another eternal that I have ruined, for where I should be rewarding my Chosen, instead I torment you." Seeing the expression form upon her face, he waved a hand, "No, do not answer. Your loyalty is boundless, child. I know what you endure for me, and of all the souls in this Realm, yours is the one that most concerns me. Let me end your suffering." Even as Tilnar reached out, he felt those cold hands lock onto his arm. Flesh froze and fell away, revealing black fire and violet lightning surrounding the yellowed bone. He looked to his wife's shade, the sadness in her eyes even as he heard Paelina's answer. "Not until your suffering is at an end, my Lord." His eyes were locked into the pale grey of the shade, and he began to pull his attentions from elsewhere to focus on Dilanis' shade. He studied her Soulpattern - she was Daer'lin, and so the pattern should appear as intricate and as detailed as Andaras' finest works of stained glass. Instead, however, the pattern was but a single color, and more confused than the magical weave itself. He brought the Shade's hand to his breast, feeling it freeze away the flesh over his heart, relishing the pain as an interruption from his despair. "I created this beauty so long ago, Paelina. Then, I used my powers to elevate her, making her as near my equal as could be. When she was elevated, when she was her own being, she created her own beauty, her own patterns, and I was powerless against her. She made my heart sing, she brought me more joy than I thought I could ever know. Then, with the power of one god within me, I felt as though I could do more than now, when I am so filled with power that it sometimes surges through me, killing the corpse I wear..." Paelina listened as her Lord spoke, watching as the Shade's hand froze the bones of the ribcage, slowly working toward the heart. She wondered if Tilnar planned to allow the Shade to kill his shell, and him within it - to escape the pain. Tilnar seemed oblivious to the damage being done to the form, simply looking into Dilanis' eyes. "I have learned so much since her death. So much since that day, long ago. I have seen all the other god-shades ressurected, "catching" the powers of other gods as they are slain. Even now, I know that I could have saved her, had I known how, as I saved Malakai when he faced Arskol in combat. I could have re-created her, by using Malakai's godsaura and energies at the time of his death at my hands to recreate her pattern...." Paelina began to lean forward, seeing the ribs fall away and the hand cutting through the lungs. She could see, clearly, Tilnar's black and violet heart, crackling with the powers that maintained him. The Shade drew her hand away, even as Tilnar's bone fingers pulled it closer. The phantasmal hand gripped the heart, and it burst... The whole body crumbled away, even as black and violet energies snaked around Dilanis' form. Slowly, a corpse rose from the red stone below, and the powers flowed into it. Tilnar's eyes were still locked on Dilanis even as the corpse went through the wracking changes to accomodate his power. "But I did not. There was no premeditation to his death, denying me the chance to gain from it. And now, I cannot even have her kill me to draw some of my power to her." "She cannot kill you. She lacks a Godsaura. Besides, it is not even certain that you can be killed, or what would happen to the Realms if you were, as you are still half of the Lifeforce of the Realms." Paelina turned to face the new voice, noting as she did that she was the only daemon near her Lord, even the other twelve bodyguards having vanished as she watched Tilnar. Standing before her was one of the most beautiful beings that she had ever seen. In form, he was the quintessential Angel, the paragon of that beautiful, near-pefect race... One of the two templates from which the Angel's form was shaped. She cried at the beauty, and for the first time since her descent into a daemon's skin, allowed herself to long for all that she had lost. She accepted the Light's infernal touch, burning her away, knowing well that Recorpilation - or worse, even Oblivion, was a worthy price to pay to stand by her Lord... and to watch the beauty before her. Suddenly, the pain ended, and she felt the cold chill of black flames burning around her, taking away the Light's warmth. Her Lord had not forgotten her, and yet, part of her wished that he had. Even as she pulled her gaze away from the Luminescant Being before her, she heard Tilnar speaking. "If I can, my brother, it must be by an outside hand. I have learned that for all my power, I cannot end my tormented existance." Suddenly, she understood. Her Lord had been attempting to commit suicide before her very eyes. The realization was terrifying to her. She wrapped her wings around her, expecting Aalynor's reaction to be as strong as her own, if not worse. "I would not say that, Brother. For while you cannot end your own life, and that you have tried distrurbs me, what stops you from ending your torment?" Tilnar laughed, a hollow sound as the vocal cords of this new body shifted to match his normal voice. "And which of your children would you have me slay, Brother? And do not think that I have not been tempted." "You need not slay a god to restore life to another. Did you not ressurect Arskol?" Tilnar laughed again, the sound ringing with madness. "Aye, and he was madder than I. He tried to 'liberate' the Shades from Paradise, claiming that they suffered. He had to be put out of his misery.. And ours." Paelina remembered that, the second time that the NetherRealms had been invaded. She herself had slain several of Arskol's Astral Messengers, however the whole attack was merely a diversion as Arskol stole away the shades of Erisar, Andaras and Dilanis. Tilnar looked into his brother's eyes, "I could never do that to Dilanis, Brother. It would pain me more than this has." Paelina saw Tilnar's face, his weariness obvious. "You poor fool." It was Aalynor's turn to laugh, this time. "All this time you thought that your method was wrong, and that is why you did not recreate Dilanis? I thought you were merely preparing yourself for it, and instead you were trying to end your own life? Can you not see the truth?" Tilnar's aura surged, violet bolts crackling around him even as the blackflame burst from his eyes. There was a dangerous edge to his voice as he spoke. "Do not mock me, Brother." Aalynor sighed, and stood, passive before his brother, locking him in a stare. Paelina stood nervously as time passed, what appeared to be eons. Then, suddenly, Tilnar released the power he would have used to strike down his brother. As the flames and bolts faded, Tilnar fell to his knees, crying. Aalynor spoke again, his voice a gentle rebuke. "There is why you failed, my Brother. It is the Light, it is Goodness that creates. The Evil in you can only destroy, or create things which will destroy." Again Tilnar's flames built up, his rage cutting through his sadness. "Then you have had the power to restore her all this time?" he demanded. Again, Aalynor merely stood there, looking at his Brother. "Of course not." he answered gently. "I did not know how, nor did you. If one of your Daemonspawn had not spoken with one of my Astral Messengers, I would still not know. But the Evil in you is the cause of your failure, and the reason that you cannot see it. And besides, the souls of the dead are your portfolio - your power over them is greater than mine." Paelina began to panic, hoping that her conversation with one of Aalynor's servants would have gone unmentionned. However, she thought as she calmed herself, she knew the risks of what she had done when she did it. Better to die in an attempt to save her Lord, or to suffer for all time in the attempt, then to allow him to continue suffering. Tilnar looked up, and Paelina feared that his eyes saught her, but instead, he looked to Aalynor. His voice was strong, and he said simply "Show me." With that, Paelina's world went white. Aalynor's radience was brighter than that of all the stars combined. Tilnar's shield held, for she had not been obliterated, though her head ached from the Light. It was over in an instant, though it was long before her eyes adjusted. Tilnar stood before Aalynor, glowing, not with dark fires, but with a beautiful light, flickering as it danced with every color of the prism... The Light of Twilight. She looked to him, awestruck, for the look on his face, for the first time in centuries, was one of faith, and of peace. Aalynor seemed exhausted, his own glow dimming as he infused as much of the Light as he could into his Brother. Tilnar, too, was lost in concentration, and Paelina wondered if this sight was like that of Creation, the Brothers combining their powers to forge the Realms. She could see with her daemonsight, the magics Tilnar wove, each one a gentle thread as he poured the Lifeforce - the Light into Dilanis, trying to reignite her own spark of life... Paelina tasted blood, and realized that her fangs had sunk deep into her lower lip, and she watched anxiously. Slowly, the grey and blue shade began to find color - so slowly that Paelina didn't believe it was truly happening, dismissing it as her own imagination. She closed her eyes to confirm that it was, in fact, happening, and as she did, she heard the beautiful harmony... Two voices, one Tenor, the other Bass, singing as one... The Bass faltered from time to time, but even as it did, the Tenor's seemed to correct for it. The song was imperfection made perfect. She wept at its beauty, her tears growing warmer and more frequent as the Bass voice voice seemed to find itself, its hesitation faded, and it shifted to a Barritone, and the mistakes ceased. The Tenor voice stopped singing then, and a Soprano joined the Barritone. The knowledge of what had happened shook through Paelina and she was overcome by her emotions. She had done it. She had succeeded. When she felt the powers reshaping her, she accepted it as her due punishment, not caring what happened to her now that her Lord's suffering had ended. The Barritone voice slowly faded away, its exhaustion clear. The shifting ended, and she felt the warmth of the Light against her flesh. There was no burning pain, no sensation of the flesh being pulled from her. She unfurled her wings from around her, to bathe in the glow of Light, as she did long before, and felt the feathers of her wings tickle the flesh they touched. Slowly, she opened her eyes, no longer seeing with the daemonsight, instead, an angel's vision graced her. Before her stood Aalynor and Dilanis, both smiling warmly at her. A gentle touch on her shoulder caused her to spin around. Her mind barely had time to absorb the sight before her as she was pulled into an embrace. Tilnar set her down with a smile, and she saw that her eyes had not decieved her. Tilnar stood before her, no longer wrapped in the dead flesh of others, but in his own body. Paelina wept again, the joy of the sight was not lost to her. Tilnar spoke, his voice musical for the first time in centuries, as enchanting as an Incubus. "You, Paelina are the most loyal of all beings in these Realms. I cannot think of any way to reward you for what you have done, for the love that you have shown me. No reward would be enough." His features, once angelic, still bore a daemonic tinge, yet to her mind it only served to make the strength more apparent, his compassion to stand out. He was the Angel of Death, beautiful, compassionate, yet made harsh by a reality that refused to understand his compassion. "Simply seeing you happy, my Lord, is reward enough." Tilnar laughed, and again, for the first time in centuries, the sound carried in it joy. "Then you shall see that reward in great measures, Faithul One, and more." as he spoke, Tilnar looked to Aalynor, their thoughts carried in their eyes, and Aalynor gave a brief nod. Tilnar smiled warmly, and a warmth cut through Paelina, starting at Tilnar's hand, and with it came a wave of pleasure that was far stronger than any she had ever experienced, as mortal or immortal... It was even greater than that of feeding as a Succubus. She felt as though she would collapse, yet even as the pleasure overwhelmed her, did she find a newfound strength within her. Deep within the Pits of the False, Kyorl laughed. This was his Realm, now. And every scream of pain and terror that one of the daemons drew from the Tortured would feed him. Tilnar was careful as he released his grip on the powers of Evil, preventing any god from simply seizing the power as it was "loosed". However, he was not any god. When he realized that he could not seize the powers, he instead reached out and began to feed on them, as if they were negative emotions themselves. And so, again, the powers of the gods were warped, and in so doing, these new powers began to warp Kyorl. His laughter grew louder, as if he was joining the merriment. Paelina stood back for she knew the source at once... He had once been her lover, but he had taken the evil, the darkness to heart. He was once trusted as the Regent of the Hells, to rule above the daemons in Tilnar's abscence - his former authority was as great as her own. Now it was far greater. "Thank you both, O Creators." Kyorl said with a sneer and mocking tone. "I've never fed so well." His laughter faded as he disappeared. Paelina looked to the gods before her, and they both sighed, lowering their heads. "He is daemonic. He feeds on evils, and so grows stronger all the time." she said, her tone one of concern. "Aye." Tilnar said, "He is, and he will. But he is the price of Free Will. With Free Will came Evil, and it cannot be destroyed so long as beings other than we can choose their own paths..." "What we can do," Aalynor suggested, "is have our churches ensure that, at least amongst the Allied Races, there is little for him to feed on." Tilnar sounded grave, "Kyorl will find the power twist his mind, and turn him from what he was into something truly frightening. Whereas he fed on and enjyed evil, now, he will need it, demand it, cause it... He is Evil now, its embodiment. He is Eternal, and on a level now with Aalynor or I, not like yourself or the other Daer'lin." Paelina realized that he was looking at her when he said that, and for the first time, she felt the Godsaura, and her new powers. Tilnar's eyes smiled, though his expression was still most serious, and he continued. "Yet, taking the Godspower from me bound him more closely with the other Gods. He will find new limits, new twists, that I tied into those powers as I released them." "You knew he was there?" Dilanis asked, looking surprised. "I would have been when I was in that state." Tilnar answered, no trace of a smile remaining. * * * That night, the various powers unleashed, and their influence on the Mortal Plane was obvious. Kyorl's banner was removed from Nexus, as he lashed out at those followers who were merely greedy. His truly faithful followed him to his true "children": The races of the Goblin Hoardes. His Golden Cathedral lay in flames, unknown by who's hand, though it is believed it was the act of his departing followers, taking Kyorl's glory with them as they left. In Tilnar's Vein, there was death amongst the Drow as civil war shook them. Many swore allegiance to Kyorl, while others clung to their faith in Tilnar, going so far as to quote their catechisms which spoke of their eventual return to the Light. Both sides warred, Clerical Powers surging, until Kyorl's sect seized control of Sifnalk, driving Tilnar's faithful, the "Grey" Elves, deeper into the Vein. The reappearance of the Mistress of Love and the emergeance of the Mistress of Faithfulness and Duty in the realms was noted quickly by the mortals, with whispered prayers to Dilanis to have someone fall in love with them, or to bless a love, while Paelina's banner was quickly taken up by the Nexus Guard, and Army. Things seemed eerily calm in the wake of all that had been happening, and even the Order of the Holy Light sought to reconcile with the Cathedral of Death. However, on the second day of these talks, the Order attacked the Ivory Tower, forcing many young magi and apprentices onto flaming pyres on which to be purified. Battle raged, as the Order attacked, gaining ground even as the Churches of Twilight and Dawn hit the Order's flanks, coming to the aid of the magi. The tide of battle turned quickly when Thelia appeared, raw mana crackling around her in her outrage, as she threw Soulfire at the invaders. Those watching could see Thelia growing weaker with each blast, as she held back nothing of herself to strike at the Whiterobes. She raged, teleporting from point to point in the tower, obliterating all of the foes that she could in each place. Finally, as she was firing from an upper balcony onto the Whiterobes below, she stiffened, and fell, a dagger driven deeply into her back. Behind her, stepping from the shadows, was a violet-robed figure, another such dagger in his violet hand. "Like them, mistress?" he sneered, bringing the second dagger downward, "I made them myself, research based on the legends of Iron disrupting the souls of the Faerie." The second dagger he drove into her neck, severing the spine beneath the skull. "I've wanted to do that for a while." he said with a laugh. From below, a Knight Templar shouted, "Hold, traitor!" "Traitor? Your laws mean nothing to me." he laughed, and chanted softly, raising his hand at the Templar. Dragonsfire burst from the paladin's flesh, as the Inferno consumed him from within. Turning back to his helpless victim, he drew a third dagger, continuing as if nothing had interrupted. "Granted, you are no faerie, but the concept is the same." He began to drive the dagger into Thelia's skull when a bolt of lightning and struck his arm, even as his arm was pierced by a gore-covered blade of ice. Scorpio stood below, chanting for a second lightningbolt while Astaroth wondered at the source of the iceblade. Chanting quickly, he waved his good hand, covering the balcony with an unnatural mist, obsuring the sight of his attackers. Drawing an Alchemical Creme from his belt, he applied it to his wounds, even as he saw the outline of an all-too familiar Half-giant in his mists. Wicked held the massive axe in his hands, deciding that imprisonning Astaroth would do no good, and that Justice could only be served by his death. He blinked repeatedly as the mistcloud stung his eyes. He began swinging the massive pole blindly, knowing that Thelia was down, hoping to connect with Astaroth, or at least make enough wind to be rid of the mist. Wicked's muscles strained as he took a Full-Giant's grip on the axe, holding only the end of the grip while swinging the blade right to left. He began another swing, and saw movement - the outline of a figure to his right, raising his hand to point at him. He cursed, as he tried to reverse the swing of his axe even as Astaroth finished his spell, and the Dragonfire burnt him from within. Wicked was thankful for the resistance spell that protected him, even as he smelled cooking flesh from himself. He stopped the swing even as he heard Astaroth begin to chant again. Focussing past the pain, Wicked leapt toward the mage, bringing his axe down with all of his strength, swinging it like one who was splitting wood. The axe hit a barrier, knocking it slightly off target, but the magical shell could not stop the Half-Giant's swing. The axe fell, cleaving through the mage's shoulder, the scream of pain and lost arm stopping his spell-casting. Wicked was readying another swing when he felt a blade bite into his back. He turned quickly, catching only the glimpse of a male figure in black leathers. He turned back in time to see Astaroth break a small vial at his feet, and vanish. Within moments, Scorpio was standing beside Wicked, his elven stride unable to match the half-giant's. He cast a dustgust spell to remove Astaroth's mists, and knelt before his Guildmaster. She had not moved, her mouth open, a small trail of blood from her nose, and both dagger wounds. Despite the knife in her heart, she lived still, although the spark of life within her was frail, and fading. Wicked began a prayer to Tilnar, shaping healing energies, even as Scorpio began to remove the knives from her back. As his hand touched the dagger, he felt the strange materials screaming across his soul. Ignoring it, he closed his hand on the dagger, and as he did, white and blue energy arced around the blade and up his arm, as tendrils of magic attempted to unweave his soulpattern. The energy blasted again, throwing him back, and leaving him stunned. He watched in horror as Wicked's hand closed around the dagger, and wondered what had happened when he removed both knives with no effect - and no blood. He could see the orange-red glow of a sunset around Wicked as he touched Thelia, and the energy flowed down his arms, only to stop when it reached her. Wicked began to repeat his chant while keeping his hands on Thelia, the glow around his hands growing brighter and brighter, Wicked's voice sounding more and more strained. Finally, a dull red glow began to cover Thelia's body, slowly knitting her wounds. Then, suddenly, Wicked's voice broke, and the aura around him, and the pale one around Thelia was gone. Wicked looked up, and Scorpio said only one word: "Lucis." Aalynor's Prophet took Thelia into a Communion Chamber, and with faith magics unsurpassed by any mortal, save, perhaps, an Avatar, he attempted to undo the damage that Astaroth had done. Wicked started to hand over the daggers to help Lucis with his work, when Scorpio asked to see one. As soon as the metal touched his flesh, Scorpio fell to his knees, feeling as though someone was reaching deep inside him, and trying to turn him inside out. Watching the reaction, Lucis took the dagger from Scorpio. Again, it seemed that only Scorpio and Thelia were effected by these knives. Lucis ordered them out of the chambers, sealing himself in his Communion Chamber, and prayed over Thelia all night. When the Dawn came, Thelia awoke, and wished sincerely that she had not. She felt old, and worse, she was old, the daggers having disrupted all of the magics that had for so long kept her young. Lucis saw her stirring, and smiled at her, himself showing his age for the first time she had ever seen. "You look like hell, Prophet of the Light." she said with a raspy voice that she hated at once. "You're no better, Archwizardress. Worse, when one considers that you're an elf." "What happened to me?" "Astaroth. He seems to have found a substance that disrupts light-elves. Perhaps light-elf mages, I'm not sure yet. It's like wrought iron to the faerie or silver to the lycanthropic." "Wonderful. I should be happy to be alive, I suppose." she said with a sigh. "Well, come now, Old Man. I'd like to leave this magical shielding and get back to work." The look on Lucis' face as she said those words told her everything in an instant. Astaroth was driving the daggers into the points of power on her body. The last was to disrupt her soul, and fortunately, that one did not happen. The one before that, her spirit and lifeforce, which had done much damage before it was removed. The first one, however, was intented to kill her magic. And it had been in the longest. "This room is not shielded." he said, his voice the merest whisper. Thelia felt her heart burst as Lucis confirmed her fear. She reached out to the world, desperately trying to find the magic of the world, of her robes, her ring, her staff, anything.... But the magic was not answering. She began to cry, tears rolling down her cheeks, as the one thing that she had sacrificed so much of her life for, the one thing that had made her special, made her powerful, unique, was taken from her. She cried, and Lucis stood there quietly watching her. She did not know how long she sat there, but finally, the tears ended. She dried her eyes, and stood, silently thanking Lucis for not intervening. "We must hold a Council, Lucis. Now. While I still sit at the head of my guild." He simply nodded. * * * The Order of the Holy Light fled the city before the Assembled Guilds reached them. Obviously, there was a leak on the council, and it was quite obvious to all of those on the council who that might have been. As they left, they burned the House of Holy Light behind them, as had the Kyorlites. They made one last appeal for members and help from the town, citing that the "Evil Rulers of this town wished to cast out the Order before they were able to see the true evil amongst them." A surprisingly large number of adolescants joined their ranks as they left. Over 10% of the standing Nexus Guard went with the Order as well. The Council then stripped Garpenlov of his position on the council. Based on the public pressure since the robbery of the jewlery store to punish the Thieves' Guild, and then accented with the attitude of the Master of Thieves, and finally, his warning to the Order of Holy Light. As the Council does not have the right to interfere with internal guild matters, they took the action in the only way that they could. They removed the Official Sanction of the Nexus Thieves' Guild, making it offsimply another Clan or Organization, no more, no less. The Council apologized to the other thieves, stating that they simply could no longer afford to have one who actively sought to undermine their position and any sort of Order that was sought in Nexus, sitting on the Council. The Council stated, however, that should a responsible organization form, it would have the ability to apply for Official Status, for there are no plans to drive away the thieves, some of whom are considered heroes by the common people. * * * Auric stood over the table, cursing how uncomfortable a humanoid form was, and smiled. His blond hair was unrruly, and he stood more rigid and noble than any score of paladins could ever dream of being. "Assembled Councilmembers, I am pleased to inform you that we have taken your request to our people, and their answer is yes." "Yes?" Fenwick asked, looking at the humanoid-dragon, his voice almost incredulous. Argenaa's eyes sparkled with mischief at Fenwick's incredulous stare, and she began to wonder if she hadn't been in this humanoid form too long, for she seemed to be growing soft on the warrior-general. She, too, leaned over the table, an act that all the Dragons seemed to mimic, likely due to their normally long necks, Fenwick thought. Fenwick followed up that thought with others about Argenaa's neck in her humanoid form. He shook his mind to clear the adolescant thoughts from his mind. "Aye, Master Fenwick." she said, her musical voice dancing playfully throughout the room. "Not only may you use part of our island home to train your troops, we have already completed restoring the city that was once there, before the War of the Races." Fenwick, for the first time in weeks, felt some hope returning, and looked at Argenaa as though she were Pandora incarnate, sent to return to hope to Nexus. She was certainly beautiful enough to be a goddess, he thought. His army was being driven back from all sides, with the followers of Kyorl supplying the goblins with more intelligence, better organizations, better insights into the workings of Nexus, and worst of all - clerical magicks. Then, add to that the defection of nearly 10% of his troops to the blasted Whiterobes - mostly veterans at that. He was left with an army that was outmatched and outnumbered, and now, the loss of a great deal of experience was just making things worse. But now, with the permission and protection of the Metallics, there would be a training area, away from goblin attacks, away from hostile dragonflights, where troops and adventurers could learn to fight. And, should the battles continue the way they had, then there was, at least, one place to fall back to - or one last source of warriors to avenge them. A place who's magical defenses were even greater than those of the Nexus. "But know this," Auric interjeted, cutting off Fenwick's thoughts, "Falcion is ours. Your trainees, your people, must respect that this is where we live, and raise our families. Parts of the Island are off-limits, they are our private homes." "However," Argenaa spoke in a more gentle tone, "you are always welcome to come where you are invited to." Fenwick thought that she looked at him as she said that, but dismissed it at once. "And, of course, the Island's defenses are yours to share. First, as goblins generally loathe water, their hoardes do not venture across the Sea often. Second, the island itself is surrounded in a magical mist which confuses those who are not welcome to the island. Third, the island itself moves every full moon, shifting positions as to avoid detection. And last, Mistress Thelia -" She nodded to Thelia, who looked very tired, and yet, very alert as well, " - has taught Auric and I to cast your town barrier spell. In fact, she has modified the spell slightly, based on magical explinations of the mist that we provided. This barrier spell will take hold in the mists, and be anchored in a single, central focus. It is, in some ways, stronger than the one around the city, and far better than we could have done." Thelia bowed her head at the obvious compliment, wondering, not for the first time, if the Dragons were not patronizing her. Since her initial awakening, Lucis had spent more time with her, trying to heal her. She could touch the magic again, although she was nowhere near her normal strength, and wondered if she would ever be again. She looked up, and saw that the respect on the Dragon's faces was real, which deepened her sense of honor. She nodded to Argenaa, who turned back to the Council. "Then, if there is nothing else--", she began. Robyn asked, "But what of the Thieves?" "There will be a Guild in Falcion." Auric replied, "The Coppers are somewhat fond of thieves, and have offered to house them. In fact, they insist." "Then, so be it." said Fenwick with a smile. The Ebb and Flow of Time His fevered mind burned brighter than the dancing faerie fires which lit his room. Shining fingers clenching a stick of limestone flew across the immense slate tablet which made up this desk of his laboratory, making minor adjustments here and there, until with an almost audible click, he knew he had solved the equation, that he had created the right formula. "Ah, Mistress Thelia would be so proud of me...after all, it isn't every day that a mortal mage touches the impossible..." he sneered to himself, as he crossed from his desk to the immense adamantine worktable in the center of the room. He looked down to the lone object that lay there, a simple rod of mithril, etched and engraved with symbols and patterns no mortal artisan could ever think to match. "Perhaps mortal magic cannot affect time.... But that is why I have this..." His velvet sleeve reached out toward the table, his metallic fingers closed over the mithril staff. A sneer graced his lips once more, as he willed away the shielding in his laboratory to send a telepathic cry of triumph... "Immortality is mine..." The heroes and people of Nexus shuddered as one, knowing only too well that voice, the voice of their greatest traitor, their greatest enemy. The words, and the triumph in his voice... This was no act of deception, this was all too real, and they knew it. Banzai cursed aloud, the lines on her once young and vibrant face having deepened with each passing year. With an annoyed grunt, she pulled a large lock of her grey hair from her face and swore again. "Tilnar take you, Astaroth, you wretch!" she exclaimed even as she thought of how she was getting too old to deal with him, too old to avenge the murder of her husband. Though she tried to fight against it, she felt the resentment at her age filling her, and at Wicked for having been gifted with youth by Tilnar. "Immortality is mine..." echoed in her mind, and without thinking, Banzai hurled her Crystal Club at the wall of her home, feeling the red rage which had so long been her ally threatening to take her... She gritted her teeth, and let loose a long string of telepathic curses. Astaroth's mouth tightened as Banzai's reply echoed to him, and he quickly spoke a word in the language of the Drow and magic flowed through him, through his arm, through the Staff of the Goddess he held, restoring the near-impenetrable bubble-shield which protected the laboratory of his tower. "No time to dwell upon you, Banzai. A human fossil like you will be dead soon enough, in any case." he pushed telepathically as his shield formed, granting himself the last word. Astaroth's left hand began tracing strange patterns in the air while he chanted in the tongue of the Ancient Daer'lin, slowly attempting to attune the Staff to himself. Slowly, as he chanted, the mercury of his arm flowed around the staff, wrapping it in metallic bands, slowly and gradually pulling it into place like a new bone for his artificial arm. With every inch it moved, Astaroth's smile increased as he felt what was left of Maana's power flowing into him, joining with him, his mortal essence mixing with the powers of the immortal... Finally, a loud grinding noise echoed around him, and with a snap, he felt the mithril staff shattering within his arm. His robes and flesh were shredded by the shrapnel, the mithril shards hurling themselves free of his arm, and yet, somehow, the arm managed to hold its shape.... and the power, he cackled triumphantly as he saw the liquid metal darkenning, itself becoming like mithril and darksilver... Solidifying, he thought, annoyed for a moment, dissappointed in the loss of functionality, until he felt the power crackling through him, charging him with magicks beyond any mortal comprehension, beyond any mortal achievement. He laughed, the power crackling through him an intoxicant. "I am so far beyond these fools. Inferno, for all his power, for all his years, for all his ego, is but a mite to me now. The Witch, for all her quiet arrogance, is a nothing which can be swept aside... None can stand against me, for I hold within the power of a God!" In Nexus, many eyes were facing northwest, looking to the Tower carved into the Crystal Mountains. The tower was outlined clearly now, the Crystal of the tower having been darkened by the magicks within. Ariel looked down from her place in the Ivory Tower, her old eyes straining even through the thick spectacles she wore, attempting to see the dweomers radiating in and around Astaroth's workshop, cursing the strength of the barrier that surrounded him, and her own lack of endurance. More than ninety winters, now, come and gone, in which to gain knowledge and power, and yet in which her body's weakness would cancel out the benefits of her learning. She sighed with a sad smile. Still, she had led a full life, of friends, a husband, and happiness. If only this chill would free itself from her bones. With a smile, she heard Banzai's telepathic cries at Astaroth once again, obviously Astaroth had stopped listening even as Banzai's strain at the effort of telepathy was obvious. With another sad smile she thought of her husband, nearly as old as she, and yet his dwarven blood keeping him young, still in the prime of his life. For a moment, she too felt resentment, if Astaroth's words were true, that an already Pandora-blessed elf would find the means to increase his already ample lifespan... She sighed again, not realizing that her blurred vision was caused by the tears in her eyes and not the strain of looking off to the distance. They did not have long to look, and all the magi screamed out as one as they felt powerful fingers ripping at the weave as if with claws, as the most powerful shaper of spells cast the cursed flight spell. As they recovered, one of the Tower's walls burst open with the force of a volcano, and a violet and grey missile streaked out toward them, the tattered remains of black robes clinging to him, his flesh pierced in a thousand places, yet none of these wounds either bleeding nor knitting. His voice blasted louder than that of the Crystaldaemon's taunts in their heads as he hovered over Nexus. "There are scores to settle. You have ruined my life, taken my wife and child, taken my arm, taken the life of my double.... Even driven to death my poor lackey." A string of curses followed his words, the female voice obviously straining, and yet too proud to allow herself to appear weak. "You betrayed us all, you killed my husband, reanimated him... Come, then, coward, and let us settle the score." Banzai tried not to gape at the speed with which Astaroth moved, but it seemed she had but started her telepathic cry when he appeared before her. She gave the red rage which had been boiling within her free rein, the Crystal Club swinging almost of its own will, her attack with the speed of a woman half her age. And yet, somehow, the cursed elf with no combat training sidestepped. His movements were a blur, making even Seoman's hasted speed seem a crawl by comparison... He struck her, physically, his metallic fist striking like a smith's hammer against an anvil. Each strike she could feel grinding her bones beneath his fist, shattering the blood vessels. His attack was a flurry which she could not even begin to dodge, for it was over even before she saw it coming, his metal hand smashing in and out without mercy until she found herself laying upon her back. "Was that the best you could do, whore?" Astaroth sneered. "It seems that your age has slowed you down.... Pathetic. Maybe I made a mistake to ever think you could threaten my life.... But then, you always were a mistake, weren't you Banzai? Your whole existance was a mistake. And so, I shall undo it." With that, Astaroth's metallic arm began to glow with an intense white, the power building up within it, and within him. "So long, bitch!" he snarled, and waves of white fire struck Banzai were she lay, each one erasing more of her existance, restoring her prime, her youth, her adolescance, her childhood, her infancy, and then, finally she was gone. Astaroth smirked, revelling in what he had just done, how he had erased someone completely, torn them from the Pattern of Life, from the Flows of Time. The white energy continued to pulse where Banzai once sat, the temporal magicks flickering strangely, as if building up somehow. Suddenly, the ball of white power burst, throwing tendrils out in every direction, erasing the effects of Banzai's life from Flows of Time. Her name was lost from all memory, her house faded into naught, and all of Nexus, all of the history of the last seventy winters began to tear itself apart to right itself. Astaroth screamed as the power he released struck him, attempting to change him as it was everyone, and everything else. With a terrible shriek, and one conscious thought, he willed himself to undo whatever it was he had done - the memory of what it was already gone, the memory of having done anything already fading... Suddenly, a second burst of white power appeared around him, its blinding intensity exploding, again, into tendrils as it reached out to reweave that which had been, or was being, undone... There was a terrible backlash of power, strange, flowing over everything, everyone, conflicting with itself, battling itself, as seventy years of history were done and undone and redone and undone again and the very Fabric of Reality woven by the Brothers began to unravel.. Tilnar felt himself scream as his body vanished from him, replaced instead with one of the corpses that he used to contain his essence, even as the Black Fires burst from his eyes and he felt Dilanis' life vanishing, returning, and vanishing again. With a terrible scream he extended his powers, the taint of his Darkness striping his reach, there one moment, gone in the next, as he touched the pattern. His anguished scream echoed through the heavens and across the surface of Altin. With desperate strength, Tilnar gripped at the threads, attempting to stop their unravelling even as the Darkness within him bade him to pull with all his strength, and tear the pattern to naught... His scream was heard, and a gentle touch was there in a moment, calming Tilnar, reassuring him, steadying him, and assisting him. Together, the Brothers once again wove Reality, gently coaxing the torn threads back together, hoping that the individual threads would heal as the pattern itself was restored.... Banzai opened her eyes, wondering what foolish form of attack Astaroth had used upon her, for she felt better than she had in years, despite the pounding she had taken... one feels no pain in the Red Rage. With a fierce battle-cry, she jumped to her feet, and smashed Astaroth's arm with the club. The Crystal weapon shattered instantly, its shards embedding themselves into his limb, tearing gashes in the arm. Power leaked from these wounds like blood, and Astaroth screamed as white bolts of Temporal Magicks lashed around him, without any control. In a moment, he was ancient, in the next he was young, time flowing and unravelling, the future, the past, infinity and oblivion.... He began to chant in the language of Magic, and with a flash brighter than the twin suns, he was gone.... Banzai stared for a moment, thinking it a trick, and then further thought that perhaps he was finally gone. She could not allow herself to believe either, and so she stood once again, and caught her reflection against her shield. Something strange had happened... She was... young.. Younger, in any case. Time... had.. changed. Ariel covered her eyes with her hands to shield herself from the bright flash of light, and when she did, she marvelled at her hand. She had changed, somehow. There was more vitality to her, and she removed the thick spectacles which had been obscuring her sight, looking down upon the city unassisted, with her own eyes, for the first time in decades. With a youthful chuckle, she decided that she would seek out her husband... And all over Altin, the changes flowed, as the Threads of the Fabric of Reality readjusted themselves to the damage that was done, and how it was healed. For some, children vanished, without trace or memory, others' lost fortunes were regained, others' gained fortunes vanished, and the dead once more walked the land, alive, their deaths never having happened.... And so it was that time continued its flow....History of the Dwarfs Dwarvengate King Nor't Shansor looked out from the shadows of the cave's mouth, down to the slopes below where a swarm of dread beasts spread over the rocky terrain like some dark plague of pestilence. Leaping, scrabbling, running, and charging forth were Goblins and Kobolds of all sorts, Trolls bound in the raiment of slavery, and other creatures even the long-lived king could not put a name to. Here and there, compact ranks of his Dwarven warriors stood to meet the black tide, stoically trying to slow the onslaught. The thought of trying to stop it all together had long been dismissed by the pragmatic people. A quiet voice at his side broke the square-shouldered king from his unpleasant reverie. "The Thanes Ogresplitter and Fardelver have brought their clans within, my King. That leaves only the Clans of Erinkhor unaccounted for, and we've had no word from that stronghold in three months. Not since the loss of Hammerfall Rift..." Nor't Shansor turned to his advisor, hearing the thought that was left unspoken. "Aye, Tharin. I know what must be done," he began in a voice heavy with weary resignation. "But the knowin' doesn't make the doin' any easier, my old friend." The two greybeards looked at each other for a quiet moment. The screams of the dying, the shouts of the Dwarven leaders, and the guttural cries of the Goblins and their minions all faded into muted background noise. Until Tharin spoke, "It's the only way, my King. Twilia showed us the way long ago, before her corruption at the hands of sorcery. Krall has worked two years on this." Nor't Shansor the Stonekeeper nodded slowly then turned and bellowed a command. Krall begins chanting some great spell of the earth with the aid of mages and clerics standing beside him. He holds his hand out to the King who passes him several objects including his royal signet and the hammer that has hung by his side for years. As his Dwarves moved into motion, a tremendous rumbling began to shake the earth, growing in magnitude until it drowned out the chanting priests and mages, until it threatened to deafen the Dwarves still inside the cavern. The Dwarven king stood watching the field below the cavern entrance while the very mountain began to close upon itself. His grey eyes met those of a young Dwarf below and he winced at the horror he read on that ruddy face as the red-haired warrior realized what was happening. As the Dwarfgate sealed in those taking refuge in the mountain's heart- and shut out both friend and foe on the slopes below- a silent tear rolled into Nor't Shansor's salt and pepper beard. "It's the only way," he whispered, both to the Dwarf being swallowed by the Horde and to himself. "It's the only way." When the great gate of Dwarven magic and meticulously worked stone and mithril finally came to close, the silence that followed the tremendous roar was even more powerful. Outside the gate knelt a handful of battleragers, their task to take parts of the key to the gate away to safety, including the royal signet and hammer. The burdening silence inside was broken a few minutes later by the sound of Dwarven boots marching resolutely to their stronghold- to Narnek, heart of the mountains of crystal. Marching past the body of King Nor't, his ultimate sacrifice to his people.Time Since the time of the Daer'lin, one day in the world of Altin has been measured as one full cycle of the twin suns. These days, have been divided into 24 equal periods, known as "hours". These hours are further divided into 60 equal divisions, known as minutes. These minutes are further divided into 60 equal divisions, called seconds. The Godswar's toll on the world was a terrible one, and the centuries- long battle all but destroyed the concept of time for most individuals and settlements in the realm. As such, when the Allied Races met for the Final Time before the Time of Isolation, humanity presented the modern calendar, tossing away all of the old concepts, and beginning "time" anew. It was decide that this new time would begin as the Second Year after the Godswar (or 2, War's End). [Obviously, a year had passed since the war to allow them to observe the flows of time once more, as well as the defeat of the Goblins.] Despite the objections of the longer-lived races such as the Elves and Dwarves, noone really knew when it was anymore, (save the Dragons, as their complex calendar survived even the Godswar unscathed). As such, even though it was a point of heated debate, and some bad blood amongst the races the modern calendar was adopted by the Allied Races. (At this time it was believed that the Reni, the race of historians, had been completely destroyed with all their accumulated knowledge and as such, it was 'close enough', or rather, as close as they could hope to get to get to fact.) When the 200-year old Tholmic Republic (the decendants of the same humans who created the calendar) turned into Empire (during the Great Debate), it began counting the years since the founding of the Empire, expressed as "Imperial Year". Otherwise, the calendar has remain unchanged. The year in Altin is now 360 days long (the Dragons claim that it was longer prior to the Godswar), which has been divided into 12 30-day months. Each year begins with the Summer Solstice (the longest day of the year and beginning of summer), in the month of the Phoenix, and ends with the last day of Spring, in the Month of Blossoms. The months, in order are as follows: the month of the Phoenix [New Year, Start of Summer] the month of the Dragon the month of the Chimera the month of the Twilight [Beginning of Autumn] the month of Prairiefire the month of Wildfire the month of Midnight [Beginning of Winter] the month of the Icedrake the month of Chrysalis the month of Dawn [Beginning of Spring] the month of Torrents the month of Blossoms Due to something that no mortal truly understands, once every four years, there is a thirteenth month added to the year by the Gods. This month is a mere 20 days (rather than the standard thirty), and is known as the Month of Daemons. During the Month of Daemons, the seasons do not progress, and the gods themselves walk the earth in a festival of delight and merriment. (One of the reasons theorized for this is that this coincides with the time required to make Ambrosia, the nectar of the Gods). At the end of this time, Aalynor and Tilnar restore all to the way that it was prior to the Festival. The dragons claim that this is due to the "magical energies" left behind when the year was shortened, and that this "nowhere time" is actually the manifestation of those lost days. In addition to months, the Modern and Imperial Calendar are divided into 9-day weeks. The days of the week, in order, are Panur, Maaur, Ruvur, Dilur, Malkur, Arsur, Andur, Aalur, Tilur. The first three days of the week are "work" days, in which business is done. The fourth day, Dilur, sacred to Dilanis, is one of rest and family... The work week is resumed on Malkur, Arsur, Andur, with Aalur and Tilur being days of rest dedicated to the true gods... Days of the month are expressed infomally as the name and day. [For example: It is Ruvur, Chrysalis 22nd, 1347 WE/IY 934.]. In legal documents or other formal cirumstances, the date is expressed in its whole form, which is the day of the week, the day of the month, the month and the year. [For example: It is Aalur, and the sixth day of the month of the Dragon, in the 1347th year since the Godswar and the 934th year of the Empire.]Gods & Religion Texts related specifically to the Gods and Religions filling the world of Aalynor's Nexus. Notes on Religion & Ethos In the beginning, there was Void... Void was great, but empty, and hungered... From Void were born two brothers, the True Gods which did form all of creation... Aalynor and Tilnar, brothers, equal but unique. The Brothers embodied the Light itself, the force of goodness, from which was sprung all life. As the two wove existence into being, they gave of themselves, forming the Weave of Life between them. Each of them embodied a different aspect of the Light: Aalynor was the Lord of Dawn, and Tilnar, the Lord of Twilight. Between them, the Light itself, and life flowed... From the Light was born creation, and the Daer'lin. The Daer'lin were the first race, made in the image of the Gods, and granted Free Will - the power to shape and form the world.... They flourished for centuries under the loving guidance of the Brothers. But, their society began to stagnate, and their happiness faded into complacency... So, the Gods gathered a Council of Daer'lin, and each of them had different suggestions as to the "proper" way to correct the problems, though they all agreed that immortality was not the way... So, the True Gods made the races, each one patroned by one of the Daer'lin. To ensure that the new races would have guidance, the Council was ascended, given powers from the True Gods, to become Gods themselves. Tilnar was charged with maintaining mortality, and so, the Lord of Death was expected to visit each soul when its life was to end and to judge the souls of the dead... And so, it was. Then, as Shadow, and Evil, the price of free will, manifested, so did some Gods turn to it, sparking the first War of Races, and the first Godswar. Free Will made it so that the Gods' children could kill each other, deaths which were against the natural flow of life, yet that Tilnar had to honor... Several Gods were slain, and Tilnar, absorbing their powers and darkness, fell into Shadow himself... and madness, as his beloved wife was slain... The War of the Races had an aftermath, with Tilnar's angels being reshaped in his dark heart, forming the daemons which plague the races today. Tilnar swore to never again slay another God... and oath which he was forced to break. Since then, Fallen Gods have been resurrected, and Trista, the Shade of a Daer'lin who had been killed in an accident (for the Daer'lin could be killed), absorbed the powers of Rudestyle. Tilnar, in his madness, created Kyorl from his daemons, infusing him with powers that he had absorbed... And thus, Nexus has seen many Gods. What follows, in this section, is a list of the Gods, and their powers and portfolio.Gods & Daerlin Aalynor, True God. Titles: Lord of Dawn, Lord of Life, Lord of the Light. Status: active in the realms. Alignment: Good Patron Race: Angels, though Aalynor cares deeply for all races save Kyorl's daemons. Sacred Colors: Cerulean Blue, Yellow. Symbol: Aalynor's symbol is the head of a unicorn against a flame and crossed by a ribbon of cerulean blue. Sacred Stone: Sapphire. The Lord of Light, as he was known while Tilnar was in Shadow, has reclaimed his title of Lord of Dawn. While there are still those who refer to him as the Lord of Light, his church is slowly phasing out this title. Aalynor is the embodiment of goodness and from him flows half of the life-force of the Realms. Aalynor's portfolios include: Light, Life, and because of circumstances, Forgiveness. Of all the Gods, Aalynor is considered the wisest, and he is rarely seen in the mortal realms, relying instead on subtle omens and portents, as well as his mortal followers and angelic messengers. At this time, Aalynor has no mortal Avatar, and his church (the largest following in Nexus save Pandora) is led by the Cleric Lucis, the Keeper of the Light, who grows close to retirement, and Tilnar's Touch. Lucis has been grooming the Paladin Vesper, known as the Child of the Light and the Cleric Kenlokerai as his replacements. Lucis the Keeper of the Light, was Aalynor's emissary. Vesper the Child of the Light and Kenlokerai were his replacements. Tilnar, True God Titles: Lord of Twilight, Lord of Death, Lord of Justice, Lord of Magic, Lord of Mercy, Lord of Theft, Lord of Vengeance, Lord of Night, Lord of Knowledge, Judge of Souls. Status: active in the realms. Alignment: Good, though Tilnar still bears scars from his time of Darkness. Patron Race: Dragons, High Drow (Grey Elves), Enlightened Daemons. Sacred Colors: Black, Red, Orange, Violet Symbol: Tilnar's symbol is the silhouette of a griffon flying toward a black and crimson moon against a violet twilight sky. To represent his responsibilities as the Lord of Death, the griffon now cries tears of blood. The symbols of his other powers now surround this central image. Sacred Stone: Onyx, Obsidian, Ruby. (The stones sacred to the Gods whose powers he wields are sacred to Tilnar as well.) The Lord of Twilight has led the single most tortured existence in the Realms. He sadly accepted the responsibility to end the lives of the races, and from the time of the Godswar until very recently, Tilnar knew no peace. The death of his wife, Dilanis, Goddess of Love, broke Tilnar's mind, and the subsequent slaying of many Gods caused Tilnar to twist as their new powers shifted him into Shadow. During this time, Tilnar ceased using his "true" form, instead housing his power in rotting corpses whenever entering any plane. It was long believed that Tilnar would be able to fight off the dark influence, but with Dilanis' death, he lacked the will to do so. In fact, it was the Darkness itself which had prevented Tilnar from resurrecting Dilanis, and so Tilnar allowed Aalynor to purify his soul, driving out that which was truly evil within him in order to resurrect Dilanis. This success ended Tilnar's twisted madness, where he once acted differently based upon which portfolio he embodied at the time, now his powers and personas are integrated as the Lord of Twilight... Tilnar's actions are, at times, tender and gentle, as he was before the war, however his long time in Darkness has left Tilnar somewhat harsher than he was before Dilanis' death (some believe this is due to his retention of the powers of Vengeance, others that this is the reason that he retained those powers). The magical Weave of existence is fueled by Tilnar's powers, and in addition, he still feeds half of the life- force of the realms. Tilnar's only created race, the daemons, are his true patronage, although when he gained Maana's powers, he adopted the Dragons, and after the Elven split, the Dark-elves. However, now with Tilnar's return to the Light, many who were once his children now serve Kyorl, especially amongst these three races. Tilnar's portfolio include: Death, Justice, Vengeance, Magic, Theft, Mercy, Knowledge, Night and other powers created by the mixing of the portfolio. As such, Tilnar enjoys a wide following, especially amongst thieves (as he is their patron), magi (as the Lord of Magic), and bards (as the Lord of Knowledge). Tilnar often visits the mortal plane to Touch those who need it, and, like Aalynor, relies on portents and his mortal followers to spread the word. Dilanis, Daer'lin Goddess. Titles: Mistress of Love, Mistress of Peace, Lady of Beauty Status: Active. After Andaras was slain by Kyorl, Dilanis took up Beauty in honor of her. Alignment: Good. Patron Race: Traenol, or True (Storm) Giants. Sacred Colors: Black, Red, Orange, Violet Symbol: Two rings, one gold, one platinum, overlapping on the edge to form the symbol of infinity. Sacred Stone: Stormstone, Diamond. The Mistress of Love is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. By Dilanis' hands were brought the Traenol from the Daer'lin, the race most commonly referred to as the Storm Giants today. Dilanis was taken by Tilnar's mercy and gentleness, and the two fell in love and were married. When the War of the Races came, Dilanis, like Tilnar, was upset to see the breakdown between the races, the Hatred that had come from what was once love and understanding. When the time of the Godswar came, Dilanis was one of the first Gods who joined Aalynor to do battle against their fallen brethren. While Dilanis' teachings were of Love and Peace, so did she understand that her love for the Realms required her to protect them. Unfortunately for all, Dilanis was slain by Plekto in battle, driving Tilnar over the edge to insanity. It is said that where Dilanis' shade lay, along with the few Daer'lin souls, in Tilnar's Realm, is the single most beautiful place on all the planes of existence. Tilnar sealed Dilanis' Realm after her death, so that it could only be opened by her, were she ever restored. Tilnar had attempted many experiments to resurrect Dilanis, but none of them succeeded, until Tilnar allowed Aalynor to purify him in the Light. The two brothers recreated Dilanis', perfect to the moment of her death, only changed by the centuries as a shade in the realms. With her return, Tilnar embraced the Light. Dilanis found a strong following of mortals who never lost hope in her return, gaining a quick following. It is said that Dilanis has become even more willing to help separated lovers, due to the centuries she and Tilnar endured just beyond each other's grasp. Dilanis chose the monk Iona to be her Emissary, the Blessing of Love, and while she leaves the running of the church to Iona, Dilanis is oft on the mortal plane, answering prayers of lovers. Iona the Mistress and Love's Blessing is Dilanis' emissary.Oradea is Dilanis' junior emissary. Andaras, Daer'lin Goddess. Titles: Lady of the Arts, Mistress of the Arts, Mistress of Beauty. Status: Destroyed. Andaras was slain during the Godswar, however, she was "resurrected" in recent times when her soul gained some of the power of the slain Arskol. Andaras was slain a second time by Kyorl who absorbed a portion of her Godsaura. Alignment: Good. Patron Race: Humanity. Sacred Colors: Midnight Blue, Forest Green, Platinum. Symbol: Three Pointed Star. Sacred Stone: Opal. The Mistress of Arts is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Andaras brought about the creation of humanity, for Andaras, even as a Daer'lin, was the greatest artist to have lived. Her race, humanity, was the last one created by the Council... Andaras spoke last, and took from all the other races, claiming that most of the other races lacked versatility, and therefore, their views (and thus, their art) would be limited. Unlike most other races, humans bore little special love for their patron, as their very versatility caused them to gravitate toward whichever god best matched their unique personalities. Andaras' portfolio is the arts, as such, she is often revered by bards. Her secondary portfolio is beauty, which, of course causes Andaras to dabble in the affairs of love, as well as hear the prayers of the vain, or those who cannot see the beauty within their physical shells. Not surprisingly, Andaras was not much of a warrior, and, as such, was slain by Vrackon in the Godswar. Andaras was recently resurrected, and seems to have remained quite herself, despite the somewhat twisted power that reforged her godsaura. Her faithful are skilled artisans, be they storytellers, painters, sculptors or poets. As such, Andaras is revered by all the races, though the elves and dwarves seem to bear special love for her. Andaras was slain a second time by Kyorl who absorbed a portion of her Godsaura. Zharina the Priestess and Gift of Inspiration is Andaras' emissary. Trista, Daer'lin Goddess Titles: Mistress of Wine, Mistress of Revelry, Mistress of Merriment, Mistress of Mischief, Lady of the Dance. Status: Active. Alignment: Good. Patron Race: None. Sacred Colors: Burgundy, Light Amber. Symbol: A bunch of grapes surrounded by a wreath of wildflowers. Sacred Stone: Topaz, Amber. Trista holds a somewhat unique position amongst the ascended Daer'lin in that her existence as a Goddess was unplanned. Trista was Pandora's sister in the Golden Age of the Daer'lin and was one of the few Daer'lin who had managed to get herself killed accidentally prior to the Great Council. So it was, then, that when Rudestyle, in his madness, took the souls of the Daer'lin from Tilnar's Realm, including the Shades of the Gods Erisar, Andaras, Arskol and Dilanis, and a group of mortals attacked and subdued Rudestyle (who's Godsaura had been neutralized by Tilnar as he fled Tilnar's realm), the energies released by Rudestyle's death struck Trista's spirit, and rekindled life within her, even as the Godsaura wrapped around her. Trista gained Rudestyle's portfolio as the Lady of the Dance, the spirit of Merriment and Revelry. Every four years, Trista is revered in the great Planting Festival and the Harvest Festivals (these two events are separated by four years) where as much of the "old stock" of alcohol is consumed as possible in order to make room for the new. Trista herself brews the liquors which will intoxicate even the Gods and immortals of the realms. She is not, however, immune to her own handiwork, and it is said that her favorite part of such creation is the tasting. Her faithful are often considered to be flighty, drunken pranksters who are incapable of being serious. (This view makes Trista-worship popular amongst Sprites and Gnomes) However, most of Trista's faithful, like she herself, are quite capable of serious action when there is need. Rudestyle, Daer'lin God Titles: Lord of the Dance, Lord of Merriment, Lord of the Vine, Lord of Mischief. Status: Destroyed. Rudestyle was weakened by Tilnar and slain by mortals, his essence making Trista. What remained of him was destroyed by an enraged Tilnar. Alignment: Neutral-Good. Patron Race: Gnomes. Sacred Colors: Amber, Burgundy. Symbol: A cracked crystal goblet. Sacred Stone: Amber. The Lord of the Dance is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. By Rudestyle's recommendations came the Gnomish race from the Daer'lin, the race of master pranksters. Rudestyle was an amazingly popular and social God, friends with all of the other deities, until the time of the War. The Godswar was challenging time for Rudestyle, having been approached but not won over by Enchantress; Rudestyle was reluctantly a part of the Gods who fought for the Light. The death of many of the Gods shattered Rudestyle, driving him to partake of his own wares. And so, for centuries, Rudestyle ranged between being a depressed drunk and a maniacal party animal. Until, in a fit of depression, Rudestyle saw fit to invade Tilnar's realm, gathering the souls of the Daer'lin, hoping to have more partying. Tilnar, returning as Rudestyle was leaving, managed to dislodge the Godsaura. And so, Rudestyle barred the other Gods from his Realm, threatening to tear apart the souls if any of the Gods entered his Plane. And so, Tilnar gathered up mortals to seek out and destroy Rudestyle. The mortals slew his body, and when his soul energy was released, Trista absorbed it. Tilnar then destroyed Rudestyle's Shade, Touching it, ending its existence. Maana, Daer'lin Goddess. Titles: Mistress of Magic, Mistress of the Weave. Status: Destroyed. Maana was Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed her power. Alignment: Good. Patron Race: Dragons. Sacred Colors: Orichalcum (a strange orangish color). Symbol: A Crescent Moon wrapped around an 8-pointed star, with the star's four primary points extending past the crescent. Sacred Stone: Aldan, Quartz, Orichalcum. The Mistress of Magic is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. By Maana's hands were brought the Dragons from the Daer'lin. Maana was primarily a solitary goddess, although she was often seen with Arskol, sharing a similar interest: knowledge. The Brothers created the magical weave, however, it was Maana that maintained it, carefully nurturing the weave so that it would grow. Maana stood on the side of the Gods of Light in the battle of the Godswar, and was an instrumental factor during the battle. In the aftermath, Maana sought to use her magic to heal Tilnar's pain, but Tilnar, consumed by his madness, did not know who or what approached him, and Touched her, slaying her. Maana's destruction reshaped her children, and from the magical backlash in the weave were formed many sub-races, so now there are the Chromatic and Metallic dragons. Many attribute Maana's slaying to the creation of many other races, including the Drow, the split Giant races, and other such things. Following her death, the weave began to unravel, which is the reason for the banning of the spell "fly". Since then, the weave was brought under control. Maana's memory is still revered by magi, and by the dragons, although the Dragons have since pledged themselves to Tilnar. Maana's Realm still exists, a tribute maintained by Tilnar's guilt in having slain an ally. Plekto, Daer'lin God Titles: Lord of Theft, Stealthmaster. Status: Destroyed. Plekto was Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed his power. Alignment: Neutral-Evil. Patron Race: Hobbits. Sacred Colors: Slate Grey, Black. Symbol: A slender black dagger against a grey background. Sacred Stone: Cat's Eye. The Lord of Theft is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. By Plekto's recommendations came the Hobbit race from the Daer'lin. Plekto was originally a noble God; however, as his power grew, and he learned what could be gained through theft, he fell under Darkness. Plekto was the Lord of Theft, and while many scholars today dismiss such a power as an evil one, Plekto's was not originally an evil God. The poor, especially, revered him, for his abilities helped them when the time came to snatch a loaf to feed their family, or seeds, or many other such items. It is believed that Enchantress used her powers to heighten Plekto's Greed and Desire, giving her an ally who would, ultimately become easily controlled. The Hobbit people, however, still brought out the best in Plekto, and when his avatars walked through the Hobbit villages, the blessings and gifts they would bestow on the populace were proof of his good heart. However, bound by Enchantress' power, Plekto sought to steal power from the other Gods, and stood on the side of Darkness in the Godswar. It was Plekto who struck from the shadows to slay Dilanis, and it was Plekto who was the first of the Gods to be Touched. It is said, though the truth of it is unknown, that one of Plekto's mortal avatars, who was more akin to Plekto's nobility than his greed, survived the Godswar. As Avatar are granted powerful magics, it is certainly possible that she lived this long, and legends told by the Hobbits would tend to indicate that this is true. Pandora, Daer'lin Goddess Titles: Mistress of Hope. Status: Active. Alignment: Good. Patron Race: True (Light) Elves. Sacred Colors: White. Symbol: Doves, White Roses, Lilies. Sacred Stone: Pearl. The Mistress of the Hope is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Pandora's patron race is the True Elves, or the Light Elves, as they are known. Pandora's view was that the Daer'lin were stagnant because they had no driving force, no overall dreams, and so she became the embodiment of this force... Hope. Pandora's portfolio remains unchanged to this day. Of all the Gods, Pandora was the one who most often bent or broke the Rules of Free Will, often leading to conflicts with Malakai, the Lord of Justice, and with Aalynor and Tilnar. This was only heightened because to Pandora, where there was life, there was Hope, and therefore, Tilnar's power of Death was one that she found disturbing. The War of the Races was difficult for Pandora, for she had to accept the deaths of thousands upon thousands, and the betrayal of her children. Thus, the Godswar was even more difficult on Pandora, for she did not wish to fight the Gods of Darkness, clinging to the belief that they could be reclaimed, even as the Gods died around her. Tilnar's appearance and destruction of the Gods only heightened her dislike for his power, and this was made even stronger as Tilnar fell into Shadow. Tilnar, for his part, referred to Pandora as the Mistress of Denied Reality, claiming that the Hopes that she clung to where nothing against reality's harshness and his existence of pain. The betrayal the Light Elves in the War of the Races by the Drow, whom Tilnar embraced and adopted, pained her greatly, and it is believed that Pandora still cries over the thousands of deaths, and the existence of the Drow. As the Godswar ended, so did the War of the Races, and it was Pandora's influence and hope which lead humanity to begin to contact the other races again, and ultimately lead to the Alliance of Races, embodied in the rebuilt Nexus (which was destroyed in the War of the Races). As such, Pandora is considered by many to be the Patron of the City of all Races. Pandora's faithful can be found in all races, although she is especially popular amongst the Elves of Light and humanity (although in the City of All Races, her faithful outnumber even Aalynor's). Pandora's distaste for the power of Death has not faded, and, as such, there is always a degree of animosity between herself and Tilnar, and, therefore, her Church and the Church of Twilight. Erisar, Daer'lin God Titles: Lord of the Hunt, Lord of Battle. Status: Active. Alignment: Neutral. Patron Race: Orcs. Sacred Colors: Green, Brown. Symbol: A Longbow diagonally over a vertical Claymore. Sacred Stone: Bloodstone, Garnet. The Lord of Battle is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Erisar viewed the greatest flaw of the Daer'lin to be their immortality, and so, thought that a greater sense of urgency was needed. Therefore, by Erisar's suggestions came about the Orcish race, with their short life spans, and intense passions. As each God was responsible for their children, Erisar, himself embodied the passions of the Orcs as his powers defined him. Erisar was most revered amongst the Orcs, although his followers stretched across all the races, his battle-skill a blessing to the Trollish, Dwarven and Ogre races, while his skills as a woodsman made him popular to the Elves and humanity. Erisar was a strong and passionate god, strong without being cruel, and caring intensely not only for his child-race, but for all the peoples of all the races. This all changed, however, when Enchantress decided that she needed a general for her armies in the War of the Races, and the Godswar. She used her powers to seduce Erisar, and began studying him, finding ways that she could direct his passions to her purposes. Eventually, she won Erisar's aid, and so, launched the War of the Races, in violation of the Rules of Free Will, thus causing the Godswar. Erisar was held back in the battle, at first, acting as a general even in that, directing the Gods of Darkness, his directions slaying Arskol and Andaras quickly. Erisar, the obvious threat, became the primary target for the Gods of Light, and it was Maana who slew him, firing raw mana at him and continuing the stream as she weakened, while the other gods protected her. Erisar was recently resurrected, and having had centuries of existence to consider what happened, his own guilt tearing at him all that time, he was, in mind in spirit a more careful and caring God, despite even the twisted powers that reformed his Godsaura. As before, Erisar's greatest following is amongst the Orcs, who, as a people, mourned his death, many of whom remained loyal to his memory. Erisar is also very popular amongst Rangers of all races, for his skills as a Hunter and as a Warrior. Erisar's return, in fact, became a matter of joy for most members of the Allied Races, for they believed, and still do, that Erisar will aid them in the battles to come. Based on the gains made by Nexus' army and the Allied Races, this may, in fact, be the case, as Erisar answers the prayers of the Faithful. In fact, the second-in-command of the Allied Forces after Fariol is Kriden, a Dwarvish Cleric of Erisar. Erisar's refounded church in Nexus is quite unstructured, and he has chosen two Emissaries on the Mortal Plane, the Ranger Aragon to represent the Hunt, and the Barbarian Jim to represent Battle. Aragon the Ranger and Emissary of the Hunt, Florian the Ranger and Fury of the Hunt and Jim the Berserker and Savant of Battle are Erisar's emissaries. Arskol, Daer'lin God. Titles: Lord of Knowledge Status: Destroyed. Arskol was killed in the Godswar, resurrected, and then Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed his power. Alignment: Neutral. Patron Race: Renis. Sacred Colors: Jade, Slate. Symbol: An eye, set against an open tomb. Sacred Stone: Coral, Jade, Slate. The Lord of Knowledge is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races, and the only twice-slain god (-see Andaras?). Arskol's children, the Renis, were the race most like in mindset and lifespan the Daer'lin from which they came, increasing only their curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Therefore, like their patron, the Renis were a scholarly, pacific race. The Renis were charged with maintaining much of the Ancient Knowledge, and to this end, they maintained the Great University in Nexus. Arskol himself was a primarily solitary god, spending more time amongst his studies than anywhere else, and was often accused of being disinterested in the affairs of the world, except that he could study them. Because of their common interest in knowledge, Arksol was most frequently seen with Maana. Arskol's pacifistic and scholarly life changed, however, with the coming of the War of the Races, and the Godswar. His people nearly extinct, Arskol was quick to join the side of Light in the war, despite his lack of battle skills. Erisar, being a crafty tactician lured Arskol into his death by using "standard" tactics, the like he knew the Lord of Knowledge would have studied to bait his trap, making Arskol one of the first of the gods to be slain during the battle. His shade remained in Tilnar's Realm for centuries, and it appeared that the Renis people destroyed completely. Arskol's shade was stolen by Rudestyle along with the souls of the other Daer'lin, and with the creation of Trista during that incident, Tilnar studied it, that he could duplicate the practice and restore Dilanis. Arskol, therefore, was the test subject, Tilnar destroying completely the Lord of Knowledge's Realm, sending the souls of the Lord of Knowledge's faithful into the realms of other gods. Tilnar directed all of this power into Arskol, and the spark was struck Arskol returned to life, though his power, and his sanity was not stable. With their patron's return, the last colony of Renis made contact with the Allied Races, much to the joy of all those in the Realms. Arskol blamed and hated Tilnar for the centuries he had to endure as a shade, and completed his disdain by placing the dagger of Plekto on display in his temple. Arskol then stole the souls of the fallen gods, Dilanis, Erisar and Andaras, from Tilnar's Realm to "liberate" them. Tilnar remained in his Realm while the other gods confronted Arskol until Arskol slew Malakai. Tilnar, who was waiting for the soul of a god, and having studied the death of Gods, used his powers to restore Malakai's life, and Touched Arskol as Malakai slew him. There was a great magical backlash, as his Godsaura rekindled life in both Erisar and Andaras. At that time, no one claimed the Portfolio of Knowledge, although Tilnar later revealed that he held this power, upon his return to the Light. Twilia, Daer'lin Goddess Titles: Lady of Night, Lady of Darkness. Status: Destroyed. Twilia was Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed her power. Alignment: Evil. Patron Race: Dwarves. Sacred Colors: Midnight Blue, Pale-Grey. Symbol: A white four-pointed star obscured by cloud. Sacred Stone: Lapis Lazuli, Moonstone. The Lady of Night was one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Twilia's children are the Dwarven race, born into the darkness of caves and mines, from the original Daer'lin. Twilia was originally a quiet, solitary Goddess, preferring to remain alone in the darkness, amusing herself with re-patterning the stars, positioning them like gems against the curtain of darkness. However, as time passed, and Twilia's portfolios grew deeper within her, the aspect of Darkness, the prayers of those who asked Twilia to obscure them as they snuck in the Darkness to perform various nefarious and evil deeds. The Dwarves as a people had turned primarily to Erisar (for battle skill) and Andaras (for craftsmanship), this represented the greatest amounts of Twilia's prayers, and, she began to answer them, changing her heart. Twilia's powers allowed the Gods of Darkness to obscure their role in the starting of the War of the Races for as long as they did, binding the hands of the Gods of Light under the Rules of Free Will. Twilia stood on the side of Darkness in the Godswar, and was Touched by Tilnar at that time. Tilnar still holds the powers of the Lord of Night and Darkness, however, filled with the Light now, and his other portfolio, the "evil" of this power does not seem to affect him. Kyorl, Daemon God Titles: Lord of Hatred, Lord of Lies, Lord of Lust, Lord of Greed, Lord of Desire, Lord of Pain, Lord of Chaos. Status: Active. Alignment: Evil. Patron Race: Goblins, Drow, Chromatic Dragons and Daemons. Sacred Colors: Gold, Red. Symbol: An angel in silver robes placing a golden crown on his head, with the hand holding the crown scaled and Daemonic. Sacred Stone: Black Tourmaline, Carnelian. The Lord of Lies is, in fact, the antithesis of the rest of the gods. Kyorl was created by Tilnar, infusing a God's Aura into what was the leader of his daemons in his Dark Realms. Tilnar, to power the god's aura, gave Kyorl of his own powers. Tilnar infused Kyorl with the powers and responsibilities of Hatred, Desire, Greed, Lust and Lies, portfolio which seemed to integrate well with the daemon's personality. As he was never Daer'lin, Kyorl seems to operate on different rules. For example, his power seems to grow at his portfolios are used - every lie told, every flash of lust that is acted upon, all of these things seem to increase his power. In addition to this, Kyorl seems to have retained the Daemonic ability to feed from negative emotions, making him stronger. As such, Kyorl used this ability to "feed" while Tilnar was rejecting several of the powers of Darkness, causing Kyorl to become far stronger than he had been before, and giving him new portfolios to enjoy, although they were twisted by the process. Kyorl is now considered the Embodiment of Evil, and his followers left Nexus to join the Goblin Hoards, who faithfully renamed their unique powers in his honor. Kyorl took the patron races from Tilnar, happily accepting into his fold the Drow, Daemons and Dragons who did not wish to "return to the Light" when their Lord did, which grants Kyorl a large and powerful following. As stated, the rules and limitations of Kyorl's powers are unknown, and it is believed that his unique nature and power may make him a match for even the Brothers, easily exceeding the strength of the Ascended Daer'lin. The only known limitation of Kyorl is the Law of Free Will, which while he will bend it greatly, going so far as to attempt to convince, cajole, persuade and bribe mortal beings to act, he still must have the action come from them in order to feed. It seems unlikely, that Kyorl would part with enough power to create an Avatar, although with his new-found strength, the possibility cannot be dismissed. Kyorl's mortal church is led by the thief Lothar, the Speaker of Truths. Lother the Theif and Speaker of Truths and Izra the Prophetess and Purveyor of Truths are Kyorl's emissaries. Malakai, Daer'lin God Titles: Lord of Justice, Malakai the Cruel. Status: Destroyed. Malakai was Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed his power. Alignment: Neutral. Patron Race: Ogres. Sacred Colors: N/A Symbol: A set of unbalanced scales. Sacred Stone: N/A The Lord of Justice is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Malakai helped Aalynor lead the gods of Light in fighting the gods of Darkness in the War of the Races, while Tilnar retreated to his realm. Sometime after the war, Tilnar attempted to resurrect Arskol whose sanity was not stable and hated Tilnar for the centuries he had to endure as a shade. Malakai was slain while confronting Arskol for stealing the souls of the fallen gods, Dilanis, Erisar and Andaras, from Tilnar's Realm to "liberate" them. Tilnar, who was waiting for the soul of a god, and having studied the death of Gods, used his powers to restore Malakai's life, and Touched Arskol as Malakai slew him. There was a great magical backlash, as his Godsaura rekindled life in both Erisar and Andaras. During the Time of Darkness Tilnar demanded Malakai join the rest of the gods, screaming that only the allied power of all the gods could stand before Void, and fight to ensure that there was still a world over which to watch. Malakai was unswayed by the words, stating that Void had come to destroy creation, and not the gods - and that only creation had refused Justice - and so it would be without it. Tilnar repeated that only the allied powers of all the gods would be sufficient, and reached out his dark hand, Touching Malakai. As Malakai's soul withered into nothingness, the powers of the Lord of Justice flooded into Tilnar. The black flames escaped, exploding around him, destroying Malakai's realm in their dark fury. Vrackon, Daer'lin God Titles: Lord of Hardship, Lord of Bitterness. Status: Destroyed. Vrakon was Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed his power. Alignment: Neutral. Patron Race: Trolls. Sacred Colors: N/A Symbol: N/A Sacred Stone: N/A The Lord of Hardship is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Vrackon schemed with Enchantress, Novind, Twilia, and Plekto as the Gods of Darkness in developing a plan to keep the other gods busy while igniting the War of Races. During the battle with the Gods of Light, Vrackon killed Andaras before ultimately being destroyed and power absorbed by Tilnar's touch along with the remaining Gods of Darkness. Novind, Daer'lin God Titles: Lord of Chaos, Stormreaver. Status: Destroyed. Novind was Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed his power. For a time, Tilnar's madness and the Power of Chaos "re-created" a Novind, as a Drow, but this was only an extension of Tilnar's madness. Alignment: Neutral. Patron Race: Kobolds. Gnoll. Sacred Colors: N/A Symbol: N/A Sacred Stone: N/A The Lord of Chaos is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Novind schemed with Enchantress, Vrackon, Twilia, and Plekto as the Gods of Darkness in developing a plan to keep the other gods busy while igniting the War of Races. During the battle with the Gods of Light, Novind was ultimately destroyed and power absorbed by Tilnar's touch along with the remaining Gods of Darkness. At some point after the War of Races, Tilnar's madness and the power of Chaos re-created Novind as a Drow. After Tilnar killed and absorbed Malakai during the Time of Darkness, Aalynor used his powers to cure his brother's madness. This resulted in the "persona" of Tilnar that was Novind fading away along with the madness. Enchantress, Daer'lin Goddess Titles: Mistress of Greed, Lady of Desire, The Temptress, Mistress of Lust. Status: Destroyed. Enchantress was Touched by Tilnar, who absorbed her power. Alignment: Evil. Patron Race: Goblins. Sacred Colors: N/A Symbol: N/A Sacred Stone: N/A The Mistress of Lust is one of the Daer'lin ascended into Godhood following the Great Council which led to the creation of the Races. Enchantress schemed with Novind, Vrackon, Twilia, and Plekto as the Gods of Darkness in developing a plan to keep the other gods busy while igniting the War of Races. Enchantress seduced Erisar to the side of Darkness, but failed to convince Rudestyle who reluctantly aided the Gods of Light instead. It is believed that Enchantress also used her powers to heighten Plekto's Greed and Desire, giving her an ally who would, ultimately become easily controlled. During the battle with the Gods of Light, Enchantress was ultimately destroyed and power absorbed by Tilnar's touch along with the remaining Gods of Darkness. Paelina, Angel Goddess Titles: Lady of Honor, Lady of Valor, Lady of Duty. Status: Active Alignment: Evil Neutral. Patron Race: None. Sacred Colors: N/A Symbol: Crossed Swords, one of Steel (Valor), one of Silver (Honor). Sacred Stone: N/A Paelina holds a somewhat unique position amongst the ascended Gods, being the only Angel to be granted the powers of a goddess. Paelina was Tilnar's first Mortal Avatar as well as the first Daemonspawn, the Fallen Angel, to serve as one of his Thirteen Guards after the War of Races. During The Rejoining, her conversation with an Astral Messenger directly resulted in Aalynor assisting Tilnar with resurrecting his wife Dilanis and ending his long torment. Her absolute unwavering devotion to Tilnar was rewarded with his return to the light and by the brothers restoring her original Angel form while also granting her the powers of a goddess. Paelina's banner was quickly taken up by the Nexus Guard, and Army. Anterio and Valena are Paelina's emissary.Faith & Religion - Old In the realms of the Nexus, there are essentially five distinct religious positions which a character can hold. Each of these positions represents a different aspect of society, and will be explained here. 1. Faithful The Faithful are by far the largest percentage of the population. The people known as the Faithful hold the religious belief that the gods exist, and that all of the gods love them, and will therefore help them in times of need. The Faithful respect all of the gods, giving them the due that they deserve. However, most of the Faithful tend to "actively" worship Aalynor or Tilnar, as the True Gods are above the Daer'lin. As such, a common man may pray to each of the gods in turn in a single day, each time they have need. For example, if we were to look at a somewhat typical day of an "average" person, a pattern like this might arise. He awakens, rises from his bed, and looks out the window. The sun is shining brightly, filling the man with joy, and so, he offers thanks to Aalynor for his life and the new day. The man dresses and walks down the hall, stopping in at his daughter's room. He looks down on her sleeping form, and thanks Andaras for gifting her with such beauty. He makes his way to work, and as he toils, he prays to Pandora, hoping that time speeds up, and that the festival come that much faster. He leaves work early, and ventures into the woods to find food. A soft prayer to Erisar is whispered, asking for the help of the Lord of the Hunt in finding game to feed his family. As he walks through the woods, he passes an old tree with initials carved into it, and thinks of his wife. He sighs a gentle prayer to Tilnar, asking the Lord of Death and Lost Love to watch over her soul, until they are again together. The man brings home a rabbit, which he shares with his child, and then they proceed to the Midwinter's Festival. The man partakes of Trista's liquor, offering thanks with every lift of the wrist. As the alcohol dims his mind, he notices a beautiful creature across the square. Thoughts run through his mind, and he offers a small prayer to Kyorl for his sudden lust, asking for help in his glibness, hoping that the Lord of Desire will help him gain what he wants, and that the Lord of Lies will help smooth over rougher points in conversation. The Faithful are judged by Tilnar at their time of death, their lives examined. If they are found to have been true to their ideals and the gods then they are sent to the realms of the gods. If they are deemed to have been False in their lives, then they are treated like the False (see that section for details). 2. Follower Some people tend to gravitate towards the ethos of a single god or goddess. These people are generally considered by many to be more pious, for in dedicating one's self to one god, one distances him or herself from the others. Obviously, this sort of dedication is necessary to achieve the power of a paladin or a cleric. [You must have a piety of 10 or greater to become a Follower.] A hard path, chosen by pious souls, at seventh level you may elect to be recognized as a Follower of a specific deity. It is up to the specific deity what is required from you to attain this status, but typically you will have to perform a Task (or quest); to demonstrate the level of dedication and devotion that you have. The Task is often completed by a group of prospective Followers. You will gain in return, upon successful completion, an indication, or mark upon your being that you are a follower. You will also, in turn, be restricted in your actions by the Ethos of the deity you selected. Not all deities accept followers. To become a follower, simply seek an audience with the High Priest of the Church of your chosen deity and ask to join the Followers. The High Priest will then consider your request, and either accept or deny it based on their observations of your actions in the past, and performance during the Task. As a Follower it is expected that you shall go forward into the world and carry on the work of the deity in the realms, and any other task the deity may assign you. If summoned by your High Priest, you are to drop all matters and appear instantly before them. It may sometimes be necessary to die within the servitude of your Deity, although it is rare for Followers to be asked to perform tasks which result in certain death (see PLEDGING) it can, and does happen from time to time. Like the Faithful, Followers are judged by Tilnar at their time of death, their lives examined. If they are found to have been true to the ideals of their god, then they are sent to that god's Realm. There, they are usually given positions and/or forms to reward their loyalty during their mortal lives. If they are deemed to have been False in their lives, then they are treated like the False (see that section for details). 3. Pledge A harder path, not often attempted, and rarely completed is that of pledging to a specific deity. This monumental task can only be attempted by 15th level or higher characters, and of those, only the most devout will ever be accepted. [You must have a piety of 20 or greater.] If a deity has accepted you as a follower, and you are ready to give up your mind, body and soul in servitude to that deity, then you may attempt to walk this most difficult path... The first step to pledging yourself is the pledge. You will stand before the chosen Deity, having requested an audience with them (through your High Priest), and state your desire to give yourself completely to them. The deity will then pass judgement on you, of your actions since becoming a follower, and either accept or refuse your Initial Pledge. The deity will either refuse you, or ask that you perform a Quest of Purification. If you are refused, then so be it. Very few have the strength and soul to walk in the Light or Shadow of their gods, and apart from a lack of humility, you have shown the deity no offense, if you were a loyal follower. If your request annoys the deity, they may take from you to reflect their displeasure and the waste of their time. If it does not, you may proceed, and ask again at a later time, when you have purified your soul. If you are given a Quest of Purification, then it should consume you. This task will cleanse your soul, such that your chosen Deity may accept you as one of their Chosen. The Quest will cause you to face the things you have done that have displeased the deity, often things subtle, to ensure your devotion to the Ethos. If you fail the Quest, then you are refused, and it is to you to prove your worth to your Deity before requesting to walk this path again. If you succeed, you are accepted. Characters accepted by their deities are given a Quest of Devotion. The Quest of Devotion is a major feat, often thought impossible by mortals. There are many who have been accepted, yet died of old age before completing this Quest. The Quests are different for each deity, and are sure to test every aspect of the Questor. (No Quest of Devotion ever recorded was completed in less than six months real-time, and some are expected to take at least a year.) Should you fail in your Quest, you lose the right to call yourself Questor, and are considered a normal follower forevermore. Should you complete the Quest of Devotion, you gain the title of Chosen. A magic aura marks you, separating you from the other mere followers of your deity. In addition, you have been given a link to your Deity, unlike that of most mortals. Your faith allows you to hold a minute fraction of your Deity's power, and to use that power to further that Deity's cause. In exchange for these benefits, you have completely given yourself to your deity. You are bound, body and soul, to perform any task that Deity requests of you, or die (multiple-times, if necessary) in the attempt. Should you fail, it is up to your Deity how to react. Should you displease your Deity, then that displeasure will mark you. It is not uncommon for Chosen to lose attributes, abilities, or die in the service of the Deity. And, should you betray your Deity, then may the Light itself save you. The pledge of the Chosen, once given, is not meant to be broken. The Pledged, or the Chosen, are judged solely by the deity to which they have offered their soul. As any Chosen would be severely punished or even cast out should they have not lived up to the high and exacting standards of their god, when the Chosen die their mortal deaths, their souls are taken by the god to whom they are pledged. Most Chosen are given high positions in the hierarchy of the realm in which they arrive - for example, Chosen of Aalynor often become Astral Messengers or Archangels, while Tilnar's Chosen are reborn as Harbingers or Daemonspawn. 4. Faithless The Faithless are a small group, as it is most difficult to deny the existence of the gods around you. Those who are Faithless choose either to not believe in the gods, or in the powers of the gods. As such, most of the faithless are highly self-reliant, feeling that since there is no other power to help them, they will have to make do on their own. It is unknown what happens to the Faithless at their moment of death. It is believed that the gods, in imparting Free Will into their creations, did not want to force them to worship. As such, it is commonly believed that the Faithless are judged, as are the others, however, most of the faithless are true to themselves if not the gods, and are therefore reincarnated until a proper judgment can be made. 5. The False The False are the smallest of all of the groups, as they are composed wholly of those who have been tested and found lacking by the gods. Most of the False were so declared when their souls were brought to judgement before Tilnar at the end of their mortal lives, but in extremely rare cases, someone (who was a Follower or a Chosen) falls from Grace, the failures of their souls becomes marked even on the mortal plane. Such a person is excommunicated from their church, and becomes marked by the God that they have upset as the False. A mortal marked as False will have many difficulties in their day-to-day lives. For one, any loyal Follower or Chosen will be able to feel the mark upon the False, and the stain of the divine displeasure will cause them discomfort. Chosen have been known to become physically ill in the presence of one who is marked False by their own Deity. In one case, a Mortal Avatar of Rudestyle's Aura of Power actually struck down and slew one of the False marked by that God. This sense of discomfort causes the Chosen and Followers to tend to avoid the False. Second, the gods, by mutual agreement, all respect each other's marks. When marked False, the individual is forsaken by all of the gods, not even able to accept a simple prayer of the Faithful. As such, Faith Magics, when cast upon the False, operate at less efficiency, as the Godsmagic will not willingly touch one who is so marked. As such, the False must rely on potions and devices and other weaker magics. Obviously, a Cleric or Paladin marked as False is doomed, as their link to their god is shattered, and therefore, so are their powers. Some Paladins have the strength of will to survive as fighters, though this is rare. Mortal death is something that the False dread more than anything. As their souls have already been judged by whichever god marked them, the False are sentenced to an eternity of pain and torment in the darkest areas of Kyorl's Realm. Here, where the hellfire burns, the daemons play with the False for all time, ensuring that every single moment of their existence brings to them a new, fresh agony. It is a job that the Daemons do well, and greatly enjoy. Some legends bring hope to the Mortal False, however. There exists, in all the realms, but one single tale of an Elf, marked False by a god, (Tilnar), who, through legendary effort, was able to first prove to Tilnar that her soul still had worth, and then, through an even more difficult process, atone for her misdeeds. The legend speaks of the elf spending over 200 years proving herself to Tilnar, however, it is said that when she died, she did so as one the Faithful. There is no proof of this legend, however. Also, there exists two tales of a person excommunicated not by the god, but by the god's mortal emissary, who were able to successfully atone for their misdeeds. One even died a follower to another god. Or so the legends say.Emissaries - Old Guidelines for Emissaries Emissaries run the administrative aspects of a church. They are the voice of their Deity. They teach, train and are mentors for church members and they ensure the word of their Deity is heard throughout the realms. They also accept new followers into the fold, are responsible for his/her followers and are expected to discipline and/or banish those who don't behave. Being an emissary is a privilege and can be revoked by their Deity. Being an emissary is a position of trust from the Deity and that the Deity might well award a good emissary as well as punish a bad one to a much greater extent than an ordinary follower. For the most part, emissaries are allowed to aid their church as they see fit within the guidelines of their Deity, however the following basic guidelines must be adhered to. As an emissary you must be visible and frequently in the realms. If you will be absent for a period of 2 weeks or longer you must notify your Deity as soon as possible, ensure your mail notice is updated. If an emissary is not active or missing within the realms for a period of 2 weeks or more without notice, the Deity has the right to remove said emissary from their position and / or appoint another emissary. One duty of the emissary is to be available for and attend all City Council meetings in an advisory capacity. Emissaries have no voting rights on Council matters. NB: This is currently through the nexuscouncil yahoogroups list. NBB: Emissaries of deities exiled from Nexus will not be invited to join City Council. You must be active in your role as emissary, recognizing that your first duty is to your Deity. Another duty is to the needs of your church members. You are their role model, their mentor and must act appropriately. As emissary you must have a notice with the Postmaster indicating how to reach you or if you will be away for a period of time, etc. NB: Currently modifications to notices must be sent via nexusmail to the Gamemaster liaison. Notes A Gamemaster liaison has been appointed for guildmasters and emissaries to have a single contact with the gamemasters. For example requests for items, church repairs/additions, etc would go through the liaison first to determine funds available. Regular church issues would still be sent to your Deity. See the wizlist in-game for the current contact. A notice board can be put up in each church follower's area. Each individual emissary will determine its use and who can post to it. All postings will go through the emissary to the emissary liaison. Emissaries are appointed by their Deity. Emissaries report to their Deity and their position can be revoked by their Deity. Each church will get a bank account. Currently this will be a set amount per month. In the future, coding will be established to update accounts based on a percentage of tithes during said month. Donations to the church can also be transferred to these accounts via the Gamemaster liaison.Heroes of the Realms From the archives of the old Nexus Library. Histories of past Hero's long gone. Book pages that have not yet crumbled to dust or were deemed worth re-copying for safe keeping. Barbarians Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Arkenon Class: Barbarian Race: Half-Giant It all began one blistery hot summers eve in a small village of half-giants. Arkenon was born on Ruvur, the thirteenth of the month of the Dragon the first of many in his family. Even at birth, his size and power was greater then those around him. He was walking well before the year was out and by 2 was besting those 5 years his senior in wrestling matches. He was destined for greatness from the start. In this village the custom was of arranged marriages. Those who were to be paired off were done by the fifth year during the summer ceremony of life. Arkenon was brought forward during this festival and it was announced to a hushed crowd that he was to be matched with Allyn, the chieftains daughter. As the crowd took this in, they realized more then ever to fear the might of Arkenon. Over the years Arkenon grew truly mighty, leading parties of warriors into the woods for hunts by the age of 10... There was only one problem... everyone respected the power of Arkenon, though they did not respect him. Although Arkenon was not the brightest lad, he knew what they thought and realized that he could not lead those who held no respect for him. So one night, the date untold Arkenon wandered off, without a note, without a goodbye, into the night. Arkenon traveled for many a day and night until one day he came upon the city of Nexus, but before he reached the gates he was attacked by a wandering band of Goblins... for the first time ever Arkenon felt fear as they overwhelmed him and as they went for the killing blow, Arkenon rolled to the side into some bushes... Much is not remembered of that night.. there was much running and hiding for Arkenon, and to this day he will not recall this event to others. Somehow in his wanderings that night he came upon the ferry to Falcion and boarded it... Waking up on the beach, Arkenon wandered until he reached the gates of Falcion knowing what he must do... he had left one home devoid of his power of Arms, he would not do so again. So into the city he went and learned all he could. Training hard but making few friends as his brash nature and overbearing personality did not endear him to many. He did not care, he had given his life new meaning... It was during this time he decided to dedicate his life to Erisar. Many wonderful and fearsome adventures have passed through the years and Arkenon has humbled some. He has grown and led great warparties against any threat of Nexus. His power has become a gathering point of strength for all in Nexus. His sister has now joined the fight and brought news to Arkenon that Allyn after all these years is still waiting for him. Soon, very soon, he will return to his homeland, not in shame and not wishing for the trust of those he left for foolishness. He returns to bring his whole tribe to Nexus... to join with the forces and to aid in the defense and perhaps even marry who can tell what the future will hold? Banzai Class: BarbarianRace: Human Banzai stepped through the doorway and looked around at the customers in Kalim's Tavern with a scowl on her face. Many recognized her, some shrunk back into the their seats, while others hailed her. She ignored them all and stepped over to a small man sitting alone at a table in the corner. "Jaccobe?" she asked warily. The man nodded and Banzai slipped into the chair, "Ok, let's get this over with!" "As you know my name is Jaccobe and I am a researcher. I have been tasked with recording the history of some of the older adventurers in Nexus," stated the small man. Banzai grunted, "History!? I have no history! And who are you calling old?!" The man replied carefully, "Just tell me about yourself. Start wherever you want. How did you come to Nexus? Why do you follow Tilnar?" Banzai glared at Jaccobe, let out a big sigh and said, "very well..... All I remember is always being on my own and fending for myself. I have traveled from town to town never staying in one place for too long. I would sleep in the alleys or out in the forests. Sometimes, for certain 'favors', I would eat well and sleep comfortably." Banzai grinned at the look on Jaccobe's face, "I'm no saint! I do what is necessary for my survival and if I find it enjoyable, then all the better!" Banzai smiled, a little sadly, "Hardship and loneliness have never bothered me, they have been my companions for too long." Banzai stopped suddenly and called over a barmaid and gruffly ordered a tankard of ale. She sat and glared at those who were staring curiously at her and her companion but said not a word. When the barmaid returned with the ale, Banzai gulped some down and continued....."When I first arrived in Nexus, it was a small village in desperate need of warriors to help keep the goblin hordes at bay. So, I decided to stay a while and fight, earn some gold and keep busy for a few days. As the days turned into weeks, I began to notice that I had none of my normal feelings to leave and travel again. I had been in many fights; led, and lost, some hearty adventurers into heated battles; been injured on more occasions than I can count, but still stayed. And, I h ave begun, for the first time, to make friends. So, for now, I will stay here in Nexus. I may not be smart, but I know a good thing when I see it." During this time, Jaccobe had been frantically scribbling on some parchment. He now looked up and said one word, "Tilnar?" Banzai nodded, "Tilnar! During my early days here I found that the vaults within the cemetery were an ideal location to sleep an d be protected from the weather. I would get the feeling of being watched, but I never felt afraid. People assumed from the beginning that I was one of his." Banzai chuckled, "I suppose Tilnar and myself realized they were right. I would wake up and find armor or a nice sword beside me, I would dream of villagers and such that were 'easy' targets so that I had gold to buy food. I was introduced to Darkblade, my first true friend here. From what I have seen here, Tilnar is the most honest and truthful God. The other Gods shunned me somewhat because of my 'methods' of survival. So, I have pledged myself to Tilnar for eternity!" Suddenly Banzai stopped talking and with a slightly embarrassed look on her face stood up, gulped down the rest of her ale, wiped her mouth and said, "that's enough about me" and walked quickly out of the tavern. Billy Class: BarbarianRace: Half-giant Boy- now I never really think about my life before I came to Nexus. It really wasn’t that great. I was slow. I was dull and I was so stupid I couldn’t understand any sort of language when I did get here. I was an uncivilized beast, an animal of the world, wandering from place to place. Let me think now... I don’t know who my parents were because it seemed like I had somebody new telling me what to do and somewhere different each night to sleep. But once I learned the basics of survival I was out and on my own. About the time I was twelve I was taken captive and forced into slavery of the goblin hordes that have been attacking our city ever since. It was terrible. The only good thing I got from it was my strength. I was always moving big, heavy things almost all the time. Pushing and pulling, building and tearing down. I actually enjoyed some of the physical labor I had to do, but at the same time I didn’t. Deep in my heart I knew what was going on was wrong. I wanted to be free. Around the time I was sixteen, my slavemaster was forced to give me up to the soldiery unit. I didn’t know at the time this meant a trip to their Alchemists. I was so oblivious and stupid to what my fate had in store for me, I didn’t do a thing when a squad of goblin soldiers came to take me away. They bound and gagged me and left me in a cage of wood for almost a day. That night, a different group of goblins came to me. They laughed and sneered at me, pulled my hair, hit and beat me to unconsciousness. I awoke laying on my back, still bound. Rain was splashing against my face and I was feeling miserable. The sounds of crackling wood turned my attention and I saw the entire group crowded around a large bonfire. I was alone for the moment. I had never been treated so terribly in all my life. I was lucky to be under such a lenient slavemaster before and nothing I had experienced prepared me for what was about to happen... One of the goblins was looking at me, he pointed and said something unintelligible. As I caught eyes with him my vision, slowly at first, then more quickly, was clouded and red. The chains binding my limbs snapped as my body mass grew and I was filled with an energy, a lust, a wrath... Well, you know what I’m talking about. Anyway I felt invincible and that night I was. None of my captors were left alive or got away to tell about it. I was free, for the moment. I took whatever provisions I could find off the corpses and ran off into the darkness. Just that next day I was found by a group of adventurers, a couple of humans, a dwarf and an elf. I was badly hurt and half-conscious when they came to me or else I would have run off. To my surprise one of the humans and the elf began to chant and I felt incredibly better. They tried to ask me what had happened but all I could do was grunt and wave my arms about frantically. They were the first people I met from Nexus. I followed them home...and home is where I am. I’ll stay and fight for my home. This place gave me a reason to live, a brain to use and friends to love. I owe everything I have to it and its people. Bogardan Class: BarbarianRace: Half Giant Unknown even to himself, the young half-giant leaves from his concealment. Looking around he sees many creatures strewn about laying here and there as if some kind of big celebration had taken place. No one stirred as he walked through the brood. Sour smells of ale and other things filled his nose, and he held back the need to vomit. Tall trees some five times his towering height were all around this natural clearing he was in. Exploring the perimeter he finds a path leading east and south. He looked up at the broad leafed trees as they gave him shade from the two suns. He enjoyed this and although this place whispered home in his head he felt a longing for elsewhere. So with not a look back again he took the path quickly almost running towards the unknown. After running quite some time, the half-giant has to stop completely to keep from falling off the cliff he did not see until it was almost too late. Looking out south easterly he sees a lush forest, greens and other shades he is not familiar with. He feels a chill as the winds blow at him from all sides seemingly at once. He decides to move on taking a rough path down the cliff's face. As he finds his footing he is able to look around himself a bit. A large river is something he sees and his instincts tell him things live there that would eat most anything alive in minutes. After finally making his way down the cliff, he tries to find a way over the river. Giant crabs skitter about at the river's edge. Then he realizes there are no alligators and instincts suggest the crabs and the half-giant chuckles as he moves on south. Traveling parallel to the river he finally finds something which might help him, a bridge. He studies the bridge while walking and stumbles haphazardly to the ground. Picking himself up he spies a bag bulging with its contents. Now for the first time he notices all he wears is shredded leathers. And now after searching the bag's contents he finds several pieces of clothing, and after a bit he manages to fit some of the clothes on himself. Now he approaches the bridge and a lone bridge-keeper stands at attention as he proceeds towards the bridge. The keeper is adorned in shiny armors and brandishes a pike with a sharp spear head at its tip. He lowers the pike as the half-giant approaches and speaks, "In this time of war, none shall pass into the Eldane without my permission. Who are you?" The half-giant mouthed his name before he spoke it, "I, I am Bogardan." The keeper replies, "And your business?" "I seek shelter in the forest." "Then you will follow that path there and seek the city of Nexus, as only those of your race who are protectors of the town are able to live in that forest. Unless your part of the black hand, which in that case, you will not try to cross or this pike will find a new home in your belly." "I will go to this Nexus." And Bogardan waited for the bridge keeper to raise his pike before proceeding down the path to Nexus. Bogardan was sent to Falcion after finding Nexus, he did not even get to look around any. He thought it was kinda hurriedly done but others like him were going to the city as well. After talking to others around him on the way to the island, he learned that all these were to train in Falcion in the many different professions needed in order for Nexus to survive the goblin hordes. The sloop passage was paid and soon all were on the grounds of the city of Falcion. They were met by a man named Kragesh who quickly sorted out the new lot into the many fields needed. Bogardan was taken by a trainer with a few others and quickly he learned he knew many of the tactics he was being taught for most of them were the natural survival tactics he knew he knew but not knowing how he knew. Putting the matter aside he decided one day he would find out his past but for now he would train. Finding the flail most useful in his hands he was able to keep up with the trainer in the daily training and after a year of steady training he was set out into the world as a barbarian. Bogardan hunted the sewers below Falcion killing rats, sewer dwellers, speckled turtles and even a brown slime here and there. He made friends in the hunts he participated in and knew that these friends would one day be the ones that like himself, would fight the war against the hordes. That winter after he started his training in the sewers Bogardan's skills were to be tested to the extreme. The first falls of snow were tremendous and the city was torn apart. Monsters Bogardan had never seen in the city of Falcion were many and the sewers were taken over by one who called himself the Wererat Master Assasin. Many corpses lined the sewers in useless hunts. the numbers of corpses were outnumbering the wererat leathers Latashia carried in her shop. A hunt was organized and after many more deaths, the W.M.A. was finally silenced, but then after the sewers were cleared the winds cut down buildings and the town had found itself fighting roofs which rolled down the streets of Falcion. Everything was in chaos, but as all things come to an end so did the winter. He was finally told he could leave the island and after reaching his tenth tier he paid the sloop master the toll and set out to Rymek. A large ship was pulling into the Harbor as the sloop made its landing and immediately he was forced into fighting for his life as well as for Rymek. He saw many heroes of Nexus fighting off the pirates as well. Again many died, but more pirates than heroes and he saw many great warriors and priests and wizards fell a lot of pirates. He finally made it to Nexus where he still fights today trying to fill his role in the battle to save the city. Dachek Class: Barbarian Race: Ogre Dachek was a very large and strong boy. He was favored by his mother, a thing that made his bigger brother Dachurak a very angry boy. His mother didn't let the older brother (Dachurak) hit the younger brother back. This made that Dachek grew strong and big, although his older brother became tougher. The two brothers lived in the slums of nexus, were their mother was working as a Barmaid. They walked through the streets begging and then they fought against other boys who tried to steal their Money . When they were eight and nine their mother told them that they could no longer live there. The two boys wondered why, but they weren't smart enough to argue against their mother. She told them that she was too poor to fed two growing boys. Something that was true as two male ogres in puberty isn't a pretty sight. Nice and quiet as they were they packed their bags and left towards the Nexus gate. When they got to the town-square they got into a bit of problem, Dachurak was sure that their mother had told them that they should exit trough the South Gate. Dachek on the other hand was very sure that the right way should be trough West-gate. They argued about the question a few minutes and then they agree to take the West-gate. As they walked out of they city it had already become night, although it was pitch dark the two brothers were not afraid. They made a torch of a piece of wood and started to walk towards the north. When they had walked for about half an hour, they suddenly heard something shouting behind them. They turned around to look and there they saw a large goblin sitting on an even larger wolf, now the two brothers were no cowards but they weren't so stupid either. They both turned and ran as crazy. After a half an hour of constant running Dachek collapsed. He fell down on the ground and did not move. To his surprise he wasn't attacked by the Goblin-wolf rider. Instead the Goblin and his beast ran after Dachurak. After about an hour of hiding Dachek stood up and started to walk towards the gate. He entered the gate and decided to try the southern gate. As he passed southern gate he asked one of the guards if this was the correct way to Rymek. The Guard smiled and said: Of course it is.... So Dachek lifted his things a started to walk. After few weeks of wandering and getting lost, Dachek knew his way around a Forrest. He knew many things about what and what you cant eat when you are in a Forrest. So he cane to Rymek and he came to the sloop. He was about to board it when he heard an oily voice say: excuse me sir but you can bring you luggage onboard at the same time as yourself, because the boat will sink. Dachek looked at the man and said: what am I supposed to do then? The man smiled and said: I could guard your luggage for you and bring them over. This seemed like a smart idea as the man was very small and the sloop could take his weight and Dachek's luggage. Said and done, Dachek boarded the sloop and crossed the waters, but he stood waiting for his luggage a long time but it didn't seem to arrive. After a while he became angry and said to himself never to trust a thief. He entered the great city of Falcion and begun his training. Gorlick Class: BarbarianRace: Orc Walking hand in hand a massive Orc and beautiful human girl stroll through a field near Tilnars Vein. The girl looks up her companion smiling, and reaches up on her toes to plant a supple kiss upon his soft tan cheek. Stopping at a mound in the field they sit down and take in the sight of the forest. Holding her in his arms Gorlick smiles happily and picks her up with ease and sets her of a soft blanket…. Hours pass on and they awake to the sight of the sun setting beyond the ravine. A bit startled the girl holds Gorlick clenching his sides. He lets out a chuckle, "“Dun be‘fraids, Drow dun come out till laters".” Quickly gathering their things they do not notice a pair of Goblin scouts watching them from the fringe of bushes in the field. The scouts watch as the couple walks towards the trail. With speed only meant for a bird, they quickly run to their small encampment. They stop at a large, tattered tent. "Commander Dret, we have spouted an Orcish farmer with his woman, she is from the city of Nexus. We saw her come from the city and meet the Orc at the bridge sir. They are leaving the field by the ravine now." A malevolent voice growled within, "You ingrates! You did not come to me when they first entered the crimson trail!" Stepping out from the tent came a massive Fire Giant, with a cool guise about him he walked over to the scout closest to him. With no hesitation the giant clutched the scout's head and throat, ripping them from each other. Blood spattered over the giant and remaining scout. Glancing at the other scout he could see that it had wet himself. With a thunderous laugh he threw the corpse at him, knocking him down. "You are a funny one."” Looking about the camp he commanded all present to prepare for a small incursion into the Crimson Trail. Among those that came forward were all of goblin descent; two soldiers, a striker, a mage, and an assassin. Muttering about how ill prepared his troops were he sent them off towards the trail. He called after them, "I shall be right behind you! Lets try not to screw this up!" With that he grabbed his armor and grabbed a giant axe leaning against a tree. With a maniacal grin he headed towards the trail ... Walking down to the trail was a simple task completed within 15 minutes easily. And being with his love made it seem all the more short. Renewed with a sense of great pride he walked her to the bridge. He could go no farther he knew, for her parents forbid her to see an Orc. It seemed quite ironic that the city of all races would have within its walls a family that did not approve of marriages of different races. What he found even more odd was that they thought him ugly, an orc ugly? He let out a chuckle. But she did not think so, of course and that was all he needed. As they approached the bridge they took no notice of the movement within the bushes. It was a forest after all. Looking into each other's eyes they embraced in a passionate kiss, as if knowing it would be their last. Suddenly she was jerked from Gorlick’s arms. Opening his eyes he nearly lost control of his bowels. Before him stood two Goblin Soldiers clutching his lover's arms. He felt a great uneasiness in his stomach. What could he do? He was but a farmer! Had only his brethren been here. Standing motionless Gorlick stared dumbfounded by what was happening. A swirl of mist appeared before him, and there was another goblin! A mage in fact! This was getting worse by the moment! Looking about he spotted a log by the side of the trail. It seemed like a rather heavy log but he worked his farm for years with his father; moving logs had become a thing of ease. Not knowing exactly what he was doing Gorlick rushed towards the log. Grasping it within his two hands he turned and swung at the Mage's head, crushing the skull with a horrendous blow. More surprised than anything, Gorlick started towards the soldiers. But he could not swing, he might hit his lover! Anger welled up within him, his face flushed a deep crimson. Suddenly he felt a searing pain in his back. Swiftly spinning on his heels he turned to find a Goblin Assassin sneering at him with stone dagger in hand, covered in blood ... his blood. Reaching above his head he brought the log down on the Assassin's shoulder. There was a loud crunching noise as the collarbone snapped and broke through the skin, incapacitating him. Gorlick turned around in time to see the soldiers straining with the girl. Rushing towards them with bare hands he jumped upon one soldier quickly seizing his neck. His scimitar dropped to the ground and an ivory hand quickly grabbed it. With a distinctive crack the goblin ceased moving. Before Gorlick could look up the other soldier fell to the ground, a scimitar wedged between his legs. Quickly looking up he saw his lover sprayed with blood. She looked wretched tears streaking her face with blood covering her. Clasping her with the gentleness only obtained by love he held her tightly. He whispered into her ear that it was all over, not to worry about it. She crumpled from exhaustion. Grabbing her in his hands he carried her to the bridge. Looking up he saw a gargantuan giant. Well that's it then, he thought. Please make it quick. He lowered his head accepting his fate. A hand reached down and patted him on the shoulder. Disgruntled he looked up to see the face of a smiling half-giant. II am Linotaur, that was quite impressive what you did over there. What guild do you hale from?" "I dun have no guilds, I live by farmings. I never fights only farms." Gorlick was relieved that this wasn't his resting place. A mighty laugh came from the half-giant. "You should look into joining the barbarians guild son, you have quite some fighting skills even if you are a farmer." Gorlick smiles pleasantly. "Could yous take my lady friend to her family? She lives in Nexus." The giant nodded evenly. "As long as you go to Falcion damnit, I’d like to see you helping us."”After some consideration Gorlick agreed. What could be so bad about fighting. Handing his lover to Linotaur he set off down the trail to gather his things. At home Gorlick grabbed his burlap sack and a all his possessions. Quickly making his way back towards the bridge he noticed that Linotaur had already taken her to the city. Smiling to himself he waited. Gorlick sat down by the side of the trail waiting for Linotaur to return. Soon enough he heard a rumbling down the trail. Standing to meet his new found friend. The sight he was greeted with made him want to cry. Coming around the bend was a massive Fire Giant. Quickly taking stock of the situation Dret glared at the Orc. "A farmer?! A damn farmer killed my detachment!?! What is the horde coming to!" With a furious charge the giant was upon Gorlick. Gorlick had no chance and he knew it. Luckily because of the size difference the Fire giant missed upon his first two strikes. But on the third his axed met its prey. Seemingly the axe melted into his arm causing him excruciating pain. The next blow would kill him for sure. Suddenly there was a stirring within the bushes. A goblin striker jumped out and rushed towards the giant's side. Glancing down at his recruit Dret quickly turned upon the Striker sending him hurling towards the trees mortally wounded. The giant called after him "That's what we do to cowards!" Focusing once again the giant swung at Gorlick. Luckily he missed again. A sound roused Gorlick's attention, looking at the face of Dret told him something was amiss. The Giant's mouth was agape and blood was spewing from it. Looking past the giant he saw an Orcish nightblade he had met before. Praising Erisar for his luck thus far he watched Delray get the Fire Giants' attention. Then another rather large figure rushed from across the bridge carrying with him a wave of bloodlust. The Fire Giant was getting battered with such savageness Gorlick almost felt pity for him—almost. Without warning the Fire Giant turned once again upon Gorlick. Unable to get the giant's attention Delray and Linotaur yelled at Gorlick to flee south. Quickly picking himself up along with his belongings he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He soon heard a thunderous cry from his rear. Coming to the sea soon enough Gorlick hopped aboard the sloop and crossed to the Isle of Falcion. There to greet him was Deriseus the mage. "Hey you! You look like a stout fellow. How bout we go slaughter some goblins at the murals?" With a slight laugh Gorlick glanced at the mage and followed him to the astounding city, quickly rapt in dispatching the enemy Gorlick wondered whatever happened to his love. Gotenut Class: BarbarianRace: Half-Giant Once, long ago, in a secluded village in the Crystal Mountains lived a small tribe of half-giants. Among these half-giants was a proud blacksmith named Gotera. He was a gifted blacksmith who could craft quite a fine blade. Gotera supplied the village with the weapons it needed to defend itself from the Giants, Goblins, and other monsters that threatened their small village. He was quite a skilled fighter himself, having mastered sharp and blunt weapons. Though he was an asset to the community, he was also part of its corruption. He had a problem, he could not seem to control himself, in several ways. First off, he had a tendency to go into berserk rages when his anger flared, which, in battle could be beneficial, but when he went into these rages while teaching a new apprentice or hunting, these could be quite dangerous. He also could not control himself in that he slept with numerous women, many of whom were married to others within the village. Because of this, Gotera fathered many children. One of these was Gote. Gote was born to the wife of the village's chief. Of course, the chief was rather outraged to find the child was not his, but not wanting to upset Gotera,as he was an intregal part of the community, he instead took the baby into Gotera's smithy, placed its head upon the anvil, and smashed it with Gotera's forge hammer. Thinking the baby dead, he took into the woods and dumped it. Gote lay there for hours, struggling to hold onto life, when a young elf happened to stumble upon him. This elf knew much in the ways of healing. He healed Gote's wounds, not leaving any scars even, though he could not repair the damage done to the child's brain. He kept the child until it was old enough to walk on its own, then, he returned it to the spot he had found it. Gote, now 2 years old, made his way back to the village. He said not a word to anyone, as he did not know how. People gawked at him, but he didn't seem to notice. First he went to the forge, there he found Gotera passed out drunk on the floor and a half finished sword along with his forge hammer on the anvil. Gote grabbed them both and left. By now a huge crowd had gathered around the boy. When he saw the chief and his mother, his anger mounted and he went completely insane, something in his brain that had been held in check by a thin tissue had snapped. He brutally murdered the chief in front of the huge crowd of spectators. Several men tried to stop Gote, but they were mutilated by his flailing hammer and sword. His Mom yelled, "Gote, Gote stop!". The crowd hearing this, yelled, "Gote is a nut! Gote the nut! Kill him!" As the crowd massed, Gote became even more enraged. The whole village was then massacred, even his poor mother. When the village was found years later, it was a ghost town. They found only clues and didn't seem to realize what had happened here. They came across a stone with "Gote the nut" carved into it. Then they came across a now full grown half-giant, the only one in the village. He was brutally strong but immensely slow. These people thought Gote would make a good fighter and decided to take him back with them to train him. They nicknamed him Gotenut, for Gote the nut. Now he resides in Nexus, the place the men who found him took him to, and he trains now, always struggling to keep his rage under control. Jim Class: BarbarianRace: Orc Jim was born and raised on the vast plains surrounding the Rosehelm outpost. His family was one of nomadic foragers, constantly moving from one hunting spot to the next. His tribe consisted solely of the other members of his family, his mother, his father, his two sisters and six brothers. Jim was the third born of his family, and was also the 'runt of the litter.' His father, mother, and all his brothers and sisters grew to be at least eight feet tall, while Jim was left a mere seven feet high. This in and of itself made life hard for Jim, his brothers and sisters constantly picked fights with the 'little one,' and his father treated him as a failed attempt at a son. However, Jim still took part in the daily hunting rituals performed by his father and brothers, and proved himself to be a very capable hunter of small and large game. He received his first tattoo from his father at the age of eight, the longbow crossed diagonally over a claymore - the symbol of the Lord of the Hunt, Erisar. Throughout Jim’s childhood, his days were comprised of hunting, sparring with his siblings, and eating. His father taught him that every type of animal could be used for food, even the humans, elves, and fellow orcs. After Jim’s 10th birthday, his father took him to the Eldane forest, to begin some advanced hunting lessons. Little did he know, but Jim's new quarry was to be the elves of Talmet rather than the gazelle and rabbits of the plains. Jim and his father sat perched in the trees outside the town, waiting for an unsuspecting 'dandelion-eater' (as Jim's father called the elves) to happen by. After several hours of waiting motionless in a tree, a young elven boy wandered underneath the tree that Jim and his father were perched in. Jim's father whispered to him, 'Watch carefully, son,' and leapt down onto the unsuspecting elf. However, to both Jim and his father’s dismay, the boy was no mere boy, but instead one of the guardian rangers of Talmet. After a brief skirmish, Jim’s father lay dead in the grass surrounding the tree, while the elven ranger cleaned his sword upon the dead orc's bloody clothing. At this point Jim started to hear a sound like that of the waves of the ocean in his ears, his vision slowly> clouded with the red haze of battle lust, and he leapt from the tree, branch in hand, with murderous intent. The ensuing fight was heated, but very short-lived, even the strong elven steel of the ranger’s short sword could not stand up to the vicious beating doled out be the infuriated orc. With tears in his eyes, Jim carried both corpses back to his family, for preparation and consumption. Now Jim’s eldest brother was head of the family, and the times were quickly changing. No longer did the gazelle or rabbits occupy the plains around Rosehelm, but instead the armies of the goblin horde had dominated the plains. Jim's family was forced to choose between being enslaved by the goblins, or moving their residence into the mighty Eldane. The choice was simple, and soon enough Jim’s family lived in the hollowed out bole of a large oak tree in the Eldane. Jim quickly became dissatisfied with this existence of cowering in the> forest; waiting for the day the goblin horde would claim that too. Jim gave a few briefly muttered goodbyes to his family, and headed out for the city of Nexus. With his recently found battle rage, and his inborn skill with heavy, blunt weapons, Jim thought that the barbarian's guild would be ideal for him, and joined promptly upon arriving in Nexus. Since then, Jim has participated in many battles in the defense of Nexus. He has personally witnessed the resurrection and destruction of gods and demons, and once followed Novind, and now Erisar. He has met some of the most worthless, gods-awful people in the fair city of Nexus, and made friends with some of the greatest heroes to grace that same city. Jim will continue to defend Nexus until the day he dies, which will hopefully be in battle, and not due to old age. Jukka Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Urmila shrieked in horror as she saw her malformed newborn. As tears ran down her leathery face, she wrapped her large hands around the child, wrapped in blankets, as she cried out, "Jukka. . .Jukka. . ." An elven priestess watched sympathetically, searching for a way to reassure the grief-stricken mother. She gently placed her arms on the newborn, and attempted to take her out of Urmila's hands, but Urmila screamed and pushed the lady aside. The newborn had a large piece of flesh missing from his upper lip. The cleft lip extended to the newborn's left nostril, making his toothless upper jaw and the back of his throat visible from a fair distance. The child, still somewhat slimy and wet from delivery, wheezed softly as his crying mother held him. Urmila gently stroked the child's fine, thin scalp. She gave another hard look at the newborn's upper lip and sighed in dispair. Then, exhausted from her delivery, she lay back down on the sleeping pallet she was sitting on, placing the baby by her side. ** Jukka sat in the forest, looking around curiously with large brown eyes. His eyes quickly focused on a sprite, glowing slightly as he flittered about the forest. Jukka arose, eyes fixated on the sprite, and attempted to grab him. The sprite darted away, screaming, and Jukka began chasing the sprite down. The sprite flittered deftly through the forest, easily outrunning a slow, cumbersome Jukka. The sprite whizzed by a goblin soldier and soared up into the trees. Jukka's attention moved to the goblin. Jukka stared at the goblin obliviously, apparently unaware of the sword in the goblin's hand. He slowly approached the goblin, and examined the goblin closely. The goblin grinned slightly, and smiled at Jukka. The goblin began raising his sword when a frightened scream startled him. The loud thumping of footsteps followed the scream, and the goblin turned his head to see Urmila, club raised above her head, face red with rage. The goblin parried her powerful blow and slashed a large wound across her body. Urmila winced, and swung her club down on the goblin's head. The goblin moved his sword up to block the powerful swing, but the club shattered the blade and struck the goblin clean on the head. The goblin crumpled to the ground. A part of his scalp flew off the goblin's head, revealing a thoroughly mangled skull. Urmila released her iron-tight grip on her club as the red in her face dissipated slightly. She looked down at her stomach and saw several organs hanging out of the enormous wound. As she grabbed Jukka's hand, another goblin approached her, armed with a spear. The goblin was dressed in black, and wielded a long, barbed spear. Urmila, face red once again, charged the goblin, swinging violently with her large club. The goblin dodged the blow, and thrust his spear deep into Urmila's midsection. Urmila screamed in pain, and broke the spear tip off. Urmila shrieked once more, her hand mangled from touching the barbs. As she screamed, she swung her club at the goblin, hitting the goblin in the chest and sending him flying across the forest. The goblin's body flew into a large tree. Urmila ran sluggishly at the injured goblin, and swung her club at his head. Her club decaptitated the goblin's head, causing blood, bone, and flesh to fly outward. Urmila then collapsed, surrounded in a pull of her own blood and guts. Jukka looked over to her fallen mother, and ran to her. He touched her lifeless body and began crying uncontrollably. For several hours, he continued to cry over his mother's dead body until his traumatized body was devoid of tears. His cries slowly turned into a whimper as he rested his head against his mother's side. As his energy wore down from his mourning, his trembling body leaned against that of his mother's. Tears continued to stream down his face as his weary body fell from consciousness on his mother's dead body. Kasia smelled the forest air; something in the air did not seem right. She had walked this forest countless times, and she knew nearly everything about the forest that there was to know. Unable to explain her odd feelings, she decided to scour the forest for something unusual. She spotted a discoloration in the ground and walked to it. She kneeled down to examine the area, and picked up a small sliver of dirt from the ground. She examined it carefully, then sniffed at it. "Blood . . ." She carefully combed the surrounding area, noting several splotches of blood. After several minutes of searching, she came upon a hulking mass of flesh, slumped against a tree. She carefully walked over, unsheathing a claymore from a back scabbard. On top of the pile was an adolescent ogre, face down on top of a mangled female. Kasia gently touched the leathery skin and found that he was still alive. Startled, she hastily lifted the facedown body and laid him on his back on the forest ground. She put his hand up by his throat and held it there intensely for several moments. "His pulse is weak," she mumbled to herself. "Hey there, wake up . . . wake up," she prodded, gently nudging the unconscious ogre. She examined the ogre for wounds; she could find nothing serious; just some gashes and cuts that were easily healable. Sighing, she looked around quickly, and then hefted the heavy ogre as gently as she could onto her shoulder. Grunting slightly at the weight of her load, she walked back to her home, hoping she would find help for the boy back there. ** "How's the child doing?" asked a concerned Kasia. After an exhausting trek from the forest, she gave the child up to the healers, and waited outside. Although worried over the child's well-being, she was overcome by her exhaustion, and fell asleep for several hours as she waited. "The child's wounds were not physical. I take it that the child's mother died and he was overcome with grief. He was prone to fits of rage, even as we attempted to deal with his wounds. There was one wound that I should tell you about. The child has a large piece of flesh that is missing from his upper lip. We looked over it, and attempted many healing spells to fix the condition, but the missing flesh remained. With that piece of flesh missing, I cannot imagine him ever mastering the art of spoken speech. Unless he can get his lip fixed, his life is going to be a difficult one." Kasia nodded solemnly. "Have you finished your work with him?" The priest nodded. "He will be my responsibility then until he matures fully." The priest looked at Kasia and said, "Your duty will not be an easy one. He has a severe handicap, and simple communication will be a mighty chore." "I understand the difficulty involved, but I will not let him suffer any longer." The priest nodded. "I will bring the child out, then. There is nothing more that I can do with him, at the moment." The priest walked through a door into his chambers. Several moments later, he returned, with the ogre behind him. The ogre seemed about six and a half feet tall, and held a look of numbed shock on his face. Four of the ogre's upper teeth were clearly visible. Kasia sighed as she greeted him warmly. "What's your name, child?" The ogre frowned. He attempted to say something, but all that could be heard was hissing as air blew through his mangled upper lip. "Zhgju..Zszhgu...Shzzussgu..kaaa..." Kasia looked at the ogre for a moment, frowning. She began muttering some words to herself. "Zukka. . .Shukka...Jukka...Jukka." She suddenly stopped. "Is your name Jukka?" Kasia asked the ogre. The ogre smiled slightly and nodded. Kasia smiled uneasily. "Well, Jukka, follow me. I'll take you to your new home. I'm sure you'd like to settle in quickly." Kasia turned to the priest. "Thank you for helping this child." The priest chuckled and said, "It is but my job." Kasia walked out of the Healing Hand, followed by the young ogre, Jukka. The priest followed them out the door and stood outside. He smiled warmly as he looked at their hulking figures, fading away as they walked down the road. Kabanor Class: BarbarianRace: Half-Giant A large figure pranced along the forest edge near the Nexus game trail, his feet leaving deep indentations in the fresh fallen snow. This trek began early in the morning as excited eyes had watched the falling snow the night before and he had anxiously awaited the day that he could go out and enjoy the new weather. He was well prepared, wearing an old white fur coat given to him by his father and held what once was a young tree, now smoothed of its branches, its bark cut away. With this tree he would fend off the wolves should they decide to bother him. Much to the dismay of his father, and only living parent, this morning was not a first. Oft times would venture out of their safe secluded log cabin to "wander around". He would often run around the southern forest but never had he ventured so close to the game trail as he had done this day. Walking along the edge of the game trail was certainly a new experience for the young Kabanor. Small herds of deer charged through and the occasional wolf attacking prey. 'Wha' be wrong wit' walkin down the trail' he thought as he recalled the words of his father who had once scolded him for coming too close to this trail. His father was a hunter and would often travel along the trail hunting game. Kabanor recalled stories his father would tell of catching animals and talking about the seasonal cycle that existed. His thoughts turned to other stories he had heard from his father. Of the ancient tribe they had come from and their glorious stand taken against the goblins in defence of a wandering band of orcish warriors. He thought he could hear the clangs of steel on steel.. Having been lost in thought he did not notice that the trail had taken a twist and he had come upon a great massive wall of stone. Sounds of battle could be heard from the North. Gripping his walking stick and club he ran up to the north when he was thrown into the bushes by a greying man. His father had his sword drawn, he gave Kabanor a firm look and charged into the frey. By poking his head from the bushes that he now hid in he saw his father charge into a large grouping of goblins aiding several guardsmen. The situation seemed dire as new arrivals of goblins appeared, led by one in tattered robes. The Guardsmen were now scattered and his father with them ran to the south and north as from watching posts by mighty gates claps of deafening sound came as the very earth seem to tremble. Bolts of lightning streamed through the air reflecting off of barriers on several of the more powerful of the goblin men. The gates slowly opened as a group of the most impressive warriors Kabanor had ever seen charged out ahead of their leader - a man wearing dark black robes and holding forth a sharp edged sword of obsidian. His eyes turned to the young Kabanor and seemed two burning orbs amidst black skin. The battle seemed to flash in and out of reality. The poor young half-giant could only recall the words Imapaled .. frozen and dead as they escaped the lips of the Goblin Weavemaster. His father was then cut asunder by frozen icicles that pierced his body so much as he could not be recognized. He then felt the bells of Tilnar echo through his mind and let out a scream of anger charging after the defiler of life, the man who had taken his only family. Kabanor awoke with a head now magically preserved at his side and the drow he had seen at the gate staring through him with his crimson red eyes. "It is a gift." the cleric spoke. His voice was as daggers piercing his very soul. "There is a time of great choice soon to come for you." Having said those few words he walked away leaving at Kabanor's side the preserved head of a goblin weavemaster. This life changing story has led Kabanor on to many things. He did take the head and throw it into the Anduin river and forsook the hate that had built inside of him. Many close friends have softened his heart and he has accepted once more the love of Dilanis. Having left to train at Falcion when reaching the accepted age he felt relieved in battle, he would not allow the goblin tyrants to exist anymore. The scarring of his father's death has never left him, but it drives him to fight and fuels his rage. Kafnut Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Kafnut came into the world in the goblin camps. His mother, a slave held for breeding purposes, gave birth and watched as another of her children was stripped from her embrace. Kept and treated like a hunting dog with several other ogre and troll children, Kafnut quickly learned that strength and aggressiveness were the only assets to be respected. By his third year, Kafnut was as aggressive and strong as the children a few years older than he. During this time, Kafnut was never taught how to read, write, or even think. All of his actions were instinctive. If he wanted something another had, he either took it by force and savagery or did without. The same actions protected his few possessions. The malicious trainers who held sway over his brood took note of Kafnut and started training the young ogre in the ways of battle and bloodshed. His respect for those who trained him was conditioned through punishment and fear; the thought of rebellion never entered his thick skull. Combat and the crude bludgeoning weaponry came naturally to the young ogre who never had to think about his next move; they just flowed from his massive limbs. His trainers rewarded him with better food and living conditions as he grew increasingly more able in the way of weapons. Though the elements improved, Kafnut still had to fight to keep what was his or gain that which he desired. This "preferential" treatment did not win him any friends among his savage living companions It was a dark night, ravaged by an unseasonable storm, when Kafnut entered the rage for the first time. Two conniving trolls who bunked in the cave along with the ogre thought to seize his latest reward - a tender lamb. When Kafnut awakened from the rage, he stood over the broken body of one of his assailants as the other cowered in fear. Drawn by the sound, his keepers were pleased to find they had another battle-rager in their training group. After this, Kafnut's anger was fed through torture and abuse. Nothing came to him without a fight. As the training increased, Kafnut grew into young adulthood and entered the ranks of the shock troops. Battles allowed him to focus his fury and be truly free in the violence of it all. He reveled in the fights, his rage unleashed like the lightning from those fateful thunderheads. Battle after battle passed without notice to the young battler until one day. Kafnut's troop was out on a raid when the massive warrior found himself cut off from his group. Looking up from his latest victim, he found himself surrounded by Rosehelm fighters. Kafnut grinned savagely and let out a thunderous bellow as he waded into his enemy. They wavered for a moment, fear filling their hearts as their sword cuts garnered coarse laughter and more roars from the bestial berserker. Their blades cut deep but he continued to fight, paying little attention to the damage. Finally, one of his enemies landed a dreadful blow to the ogre's neck. Though he tried to breathe, Kafnut could gain no breath and collapsed into a pile of his fallen enemies. The Rosehelm warriors collected their wounded, burnt their fallen, and left Kafnut for dead. The screech of carrion birds snapped Kafnut from his sleep. Unsure of where he was or how to get back to his troupe, the ogre heaved himself to his feet, attempting a groan, but emitting only a wheeze. The need for water overpowered any other desire as he stumbled through the nearby forest in search of a stream. Finally, Kafnut came to a pool surrounded by mushrooms, sitting in the middle of a calm glade. After taking the smallest of sips, the ogre collapsed at the edge of the pool as his lifeblood seeped into the reeds. As he fell into a deathly still slumber, Kafnut was surrounded by sprites of the forest. Their leaders held an impromptu council and many were in favor of finishing the wounded warrior off in his sleep. After much argument, it was decided to allow the ogre to awaken and then determine if he was a threat or not. As he would be too weak to endanger the sprites, they could take care of him if he proved to be a problem. With this decision, a swarm of sprites descended upon the warrior, cleaning his wounds and inspecting him. Kafnut's injuries were many, the most grievous of which was a laceration to his neck. Somehow, his enemy's blow had severed his trachea and his voice box, but had missed the major blood vessels. A giant bed of pine needles was prepared and the freshly cleaned ogre was levitated to this bed, unmoved from his deep slumber. For the next four days Sprites tended his wounds. Kafnut awoke with a sprite standing on his nose, pulling up an eyelid. The ogre attempted to bellow his anger at this affront, but only a wheeze came out of his gaping mouth. The sprites flitted to a safe distance from the warrior and watched intently. An attempt to sit up ended in the ogre's collapse into his makeshift bed. The bravest of the sprites levitated some fruit to the ogre's mouth and slowly fed him. After a moment of hesitation, he reached out a weak hand, his hunger a tyrant over his suspicion. Following the food, a leaf full of water was levitated to his mouth. As he was being fed, a throng of sprites gathered to watch their new guest. With dozen's of sprites flying about, Kafnut sighed and passed out from this exertion. A few hours passed and Kafnut once again came to with fruit piled up around him. Glancing around, Kafnut reached out and grabbed some of the fruit, eating it slowly. Soon, his hunger was abated and he watched the sprites with curiosity. The elder sprite and nominal leader landed on Kafnut's chest and made mystical gestures. At the finish of these gestures, all anger fled the warrior and he looked about the dale with calm eyes. With this newfound peace, Kafnut set about his recovery. As the weeks passed, the sprite healers worked with Kafnut to mend his wounds and regain his strength. With his renewed strength, Kafnut became a tool of the sprites. He comfortably assumed his new role in the sprite society as he moved large objects and performed other manual acts for them. Kafnut would have been content to live in this manner for the rest of his existence. The sprites, however, found that having a pet ogre put a large strain on their society. Kafnut consumed more food than the entire sprite village put together. Try as he might to be careful, he was constantly crushing plants and mushrooms in the glade. Simply, Kafnut, though meaning well, was eating and tromping himself out of house and home. The sprite leader was afraid to send Kafnut off on his own for fear of him falling back in with the goblin forces or wandering on his own until he met his demise. As a result, it was decided to take the ogre to Nexus. The sprite leader collected some items for the ogre and gave him what gold the village could muster. Kafnut blindly followed the sprite to town. After a long talk with Kragesh, the sprite elder hugged Kafnut and flitted off to his home. Kafnut was given over to the barbarian guild for training and education on the ways of the City of All Races. Though lonesome for his sprites, Kafnut easily adapted to his new regime and quickly learned as much as the trainers on the island had to teach him. After much thought, the trainers of the Barbarian Guild decided it would be prudent to attempt to allow Kafnut to embrace his rage during battle. So far, Kafnut has always been able to ride the rage out and focus his anger on the enemies of his adopted Nexus. Kafnut has befriended many adventurers. Some of these look on him as a protector and others as one to be looked after. Though not a mental giant, Kafnut's loyalty to these friends has never been suspect. These adventurers and his trainers have succeeded in teaching the ogre the rudimentary alphabet and some basic hand signals. His neck wound has never healed so as to allow Kafnut to attempt speech. Kalid Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Aalur, the Sixteenth of the month of the Phoenix, in the year 1,638 since the Godswar, and year 1221 of the empire. Nothing more then a few chickens, deer, and birds. They all flocked around one large, ogre woman, sitting the middle of an open field with her husband by her side. Not much time had passed since she had realized that he was coming ... today. Before long, a small, cute ogre child with twinkling black eyes and furry black head. The mother reached down and picked him up, smiling and cuddling the newborn. "Kalid ... I think we should call him Kalid, after his grandfather ... wouldn't you say," said the mother with great joy in her voice and heart. Kalid's father, Nkar, nodded. As Kalid began to grow, his father had already been training him for battle and working. At the age of two, Kalid was nearly 3 feet tall and was able to lift very much for one of his age. Nkar was very proud of Kalid and would often show his appreciation by taking Kalid on nature "walks". His wife had always known though, that Nkar had always loved Kalid, even if he chose not to show it. Before long, around age six, Kalid had grown immensely. His muscles were constantly bulging from the armor his mother had made him and often let him run in the nude as she worked on making him new sweaters and pants. Kalid had always enjoyed his freedom, and this was a sign of it. Nkar never pushed Kalid too hard, just enough that he would be exhausted at the end of the day. Kalid's mother wasn't to happy about this, but after Kalid ate a hearty meal and his dessert he was ready to go back out and work with his father some more. Shortly afterwards, a tragic thing happened to the poor, young, seven year old Kalid. His mother had fainted suddenly at the dinner table. She had died from some type of rare poison, hardly seen in ogres. Sometime when she was out during a walk, she must have been cut on a poisonous plant, common around Kalid's hometown. She had died nearly instantly after she had fainted, but before she did she regained consciousness and smiled at Kalid. "You will be a strong boy, Kalid. I want you to grow up and be just ... just ... just like your father ...". With her dying breath and those words said, she collapsed. There was a burial several days later, which is what Kalid's mother had always wanted. Many of Kalid's mother's friends came and they felt very bad for Kalid, many offered him money and gifts, and even one very nice woman offered to take Kalid into her household. This woman later became Kalid's stepmother. As Kalid slowly grew up even more, his father stopped working him so hard and began to spend more and more time with his wife. Kalid was also allowed more time with his stepmother. This delighted them both, seeing as how they both barely knew Kalid's mother. It was finally time for Kalid to go and train to become a real warrior. His father sent a mail to Kragesh. Kalid was escorted by a few Falcion guards through goblin territory to the great Island of Falcion, a slight southwest of where he was, in northern Eldane. Kalid had trained as hard as he could, all in hopes of one day to help his village defend against anything, go home and help his father, and most of all, become a great warrior like his own father. Karkaroth Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Karkaroth was born in a small and rather weak tribe of nomad Ogres. In the first three years of Karkaroth's life, the tribe was forced to flee from their lands to new ones, each time,, they went more and more westwards, deeper and deeper into the woods. After a well planned attack of Fire Giants, most of the tribe was decimated or captured to be sold to the goblins. One of the captured Ogres was Karkaroth, sold by a Fire Giant Captain to a Goblin Weavemaster named Krazanth. From the Goblin he earned his name and many other things. The mad weavemaster, chose not to submit the ogre into blooding, as he liked to idea to control an idiot and dumb creature by his own overwhelming intelligence and power. Instead of blooding Karkaroth, forcing him magically to submit his will, he had his own ways of dealing with slaves. Krazanth made numerous magical experiments on his new slave, to the Ogre they were physical and mental never ending tortures as the patience and resolve of its master were only matched by his madness. Though, the very first experiment was never forgotten by Karkaroth, the mad weavemaster inscribed magical runes all over the body of the Ogre and as Karkaroth seemed to resist the pain rather well, to please his sadistic mind, the Goblin tested his newly created "dragon fang" knife on the chest of the helpless Ogre. Seven long and deep cuts were opened on his chest, a festival of blood to soothe the madness of a fool. Some years passed and Karkaroth was "trained" by Krazanth's guards the use of weapons and armors. Not only he suffered at the Mad weavemaster's hands but he also was used to amuse the Guard's of his master. They trained their weapon skills on him, assisted by a shaman that healed the Ogre's wounds as soon as his chair bled. Hundreds of times, he felt the bite of Goblin steel on his massive body, a rather easy target for his "trainers". Then one day came when Karkaroth was released from the grasp of his mad master. Some would say it was luck, some would say it was the direct interference of a God that took pity on his soul and silent wishes to die. The ogre crushed under his feet, a crystal amulet that was resting on the floor of the laboratory. As the amulet shattered and many shards pierced his feet, the magic stored on the device was released.he appeared on fountain of Falcion. Then Karkaroth began to trace his path as a Barbarian, sometimes seen as dumb, sometimes seen as mad but sometimes seen as an efficient ally. Karnak Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Raised by two placid ogres with no wish to fight, in a rather large hut to fit the large people was a baby ogre. He looked amazingly like his father in every way, so he was named after him. His name is Karnak. The boy was brought up by loving parents and got all the attention he deserved being the only child born to the couple. At 3, being a healthy strong young boy, he was lifting heavy objects with ease and often worried his parents by going into the forest near their home and wrestling wolves and bears. His parents loathed any violence and hated the "warmongers" as they liked to call them living in the City of all Races. They often talked about Karnak's habits and upbringing. Obviously, he was immensely strong and loved to fight and was already asking questions about the city visible to the north and from which his parents hastily tried to draw his attention. Throughout his life, Karnak honed his skills, knowing someday at sometime he would fight. Karnak never got that smart, though his parents tried and tried with many tutors. He would always daydream about fighting during the lessons. One tutor came along by the name of Tirik. He was a stout hobbit who loved to tell stories. Karnak and Tirik became great friends. (This was a useful skill to get along with other races, seeing as how he would need it in the City of All Races). Tirik told stories of the city north of them. Karnak learned that the city's name is was Nexus. Tirik told him of great stories of dragons who could eat another dragon whole and of enchanting creatures that lived there. His parents unfortunatley overheard one of these conversations and fired Tirik. It was too late, though. Karnak already had his mind set on travelling to that city and one day fighting there. He knew that sudden fits of rage he went into would help greatly. He attributed most of his strength to that. When Karnak turned 12, he ran away to Falcion in hopes of finding someone to apprentice him. When he was on the island he showed great feats of strength and skill which impressed his trainer a lot. During that time he longed to go visit his parents but the insatiable appetite for battle kept his roots on Falcion. When his trainer told him his skill was sufficient enough to travel to Nexus he did so and promised himself he would visit his parents along the way. When he came to the small village he used to live in the sight horrified him. Burnt down homes littered the area. most likely a night attack. some fire was still burning the houses' foundations had not crumbled so he knew the attack was recent. If only he would have been here to help! When he plucked up the courage, he proceeded to the area his hut last stood. He went into a fit of rage, for two corpses, just recognizable lay there freshly burned. He looked to the north, filled with rage and marched on with his club ready. It was not long before he stumbled upon a stray goblin camp. They were all sleeping. He wondered for a split second if these were the same monsters who decimated his own village, but he didn't care. With the element of surprise he brutally killed all of them while they slept. He walked on, unmoved by the massacre he had just done. Now in Nexus, he swore that until he died his last death or cured the pain of his parents' deaths he would defend Nexus from all evils. Kurdt Class: BarbarianRace: Unknown Kurdt's story begins with a young savage boy who like most kids played in the dirt and was just adventurous. His parents were well known in their village of Maala, His dad was the assistance to the chief and his mom was the chief's wife's aid. Kurdt was the Chief's prize, even though it wasn't his son he treated him just as well. More like Kurdt's godfather. Well Kurdt was trained very well in the ways of his tribe so that one day he could take over as chief of the tribe cause the chief had no sons. The chief did have a daughter her name was Kaitlen. She is very beautiful and smart. She and Kurdt were very close and were to be married but Kurdt didn't know much of love or anything cause he saw her as his best friend whom was more like a sister. Kurdt's village began a journey down hill. They are located in a secret location north of the Oasis in the desert to the east of Nexus and the weather got bad and they were forced to get supplies and resources to move on. Kurdt didn't want to leave. That place was his life and so he stayed behind. He too found it difficult to live and eventually was forced to move on. He traveled further north on the edge of the Desert and Taeviral. They resettled up there but they were not happy with him for not staying with them and not allowed him to stay. So he went off and begins to live alone and tried to survive. Life was hard and all the people who he meets wanted nothing to do with him. After a few seasons of living on his own he made it a little city called Rymek, some how completely missing Nexus. When he arrived in Rymek he was meet by a few guardsmen and Local Archers who took him in gave him a place to stay for the night. He told a few lies and made up a few details to his true past so people would help him. They were willing to help him get back on his feet and showed him his way to Falcion. He thanked them and went on his way on the Sloop to Falcion. Upon arrival he meet some other people on the isle with paths just beginning and told him his story as well and they too began to help him. Once he had trained enough to try to join a new calling in life, the guild of the barbarians. He felt lead to make up a total false story to one of the members for acceptance into the guild. His interviewer saw through his Lies. He did not lose his composer he stuck to his guns. He played it off that perhaps the interviewer did not know what he was talking about. So he just failed and had to wait many weeks for another opportunity. This time a great guy interviewed him and he told him a more correct story but it still was filled with filler to make him not sound like a deserter to his village and he was accepted. To this day he has been faithful to his new guild and has no plans on turning on them. He feels he has been given a second chance and is taking this with great responsibility. He hopes that someday he can make up for his past actions and lies but for now he is living it by the day. Linotaur Class: BarbarianRace: Half-Giant 18 years ago, a half-giant Wizardress and a Half-giant Barbarian met in the field of battle against a small group of Goblins leading a battle against Traenol. In this meeting they fell in love almost immediately. They moved away from Traenol and to a small home near the top of the Crystal Mountains. They lived happily till they decided they wanted to bring another life into the world. They had one child. A half-giant baby boy. They named this child, Linotaur. For the first few years of his life his mother taught him to be intelligent how to solve problems and speak correctly. She also taught him proper etiquette and manners. After the child grew to be much larger the father took him training and fighting against small animals and forced him to grow much stronger. He taught him how to protect others in battle, and he taught him the ways of killing. From this mix of intelligence and brute strength. Linotaur became a Barbarian of the more intelligent type. Being able to distinguish things, solve personal problems, and being one monstrous weapon against the hordes and the other evils of the world. On his 17th birthday Linotaur's home was raided by goblins. He ran out the backdoor of his house as quickly as he possibly could. That night he slept in the forest. He returned to his home to find that it had been burned down and his mother and father had been brutally murdered. In a violent rage he grabbed what he could and ran from the area and down the mountain. Into the forest below. For several days the boy killed what he could until he came upon a force too strong. Before he could be killed he passed out from exhaustion. When he woke he found himself apprenticed into the town of Falcion. He had been given what he needed to grow stronger and become a warrior. He met many great allies in Falcion and just the same, many enemies. After long he became a great warrior. And he headed off to Nexus only to return everyonce in a while to keep ties with old friends. He went back to his family's grave site and reclaimed his father's blade. And to this day he holds his grudges in making a mockery of Goblins and killing them for fun. And to this day he continues to battle and slowly is becoming as great warrior as his father was.... Mortis Class: BarbarianRace: Unknown Standing afar one could only see blood and flesh flying in every direction. In massive arcs, clubs could be seen doling out the blows with horrendous results. But in the midst of this battle were 3 brothers of Ogrish descent. They hailed from the Clansogre sect, under the Banner of the house of Dreyd. Fighting with a ferocity unmatched by all others in battle, these kin were the only force opposing the Goblins. Sliver was the eldest of them also the most intelligent, Mortis and Junipe were twins both of equal strength but Mortis took to studying more so than Junipe. The battlground was a flat land in a valley of the Crystal Mountains. Upon arriving at the sight the brothers were met with a rush from the shocktroopers from 3 sides. Immediately taking charge of the situation the eldest brother ordered the others to take to one side. Dropping their foes with deadly precision, they were still losing ground, until the goblins came full circle. With a war cry that echoed throughout the valley, each brother's face contorted with rage, while their eyes turned into red goblets. Instantly the goblins fell back only to be beaten down upon with a renewed blood lust. Upon the grounds were heaps of goblins only to be reinforced with others. A thunderous crack erupted from the skies and there above all of the horde was a Goblin Warlord, flying upon an Ancient Black Dragon. Ominously the dragon lowered his head, all knew their fate. An angelic voice rang out, over the battlefield. Looking towards the tree line, standing hand in hand were 2 Elves. The lady immediately let out an incantation unknown to any present. The Dragon quickly jerked his head to see from what direction this chant was coming from. Straining to hear, he felt the magicks gathering. Then with a sudden realization the dragon threw the Warlord from his back and flapped his wings with dire urgency. Looking back he knew it was of no use. Shedding a single tear he was instantaneously consumed by the spell, Hellfire. Ashes fell among those still fighting. The battle ended quickly rather quickly as the brothers had taken little notice of the dragon, concentrating on slaughtering the goblins quickly. Rushing towards the Elves the found both had erupted into flames. What remained was only dust. With a terrible realization they quickly gathered the dust, and ran to get the clerics of the house of Dreyd. The clerics spurned them when they told them that they were Elves. Enraged Mortis blurted out that these were elves that raised them in the woods. Quickly covering his mouth, his brothers glared at him. For it was against the law to associate with the elves of the forest. Sliver the Patriarch of the family sadly stepped forward. Clutching Sliver's shoulder Mortis was quickly grabbed by Junipe and Detin, a distant cousin. Standing before the crowd that had gathered Sliver called out "I Sliver Patriarch of the family of Dreyd take the punishment of us all". Gasps were heard in the crowd. Furthermore the Ogre spoke, "They were the ones that sheltered us when our mothers and fathers died! And I was the one that lead them to us! Therefore I should take the full punishment!" The clerics nodding among each other decided it to be so. Sliver, relieved that he had been able to convince them to agree with him knelt before the High Priest. Quickly withdrawing his blade he slit his abdomen from navel to breastbone, as Clansogre law ordained. Flooding out, his entrails were steaming in the snow. Taking his chance now Detin jumped atop the platform and cried aloud "The brothers have been defiled!! They cannot lead us! Banish them!" For Detin had always been jealous of his cousins power. There were cries of approval amongst those gathered. Detin with a sense of accomplishment gave Sliver a devious grin. Enraged Mortis and Junipe jumped towards Sliver and carried him to the only place that he would be happy to die at, the battlefield. Seeing that the life had drained from Sliver they set him down amongst those dead. Glancing up they saw a dark shadowy figure hovering above the corpses. Before any could speak a gruff voice whispered "Do you wish thine brother to be amongst the living again?" Quickly again he spoke "I could make it happen. All I wish in return is for you to leave your village. Also I need one of his kin to allow me to draw upon their life essence, for your brother has been dead for too long." Quickly Mortis took charge of the situation. Knowing that this must be a powerful entity he took no time to question that it could be done. Mortis agreed to the terms and was quickly engrossed by a swirling mist. His skin soon began to turn a morose bone white and peeled. Dropping to the ground, he was unconscious. Looking at Sliver, Junipe saw that his brother's wound was closed and that he was breathing. Glancing at Mortis he saw no breathing whatsoever. Aghast at what he thought was happening Junipe quickly attacked the figure. Suddenly the figure threw off the cloak from his head. Quickly a corpse of a shocktrooper grabbed Junipe! There before his eyes stood an angelic being with scaled hands, it appeared to be a Daemon of some sort. In a fury the Daemon yelled "Idiocy! For what I have given you! You dare attack me!? Insult me!?!" Mortis finally gathered enough strength to look up. The Daemon grabbed Junipe by the throat, muttering something. Junipe dissolved into the mist. Looking upon Mortis, he spoke again "Your brother is a fool! And for that he has been cast to a land faraway. Also for his folly you shall be punished as well. I will hide Sliver in Tilnar's Realm. Mind you not deceased but unconscious to rest for all eternity until you manage to find him. Begone from my sight!" With that the Daemon cast his hand over Mortis and watched him disappear. Gathering himself Mortis found himself looking at chest and a fountain... Norp Class: BarbarianRace: Gnome Deep within an unknown forest was left a baby gnome to fend for itself. None is know about exactly how old the baby was or how it got were it was. It was then that the gnomish baby was found by a female elf walking in the forest in search for flowers. She then took the baby back to her house in an elven city named Tar'uka. In this city all were elven except for the baby gnome of course. The lady that had found him was a wizardress of the city and was not married. She loved the gnome baby as her own and named it Norp because the tree where the baby was found had the name Norp carved in it. Norp grew up not liked by the children in the city of Tar'uka. Though he was taught the elven language and would have seemed completely elven if you had not seen him, the children picked on him because he was little and different. He would often come home crying each day from something the children would have done or said to him. When he got of age for the children in the city to start learning about a certain group of skills, he continued to be made fun of because all the other children considered of his age where very much older than him. Since the elven people and even gnomes were not very good at melee combat, there were no guilds of Fighters nor Barbarians. In fact none in the whole city even knew of such, beside seeing the goblins and giants fight as they did. The elves in the city saw their combat skills just to be a special ability only given to such monsters. When Norp could not make up his mind of what he wanted to be educated in, he was forced to be enlisted into the mages guild in the city of Tar'uka. Norp did not like magic and was often beaten by the guild instructors for refusing to learn magic. In the city, few times when the elves were attacked by the giants, they would capture one alive. When they did they would place the giant in an outside ring with an elven mage of high stature. Then they would have the mage kill the giant to show all the small children how magic was the better way and telling that the giants has a weakness of lacking the knowledge of magic. Norp watched this happening a few times and grew interested in the giants form of combat, a one without magic. Since there was not any weapons at all found in the city, Norp stole a small smiths hammer and ran out into the woods one day. At first he swung the hammer around just for play, but soon discovered this type of combat was the one for him. He tried many times to mimic on how he saw the giants do battle but never could and got very mad a lot. The city of Tar'uka was attacked many times by giants and such but none had even passed the gates to do actual harm to the city. But one day things changed. The giants raided the city and began burning it. Norp's mother panicked and she and Norp ran to an underground shelter. Many days past and Norp and his mother remained in the shelter. But then the doors of the shelter began to shake and then a mace penetrated through one of the doors. Norp's mother panicked and told him she would find him someday and right before the doors where broken down, she casted the teleportation spell on him. Norp was then teleported to a desert where he was later found by a wise mage. The mage kept Norp in his cottage for some time. As the days passed, the mage taught Norp the common language, but for some reason Norp was never able to speak the language. The mage also told him stories of a place named Nexus. Norp was very interested in the stories when the man began to tell of warriors using weapons by means of skill and madness. One morning though as if all things seemed to be going well in Norp's life, Norp awoke to find the mage he lived with to have died. Norp thought since the mage was of very old age for a human that he must have died of old age. Norp stayed in the cottage for a few days thinking about the mage, Nexus, and mostly his mother. Since the mage spoke about Nexus having a large amount of people, Norp thought there might be hope that he would find his mother in Nexus. So the next day Norp took the map that the old man had and set out for Nexus. Norp had walked east for many days and then came upon a band of giants and was chased east even more. Norp ran east as fast as he could and when he turned to look for the giants while still running, he ran into the east gates of Nexus. Norp was then knocked out and was sent to the healing hand of Falcion, where he awoke and chose to train as a barbarian. Even though Norp is still made fun of by people saying he is weak, small, and different, he fails to give up in hope on seeing his mother once again. Oderus Class: BarbarianRace: Orc As the scribes continue to bug me, I suppose I should just write this down and get it over with, then perhaps I'll have a bit of peace. My past is no stranger to the bloodshed of many men and foes. I was born into battle and it has been my life ever since... I was born into a rather large family, several brothers and sisters. I was in a large barbarian tribe, we were in a feud with another such tribe. I was young when they overran us, too young. All were slain, my parents and brothers were slain before me and the other tribe, not knowing what to do with me took me in as their own. At the time I didn't understand, but it soon became all too clear. When we reached their camp we were sold to some strange men, they took us off and started training us in battle. We were all young, barely old enough to hold a sword. They threw us into battle, mere children. An army of children, few of the more 'civilized' races had problems killing children, I suppose that is why they used us, to exploit this weakness. After one rather large skirmish, nearly all on each side lay slain. The few that remained fled. My sword was slaked with blood, as was the ground around me. A staggering sea of crimson, a towering mountain of ravaged flesh. I was young, abandoned, I had nowhere to go. Something my mother once told me came to mind, she told me of how humans and elves and many other races were eatible, and rather tasty. I found a less mangled corpse of an elf and tried cooking it, but quickly realized it took out most of the flavor. I had enough food to last me ages, as long as it didn't rot. I scavenged weapons and clothing, and loaded as much food as I could into my pack. From there I set off, even farther north. North into barren wastelands, bitter cold all about me. I ventured for weeks, mayhaps months by myself. Killing anything I could find for food, sleeping little. For years it was like this, I killed men that came across my path for food, I took their clothing and supplies. It was kill or be killed. Years passed and I eventually came upon a rather large city of orcs. I opted to enlist in their army, they accepted reluctantly. I was an outlander, and moreso a crude uncivilized barbarian. How would I ever survive in their army? I moved up in the ranks quickly, my battle prowess showed. My skills were honed, eventually I came into command of a small group of men. Men...hardly, they gave me all the rejects. All the ones like me, the uncivilized and the sword fodder. I trained them hard, harder than any training our army had. I taught them how to survive, those that didn't like it either left, or were killed in battle. We were crude and ruthless, the majority of higher ranks despised us. It wasn't until a battle against a large tribe of barbarians that they did it, they made an attempt to kill us off. The general I was under was in alliance with them, he was a traitor. He set up a trap for us, to finally rid him of us all. He told me we were to make a stealthy night assaulte on a small group of soldiers, he insisted it would be a cake walk... it wasn't. Their numbers were thrice what we were told by the 'scouts.' It was a death trap set up by a traitor with a vendetta against us. The night air was cold, a fog had rolled in. The fog was our only ally, we set off at midnight, it was an hours or so march from our camp. They were waiting for us, and it was eerily quiet. We snuck as close into the camp and rushed a small group of guards, they fell quickly. A clarion blast pierced the silence and we were quickly surrounded by an overwhelming number of warriors. They told us to drop our weapons or die, they would have killed us either way. The men looked the me, I began to lower my spear to the ground, the barbarians cheered wildly, they thought they had won. I let out a war cry and charged them. My men charge behind me, the bloodbath began. My spear hammers into the chest of a warrior, a bright red blood erupts from his lips as he falls to the heather. I turn aside a vicious swordthrust and my own blade snakes out to cleave the neck of the attacker, shearing through his veins in a shower of dark red. An enemy blade opens my shoulder to the bone, but I sweep my axe out in a deadly arc, its iron head rending armour and biting deep into flesh. Bloodlust consumed me, my men were falling fast. There was no way out, I was going to die as a warrior and not a coward! Cleaving bodies left and right, a head falls with each swing of my sword. I had a handful of men left, we fought valiantly. Blood stained our armor and faces, our foes had never seen such rage, some fled, some stayed and died. When the sun rose our opponents had all either fallen or fled, the morning mist was stained red with blood. Only five of us remained out of our original five hundred. Myself, and my first Lieutenant Flattus suffered minor wounds, the rest were in terrible shape or on the verge of death. Indeed there would be hell to pay when we returned to camp. We carried those that could not walk. The look on the generals face was priceless, it was a twisted mix of shock and horror. We arrived to the camp drenched in blood, my gaze met the General's, he quickly turned away and went to his tent. I sent Flattus off, our medics took care of the few of us that were left. I told the General what happened, he made a horrid attempt at an apology and said his scouts were misinformed. I merely smirked and told him I knew. I swore I would have my vengeance and left the tent. In the midst of the night I was informed the general was going to have me executed for treason, the traitor had was smarter than I thought. In the night I snuck into his tent when he was gone, he returned to my blade. His abdomen yawned open and he staggered back as his intestines spewed forth in a pulsing mass. I sunder his head with another blow as he falls and his skull yields to spill its steaming contents to the earth. That night Flattus and I set off for Falcion to hone our skills once more. It was a long journey, and we were tailed by many scouts. They were dealt with appropriately. Perhaps the scribes will leave me be now.. Oku Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Oku was born on Ruvuhe fourth month of the Icedrake, 1, 644 years since the Godswar, year 1227 of the Empire. All that was known to him regarding this was that he came from the North of Nexus, and that he was ten years old. Written records of Oku speak of him as a simple ogre with savage hate towards Enemies of Nexus, and a straightforward friendliness to those he meets. A Nexus scribe began to search out people who knew of Oku when he entered the City of All Races. After much traveling and many pages of writing and images of war, the scribe sat down to write what he knew about Oku. The scribe was suprised by how much Oku could think of food and in what quantities too. The scribe had little appetite after having heard about half the battles Oku had been through, all the tales of bloodshed and rage. Trying to put the facts together, the cribe dipped his quill into the inkwell and set it to the paper..... OKU Words that describe Oku include bat aren't limited to: brutal, crude, unruly, stubborn, impuslive, non judgmental, and easy going. i have found that after a few days of studying him, he is an interesting specimen of ogre that is worthwhile to take note of. Therefore, I have composed the following writing for both his guild's reference and for the City of Nexus itself. After interviewing a few of his friends and relatives, I have been given a picture of a...well, adventurer, you shall see yourself before I spoil your fun.... Oku lived his childhood in a small village near the Crystalline Mountains, his parents being former city ogres. The village was primitive and still held on to some older traditions. Oku always found a good fight amongst the other ogres and stood up for his family. One time, he killed a wolf that had invaded his cave to steal his food. The next day, he had forgoten the conflict completely and found himself wondering what a smelly wolf was doing in his cave. Oku heard stories of the Barbarians' Guild from his uncle, who was a retired adventurer. He thought of one day becoming a hero of Nexus by seeking apprenticeship with the Barbarians' Guild. Oku was somewhat dimwitted, a trait that his trainers tried unsuccessfully to cure him of. Because of lack of memory, Oku counted each year of his life with a scar across his fingers, one scar per year. Whenever he's how old he is, he simply looks at his hands. As he grew older, Oku's parents began to grow impatient with him and asked him what he wanted to do. He told them his thoughts and they agreed. One day, he ate as much food as he could handle, and took some for the journey, setting off south towards Nexus. Before leaving, Oku took the smelly wolf that had been lying in his cave and hung it on a tree with his name etched on the tree in the wolf's blood. Oku had ten scars on his hands that day. Within Nexus, Oku stood high above the crowds in the streets. People shot them puzzled glances occasionally then went about their business. Oku's first impulse apon being inside the City was to buy as much food as he could from the vendors and eat it quickly. The small gold his parents had given him emptied quickly from Oku's pockets. He had a good meal then looked at the crowds with uncertainty. Beginning to become puzzled, Oku seized a man in the crowd and held him up. Oku questioned him about where the Barbarians' Guild might be. After some contemplation of the directions the man had given him, Oku set him down. When he walked into the guild, a the trainer within simply sized Oku up, handed him some armor and a weapon, and pointed in the general direction of the Sea of Tears. Oku knew he was now to go to Falcion. Oku did well within Falcion, and soon met again with his trainer to discuss going back to Nexus. The trainer first asked what Oku wished to do once he had returned. Puzzled, Oku looked up from his musings of battle. "Well?" Said the trainer. "Me bashum good. Me kill tose evil to the city. I bring honor to guild. Me try keep Nexus safe, set example for lil' barbarians." Oku said, not completely sure it was entirely what he planned to do. He pondered what there was beyond the goblins that sporadically attacked the city. He had high aspirations of developing his battle skills. Then Oku remembered his home village, and his uncle who had once been a great hero. He thought of what the smelly wolf had become hanging on the tree, and before he knew it, his stomach had grown hungry. Oku looked around the room and nodded to his trainer that he was ready. The trainer sized Oku up again and nodded back to him. He handed Oku some gold for the boat fair and grunted at him as he left. Arriving at Rymek, Oku hurried past a warehouse that reeked of the smell of death. He headed north to the city but soon found himself disoriented in a dirt field. There he saw a farmer and asked him what was going on in the field and where he was. THe farmer simply shrugged and told Oku that there was a little rustle in the cellar and that he had come to take a look at what it was. Oku hurried quickly into the cellar, eager for a fight as ever. After a few minutes of battle in Nexus, Oku's mind focused narrowly on food. He went around hunting constantly as anger gripped his mind and his appetite demanded. Oku developed quite a taste for foods that some races other than ogres would think odd. With new friends fighting by his side, Oku grew strong quickly. *The scribe looked up from his writings and mumbled to himself* "Another day, another smelly ogre to write about. Isn't that the world for me?" He set his quill aside from the paper and called it a day. The latest account the scribe included about Oku was him returning to his village, with a new wolf to hang on the tree, this one much larger than the last and more fierce looking. When he did so, Oku's parents looked at him and asked him where he bought the wolf. *As if I couldn't kill one easily, Oku thought* Oku answered that he smashed it with a club, and that he wasn't hungry for wolf at the time. After talking with clan about his adventures, Oku devoured a large dinner and said goobye until a later time. He went back to Nexus to meet his trainer and continue perfecting his skills. Even the largest and most weather worn ogres of his clan acknowledged that Oku had done well for himself, judging by the size of the new wolf that hung from the tree. Rothgar Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Rothgar was born in a small tribal village out in the desert of Altin. Although he doesn’t remember much from that time, one small piece has anchored in his memory, and that is the name of the village, or more the name of the warriors in the village, and the walked by the name of "Uruk-Hai". The name itself had no real meaning, it was just what they yelled the seconds before the plunged into battle. Nothing particularly happened the first five years in Rothgars life, except that he began to grow and started to eat like a horse. But one evening, when Rothgar was out walking in the desert, a large squad of Mudiir scouts spotted him, and began chasing him over the sand dunes. Rothgar took several arrows in his back before he fell to the ground, and the mudiirs left him for dead. The he passed out, in the desert, with the suns high up in the air. He woke up when someone threw a bucket of cold water in his face, his wounds bandaged and the first thing he noticed when he looked around was that he was chained to the wall with chains around his feet’s and his arms. A man came up to him and started to touch him, feeling on his legs, arms and everywhere. Then the man turned around and said something in a strange language. Rothgar had no idea what was going on. The first man tossed a purse of coins on a table, the second man took the purse and walked over to Rothgar. He tied a rope around the neck of Rothgar, and then he opened the chains. Instinctively Rothgar tried to flee, but with a hard pull, the man holding the rope dragged Rothgar back, and with a hard punch he sent Rothgar to the dreamworld. When Rothgar woke up this time, he was in a wagon with bars around it, and the wagon was in a caravan across the desert. In the wagons behind him Rothgar saw other children, some ogres as him, others were humans, some where white and some where black. This was a new thing to Rothgar, because he had never before seen a human and he looked at the childrens for a long time, and tried to figure out what they was, and why they didn’t look like him. After a while he passed out again, from the lack of water. A hard punch in the face woke him up this time, and he was brutally ripped out of the wagon and dropped on the rocky ground. If the situation had been different now, and if Rothgar had been at his senses, he would have tried to fight his way out, but because the lack of water he could barely get up, just to find himself kicked down on the ground again. A collar of steel was placed around his neck and he was dragged to a large building made in rock. In there he saw the entrance to a cave, and some sort of wagons outside it. Here he received a cup of water, and he tough the worst thing was over. While he was drinking a group of large people came out of the cave entrance, pushing the wagons in front of them, and the large wagons was filled with rock, and the whole thing looked very heavy. Rothgar was pulled to the group in his chain, and one of the men, coming out from the cave with a whip in his hand unlocked the collar and spoke in some strange language. Rothgar didn’t understand anything, so when the group went back into the cave Rothgar didn’t move. The man with the whip began to yell something, and when Rothgar didn’t move, he received a whip over his torso. Rothgar fell to the ground but that didn’t stop the man with the whip. When 10 whips had been given out, the man stopped, walked over to Rothgar and began to drag him inside the cave. The cave continued into the mountain, always going downhill. When they had been walking for a while, they came into a large cave, lit up by candles and torches. In there around 20 men with picks in their hand was in the work of expanding the cave. The air was lousy, and the sound from picks repeated hits on the cave were overwhelming. A pick was given to Rothgar and another collar was attached to his neck, and the other end was locked to an iron bar in the middle of the cave. Rothgar didn’t know what to do now, and received first one hit, then two and three, before he understood what he was supposed to do. So he began hitting the wall with his pick. Nothing interesting happened for the 5 years that passed, it was always the same thing day in and day out. Either he was assigned to the pick or to the wagons. Brutal punishments were given out to those who didn’t work, and as a result to this Rothgar has no right ear, as it was cut of after he had tipped a wagon. And parts of his left ear had also been cut away, as the head of the mining site didn’t think one ear was enough punishment. Attempts to escape was there an even more brutal punishment for, as the head of the camp thought a man could work with only one eye, no ears and no nose. So many of the workers in the site had only one eye, and Rothgar couldn’t understand why, until he saw one who attempted to flee got the punishment carried out. One night, when Rothgar was 11 years old, the chief of the site was in a very bad mood, and because Rothgar happened to walk past him then he was dragged into the chief’s room, and was beaten almost to death by the chief and two of his men. The last things Rothgar saw from that night, was the faces on the three persons, and they was burnt into his memory for always. Now the cup was filled for Rothgar. He waited until his wound had healed fairly well, and then sneaked out one night from the barracks where the workers slept. He broke up the storage to the mining equipment and took two large knifes and a pick and began walking to the residence of the chief of the site. As he burst into the room, he sliced the stomach up on the first person in there, quickly advancing towards the second and with a swift blow with the pick he split the mans skull. The last person alive now was the chief. Rothgar grabbed the man’s tongue and with the knife he cut it of, and tossed it into a corner. The anger was madness in Rothgars eyes. He lifted the man up and placed him upon the desk and with a quick cut he split the stomach of the man, and ripped his guts out. The chief screamed in pain so Rothgar stepped back, and drove the knife deep into the face of the man, who instantly stopped screaming, of the simple reason that he was dead. Rothgar lifted the corpse up and on a nail on the wall where the coat of the Chief hanged he took one end up the guts and hanged it on the nail, leaving the chief hanging around one feet above the ground in his guts. Then Rothgar quickly ran out. He waited in the darkness until the chiefs death was discovered and all the guards of the camp was busy with looking at the sight, he sneaked out in the night. He walked for days and night, eating or drinking nothing. His life force was almost gone, when an old man found him lying on the grass in a clearing. The old man took Rothgar to a sloop, and went across it. And thats his story, made possible my the use of a bit of magic and a patient scribe. Signed: Feldor the Scribe. *A large R is etched upon the paper* Trog Class: BarbarianRace: Unknown Extremely weary from his latest battle, Trog sat on the steps at Town Hall to rest. While resting, he was approached by a very short, thin man wearing wiry glasses. He approached Trog and said, "My name is Alexander the Scribe. Are you Trog?". Trog did not look at the man, but responded, "Yes, I am. What do you want?" Alexander stated, "It has been requested of me to inscribe your history onto this scroll as I have of many other Heroes of Nexus." Trog looked at Alexander and let out a small growl which startled Alexander and he backed off a little. Trog then said, "Well, I will not yell my life story to you. If you want to know about Trog, come sit down here." and motioned for Alexander to take a seat next to him. "Please make this quick as I will be needed in battle again shortly.", Trog grumbled. "Yes, I will be quick and thanks for taking the time to help me with my task.", Alexander said. "Please tell me anything you can about your years growing up, your family, and what it takes to be a Hero of Nexus", Alexander quietly said. "Well, growing up in the Wastes was a hard life indeed. It was made even harder by not having parents. My mother died giving birth to me and my father, Bandar, was also a Hero of Nexus and spent all of his time defending Nexus from the goblins. He never let me set foot near Nexus because of the extreme danger and I never saw him because of this. When I did see him, he was always in a rush and we had little time to spend together. He didn't teach me much. All that I learned came from the human family that raised me. They taught me to speak, to write, to read, and most importantly, to fight. My human father was too a barbarian, although smallish by barbarian standards. Let me put it to you this way. He did not impart fear in his enemies because of his size. It was the amazing strength he had in that smaller body that eventually, but usually much too late, put the fear into his enemies. He taught me everything he knew. He trained me for the day I would come to Nexus and help defend this city from the goblin horde." Trog paused for a moment and suggested they take this conversation elsewhere. They both stood up and headed to Kalim's Tavern for a drink and to finish the interview. As they entered the tavern, the local citizens greeted Trog with a cheer and a smile. Trog sat at a table in the corner and ordered a couple of the stoutest ales. As they waited for their drinks, he continued his story. "I will never forget the day he brought me to Nexus. Passing over of the Crystal Mountains was a very challenging adventure. Besides the bitter cold, we ran into many, how should I put this, less than hospitable creatures. We had to fight our way to Nexus and little did I know then, I would have to fight savagely and consistently to protect Nexus. It did not take me long to make some friends. I was thrown into the fire so to speak immediately. The goblin horde had come up to the Eastern Gates of Nexus and had to be dealt with. This was my first true test since arriving in Nexus. I was grouped with a bunch of other Heroes and we made our assault against the massed enemies. The battle was vicious. There were many casualties on both sides, but luckily the goblins suffered the worst and we were able to beat them back away from the gate. My first test was a success and a much needed confidence booster for myself. These Heroes I now call my friends. You want to know what it takes to be a Hero. It takes a lot of time, pride, and dedication to the protection of this fair city. It takes a willingness for you to sacrifice yourself for the safety of others. I have thrown myself into situations that would be considered suicide to help save fellow Heroes. I would not hesitate to do it again. As a matter of fact..". Trog paused as the barmaid set the drinks down on the table. Trog took one large gulp of the drink and emptied it. He looked at Alexander and continued, "As I was saying, I must be heading out now. I am needed for another battle. I hope this will help bring an end to your task." With that, Trog stood, shook Alexander's hand and headed for the door. As Trog left for battle, Alexander jotted down the the last of his notes, finished his drink, and then headed for the library to file the scroll with all the others. Uta Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre In this house, a child is crying. Her whimpers are muffled in the back of her throat, wrapped in darkness and swallowed whole. They curdle in the fist of her stomach, shaking and shivering her body despite the tight grip of her arms around her knees. The dark walls soak up her tears, curling protectively around this unclaimed child. Her cheek presses against the damp wood with bruising force, drawing strength to trap her hiccups and gasps into stillness. In this house, two people are singing. The man's voice is the deep rumbling of mountains moving, felt from the base of the spine, just barely at the edge of hearing. The woman's voice is smooth as a warm summer night, rich with the scent of woodsmoke on the breeze. Together, they weave and blend, braiding like rising threads of smoke or the strands of a ribbon-tree. The song is a wordless one, spelling its story in textures and memories, building into the warmth of secure arms and the tickle of soft fur against a small nose. The song flexes and turns, dancing between the two singers as though controlled by one mind, one heart. A small sound, the wind bending a branch to a window, or perhaps a child's sigh. The woman breaks off the song, which tumbles to the earth in pieces, shattered. She stands with the weariness of long practice, but the man places a restraining hand on her arm. He goes in her place, stepping ponderously into the other room of the house. The fire has burnt out in the last three hours of singing, he notices, the last embers completely cold. His jaw tightens as he fumbles on a shelf for flint and striker. As the flames flicker feebly into life, a small shadow in the corner becomes even smaller. Resignedly, he throws his hand into the darkness, connecting with his knuckles. A dull thump against the wall shakes down a fine layer of dust. The woman calls questioningly from the other room. As he rejoins her to prepare for the midwinter concert, a spill of darkness begins spreading to cover the floor. A snow-covered track sleeps in whiteness. Isolated snowflakes drift down through the night, gentle, loving, numbing. Their sweet kisses dull pain and knowledge, hardening into a protective shell around the child who was told to sit, here on this log, until her parents come for her. As frost catches in her eyelashes, the scene sparkles with magic and mystery, a fairyland of dreams. The footprints of merrymakers returning home after the concert have long since filled up, so that she seems to be the first to mar this perfect world with her presence. Stray sparks of light on frost remind her of the bright beauty of sprites in the jars of her neighbors, before blurring together into white. "... See chameleon, lying there in the sun, all things to everyone, run, run away." The voice is flat and badly tuned, the words unfamiliar. She irritably tries to block out the nasal sound and inadvertently sucks in a gust of sharply cold air. The ice coating the fresh cuts on her face crack, bringing stinging pain and the memories of other recent bruising and swelling back to demanding life. The voice fades down the trail, towards the distant barbaric city of the Nexus, still returning the jaunty refrain, "Run, run away ..." She draws breath to call out, to make a sound, and finds that she doesn't know how. Her voice flutters and dies in her chest before ever reaching her throat. It's heavy, heavy, blocking her efforts to croak out a barely-remembered name. She heaves to her feet in a panic, scattering shards of pink-tinged ice in a flurry around her. The singer has passed into silence, but his footprints fall in carefully measured treads in the snow before her, slowly filling up with snow. She turns and thumps hard on the log she was sitting on, nearly reducing it to splinters. Snow settles inside, leaving a tiny dark opening at the top. There she leaves her voice, her memories, her pain behind, guarded by cold and darkness. Then lightly, lightly she turns, and follows the fading tracks down the trail. Vladmis Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre Born in the ogre village of Kelbarn, a land far off from Nexus, Vladmis was raised by his father and what he called his dozen mothers. His father, Ralkvar, was the leader of his village, and commanded much respect in his town. His true mother having never been revealed to him, Vladmis never took up much respect to women. He was being groomed to take over for his father at the early age of 4 should that day arise, and the villagers were quite impressed by Vladmis' incredible strength. Ralkvar, always too easy on his son, never took much notice to his son's lack of intelligence or lack of reading ability. Vladmis spent much time competing with the locals in wrestling matches and stone throwing contests where his physical prowess was intimidating even in his youth. Vladmis never truly learned respect for others as he was always the largest and most skilled at everything he did. There was no true competition. In his spare time, Vladmis spent time taking care of and playing games with the children of the town, whom he truly enjoyed being around and watching over. He also spent much time carving pictures of the lands' creatures into the walls of the city's protective barrier. Though Vladmis had never realized, the town of Kelbarn was constantly under pressure from the goblin hoardes that were always in search of small villages to pillage. Kelbarn had remained a secret to nearly everyone nearby, and had always provided for itself. One night, Vladmis decided to run out and hunt deer in the field just outside of the town, across the river his father warned him never to cross. Upon returning, he heard some rustling in the bushes behind him and started running back towards the defense towers and main gate of the town. Vladmis yelled up to the guard and pointed out to the woods as the guard fired arrows in the direction of rustling leaves and swaying branches. The guards called to Ralkvar and informed him of the atrocity. He ran to his mantle and grabbed his mace, and headed towards the gate. Looking to his son, he notices Vladmis' pants, wet to the knees and pulls his mace under Vladmis' chin in a sign of warning, though he spoke no words. Vladmis knew he would get his. The guards yelled "I got one!" as Ralkvar ran out the gates with a couple of his best soldiers, and went out hunting down the remaining men. A few hours later, Vladmis stood at the gates to see his father and one guard return, panting heavily; the guard bleeding from his leg as an arrow shot through his knee. Ralkvar growled angrily towards his son, and said "I warned you never to cross that river... Perhaps I should have taught you a lesson on regret sooner than this." With that, he turns to the guards and says "Prepare for the worst. One of them escaped, and will be bringing an army upon us by next nightfall. I will inform everyone to prepare. Vladmis, you will stand guard tonight in the tower." With that, he turned away and started towards his home. He stops for a moment, turns and grunts at his son, "Not to worry son. Just prepare plenty of them stones." and he walked away. Vladmis spent that night sitting there, staring out into the woods, wondering what things he had brought upon himself, and if he would see it to a good end. The townsfolk had already heard of what had happened, and were yelling obscenities up to him in his tower with the other guards. "Could I be to blame?" he thought to himself, as he sat a 200 pound stone on his lap. The rest of the night was extremely quiet, and even the frogs didn't let out their usual "ribbits" and the corn leaves didn't rustle. The silence drove Vladmis crazy as his thoughts, though few, ran through his mind. The following morning, Vladmis climbed down from his post and headed home. He crashed down on his bed and fell asleep, not thinking about the consequences of his actions from the previous night...He just wanted to show he could catch a deer barehanded. With a thunderous, crackling smash upon the gates, Vladmis was stirred from his slumber - The goblins made a day attack. Vladmis rose to his feet and lept out the door to see large amounts of glowing magicks being projected at the gates, and large splinters of wood went flying across the roads. Ralkvar growled to his son "Get the children to safety!" and turned towards the gates with a hundred of his men scrambling to gather their weapons. Vladmis ran to the small shack where the children were playing, but before he got there, he noticed a large dragon fly by overhead. It's red scales were gleaming in the sunlight, and it was truly beautiful. In a matter of seconds, the dragon let loose a powerful flame and torched the shack full of children and many nearby homes, including his father's. Vladmis, in a panic, ran into the burning building, hoping to see his small friends still alive. What he saw he would never forget, as he saw the children burn alive before his very eyes, and the shrilling screams echoed through his mind - a sound he'd not soon forget. As the dragon circled, Vladmis ran towards the gates, trying to warn of the fires that would soon seer the flesh of many of his father's comrades, and maybe even Ralkvar himself. As he stopped at the gates, he yelled "B..B..Beeg..d.d..dr.. dragon!" and pointed to the sky behind him. The villagers and soldiers, in a fit of rage as the gates before them crumbled, screamed at Vladmis many more obscenities, and blamed him for their inevitable fate. As they threw stones at him and tormented him, his father turned for a moment and yelled "Run!" and pointed towards the mountains to the south. Vladmis stopped for a second, and looked to his father who turned away from him, and then ran off after a rock smacked him clean in the chest and bounced down. He ran towards the wall near a small cart, and used it to bounce himself over the wall by throwing a stone to the other end. He ran his heart out then up into the mountains. Twenty minutes had passed before Vladmis ever stopped running and decided to turn around to see his village burn to the ground. Men could be seen running, engulfed in flames, through the town as they fell to their knees, and then stopped moving completely after their blood curdling cries ceased to be heard. Many men could be seen taken in as prisoners of war to the goblin soldiers which had pillaged his town and set it ablaze. Vladmis could only hope that his father was one of them. Vladmis stayed up and watched as the last flames smoked out and clenched his fist in rage as he knew that it all was his own fault. After punching a tree down a cliff, Vladmis headed back down the mountains, in search of some place he may be able to call home...and one day effectively defend. Due to his lack of intelligence, Vladmis swore to only speak in [ More ]times of dire need, or in the event that he was educated and taught to read and write effectively. He also swore to never turn his back on his friends, and to always lend a helping hand to those he could trust or those in need. Revenge was also in the back of his mind for his father's fate. Along his travels, Vladmis met a traveler who spoke fluent common, but was of a race he had not seen before. He was quite small, and his pointy ears made him chuckle. He made mention of a land called Nexus, and told Vladmis how he might find this magical city. Vladmis thanked the man with a small handshake, and headed along his way with a stern look of determination upon his face. Volker Class: BarbarianRace: Ogre As a youngster, Volker used to play with his pet-bird, Lightning, who was his only friend. All the other kids in the village where he lived teased Volker alot, because he was a little clumsy and ugly. One day when Volker was about fifteen years old, he decided that he had had enough of everybody in the village. So, he packed his belongings, which were a large wooden club that he put in his backpack, and a ringmail tunic that he had made himself and that he wore over his body. When he left the village to seek new adventures, he seemed to be a real savage-looking ogre. Of course he brought Lightning with him. When he had wandered for a couple of days, he suddenly saw two creatures, that he knew as goblins, that were attacking a lonesome man. Volker emerged there, with Lightning on his left shoulder, while drawing his club. He tried to chase the goblins away, but they didn't leave. The whole thing became a tough fight between the two goblins and Volker. He bashed one of them to the ground, while he noticed the man hitting the other goblin on the knee with his staff. The goblin bent over, screaming in pain. The man saw his chance and hit it in the back. It fell to ground and stayed there, not moving. Volker then asked the man:-What was that all about?-They tried to rob me. Thanks for yer help, the man answered.-Oh, well, no problem, Volker said with a grin in his face.The man looked around and said quickly:-They never come this few. We better hurry away from here, before more of them come!-Yep, Volker answered as they rushed away.When they had gotten away a bit, Volker paused and asked:-What is you name?-Cervantes. What is your name then, he asked.-Volker.-Where are you headed Volker, Cervantes asked as they started walking.-I don’t know actually, Volker replied.Cervantes stopped for a while and said:-May I suggest that you go to the city of Nexus.-Hum, is it a nice place, Volker asked sounding a little bit excited.-Well, yes, Cervantes answered quickly.-Oki then. Will you take me there, Volker asked even more excited.-Sure, Cervantes replied with a big smile and a nod.-How long time will it take to get there, Volker asked.-About three or four days, Cervantes said.Volker nodded and smiled. After about three and a half days of wandering and talking, they finally arrived to Nexus. -What a big city, Volker said to Cervantes. Cervantes nodded in reply. -Look Lightning, here we might live for a while, Volker said pointing at the big gates. Lightning screached in reply. The first thing the two and Lightning did was to go to the tavern and get something to drink. There, Volker got introduced to several citizens of Nexus. Today he knows those and a lot of other people pretty well. Since that day Volker has stayed in Nexus, with some exceptions for smaller trips outside the gate.Bards Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Ashara Class: BardRace: Human Well, I have been outrunning a scribe for days now, and I think he is getting close to catching me, so I've decided I'll beat him to the punch. For some reason the Library of Nexus has decided they want to know what I did before I came to Nexus. So, to please them, and to give that poor, slow-running scribe a break, I will tell you, the whole, horrible truth. Being a bard, I naturally prefer telling stories of others than about myself, especially since my past prior to Nexus is rather mundane in comparison. So consider yourselves fairly warned... My parents, members of a the Bardic Troupe, The Marvelous Mendlers, have traveled everywhere possible around the City of All Races performing. Granted, that is not very far, so when I was accidentally conceived, it seemed natural for them to choose Nexus as the place to raise their daughter. Shortly after the Nexus Heroes freed Rymek from the clutches of the Goblin Hordes, my parents chose to retire from performing, settling in the newly restored fishing city. So there I grew up, living a rather sheltered and protected life, surrounded by fish, fishermen and endless stories of my parents' travels. At the age of eighteen, I decided that I would use my well-practiced bardic abilities to entertain the Nexus Troops. One thing led to another, and soon I was drawn into protecting the Great City. There I met and fought alongside some of the greatest Heroes known to Nexus, such as Kalishar, Lordewok, Gifford, Renton, Tyrin, Dunsel, Ranamoth, Khadgar and of course, all those still working to protect Nexus. I have trained some of the most well-renowned bards in Nexus. I have witnessed the Births and Rebirths of the Gods Paelina, Andaras, Erisar and Dilanis and I can recall Judgements passed by Malakai and Chaos created by Novind. Through my short life in and around Nexus, I have seen things that would horrify and amaze and I have innumerable tales to go along with each experience. However, to reveal them here would be so unfulfilling. I remain a faithful Nexusian, living with my husband, Pious and my children, Eithen and Kiara, with their grandparents nearby. So tis not far to go should you seek to hear a tale of adventure, a story of sorrow or a song of joy. And by hearing it aloud, you will be all the better....entertained. Dragonslayer Class: BardRace: Human Recently, a Renis scribe approached me and asked if he might record my story, with particular interest in the origin of my name. It seems that since my arrival, many have wondered about how I came to be called Dragonslayer. He then told me that there are very few bards in the Nexus, and no bard has ever agreed to have their story recorded. I was honored by his request, and told him the following story of my life, explaining that this was the defining moment in my existence. I will tell the story of my life and how I came to be known as Dragonslayer. I am new to your Nexus and hope that my skills will be of value here. All of my life, up to this point, has been spent in another city several fortnights from here. This city was known as Safehavenshire to all of it's inhabitants. This city was guarded by a pair of white dragons, who had befriended the original inhabitants of our fair city. Yes, it is true, we lived in peaceful coexistence with a pair of dragons. They protected the city from goblins and other marauders, and we were sworn to stay away from them and their lair. Small amounts of treasure were left for them, and in return our adventurers were allowed safe passage. My formative years were spent learning the ways of magic from my mother, Sapphire, and the skills of fighting from my father, Theseus. I spent all of my free time at our music academy, watching the performers, and learning all that they could teach me about the performing arts. Our walled city was quite safe, and the people were happy and productive. Goods made in our city were known for their beauty and lasting value. Visitors came from all over to shop in our markets and place orders with our craftsman. My father was one of these craftsman, and had a wide ranging reputation as a maker of unrivaled armor and weapons. The adventurers of our fair city all wore some of finest armor and used the most deadly weapons ever produced, thanks to the skill of my father and the magic of my mother. Together they produced enchanted objects the likes of which had never been seen. One morning several years ago, a warrior came to my father and attempted to commission a suit of armor made from materials he carried with him. Outside the shop, the Warrior pulled back a tarp that covered his wagon, revealing the body of a small white dragon! He wanted the scales formed into armor and a shield, and the tail made into a spear. In horror, Theseus ordered the man from the city, and had several of our adventurers accompany him to be certain that a good distance was put between the warrior and our fair city. Several miles outside the city gates, our guardian dragons discovered the body of their offspring in the wagon. Thinking our citizens had taken part in the killing, they attacked and killed the entire party. Their mournful roars could be heard in the city, and all of the inhabitants began to arm themselves, for they knew what was coming next. Theseus ordered me to take Sapphire and all of the women and children to a secret cave in the mountains outside the city and to remain there until we were summoned by another city dweller. Although begging to stay with the adults, I was sent away. Soon after we left the city, we heard the sounds of a pitched battle. The roars of the dragons told us that although they were obviously wounded, they were destroying our city and all of it's inhabitants. After seeing my charges to safety, I sneaked out of the cave and made my way back to the city, not knowing that Sapphire had followed me. Arriving at what was once the east gate of the city, I gazed upon a horrific scene. The streets were littered with the dead and dying. The bodies of many citizens and one dragon were on the main street. Moving through the shadows, I made it to my fathers shop. Inside I found Theseus badly wounded, and in need of help. Summoning what magic I could, I healed him enough that he could move about. At this point, the scribe knew that I continued this story with hatred in my heart, and sadness in my soul. To fully honor my parents, I agreed to continue. Theseus gave me his best armor and weapons and told me to follow him out of the shop. Just then, Sapphire arrived and using all of her magic skills, cast an invisibility spell on me. Outside on the street, we came upon the other dragon, who was badly wounded. Seeing only my parents, the dragon instantly attacked them. Theseus was able to deliver a near mortal blow before he fell, mortally wounded. Sapphire was able to cast a stun spell on the dragon with her dying breath. In a rage, I was able to inflict a mortal wound on the dragon before the invisibility spell wore off. I concluded my story by saying, The few survivors who had witnessed the death of the dragon began to call me Dragonslayer. After bringing the women and children back to the city, the name stuck with me. I stayed in the city long enough to see the city rebuilt, but was never again happy there. Leaving on my eighteenth birthday, I wandered the countryside for many months, until I came upon the nexus. The scribe then asked my reason for remaining in the Nexus, and wanted to know the name my parents had given me. I explained that I hope to rebuild my spirit here, and to really earn the name that I now use. My birth name no longer matters, for my parents died so that I might live. I continue to use the name Dragonslayer to more fully honor my courageous parents and the sacrifice they made that fateful day. Fay Class: BardRace: Sprite Born and raised in the forests south of nexus and living in close proximity to a goblin-scouting base, Fay was witness to many a clash between her people and the goblins. From the time she was old enough to understand their telling, she has always been fascinated to hear of the tales told about the heroic deeds and bravery of those that valiantly defended her home. So persistently would she sneak from her bed at night and hide around the camp fires to hear of these tales, that her parents eventually gave up punishing her altogether. If such a tale were in the telling then Fay would be somewhere close at hand, quiet as a mouse but wide eyed with wonder. She quickly knew all the tales of the legendary deeds of the village hero Atziluth and swore she would one day be just like him and fight against the hordes for the glory and protection of her home and kin. As soon as she came of age, without a moments hesitation, she gathered up her savings and possessions and journeyed to falcion with dreams of joining the fighters guild and honoring the memory of her life long hero and role model, Atziluth. However this was not to be. Upon arriving in Falcion she was totally crest fallen to hear that nobody had ever heard of her idol. not a single glint of recognition did she find in the blank unresponding eyes of those to who she would mention his name. Atziluth ! the legendary hero. bane of goblin hordes and savior of the whole forest ! but alas it was futile and before long she was overcome with disappointment and doubt. How could this be? was he really as heroic as the legends say? did he really achieve all those wondrous things. if so surely his name would be known. If not then how could she bring honor to such as him in a place where so many did not even care for the company of sprites let alone their history and traditions and so it was that with her bubble burst and no clear way forward she wandered the streets not having the heart or even the faith to bother approaching the guild or the trainers Instead would waste her time and savings by moping around in the local tavern, burdening the kindly bar tender with her tales of woe and shattered dreams. Until one day a curiously dressed figure of elven face disturbed her shrouded little world of self pity with a cheery song about the deeds of valor and courage of the participants of some battle long forgotten. This figure sang with such passion and conviction that for the first time since leaving her home, once again she felt the excitement and anticipation that she used to feel when hearing the tales of her forgotten idol. After a long soul bearing talk with this elf, the answer struck her. She would become a Bard ! she would learn to sing and tell the stories that she so loved. If none her knew the name Atziluth now, then they soon would. Of this she would make sure. she would right this wrong and soon his name would be on the tongue of every Falcion and Nexus folk alike. So now she trains hard as bard and recites her inspiring verses to warm the hearts of the heroes of nexus and it is her ambition to one day pen the chronicles of Atziluth and have them immortalized for ever in the archives of her guild. Harpua Class: BardRace: Half-Elf "You mean I'm stuck here?" The unkempt adolescent shot a well-practiced glare of incredulity at the port master. "Aye, no-one leaves Falcion until they've completed their basic training," responded the burly seaman behind the desk. His pen paused in mid-stroke on the ledger. "Say, how did you get here if you didn't even know that..." But by the time he looked up, Harpua was gone. By preference, Harpua was not usually unkempt. Nor was he really as young as he appeared: he was soon approaching his twenty-fifth year. But the moderately pointed ears under his coal black mop of hair were not the only traits he had acquired from his elvish father. Enduring youth was another one. As was the lightness of step necessary to sneak onto the "refugee ship" in Rymek. Apparently, though, he hadn't inherited enough cleverness to realize he was on a ship full of adventurers-in-training. Harpua contemplated this as he headed back toward the main gates of Falcion, cursing his doubly bad luck. Still, he reasoned, this was far preferable to a goblin popping out of a bush and chopping one's head off. Harpua shuddered at the memory of fellow refugees, friends, who had met their fate in this way. The thought alone was enough to drive a man to drink. "Hmmm. The Sleepy Dwarf Tavern," Harpua muttered to himself as he wandered into a dead-end street. Hours later, a bleary-eyed Harpua looked even more haggard. "Hey Doc, have you heard this one? So Trista walks into a bar..." "I don't believe the gods would appreciate your irreverent reference to their names," cautioned Doc Daniel. "Trista wouldn't mind at all! You know, all for a good laugh?" "Besides, you told that one already tonight." "Oh." Harpua paused for a moment. "Well, in that case, another stout." "What seems to be troubling you, friend." Harpua studied the careworn face across the bar. It had been a long time since he had ever been asked that. "Why, nothing, my good man," he lied. "Why do you ask?" "Well, for one thing, I hate to see my brew go to waste when you can't tell your arse from your elbow. I could be serving you water now, and you wouldn't know the difference." Doc smiled kindly. "But you look troubled. Perhaps talking about your troubles with a trained professional would help." It had been a long time, indeed. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Rumor had it that Deyna of Talistok, a little farmtown bordering the Eldane Forest, had a thing for the taut, silky smooth bodies of elven men. Rumors turned to scandal when she married Richard the Stablemaster. Richard could claim that all the time spent around stud horses had made him more virile than ever, but the gossiping wives knew better: seven months was just too short for a healthy baby to be carried to term. In any case, the issue was quickly laid to rest, as the midwife emerged from the couple's home, wiping her hands and mournfully announcing a stillbirth. As the town of Talistok shared the grief of young Richard and Deyna, only one man actually noticed the cliched babe in swaddling clothes, laid at the base of a tree in the middle of the wood. The man's name was Garrick the Druid, although he wasn't a druid. He just happened to like living alone in the forest. A ex-military man with a penchant for literature, he earned his dishonorable discharge by challenging an order on moral grounds. His unprecedented actions stigmatized him, and he banished himself to the woods, away from the people that disgusted him so. But for all his uprighteousnes, education, and good intentions, Garrick had still never learned how to deal with people, let alone an abandoned bastard half-elf baby. He named the baby Harpua after the hero of an obscure ancient elven epic poem. But after the first few days, the novelty of the name had worn off, and the realities of parentage had set in. From that point on, Garrick treated Harpua as his young protege, with all the attendant expectations of the son of a man so dignified as himself. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Harpua hated having to sneak out like this, just to get a few miserable books. Sure, Garrick had taught him to read and write well enough, and Harpua picked it up with ease. But the tomes of literature and philosophy held absolutely no interest for him. Despite Garrick's best efforts, Harpua snubbed the dusty volumes in favor of the few works of poetry and fiction he could lay his hands on. Now he was forced to resort like a common thief to skulking off to town to acquire whatever harlequin novels or bawdy comedies he could find at market. If Garrick only knew, he would have a fit. Harpua sighed as he tightened his hood around his head. Although the weather invited him to soak in the sunshine and feel the breeze through his hair, he dared not reveal his heritage with his telltale ears. Harpua had heard the local gossip, and did not want old stories resurfacing. Talistok was a right miserable town. If it were not for the occasional merchant from Nexus. surely Harpua would lose his mind. Ah, Nexus. The mention of the city evoked images of milk and honey. The freedom, the arts, the people were all shadows in Harpua's head, but these shadows seemed much brighter than his present murky environs. Emerging from his reverie, he cursed softly and muttered to himself. He had to be back in time for his daily lessons. Time had proved an ever-widening gap between Harpua and his surrogate father. As Harpua's half-elvish blood matured slowly, Garrick's aged quickly, making him even more churlish. Harpua had recently forsaken academic study in favor of fencing lessons, which would have suited Garrick fine if not for Harpua's novel-induced flamboyance. Garrick now chided his protege daily for his lack of discipline. Twenty-two years was enough. After one especially severe reprimand, Harpua stormed off, vowing to seek his fortune, and never to return. This was ill-begotten decision for someone with such little affinity for the woods. Harpua had always refused to accompany the old man in his nature walks. And as his lessons lasted all day, it was evening when he stormed off, so inevitably he got lost on the path to town. The first night, he fended for himself alone in the forest, and awoke the next day little rested and all the worse for the wear. Feeling dehydrated, he stumbled upon a pond in the woods. But the last thing on his mind when he bent towards the water for a drink was the water itself, but the sensual nymph bathing in it. The young elven woman looked calmly at him as he knelt before the pond. Rather than bolting in fear, she waded slowly to the opposite edge of the pond, never taking her eyes from him. She stepped ashore and deftly dressed herself. Without a word, she watched Harpua as he drank greedily from the waters that had been closer to her body as he dared wish. Then she was gone. Harpua sprinted after her with renewed vigor. But she hadn't gone far. She sat in a tree not far into the forest, and tittered as he ran past. "Where do you think you're going, stranger?" she mocked him, flashing an enchanting smile. "Why, I saw a vision of beauty at the pond. About five feet tall, long violet hair, and the most mesmerizing eyes. Did you see which way she went?" Harpua replied with a grin. He gazed at the elf intently as he said this, but he was describing her from memory. Their momentary encounter was already etched into his heart. "I believe I know a girl filling that description," the mysterious woman flirted back with a lilt. "Follow me." Her voice was a siren's call, her words an arrow shot through his heart. Suddenly nature walks weren't so bad. Harpua began walking through the woods each day with his newfound love. Her name was Telaphthimaris, but she went by the more easily pronouncable name Tela. Her beauty was consummate, her soul angelic, and her enchantment with Harpua as complete as his for her. They spent nearly every moment together, except for the rare occasion that her community convened for some special occasion. The local elvish community was loosely organized but tightly knit, affording little tolerance for strangers. As Tela's ward, Harpua was an grudgingly accepted guest. But with Tela's love, he knew only happiness. While she gave so much to him, all he had to offer was the spark of his wit. He delighted her with the fruits of frivolous reading, weaving magical and sometimes off-color tales. As they lay together ensconced in their own world, he would croon softly until they fell asleep in each other's arms. But this story, like so many others in Nexus, was not fated to have a happy ending. The seeds of love had been sown in the foul quagmire of the goblin invasion. And the Hordes advanced mercilessly, each day closing in on their secluded forest. The elves knew the danger: they all prepared sedulously for their final defensive. Tela, of course, trained alongside her clansmen, and Harpua would follow dutifully along. But it quickly became clear that despite his tight bond with Tela, he felt only the loosest affiliation with the rest of them. So while the the elven warriors patronized Harpua, and smirked occasionally at his flashy swordplay, they left him when serious business was afoot. And this suited everybody just fine. When the day finally came, it was nothing like what anyone expected. The elves had been expecting a hurricane, and instead, a mere drizzle of goblins rained upon them. The hawk-eyed archers. picked them, off, one by one. Tela was in the second line of archers, and Harpua snuck away from the reserves to come see her, under the pretext of bringing her her lucky quiver. "I don't have a lucky quiver," she chided playfully. But she bade him stay, and they joked merrily about their imminent victory. And like that, it happened. Swarms of drow and trolls arose from nowhere, as revenants from the earth itself. Blades and arrows erupted everywhere, blooming like horrid crimson flowers from the bodies of elves left and right. An eerie silence belied the massacre around them. As Tela shot her arrows futilely, Harpus stood frozen. Nothing had prepared him for what he was witnessing. The martial slaves dragged his comrades down mercilessly after the initial onslaught, saving their victims for a fate similar to their own. Harpua watched his dear Tela brutally clubbed and dragged off, and he did the only thing he could. He fled. Two months later, Harpua was still fleeing. Months of vain searching for a safe haven had accomplished naught but make him see goblins behind every bush and boulder. He trudged across barren farmland with an assortment of other refugees. There were a few elves who had escaped the butchery: Devagnithia who had to be helped to walk now, and Peilonas who had lost her graceful fingers to gangrene. There was the family from Talistok, who claimed to be the sole survivors of the town, and 'oh, won't you please take us with you? We promise we won't burden you...' But alas, no Tela. Harpua's head swam in a sea of garish purples and greens, but he knew if only he could survive one more day, he would see the stout walls of Nexus keeping the goblins at bay... Jerkiness. As his head bounced painfully against a wooden surface, Harpua tried to regain his senses. The clopping of hooves against a pounded dirt path. The briny smell of the sea. Fuzzy warmth. Ugh, the reeking of a goat's skin. He was in a wagon, wrapped odoriferously but snugly in a the hide of a goat. Through the haze of exhaustion, he heard the word "Rymek" uttered. Aching, but safe. Yes, all would be well, he thought. If a coward such as he were safe, surely Tela would be safe as well. No form of slavery could break her indomitable will. Happily, he sunk back into a blissful dreamworld replete with flowers and birds and those trees he hated so much. Perhaps he should have stayed in that dreamworld. The illusion of happiness is so much more convincing there. **************** "Well, that's quite a story." The barkeep wiped spilled spirit off the bar, away from the encroaching slivers of dawn sunlight that filtered in through the windows. "A tale of triumph over all odds. Seems to me you have the markings of a fine warrior. Maybe you'll find your love again, gods willing." "Warrior? Are you crazy? I didn't spend two months desperately dodging goblins just to hand them my life on a platter!" Harpua sputtered. Doc's expression turned stern for the first time. "If you truly believe she's still out there, how can you fear for such a small thing as your life? Or is your hope that she's alive truly a delusion you maintain, just so you can go on leading your miserable life?" Doc sighed deeply. "I do not agree with you: you are not a coward for fleeing when you did. You were captive to your instincts. But you are on Falcion now, the island for training warriors. If in your full capacity to reason, and with your oppurtunity to sally forth and reclaim what you have lost, you still cower and drown yourself in beer, then perhaps you are a coward." Doc's challenge rang true in Harpua's soul. "You're absolutely right. I must pay pennance for my grievous errors." Harpua pounded the bar, a fire lit in his eyes to match the one in his bowels, the pounding to match the one in his head. "That a boy!" Doc beamed in joy and pride at his contribution to the fight against the Goblin Hordes. The following day, his resolve was tempered, but the bar tab was still there. Harpua remembered Doc Daniel's last words to him as he walked into the Apprenticing Center: "I hear they give you 250 gold marks when you sign up." And so Nexus welcomed to its ranks a drunken, wise-cracking, guilt-ridden, love-stricken bard working to pay off a bar tab, gods help us all. Imini Class: BardRace: Half Elf As always, Imini Vu came awake instantly. One moment she was completely oblivious, the next she was excruciatingly aware of herself and her surroundings. She had always been this way; some things didn't bear lingering through. She levered herself up on an elbow and surveyed the quiescent form beside her. White sheets, white skin - her dusky skin looked starkly obvious against the cool white of his body, his bedding. His skin was warm, though - warmer than her own. His pale golden hair lay soft against her shoulder. She didn't remember his name; she made a point of never remembering their names. She did remember how his piercing blue eyes had followed her, drawing her attention repeatedly to that lean, refined face in the crowd. Most of the eyes in the audience were on her mother, still graceful and light in her movements despite the lines beginning to crease her cheeks. Only one pair of eyes noticed the young fiddler accompanying her mother's dance. There was always one pair. His invitation was a murmured compliment on her music, the brush of his fingers against her wrist - and she accepted. The silk sheets slid luxuriously across her skin as she rose silently from the bed. She shivered in the sudden chill of air against her bare skin and dressed quickly. Turning to go, she glanced back once to make sure she'd left no trace of her presence. Ignoring the coins on the nightstand, she left, closing the heavy door softly behind her. Walking briskly down the still-foggy cobbled streets, Imini wiped the settling dew from her eyelashes. Her step quickened as she reached the outskirts of town where her band had set up camp for the night. Though she never brought men to her own little waggon, every morning she rushed home for the little filtre she'd learned to make. No innocent child would suffer for her actions. As always, her mother was waiting outside her own waggon. She did not ask where Imini had been; she did not have that right. Her dark face was gray with weary concern. Concern that her daughter kept trying to hurt them both. Concern that Imini had no strong ties to anyone else in the band. Concern that soon enough there would be no-one to watch for her return in the morning. As always, Imini passed her mother and entered her own waggon without a word. Imini was paying back the both of them in coin they understood. Imini saw no point in forming any bonds that time would only break. Imini waited for and dreaded the day when her mother's one claim on her would be broken, and she would be free. She would leave the band, she already knew. She had never let them include her in the family they formed. She would not have to watch another human slowly age and sicken and die while she remained unchanged. She had that much to thank her unknown elven father for. She had that much to curse him for. Jazzmine Class: BardRace: Sprite Oh my lets see you want to know of my past? Well I have thirteen brothers and sisters. I'm the baby of the family, most of my siblings are boys, I only have two sisters. My eldest brother Lake was like my protector. I guess you could say he raised me. I come from a very well to do family of sprites, we were the richest family in our village and my parents were always very busy, helping others and such. They had a lot of responsibilities in the village. So Lake was always around. Not that I minded. Lake is a great prankster and he would take me with him when he played his little jokes, though he made sure I acted like a proper lady in front of the towns people. Lake is a good thirty years older than me. I mean we sprites are pregnant for two years with each child, and there is twelve kids between Lake and myself. Well when I was around thirty-two my parents became ill, they were very old by now so they were confined to their bedroom. They died in their sleep holding each other in their arms. Though I was heartbroken that my parents had died I thought it was very romantic that they had gone that way. My brother Lake became head of the house with his many responsibilities. I was becoming anxious and impatient to see new things. Many of the men in my village had their eyes on me, though if Lake had caught them he'd thump them a good one. In fact one of his friends kissed me when I was twenty and Lake beat him up. I told you my brother is very protective. My eldest sister Shelliia, Shelly to me, became very wild I would say, though I didn't know what she was doing all my siblings looked down at her, saying she was disgracing my family's name and disrespecting my parents. I guess I'm a bit naive. I was happy playing my pranks and spending as much time as I could with my brother and friends. Now don't get me wrong I love all my siblings very very much. Just Lake and I hold a very special bond. Fearing I would make some bad mistakes without his strict guidance my brother had noticed that I loved to tell stories to the children in our village. I would tell of the pranks and tricks my brother had pulled or planning to pull, or sometimes I'd make up an amusing story for them, everyonce in a while they'd hear of an adventure one of my brothers had been on. See most of the men in my family are fighters and such, very strong very swift. A few of my brothers have became thieves, though noble ones. My sisters have no profession, my other sister Rosie is happily married to a magey sprite. Shelly....well I don't know what she does. Anyway I'm getting off track, my brother noticing my love of stories, along with artistic talent, and my singing voice he went over his options. He called me to his office one day and told me that I would someday make my family proud of becoming the Lady of this house, but till I was old enough I was in jeapordy of losing my innocence and optimitism. He told me he was sending me to the city of Nexus to become a bardy. I was estatic I had always wanted to become a bardy but didn't think Lake would let me leave the house. I was quickly packed and ready to go, kissing and hugging all my siblings goodbye. Lake had arranged for a HUGE party to send me off. Everyone in the village had came, it was lovely and before it was over I was ready to go and make my family proud. Then I was off. I was quickly apprenticed in the city of Falcion with the title of jongleur. I dove into my studies, hunting and learning all I could of the bardic ways. When I had reached the third tier of my proffession I met the cutest sprite magey. He had the prettiest blue eyes and skin, even his frecklers across his face were cute, a dark blue! His hair was fire red and he had on these bright red mage robes with blue swirls topped off with a cap! He flew around the fountain of dreams happily! He was so cute! I could feel my heart thumping a mile a minute, and I'm not a shy girl. He flew right up to me and introduced himself, his name was Zany and he was a spritey magey. He began helping me learn more of my profession and even his, showing me how to make color illusions since I love colors so much. His last name is Rainbowleaf! Isn't that just cute!! Well I dove into my studies twice as hard now, not wanting to disapoint my family or my new boyfriend Zany. Soon we were engaged and I had learned enough of my profession I could leave the island of Falcion and journey into Nexus. I've been there ever since, though now I'm starting to plan my wedding, and everyone in all of Nexus is invited! If you don't mind bright colors that is....... Jazzmine Leafus soon to be Rainbowleaf Kathryn Class: BardRace: Human " Compared with many, I have led a rather dull life. I was born in a small fishing town along the coast. I was what would you would probably call a wild child. Almost as soon as I was able to walk, I would follow my two older brothers, Luke and Mark, everywhere they went. Although they probably didn't appreciate their baby sister tagging along with them, they never sent me away, and we had many merry adventures together. One day, not long after my seventh birthday, my brothers and I were climbing trees when the branch I was sitting on broke. I fell to the ground, and broke my leg. Although the village doctor patched me up, I was confined to my bed for several months. Looking back, this was one of the important moments in my life, because it was at this time that I discovered my talent for music. Since I could not move around, my parents gave me a tambourine to amuse myself with. It was not long after that I began to compose little songs to sing, and I played my little tambourine all the time, nearly driving my family crazy, I think. It did not take my parents long to realize that I had some talent for music, so I did not have to go to work fishing with my father and brothers when I was older. By the time I reached the age of 17, I realized I did not have much future as a musician in my tiny village, so I set off to find my fortune elsewhere. I reached the Island of Falcion, and soon began my training as a Bard. A few months after my arrival, I met a charming young thief named Will. We soon became fast friends, though later I got the impression we would become more. As we both progressed in our respective guilds, our friendship grew, and continued after we reached the city of Nexus. Eventually, he courted me, and professed his love for me, and soon after we became engaged. Eventually, we were wed and have made a home together. Although our lives together have not been perfect, we love each other, and that is all that is important." Kaysa Class: BardRace: Unknown A young girl walked into the library looking around, her dark ocean blue eyes taking in everything. A middle-aged scribe approached her and smiled. "Are you a members of the bard guild?" he asked her his eyes kind yet very inquisitive. She looked at the lute in her hand then nodded, smiling bashfully. "I am" "Oh you are?!" the scribe grinned with glee and took her hand guiding her to a small dark table away from the traffic of people coming in and out. "Have you told us your story my dear?" the scribe asked as he pulled out some parchments and a quill. The girl raised an eyebrow in curiousity "My story Sir?" she asked. "Yes your story, your history how you came to be who you are, and why you are here in the city of allied races." The girl blushed "Oh no, I did not know we were suppose to do that." "Well you don't HAVE to but inquisitive minds like to know about those that are protecting all of us." The girl tucked a strand of hair from her face and nodded, blushing more. The scribe smiled and said "Please take your time, start with your name." He smiled and dipped the quill into a vial of ink and readied his hand to begin writing. Thus the girl began...... "My name is Kaysa Morningstar, I was born in the small village of Taeilk, it's very far from here. I have two brothers a mother and a father. We lived on the outskirts of the village and had a small farm. I was the baby of the family, my two brothers were always hard at work, helping my father for as long as I can remember. When I got older I too helped with the farm work, along with the house chores as well. I use to love to hum tunes and tell stories to my brothers when they would get the time to listen, sometimes when they didn't have the time as well." Kaysa paused a moment her eyes glistening over with the fondness of childhood memories. She took a breath and continued. "I loved to paint, when I was about seven years of age my parents got me a paint brush and a set of paints, I painted on everything I could get my hands on, the wall the door, the floor, cabinets, ect.... Then my mother pointed out that the walls and such could not be washed off, but I could. Thus began my love of body art. My parents and brothers noticed my humming and bought me a flute, I quickly mastered the instrument and would walk all over the village playing tunes for anybody that would stop to listen. I even wrote a song for a dwarven fighter that lived in the village. Everyone encouraged me to sing, but I never would. I am much much to shy to sing infront of others. I prefer my painting to be my expression of art, I don't have to sing and nobdoy has to pay much attention to me. Soon it became evident that I was growing restless, I would take long walks, sometimes leaving at dawn and not returning to dusk. My brothers would joke to my parents that perhaps I was a wandering minstrel. My parents grinned at each other getting an idea. On one such occasion I came home shortly before supper and my parents set me down. They thought I had wonderful potential to become a bard and that I should travel all over, and head to Nexus the city of allied races. They knew of the war, though thank the Gods our village had not been invaded. They thought I could be of great help. My brothers having snuck in to hear this conversation threw a fit. Their baby sister off battling goblins and giants? Never! She was much to shy and tiny. Though I am a little over six feet in height. I calmly told my brothers that I thought it was a great idea. I loved wandering about and this would give me a chance to see new things. They still protested, swearing they'd never let me go. This went on for months. Finally they gave in, seeing as how I was determined to do this with or without their blessing, they reluctantly gave me their blessing and the next morning I was off. It took many days for me to reach Nexus. At first I thought I was heading the wrong way and was scared I'd never see another being again, save for a few forest creatures I encountered. Then one day, in the midafternoon I saw it. Nexus, there it was I was so excited I ran as hard and as fast as I could to get there. A guardsman pulled open the massive gates for me and I hurried inside, looking around with awe. Not many people payed any heed to me. I must of looked like the country pumkin gawking around as I did. This is how I bumped into a rather large man. He huffed and looked at me "Ye must being new 'roun' 'ere" he gruffed. I nodded blushing brightly. "Well ye best be getin' to the sloop girl!" I had no idea what that man was talking about. He pointed south and shoo'd me off "Ye best run!" I ran I ran as I had never ran before, I stopped to ask a guardsman about the sloop and he pointed me to the southern gates. Once there I asked another guard and he instructed me to stay on the path to Rymek and I couldn't miss it. I nodded and he pulled the gates open for me and I ran down the path as fast as my legs would carry me. Once on board the sloop I noticed I was surrounded by many other people all on their was to the island called Falcion. When we reached the island a trainer grabbed me and pulled me aside "You want to be a bard don't you?" he asked me. I nodded blushing as he stared at the painting on my arm. "Make em proud" he said as she pushed me inside the city. Thus I began my training and eventually my acceptance into the bards guild." Kaysa blushed as she finished her story and the scribe looked up at her. "Well told" he said as he looked over at her. "How did you get all those peircings and what of the painting on your arm?" he asked politely. Kaysa smiled and said "Well right before I left for Nexus a band of gypsies strolled into our village for a few days to rest from their travels and one of the women had a tatoo and a few hoops in her ears. The hoops really caught my attention and one night she put all these earings in my ear. She offered to do a tatoo for free, but I declined, not wanting something permanet on my body. So instead I paint my moon and star upon my arm every day, and if I get bored with it I'll just wipe it off." The scribe smiled and finished writing down her words. "Thank you very much for your time, I hope to talk to you again soon." She nodded and stood up strolling out of the library. Lyrasel Class: BardRace: Half-Elf Lyrasel Gentarin was born in a small village near the Eldane, the youngest of five children and the only girl. Her father had once aspired to be a bard, showing some promise in his quick grasp of spell-music. His ambitions were cut short, however, when his parents were killed in an ambush by goblins on their way to visit him in Nexus. Their only son, he returned to the farm, and married a sturdy neighborhood girl, Lianne. Despite the turmoil around them as the Horde encroached more and more toward Nexus, T'rel and Lianne raised four strapping boys in relative peace. Misfortune struck again, however, when Lianne fell ill. Despite the efforts of the local healers, she eventually succumbed to the illness, leaving T'rel alone with four boys, the oldest of them ten. Nearly 40 years of age, he fully expected to live out his years alone, but fate (and some might say Dilanis) had other plans for him. He returned from the fields one day to find a visitor on his doorstoop, a comrade with whom he had trained on Falcion nearly 20 years earlier. The few sparks of interest that had flared between them then had been cut short by his parents' death and his decision to leave Nexus. Now retired after years of service to Nexus and the Tower, she had sought him out, not even certain if he remembered her. What had been between them once had never died, and it wasn't long before it grew, fanned undoubtedly by T'rel's loneliness and his boys' need for a mother. Within two years, Lyrasel was born to them, a tiny half-fey child with fiery curls and eyes the color of amber. Lyrasel's childhood was marred by her sickliness. She suffered frequent attacks of fainting, and occasionally seemed to slump still further, her skin growing waxy and pale, and her breathing so shallow as to be almost non-existent. Because of these spells, her mother kept her close, knowing that in an emergency, only quick intervention to restore her vitality would save her from dying. As she could not be always by her side, Deliasha also engaged a nurse, a dark-elf shunned by many of the neighbors. She was called Qiera, though that was only the closest surface tongues could come to pronouncing the name she was born with. An outcast from her House, in self-imposed exile to the surface, Qiera taught the young girl much of the Drow ways, imparting to her as well her wistfulness for the beauties of the world she had left behind, despite its cruelties. To amuse his daughter during the long periods that her illness kept her indoors, T'rel often sang to her, delighting in her quick ear for a tune, a trait evident when she was as young as two. Her earliest instruments were such common things as spoons and pots, sticks to tap together, a jingling bell. When she was about three, Deliasha followed the sound of delighted crowing into the sleeping room one day to find young Lyra on the floor, her father's tempo drums before her, delightedly dancing a ball of light around the room. Faced with this evidence of her talent, T'rel shaped and strung a small lute and began teaching her to play a few simple tunes. The attention and favor showered on her by her parents met with deep resentment by her brothers, though they were careful to hide it in their presence. They hid their little cruelties behind a veil of pretended affection, sharp pinches when no one was looking, a grip that was almost bone-crushingly tight when they held her hand on walks, tickling her till she nearly passed out from breathlessness and terror. As she grew older, their attentions grew darker and more cruel, bordering on sadistic tortures that often started with tickling. She learned very young not to accuse them, her earliest attempts at telling met with reassurances that her brothers loved her, admonishments to them to be more gentle, and worse cruelties when they got her alone again. Instead, she learned to retreat inside herself, building a wall of defense around her secret. The abuse eventually dwindled and stopped altogether as her brothers reached adulthood and was never mentioned between them again. When she reached 21, her father declared it was time she thought of marrying. She argued against it, but he was adamant that he wished to see her happily married and settled before he died. Unable to change his mind, and faced with her brothers' gleeful procession of suitors (musclebound boneheads she called them), she made her plans, and one night slipped away to Falcion, where she hoped that polishing and training her skills would allow her to make her own choices in life. Rayven Class: BardRace: Human Where shall I begin? Perhaps with my birth... I was born to Anandra and Rhodry Krahn in the city of Ceor, a three week trip north of here. My parents owned a clothing shop, and we never lacked anything we needed. Not to say that we were wealthy ... we just weren't destitute like some families I knew. My father wasn't overly religious, but my mother was a very pious woman, almost to the point where it was a fault. There wasn't much to call a school in the town, and most of what I learned was from people walking outside the shop and in the taverns. Still, it was just more than enough to get me through life. I was a loud, bubbly child full of energy. I had little tact to speak of, but it improved some as I grew. My brother, on the other hand, was a very serious boy, quiet, and skilled with numbers. He did most of the accounts for our shop. I drew customers into the shop by standing on the small porch and singing and dancing. This was my life until I reached the age of fifteen, and my first real love interest entered my life. His name was Michael, and his family came here because their old town was suffering a terrible drought. We had terrific times, and soon became engaged. It was one of the high points of my life thusfar, until the day it came to a shattering end. I awoke one morning just like every other day, and saw a note pinned to my door: "Rayven, I fear our time together has grown stale. Perhaps it is time to explore new possibilities. This is not the way I expected my life to turn out, and I desire something better. Farewell." No one in the town had seen him, or my best friend Jaquelyn since the day before. I remember spending days on end alone in my room, crying my eyes dry. My heart wrenched and banged inside it's tin cage, waiting to be let out. On top of all this, people in the town were starting to talk of a goblin horde. I paid no attention to it; I had "more important" things to worry about. Still the rumors persisted, and did not die off like most rumors do. "... moving nearer," people were saying. My father took their chatter to heart, just as other people were starting to do. I saw at least a dozen of my friends sent off to other cities by parents trying to protect them. Then it was my turn. My brother was sent off to a city to the west of Ceon, called Defalk, and I was sent to Falcion. I heard later that both cities were hit, and I know not what happened to my family. I pray to all the Gods that they are safe. And so it was that Rayven came to Falcion. I stay here and train to honor my parents, be they dead or alive, and my sweet brother, and also in hopes that one day I will come across Michael and Jaquelyn again ... perhaps they are destitute. No, that is not my wish for them. I only hope that they receive the same treatment that they give to others. And that, I suppose, is my story. Sincerity Class: BardRace: Human When I was very young, I lived in a little village, far away from Nexus, with my parents and siblings. There was much love in our family, and we were happy. My parents were great scholars and apparently the trend passed on. My brothers and sisters all were very intelligent. I, however, was never very smart, so I always felt like the odd ball. My parents were concerned about my future. Without their intelligence, they didn't know what I would become. I never worried about it though. I was carefree and happy. I enjoyed being outside around nature and witnessing the gifts of all the gods. Then, one terrible night, our village was invaded by goblins. My family and many others were killed. For some reason, they spared me. Maybe it was because I was just a child. To this day, I don't know how or why I'm alive, but I am thankful for it. The goblins captured me and burned the village. They took me to a tall, lonely mountain. It was very dark and damp. I remember feeling very scared and alone. We entered a cave, and continued further and further into the heart of the mountain. Finally we reached a large, open room lit with torches. I was taken into a dungeon, and locked in a cell. For the first time since the invasion, I cried. Tears streamed down my face as I realized how hopeless my situation was. I was alone in a goblin mountain. Lost, and alone. My family was dead. My home was ruined. Then, the gods looked down on me with pity and blessed me with a very special gift. They gave me the gift of song. Without their gift, I doubt I could have survived. Whenever I was sad or alone, I sang to myself, and everything seemed better. I sung of happy things that once had been, and of what I would do when I escaped. I would escape, I assured myself. Some how, some way. Each day, I was brought a meal by one of the goblins. Being of different races and cultures, we couldn't communicate with each other, but we became friends. (Being alone made me desperate for a friend or comforting face.) When the goblin would bring my food, he would stay and listen to me sing. Of course, he didn't know what I was singing about, but he seemed to like listening to my voice. He realized how special it was, how unearthly it was. My voice eventually entered his heart, and he felt sorry for me. In the middle of the night, he quietly unlocked my door and woke me. I almost let out a scream, but he covered my mouth, muffling it. He led me out of the dungeon and through the mountain to the cave where we entered. Then he left me. All I knew to do was run. I ran all night. I had no where to go. All I had to do was get away from that evil mountain. As it began to turn light in the morning, I fell, exhausted, and slept. When I awoke, I saw a little dove beside me, singing happily. It spread its wings and slowly began to fly away, as if beckoning me to come. There was something about the dove, an aura about it, that caused me to follow. I followed it for many miles. Whenever I stopped to rest, it rested with me. One day we reached a city, full of young people like myself. The dove left me, and with it left my gift of song. I didn't mind though, for I no longer needed my voice to survive. I had found a city where I could continue life where I had left off, long ago. As I was starting to make new friends and adjusting to being around other people, I met Koto. Koto was a wonderful musician, and helped me to find my niche in life. He taught me about life, love, and music. With his help, I learned how to sing. Although I no longer had a voice from the gods, through training, I improved and began to compose my own songs. After a while, Koto and I became very close, and he adopted me as a daughter. I have finally found happiness. I once again have a family, a home, and friends. Solik Class: BardRace: Unknown The man grabbed his child into his arms and rushed him into the cellar, oblivious to the sounds of battle raging about him. The sounds of death increased as the villagers fought for their lives. "Solik, listen to me," the man began. "I want you to stay here, okay? Don't leave the cellar until I come to get you, okay?" The boy nodded. The man gave him a quick hug, lifted his sword, and ran back out to the battle raging outside. The boy was confused. Why were those ugly green things coming into the village? The boy huddled in the darkness and began to whimper softly. He wished his daddy would come back. * * * The small group looked in awe at the destruction around them. Bodies of slain townsfolk littered the road, and blood was splattered on the buildings. Orc bodies lay slain as well, but not nearly as many as the humans. The mother put her hands over the little boy's eyes. The father rode in the lead, sword drawn. They rode cautiously into the city. None of the three spoke a word as they continued. Not a sound was to be heard, except for the occasional door slamming shut in the fierce wind. Suddenly, they heard small cries coming from a house off to the side of the road. The man climbed off his horse and cautiously crept into the house. The man looked around the house. The place was in disarray. Shattered dishes and broken furnitue lie scattered about the room. He heard the crying again. It came from the other side of the door. He slowly eased the door open. Standing on the other side was a small elvish boy, no more than a few years old. He cringed in fright from the man. The man sheathed his sword and spoke softly to the young boy. He grabbed him up in his arms and rushed outside. The woman gasped softly at the sight of the boy, and placed him in her lap beside her own son. "Let's get out of here," the man said, mounting his horse. "We don't want to stay here any longer than we have to." They quickly rode off down the road. Little trace was left of their passing. The wind whispered quietly through the remains of the dead city. * * * He was raised as a brother to Jurri Nightwind in the small, quiet town of Kalahad. He kept his own name, Dryden, rather than adopting the name of his new family. As he grew, he began to seek for more and more knowledge about the war of the gods and of the goblin raids. He began travelling the world as a bard alongside his brother Jurri. His travels led him to the city of Nexus, just before its seige. He hopes here to find the answers to the questions he seeks. Stancyl Class: BardRace: Hobbit As per the request of some of my friends and aquaintances, I will tell my story. It's neither terribly exciting nor romantic. There is no danger or lost love. To tell the absolute truth i have led a very unexciting life thus far, but that is not the point. The point is I am here to tell a story. And so here it is. There is a small hobbit village, not far from here. The hobbit name for it is Long-grass, though i don't know the common name for it. I don't suggest trying to find it either. The hobbits there are not very social to outsiders and you'd probably pass right by without seeing them once. Anyways, that is where I am from. Born there to Dotey and Bronter Wornshoes. I was raised on basic principles. Be kind to others, share and share alike, etc. But there was one rule I could never abide to. As I stated most hobbits there stayed away form outsiders. I, on the other hand, would go out of my way to speak to them and listen to stories of far off places. Of heroic battles, and wondrous magic. I was scolded for my attitude many times. I spent most of my time, when not being scolded or talking to strangers, in a small copse of trees a little ways from my village. There, on an old tree stump, I would think of the stories and wish I could go off with the travelers and live those stories. I have a small book where I would make drawings from my imagination. I do not consider myself an artist, but those drawings were half of what brought me to this part of the lands. The other half showed up on a cold winter morning. It had snowed heavily the night before and most hobbits were staying inside next to a warm fire, smoking from pipes or eating warm stew. I, as I usually did, could be found trudging through the snow towards the copse of trees. When the sun hit the copse at noon, especially when it snowed, it shone like the brightest diamonds. It always reminded me of the stories of dwarven treasure and the like. Suddenly, as I reached the trees, I heard a noise. But noise is an insult to what I heard. It was music! The most beautiful music i had ever heard! I began walking, entranced by the sound, towards the road where I spyed a young human, dressed in light bright clothes. I was sure he must have been freezing, but he danced along, playing the song and singing as if it were a sunny spring day. I ran over to him, and he paused, to my dismay. "Please do not stop!" I cried, to which he only smiled. "A hobbit?" He said, raising an eyebrow and smiling. "Don't hobbits usually avoid travelers?" I stamped my foot at this. "Never again!" I cried, "Never again, if you will only play that song again!" He smiled at me and began playing and dancing as before, but this time I joined him, dancing and jumping as I had never done before. Later that day, when the man had left I began my preperations. I had never felt such joy as when the man played and I was determined to do as the man did. To sing and play, and to stir the hearts of all with song. I told my parents of this, expecting more scolding, but they only nodded. My father dug out an old travelworn backpack that had belonged to my grandfather, a great traveler among hobbits. I left the very next day for Falcion, hoping to find the song I was meant for and the story of my life. So there you have it. The life of Stancyl Wornshoes, summed up in a few paragraphs. Its been a good life so far, and I hope there are many more years to follow. May we all have a good day, good night, and whatever may follow! Tanson Class: BardRace: Human Far to the south of Nexus lay a secluded island called Feldaire. Feldaire was home to the human kingdom of Gertran'dal. These humans were rather eccentric by Altin's human standards, but the people had remained happy for generations. The kingdom had just crowned a new king, a young man by the name of Carlian. King Carlian had a passionate love for music, and, upon his coronation, held auditions for positions as the King's personal musicians. As word of this audition reached the far corners of this island, people with a wide range of musical skills came to the King's castle to participate in this audition. The new king was present for the audition, and listened to all the auditioners display their talents. Unfortunately, the majority of the players disgusted the discriminating king. Having spent a long day listening to minimally skilled musicians, the king grew weary, and considered cutting the audition short. "Your majesty, I have heard great things about this next player. Please see it fit to listen to him." One of the king's advisors pleaded with him to listen to one more musician. Carlian sighed. "All right. He will be the final one. It has been a long day, and I do not wish to listen to more people make a mockery of music." As Carlian motioned for the next musician, an extremely young child of no more than fifteen winters came before the king. He was dressed in scraggly clothes, but carried a beautiful lyre. Carlian muttered as he flashed a mild glare at his advisor. "Please hear him through," the advisor asked, "He is truly a wonder." The child bowed to the king, and awaited for permission to begin playing. "You may begin," the king stated, rather inattentively, as the child nodded. The child looked at his lyre, and began strumming with an ease not seen in players twice his age. The gentle sound that emanated from the lyre quickly grabbed the attention of the king, who looked at the seemingly insignificant child with newfound respect and shock. After strumming for a short time, the child began singing. Though his children's voice had not yet attained the deep undertones of a grown man's voice, it resonated powerfully throughout the room, entrancing everyone who had the pleasure of hearing. When his piece was completed, his audience, still mesmerized by his music, was completely silent. After several moments of utter silence, the king finally spoke. "Your music is unlike anything I've ever heard in my life. What is your name, son?" The child replied, "I am Tanson, your majesty." The king nodded. "Very well, Tanson. I extend to you an offer to play on my court." Tanson smiled. "Thank you for the kind offer. I accept." Tanson returned to his dwelling in the castle after a long day of playing his lyre. It had been three years since he first agreed to play for the King, and he was beginning to tire of it. He put himself into bed, and began pondering his various options. The next morning, Tanson went to the King and asked him to be released from his duies. The king, however, loved his music too much, and vehemently rejected his request. Tanson, upset but unwilling to give up, began to think of other ways to get out. He quickly learned the inner workings of the castle, and began to steal small bits of gold coin. He created a secret compartment underneath the wooden floorboards, where he began to stash away his gold. After six long months of stashing gold, he dressed himself in a robe, and walked discreetly to the docks. Once there, he approached an old man sitting by a desk. "Could I procure a list of outgoing ships in the next week?" asked Tanson. The foreman grunted and shrugged. "Here." He threw a wooden binder at him. Tanson nodded. "Thank you, sir." Tanson flipped through the book. He saw that most ships were heading to the nearby island of Verrath. He shook his had; that island was far too close for his tastes. As he continued to flip through the dock schedule, one listing caught his eye; "The Windrider, leaving 23rd Blossoms, for the port of Rymek. Captain: Elias Garamoor. Docked at pier 3." Tanson had never heard of Rymek before. He gave the book back to the foreman, thanking him, and walked outside, to pier 3. Spotting a man walking out of the boat docked there, Tanson raced to catch up to him. "Sir, may I speak to your ship's captain please?" Tanson said, hoping for a favorable response. The man shrugged, and said, "I am the ship's captain. What do you want, boy?" "I require passage on your ship, to . . . Rymek. Would it be possible for me to acquire passage to Rymek via your ship?" Tanson hoped he sounded convincing. The man shrugged. "Four thousand gold for passage on my ship." Tanson winced slightly, and nodded. "I have it." The man looked at Tanson incredulously, and nodded. "We'll keep some extra food for you, but bring your own as well, as well as anything else you would require. Your own drink would be advisable as well." Tanson nodded. "When do you leave?" The man replied, "Tomorrow, at the crack of dawn. Bring your money then. If you're late we're not waiting for you. Tanson nodded. "I shall be there. What was your name, sir?" The man replied, "I am Captain Elias Garamoor. Yours?" "I am Tanson." Tanson bowed and returned to the castle. Tanson pulled all his belongings and placed them inside a large cloth backpack. He placed his gold in a medium sized pouch, and placed it securely inside his backpack, and fastened the backpack tight. In his hand he carried some climbing rope. He tiptoed out of his room, and onto the castle courtyard. He quickly ran to a section of wall. Throwing the hooked rope over the high wall, he began scaling the wall, taking care to be extra silent. He made one quick look as he climbed halfway up. Eventaully, he reached the top of the wall. He carefully held onto the top of the wall from his precarious position as he rearranged the hook so he could descend. He climbed down the wall, trying as hard as possible to make no noise. Once he was safely on the ground, surrounded by bushes, he retracted the climbing rope, and wound it around his arm. Looking around once again, he began running for the docks. Once at the dock, he spotted the captain and walked toward him. "Hello, Captain Garamoor." Tanson bowed before him as the man greeted him cordially. "Do you have what I asked for?" the captain asked. Tanson pulled a fairly large pouch of gold from his backpack, and handed it to the captain. The captain smiled, bobbed the heavy-looking pouch a few times, and nodded. "Welcome to the Windrider. If the weather cooperates, it will be a two week journey." Tanson nodded. "Our crew is in place. We depart in fifteen minutes." The storm's vicious wind howled violently as the ship buckled under the force of the waves. Water flew over the sides of the ship and slammed onto the deck. Tanson stood on the stairwell connecting the decks below. He tightly held onto the railing as he watched the ship take nature's beating. A powerful gust of wind swept across the ship, and the wooden mast snapped off like a twig, crashing into the ocean. A bolt of lightning crashed down upon the remains of the mast, maiming the remains of the mast and igniting a large fire. Tanson found another member of the crew, who grabbed him frantically and took him to a small boat. Another crew member was waiting at the boat, and the three of them helped move the boat in position to be lowered into the water. They entered the boat and cut the string that bound the small emergency boat to the doomed ship. The boat fell onto the water, but lurched violently with the waves and the impact of the fall. The small boat got shoved around like a toy as the three of them hung on for dear life. A fierce gust of wind lifted the boat off the water and caused it to flip over completely. Tanson heard screams amidst the wind, thunder, and loud patter of rainfall, as the other two crew members were swept away. Tanson continued to hold onto the boat, fighting the wind and the waves trying to drag him into the sea. After what seemed like an eternity, the winds began to calm. The once-violent waves became more docile, and the loud beating of rain became a soft pattering. Tanson managed to flip the boat right side up, and climbed inside. He dried his clothes off and sighed. Tanson looked up; the skies were clear. It had been three days since the ship had been destroyed. Although he had just woken up, he had no energy. He gazed toward the sun. Its rays seemed to slowly drain Tanson of his energy. Shaking his head in an attempt to remain awake, he tried to get up, but found he was too weak to move. "Rest . . ." he thought. "Rest sounds good . . ." Tanson closed his eyes. A Rymekian fisherman looked out on the beach and noticed something strange; an unmanned boat was rocking back and forth calmly, at the edge of the shore. He walked to the boat in curiosity. Upon reaching the boat, he looked inside and felt his mouth drop. The gaunt body of a human lay inside the small boat. He touched the skin; it radiated the slightest bit of warmth. He touched the left side of the man's neck; the fisherman could feel the faintest of pulses. Looking at the man once again, the fisherman put his tackle box and his pole down and hefted the man in his arms. He walked to Rymek's town center, and shouted for help. Several men responded to the plea for help, but upon examining him, all agreed that he needed to go to the Healing Hand in Falcion. One man procured a stretcher, and lay the body on the stretcher. Someone then wrapped the man in several blankets. The fisherman and one other man carried the stretcher to the Transport Sloop, where, after paying the fare, boarded the ship. Upon the ship's arrival on the island of Falcion, the two men quickly walked north up the path and through the city gates. The two men lay the stretcher in front of the healing hand, and entered the wooden building. "Anyone, please come out and help!" one of the men shouted. Within several seconds of his call, two acolytes came out of their chambers and nodded. "What is the problem, sirs?" asked one of the acolytes. "We found an unconscious man in a boat, on the shore. He seems to be alive, but barely." The acolyte nodded. "We will do what we can for him. Where is he?" The fisherman responded, "Outside, by the door." The two acolytes nodded and walked outside to retrieve the man. "Ah, so you're awake, son." Nathen looked at the young man, whose eyes had opened for the first time in perhaps a week. The young man looked around. Looking fairly confused, he meekly asked, "What is this?" Nathen smiled and said, "This is the tabernacle of the Healing Hand. "You were badly hurt. We found you on a small boat on our shores." Tanson's eyes seemed to light up upon the mention of a boat. "Boat . . . Windrider? Where is the Windrider?" Nathen looked at Tanson quizzically, and said, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what it is you speak of." The man sighed and nodded, as if he had something to say but didn't have the energy to say it. "What is your name, son?" the high priest asked. "N-name? Oh, I'm . . . T-Tanson." "Ah, Tanson. Welcome to Falcion, Tanson." "Falcion . . ." Tanson trailed off into sleep once again. It took another week for Tanson to have the energy in him to begin walking. Even then, he was extremely unsteady in his steps. However, Nathen felt that the Healing Hand could do no more for him, and that the rest of his rehabilitation would need to be done outside his sanctuary. Because Tanson often spoke of a Lyre, Nathen suggested that he go to the bard's guild. Tanson, completely untrained in the arts of combat, had difficulty mastering even the basics of swordplay, and, as such, encountered some difficulty in his training. However, as he regained his strength, the concepts of warfare quickly became apparent to him, and he was able complete his training. His strength returned to him, he walked out of the gates of Falcion in full vigor, and smiled at the guards that patrolled the Sloop as he entered on his way to Nexus. Tanson looked at a golden lyre behind the counter of Kalim's bar. The beautiful lyre sat on a velvet pillow, on a polished oaken stand. "Interested in that lyre, eh?" Kalim asked Tanson. Tanson continued to look at the lyre, not seeming to pay attention to Kalim's words. Kalim scratched his head and said to Tanson, "Hey there! What's gotcha in such a daze?" Tanson quickly dropped from his trance and looked at Kalim. "Oh, I was just looking at your lyre. It's a beautiful thing. Might I look at it for a moment?" Kalim pondered for a moment. "I usually don't let people look at it, but since you're an aspiring musician, I'll grant you an exception." Tanson smiled. Kalim handed the lyre to him with two hands. "Be gentle with it. Instruments of that quality you only come across once in a lifetime." Tanson nodded. He took the lyre and gripped it with a familiarity that shocked even himself. He then curiously plucked the strings of the lyre. Thinking for a moment, he began playing a simple tune, before stopping abruptly. "Mind if I play something on here?" Kalim shrugged. "I suppose so. You seem adept enough at it." Tanson smiled and nodded. He looked at the lyre carefully, and began strumming. Kalim watched with awe as Tanson played the lyre with skill well beyond his short years. As he played, a crowd gathered around Tanson, each person entranced by the gentle plucking of the strings. As Tanson's piece came to a close, a tall, beautiful elven woman with a black and red cloak around her stepped toward Tanson, away from the crowd. The woman kissed Tanson on each cheek, and placed a jeweled pin of a musical note on Tanson's lapel. "I have never had the pleasure of hearing such a magnificent performance in my life. You are truly the fairest of Muses. May Andaras continue to pour Her blessings upon you." Torak Class: BardRace: Dwarf "Ye did what?!" Torak tried to look away, but all he succeeded in doing was meeting the eyes of his mother, besides his quite angry father. "Ye be lookin at me when ah be talkin ta ye!" The dwarfs face was flushed beneath his beard. Torak looked back to his father, and met his eyes. "tell me what ye done." "The master forger already be tellin . . ." "Ah said, ye be tellin me what ye done." Torak mumbled something into his neatly trimmed beard, the bane of his fathers exhistance. Many times Torak had heard his fathers lectures about how a beard was something that needed to be grown to its fullest; had put up with his brothers snickering; his mothers patient goading, but he would not grow his beard out. "Speak up Torak!" "Ah said ah burned tha Forge!!" Torak yelled. Berrits mustache bristled, as he glared at his impudent son. "Ah tol ye ah no wanted ta go in there in tha fist place, ah did. All ah be wantin . . ." "Yer no gonna be singin, an that bein that!" The Master Forger, standing behind Torak looked about the dwelling place of the Battleforgers. A nice sized hearth sat in the far wall, with many weapons above it. The Battleforgers had always been a distinguished family, throughout the history of the mountain city of Tagin. "Berrit, now ye calm down. Tha damage no bein as bad as it sound. In tha morn, ye be seein nay a scorch mark," the Master Forger said, slowly. Berrit glanced briefly at the Master Forger, then returned his glare at his son. "What ye be thinkin? What be goin on in that head o yers?" Torak returned his fathers glare, with one of his own. He then turned, went to his room, and slammed the door; immediately he opened it a crack, to listen. The master forger sighed slightly, and patted Berrit on the shoulder. "What he be thinkin?" Berrit asked no one in particular. He turned to look at the hearth. "He be singin in that festival, an he do be good, but ifin he be havin his way, he woul put a flute along side our kins weapons. A flute sittin by Tivins Mithrill battle-axe," He sounded indignant at the thought. "Berrit, ifin ah remember me history correctly, an ah no sayin that ah do, but ah seem ta remember that durin tha war o races, eery group o dwarves that be afightin had a person that sang the war chants, an ifin they be singin in their heart, those songs coul make the enemy turn tail, an run lak a dragon tryin ta git back ta its treasure after hearin someone be steelin it," the Master Forger said. "An while ah be rememberin, ah think that one o the Battleforgers was one o the great warrior bards . . .but ah coul be mistaken." Torak wanted to hail the Master Forger as king, right then and there. He had never heard anyone make his father eat his own words. Wellin, at least ah have someone on me side. Enirra looked at the Master Forger. "Ifin Torak be hearin that, he neer let go o this crazy idea. We no hae had a bard among our peoples fer a very long time, an it ould break is lil heart." She looked back to her husband "but it bein his choice Berrit." "No while he be livin here, it not. He gonna be back at tha forges in tha mornin, with yer permission, Master Forger." The Master Forger looked at Berrit, and Enirra. He sighed slightly, but nodded. "wellin, that be settlin that. Thank ye fer comin Master Forger, Torak no be setting fire ta yer forges gain, be surein bout that." Torak closed the door, his mind made up. The halls were quiet, and empty, except for a set of footfalls, echoing lightly off the stone walls. Torak had a backpack on, and was walking the halls quickly, and as quietly as possible. He rounded a corner, and bumped into the Master Forger. Both took a step back, and looked at the other. "An werein ye be off ta at this hour?" The master Forger looked at Torak, took in his backpack, and traveling clothes. "Ah bein off . . .ta tha forges, ta be seein if . . .ifin ah cin help with the . . .repairs." "Ah be thinkin the forgers not be wantin yer help fer a while, not til they be forgettin yer accident." The Master Forger grinned into his beard as Torak tried to think of something to say. "Now ah be knowin yeve no intention o headin back in the forges . . ." Torak seemed almost panicked, but the Master Forger raised a hand to forestall any denials, or panicked words. "Wat ye be wantin me ta tell yer kin? Where ye be headin ta, or do ye know yet?" Torak looked up at the Master Forger, his eyes wide in shock. "Ye know?" "Oh aye. Yer father be havin a will o granite, and ye no be bendin yerself. Ah knew ye were listenin from yer room, twas why I said what ah did. Ye have a talent Torak, unlike ah hae seen, or heard, in hundreds o years. Ye need ta follow yer heart, an yer heart be tellin ye ta leave. Bein there anathin ye want me ta tell yer kin?" Torak looked at the floor. "There be nothin that ah hae no said already." The Master Forger nodded slightly. Torak turned to leave, and the older dwarf stopped Torak with a hand on his shoulder. The Master Forger fished about in his puches, and pulled out a medallion. Made of Mithrill, it glistened in the torchlight as he handed it to Torak. "It bein tha symbol o the Dwarven Bards o old. Ye be wearin that when ye go ta battle, an be singin tha Dwarven battle songs, and chants, it be bringin some luck. Ah made it tha day after ah hear ye sing. Somehow ah new, one way o another, ye woul be usin it." Torak took the medallion with close to awe on his face. "Ah . . .thank ye. It bein tha best thin ah eer seen come out o yer forge," Torak looked up, as he realised what he had said "no offense, Master Forger, ye be makin great weapons, an armor, an . . ." Torak was prepared for the Dwarf to take the medallion back, for the insult he had just given, but all he did was chuckle. "Yed best be headin off now, ah kept ye long nough. Goo journey young bard, make us proud." Torak turned, and headed off through the halls, to the great doors of Tagin, and to the surface. The Master Forger looked off toward where Torak had disappeared in the halls. "Sing with pride, young one, ye carry a grea burden on yer shoulders. Ifin ye only knew . . ." his whisper was swallowed by the shadows of the halls as the Master Forger, the leader of the Priests of the fallen goddess Twilia (though few indeed knew that) turned, and headed off to his room. Torak walked the streets of the strange town, with eyes filled with wonder. He spoke to himself in Dwarven, and got more than one strange look from a few people. "Such tall buildings, and above ground . . ." he shook his head in wonder. He walked the streets, looking, trying not to gawk. He ran into a woman, with green hair, Green hair?! He looked up at her. This was obviously an Elf. Such a thin creature, it seemed to Torak she would fall over on the spot, and be too weak to get back up. Far from falling over, she bowed to him. "Greetins to ye mistress." Torak remembered from his lessons that Elves were a strange lot, but being polite was something he had no trouble with. She smiled to him, and flowers burst into the air. Torak stumbled back with eyes wide. The woman named Azara, showed him the town, and to Toraks astonishment, there was a Bards Guild! A guild for people like him! The green haired elf gave him some money, and sent him off to learn songs he had never even heard of. Such a strange, and wonderful place, this Nexus. Torak made his way to a tavern. He looked around, and smiled. It felt nice in this place, it felt right. He saw people with instruments walking around. Shrugging, he took out an instrument he had bought, and started practicing his songs, which he had just learned. Torak felt the medallion in his pocket as he sang, and he smiled. He would not wear that medallion until, as the Master Forger had told him, he sang a Dwarven battle chant, or song. In his mind, that would be when he earned the right to wear such an honorable symbol of his people. Wolfmoon Class: BardRace: Drow The Drow child looked up at his albino mother, clinging to her in confusion and terror, "Why are they doing this?" he asked his mother, as human bandits made their way around town, burning and slaughtering all they found, except the children. The pale woman took her son in the very back of their house. There, she crouched in front of him, and both their crimson eyes met, "Rrehmlinh, those men out there are going to take you away from me, promise me you will not die, you must live through all of what their slavemasters will do!" "...I don't un...understand..." he said as tears began to flow down his dark blue face. "There's no time to explain! You must make it out of the human slave camps, then find your way to Nexus, that is where your destiny lies." Rrehmlinh's mother closed her eyes and wrapper her arms around him. "But when will I see you again? You have to come with me mother! Nexus is too far away for me to go alone!" Rrehmlinh exclaimed, his voice high pitched from panic. "You will make it. I know you will, you're as stubborn as your father." she breathed, "After your destiny has been fulfilled, then we will be together." The Drow mother clasped her hands together around Rrehmlinh as the hinges of her door came crashing down. The humans pried the boy from his mother, tied him by his wrists and took him away. Then they turned to the pale Drow. The city's foundations were burnt and destroyed. But a single tree stood behind a medium sized house. Rrehmlinh dangled off one of the thick branches of the massive tree, his wrists bound by rope that hung from the branch. He swung there motionless. All he could do was stare at the charred bones of his mother, lying in a pile of ashes and what was left of wood in the house. The sun had settled in hours ago and the human bandits had already set up camp and celebrated over their victory, drunk of course. While Rrehmlinh continued to stare expressionless at his crumbled home, a faint tune caught his ears. For the first time in hours, he flinched. The tune was the same his mother used to sing to him. All this was too much for the boy. He looked back down at his crippled home, and the corpse of his mother was gone! A few pulls and wiggles and Rrehmlinh was down on the ground, hidden, and already following the soft, soothing melody that made him want to curl up beside his mother and fall asleep, not worrying about anything at all. Once he snuck out of the ruined city and into the forest surrounding, it was full sprint running and nothing less. It seemed as if he ran for hours upon hours. Rrehmlinh ran past exhaustion and fatigue. It did not matter to him, he wasn't aware of anything but the tune slowly getting closer and closer. Soon he was out of the forest and came upon a high cliff, overlooking a vast water mound. At the bottom, the tune's source was coming from somewhere down there. Suddenly the boy felt dizzy, his exhaustion catching up to him as he fell off the cliff. When he hit the water below, everything went black. Opening his eyes, Rrehmlinh tried to regain his knowledge of where he was. But all he could remember was what happened to his people and mother. He couldn't even remember his name. The boy suddenly realized where he was. He looked around the cave den he was in and the pack of wolves surrounding him. It was terribly cold out and the body heat they put off kept the Drow warm so he decided to stay where he was. The alpha female wolf was the closest to him. So close, her fur brushed against him. Being this close to the first wild animal he'd ever seen made him more than a little uneasy but once the female wolf looked at him, stared, and went back to sleep, his nerves calmed slightly. Enough to let him rest. The first few days were very complicated. Rrehmlinh stayed with the pack, they seemed to not act any differently with him around. In a dream, the alpha female came to him, "We knew you were coming." she said to him. "But how?" he asked back. "That is not important now. You will stay here with us until we have taught you everything you need to know about how to survive in the world." she explained. "This is the only way I can communicate with you and I am the only one here that can do it. We will protect you, teach you how to defend yourself, to hunt, fish, and to teach you things about nature." After that night, Rrehmlinh would go out every night on the cliff outside the den and would lie beside the alpha female and they would stare at the stars and the moon. He would sing songs that came to his mind, mainly the one his mother used to sing to him and together the Drow and the wolf would fall asleep. A few years went by, the young Drow learned many things living with the wolves and now it was time that he explored the world, to go find his destiny. Rrehmlinh gathered the supplies he would need, and said his goodbyes. By this time, all the wolves had grown to love him. But the alpha female was still closest to him. He departed then and traveled to many cities, learning of the world, of the different races that inhabited it. Along the way he made his money singing and entertaining in taverns. Then leaving before anyone could talk to him. Rrehmlinh finally made his way to Falcion. After exploring the main roads, he went to sell a few things at the pawn shop. The woman at the counter, Latashia said to him, "You look like a new face, who might you be?" It had been forever since anyone referred to him by name. He had forgotten his Drow name years ago. He paused and thought for a moment, then replied, "The name's Wolfmoon." Clerics Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Alix Class: ClericRace: Human "Where the hell is our money?!" Alix yelled slamming a man against a wall. His gang the Red Bands had quite a reputation to live up to. Robbing travelers, loaning money to people and hurting them severely if not paid back. They were the tormentors of Whoville indeed, but Alix didn’t do it without reason. His family was very poor, his father running off when he was just a ten years old he had to help support the family. Indeed this profession had its good points, but it had its bad. "G-g-give me a-a-another m-m-m-m..." Pleaded the man. "Another what you worthless beggar!?!?!" Alix said punching the man in the face as his comrades held him up against a wall. Blood dripped down the mans face, "A-a-another month." he screamed. Alix grinned, "Who do you think I am? hmm? I have a family to support.. mouths to feed." he continued "I have a reputation and I aint gonna let it go." At this Alix wielded a knife. The man screamed as it slit his throat and died. "Clean this up and lets go." Alix said cooly and at the end of the day he went home. "Alix! you're home." his mother smiled, hugging him "I take it your paper editor job went well." "Oh yeah mom.. it was great." Alix once again lied the lie he had been telling for years "I wrote a column today on fox hunting." The conversation filled the room as him, his mother, two brothers and three sisters sat at the table eating. He was the oldest of course and the man of the house. Day by day he did his job, some days worse than others. “Oh just got caught in the printing press.” He would say to his mother whenever he showed up with a wound. His life had been tough indeed, but he always looked to his family for joy. Well, until one night. Alix lay on his bed staring at the ceiling when he heard a scream. He ran to the sound and went into his little brothers room. "Freeze or the kid gets it." said a rival gang member. Alix was not so easy. He quickly picked up a chair and before the guy knew it he was whacked in the face. Alix wielded a blade killing the man. Just then another gang member ran into the room slashing Alix’s little brother in the stomach "Take that for killing him," Alix he was quick and escaped through the window. Screams of pain echoed as Alix’s little brother bleed. His mother rushed into the room in a panic also screaming. She did what she could but it looked as though he was going to die. Tears dripped down Alix’s face as he watched his six year old brother bleed. He wished he could do something, anything. He would have given up anything to save him. "Gods help him! help him damnit!!" he prayed. He reached out his hand "Help him gods!! help him!!!!!!!!" he prayed more. The boy screamed "HELP HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he continued to scream. "Help him damnit it!! Do something!!!!!" at this a bolt of energy shot from Alix’s hand and the screaming ceased. From the moment of this miracle Alix decided to take up a new profession. He decided to be a cleric, and that he did. Ashen Class: ClericRace: Human Part I Ashen's story starts far to the northeast of Nexus, traveling with his family as they try to transport goods. Being forced away by the horde Baldryc had hoped to retreat to Nexus, moving his few remaining goods on their wagon along with his family. His dearly beloved Cynthia was afraid for the safety of her two young ones but she knew they couldn't stay with the oncoming army. Having evaded the goblin scouts for nearly half a moon, Baldryc knew they had been overtaken by a group of goblins. Hiding and sneaking near constantly for many days had taken its toll on the parents, almost to the point of exhaustion. They discussed one night, once the boys had gone to sleep, their options and possible final measures. Managing for the next two and a half suns to remain out of the hordes grasp, their luck was not to hold. Goblin scouts happened upon the wagon mid-morning of that day. Baldryc brought the old horse to a canter, whisking away from the scouts along the rocky trail. Careering down the path was more than the wagon could take, the spokes on a wheel splintered and sent the wagon and family into the undergrowth. As the horse came to a stop with the wagon listing to one side Baldryc helped Cynthia up and delicately supporting her in his arms. "We have no choice, there is no hope but to chance it. We just have to be close enough for what strength we have left", Baldryc informed his beloved. "But Bal, if we aren't, what will happen? We don't know even if Nexus' location stone still operates!", Cynthia replied with a worried tone. "Without the wagon we cannot outrun the scouts any longer. We must try, it's their only hope" came the soft response from Baldryc. Tearfully Cynthia picked up her youngest bundle of joy and kissed his forehead, "May the gods watch over you and Dilanis bloom in your heart. "Baldryc picked up his pride and joy, "Ashen, keep your brother safe and may Andaras guide your path." Slipping a small ring off his finger and placing it in his chubby hands. "You are the eldest of the Talari line, do us proud as a Talari only can." The guttural tones of sneaking goblins could be heard through the gentle rustle of leaves. Circling around the two parents and the remains of their wagon. Cynthia and Baldryc held their children and chanted "Go where the winds carry thee." in unison. White light enveloping the two boys, growing to a blinding flash, translocating them far far away. With the dimming of the white luminescence, Baldryc carefully sat his exhausted spouse on the wagon then moved to a small chest on the wagon. Fumbling with the latch he removing a small packet of cloth. Smiling to Cynthia he carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal a sparkling red dragon scale, inscriptions upon its front and back. "But... I thought.. You didn't.. How?.. He is going to be so annoyed when he finds out Bal.", Cynthia stuttered spying the object. Baldryc smiled knowingly, "I hardly see how it matters, Cynthia Daniela Talari. I promised before we left that the horde would never have our bodies or souls and I always keep my promises to you." Taking his wife by the hand he led her up by the horse still tethered to the wagon. "Well old boy, don't worry I'm not about to let them get you either." Kissing Cynthia gently on the lips one last time he squeezed her hand and started to chant, "Be consumed by the flame that tortures souls." A small red spark appeared between the three souls, growing and changing to orange then white. Drafts of heated air tugged at Cynthia's hair as it rose up around the group. As the goblins entered the small clearing where the wagon had ended its last trip, the spark twinkled then exploded. Searing white fire enveloped the humans holding hands gazing lost into each others souls, the old horse and the wagon, disintegrating it before time itself noticed. The goblins in the surrounding bushes and on the track were charred to ashes in the ring of fire as it burst out from its focal point. Whether it was Aalynor's grace, Tilnar's mercy, Dilanis's love, Andaras's beauty, Trista's mischief, Pandora's hope, Erisar's hunt or Paelina's valor or sheer luck is anyone's guess. Ashen and Nehsa did arrive at their parents' desired location, much to the surprise of the aging Priestess who later helped shelter and raise them within the temple. Part II Ashen wasn't what you would call the most usual child, this was obvious from our first meeting. Finding the boy holding a babe in his arms, sitting next to the sapphire wasn't what I had expected going to my noon prayer. After having coaxed who he was and why he was in the temple, letting them stay within the temple seemed a simple solution. We never heard from any of his family and they both lived within the temple for all of my last years, causing their usual childish mischief and small surprises. One of the strangest occurrences I have seen Ashen cause would have to be what we came to term his "Angel dreams". These weren't normal dreams, no child has glowed with an aura and smiled so peacefully while sleeping I assure you. From what we were able to understand he would dream of Aalynor's angels, coming down to talk to him while he slept. I merely took this as a sign of his calling and natural beliefs for Aalynor's cause, while some disagreed Ashen never cared what people thought. There was the time he came across some young wizardess in the woods, which should teach all you young females to not bathe in streams. Ashen, in one of his walks through Eldane, came across a female voice floating along the breeze down by a stream. Being a curious lad and too young to know better he set about investigating. To both their surprise he came across a lady bathing naked in the stream, the young lass in her surprise stunned him knocking the wee child unconscious. She then gathered her wits and rescued him before he drown in the reeds. His understanding of the weave and soul was underestimated by many, but I knew the child had talent from our first lessons. Teaching the lad with the other acolytes of the temple, he was quick to grasp the concepts of life and the natural order of things. The role of the gods in our mortal lives was something he persisted in pursuing and learning more of. One thing he held high was the grace of life, maintaining that life has a natural order of birth, death, then rebirth as Aalynor found willing. One of the saddest days I care to remember was when he left me to train upon Falcion. Setting off with his knife and shield as I handed him to the sloop master. I cried that day as if it was my own child that was going away, for Ashen was the child I never had. Shyree, Priestess of Light Atrius Class: ClericRace: Elf Born on Tilur, the eighth of the month of the Twilight, in the year 1,587 since the Godswar, and year 1,170 of the Empire, Atrius grew up in an elven society, with no contact of wether humans or other living beings. Well, except for animals. For twenty years Atrius, his mother, father, two older brothers and his younger sister lived peacefully in this village, until one day when a large pack of wolves invaded the village. Since most of the men were out hunting, the ones in the village were brutally slaughtered by the wolves. Atrius though, somehow managed to hide in safety. He waited there for several hours, not daring to reveal himself, in case the wolves were still there. As he heard no more outside, he dared to leave his hiding place. As he went outside, he saw the most horrifying scene of his life. All the villagers, including Atrius' family, lay scattered around the village, slain by the wolves. Once the hunters got back, Atrius told them all about what had happened. They formed a new hunting party and went out to slay the wolves. As soon as they found the wolves, a tough battle was to take place. Atrius, who was not very skilled with weapons stayed in the background and watched. Many of his fellow villagers fell to the wolves, yet the rest of them defeated the pack. It was at this point that Atrius discovered his abilities. As his comrades lay wounded on the ground, he felt a sudden urge of aiding them. He then slowly walked from one man to another, healing their wounds perfectly. They were all amazed by his abilities and hurried back to the village to save the ones wounded there. But Alas, it was too late. The men and Atrius buried all the corpses and then left the village to find a new place to settle down. And so they left, packing and carrying whatever they could. Then, after many weeks of wandering, they came to a city named Taeviral. Here they settled down and Atrius began exploring the city, curious of what it was like. As he did, he fell in love with the city, due to its beautiful architecture. A few months passed, and Atrius heard about the city of Nexus. As he wanted to leave and search for it, he was told he was not allowed entrance there until he had been trained in the city of Falcion. So, Atrius packed some of his belongings and left for Falcion to begin his training. Many months of hard training led him to finally achieve the title of Priest. As he did, he left for Nexus. Now, many years later, he has had the time to become a Follower of Mistress Dilanis and he has also found his Love. Cadderly Class: ClericRace: Human "A history?" "Yes, all great heroes are asked to submit a history." the historian said. I thought about this and thought what has the world come to? Me, Cadderly Deneir, a hero of Nexus? I couldn't help but laugh. "So…" I started to ask, "are you saying that I'm actually considered a 'hero' of Nexus?" The historian looked at me with a quizzical stare and said "Oh no…we were just told to record your history. I mean, face it, you're no Eleysha or Gifford." I frowned. Great. There goes all shred of self-worth…but he does have a point. After considering the man's words, I ask, "Where do you want me to start?" "Well, you could just start with your early years you know, where you were born, what you're family was like?" he said. "Ok…I was born on…" I started. As I was telling my story, I hadn't realized that I was actually babbling to the historian. I was actually exaggerating some parts and embellishing my exploits. After a good two hours, I decided to stop. I think he realized I wasn't making any sense. I think the part that made him realize this was when I said I killed two Blue Dragons single handedly and then saved Rymek from disaster. I think he may have been a bit upse,t…he left shouting curses and hurling a mug at me. I managed to duck, but the ale got on my shirt. "How rude!" I shouted. "You know how hard it is to clean this shirt!" It was just as well…the man had no class. As I attempted to wipe the stain from my shirt, I began to ask myself what I was doing in this shoddy little tavern. Utterly disgusted with myself and peeved by the fact that I couldn't get rid of the stain, I paid the serving wench and bolted out of the inn. I took care to hide my face…I don't know if I could survive the shame and indignity of being seen at this disgusting little waterhole. Once I reached the more hospitable climate of Trista's Tavern, I dug into my pack and looked for a nice clean shirt. Unfortunately, all my other shirts were being cleaned. Great…I thought…now what am I supposed to do? What will people say if they saw me with a stain? I wouldn't be able to bear the humiliation and embarrassment. But then again…I realized that people might be drunk…they wouldn't notice a little stain. But then again…what if they did… I was a bit thirsty, so I decided to risk it. I entered the tavern. I immediately spotted an old friend, so I started to walk towards him. As I was walking, I caught sight of a ravishing young noblewoman. She saw me and smiled. I could tell she was interested. So, I ignored my friend's attempt to greet me and headed towards the beautiful blonde lady. Just before I begin my introduction, I hear a loud cough. "Hey there Cadderly! What's that on your shirt?" I freeze. Curse! Someone did notice! What am I going to do? I decide to act normal and turned to the speaker. Guess what? It was my old friend…or more correctly, former friend. "Oh…hello there…if you'll excuse me, I'm a bit busy over here. And it's not a stain." I say to my 'former' friend. I turn to greet the enchanting beauty. "Doesn't look like a stain to me!" he bellowed as he hobbled his way towards me. "Look…" I respond, "you're obviously drunk and seeing things. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of something." I try to turn away, but he grabs my shirt and says, "Sure does look like a stain to me!" Curse this drunken fool! By now, I realize that we've become the center of attention. I start hearing people whispering and I can only assume that they saw the stain. I try to ignore them and turn towards the charming young lady only to find that she too noticed the stain. I frown, bow, and rush towards the door. I've never been so embarrassed! Curse the ignoble historian! I decide a pleasant stroll the Museum of Arts and Beauty would calm my nerves and once again put me at ease. I start to think, what if I had just told the historian the truth? If that had happened, I'd be spending the remainder of the evening in the company of a most beautiful woman. Now I'm alone and going to spend the evening viewing fascinating art pieces. Oh well…not to worry. I can be lots of fun, and who better to spend it with? As I reach the Museum, I start to wonder, how in the world did I ever get to where I am now? Oooh…lovely piece…I must get someone to paint me a picture like that for my apartment! Anyways…back to my original thought, I wonder how my life came to this. "Milord! Please! Open the door!" "No! I won't go! I don't want to go!" I screamed. After several thumps to door, I realize that door could be bashed down easily. I pull a table to bar the door. "Please milord! You're father will get angry!" a muffled voice came from behind the door. "I don't want to go! I don't want to be a warrior!" I whined as loudly as possible. Then all of a sudden, the door gets broken down. I try to hide under my bed, but to no avail. "Cadderly, is this anyway a noble is supposed to act?" a grim and dour looking man asked me. I crawl from underneath the bed and say "No father…" I was 15 then. I hated being a noble because I had so much work to do. Everyday, one of my tutors would drill me in etiquette, swordsmanship, history, arithmetic, and so on. It was so boring! All I wanted to do was go out, meet cute girls, and play with my friends. I guess you could say I was lucky though. Since I was the youngest of 4 brothers, I knew I wasn't going to be my father's heir. So, when I failed to show promise in being a warrior, they just gave up on me. But that didn't stop them drilling me! I always thought, if I'm not good at anything, then why am I being taught these things? On my 16th birthday, I managed to skip a tutoring session and headed for town. I was bound to get caught, so I decided to have as much fun as I could. I walked around town looking for some friends, when I met the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. She was just perfect! I knew I had to meet her. I trotted towards her, but I realized that she was busy working. Well ... she would stop for me…I mean…I was a noble and my family owned this land. I walked up to her and introduced myself. She realized who I was and immediately bowed. I asked for her name and she said it was Robyn. Wow…such a pretty name. I asked her if she was doing anything and she said no…it was interesting seeing her skip out on her chores. So we went off in search of fun, and eventually the search led us to a secluded forest. We climbed a tree and just sat there for hours, talking without a care in the world. I was in love! After a few hours, I decided to give her a kiss. She didn't seem to resist, so I made my move. Just before I my lips would meet hers, the tree branch snapped. We fell about 12, maybe 13 feet. I landed with a groan and slowly got up. I went to see how Robyn was, but she wasn't standing. I reached for her hand, but it was cold. I went next to her and held her close. She wasn't breathing! I yelled and yelled for help, but no one was coming. I picked her up slightly and held her close. Tears started to form in my eyes. "NOOO! Don't die! Please don't die Robyn! I started to pray. I prayed and prayed that someone would come. But it didn't have to come to that. While I was holding her, I felt a strange sensation throughout my entire body. I started to panic, but a soothing voice entered the back of my mind. "Fear not…she will not die. You have a special gift Cadderly Deneir, and you will save her." Not understanding what was going on, I let the voice guide me. "Feel the power in your body and use it to save her!" I had no idea what the voice was talking about, so I just decided to hold her close and kiss her forehead. At that instant, I felt an incredible rush of energy leaving me and entering Robyn. Moments later, she was awake. She asked me what was going on, and so I told her that we fell down and that she had been knocked out. I held her close as we leaned next to a tree and fell asleep. We woke up the next morning and returned to town. I stopped by her house to apologize for her disappearance, and of course, the man had accepted. He wasn't going to get mad at the son of Lord Deneir! After dropping her off, I headed for home, wondering what had happened last night. For the next few months, I researched all the possibilities of what had happened. None of the books my family had could explain, so I decided to talk to one of my tutors, and old sage named Mikkel. I explained what happened that day, leaving out a few minor details, and he told me what had happened. He said, "It's called Faith Magic." "What?" I asked incredulously. He proceeded to explain the intricacies of faith magic and had known my potential as a priest. I asked why he never told my father, and he simply explained that Lord Deneir had no use for priests. This was a warrior household…he didn't understand magic or faith. I realized that I had finally found something I might be good at. But I also realized that I would never be able to become a priest if I stayed here. From that moment on, I realized, what I had to do. I would head to Falcion and apprentice myself as an Acolyte. That evening, I grabbed some clothes and money and snuck out of the castle. Before I left town, I stopped by Robyn's place to see how she was. Against my better judgment, I decided to spend one more enchanting evening with her. It was a wonderful night and I'll never forget it… "Hmm…very interesting piece." I said, as I'm viewing a new design in the new Museum. I move on to a chamber where only the faithful of the Mistress of the Arts can enter, kneel, and pray to Lady Andaras. After my prayer, I head out only to see the same beautiful woman that was in Trista's Tavern. She appears to be wandering around, hopelessly lost. Well…is it just my luck or what? I head over to her and introduce myself. "Hello, young and beautiful one.…I am Cadderly Deneir. And you are?" Looks like things aren't so bad after all…. Choley Class: ClericRace: Half-Elf *this letter was sent to the library, a copy of the original* Dear Akama, You inquired about my past in your last letter, which I recieved some time ago. The reason my response is so late is because you caught me at an akward time in my life, but I'll get into that some other time. The other reason this is so late because I didn't know what exactly was worth writing about. There are not many events worth writing about, really. But my dear father had once said, "It doesn't matter if its an extra-oridinary event, just so long as you think its imporant." I suppose he is right, since he usually is. The begining of my life was at sea, born onto my father's boat, which he called Life Lover. My mother didn't want to raise me, a lot of people said she suffered from insanity and was an unfit mother anyhow. She was an elf, a high elf, and had met my father at a port. They had been together only long enough to get married before she disappeared. He had told me she was thrown from the ship during a storm and they could not find her. I guess he didn't want me to worry about suffering the insanity she suffered. My father was a wonderful man, he raised me the best way he could. He was a human and captain of his own ship. That was all he had ever wanted in his life. I became a member of his crew when I was old enough, but we argued all the time because he didn't think I should grow up in that enviroment. He thought I should learn to become a proper woman, and sent me to school when I was 14 years old. During the summers I would sail with him and the rest of the year I sat in classrooms. Now that I look back on it, sending me to school was the only bad decision my dad had ever made. But he had the right intentions I suppose. Five years later I graduated, majoring in clerical magics. One of my teachers had pushed me to study that, saying "Ladies should avoid fighting in battles, but if you are going to participate in them then you should be there to aid the wounded." In the end it worked out, I didn't mind learning magics and I loved the field tests. They would put us together with a few hired swordsmen and a few angry tigers. We were given missile weapons, but I bugged the teacher till she gave me a club. That was the only thing I will ever admit to enjoying about that school. And I did very well, learning how to attack while making sure everyone else was allright. Anyway, after graduation I went travelling. I saw my father very little, but when we did see each other he was always very pround of me. I'm not sure why, since I lived my life camping out in the woods and hunting wolves and bears. I guess he just was happy I was alive and safe for the most part. I learned a bit about hunting, and improved my healing skills a little. Well, one day my old club broke in half and I went to Nexus city for the first time to see if it was any cheaper on weapons. When I first entered the place there was a large group of people standing around yelling about attacks on their city. I guess you know how it went from there. I joined the clerics guild, since healing was my only real skill, and was sent to falcion to work on my abilites. Well, I'll tell you the rest when you visit. Get my father to bring you over, I haven't seen him in a long time now. And take care of yourself. Sincerely with love, Choley Dahlia Class: ClericRace: Elf ::( One )::=============================== Dahlia had been born to a peasant family in the west of Altin, among the hills of Thornto, and she had spent her earliest years footloose in the wild places around her hamlets osier shacks. The animals had danced for her then in the moonlight, and a God had spoken to her at twilight of her future. No one else in the area could see or hear them, and she had been too young then to think that this was strange. A messenger had arrived in the village where Dahlia had lived for the last thirty years of her life; raising her children, healing the sick, and guiding her husband. The messenger had handed the village’s leader the roll of vellum which had been written on handsomely in the language of the Elves. Several villages near to the western Seas had been burned to the ground. No survivors remained, and only a field of ash was left as a remnant of the battle. The people nearby feared for their lives, and were calling for help from any who were brave enough to destroy whatever force that had been consuming the other hamlets. Over the next few days, the parchment and its plea for help made its way into the hands of Dahlia. She knew not whatshe should do, and so sought council with her Lord. Later that night, Dahlia turned her back on where her husband and children lay asleep, and spoke out for the God she had dedicated her life to. A darkly gleaming voice announced itself from outside the buddingrose garden. Dahlia retreated through the lane poplars to the lily pond, following the source. Leaning over the black water, she saw reflected in its rimpled surface a tall, young man with the blackest hair and long, tapered eyes that shone dark as a raven’s breast. He wore the opulent garments of a mortal nobleman: green linen tunic embroidered with flowerets of gold, brown leather leggings, and clumsy black boots. She recognizedhim at once as Erisar, Lord of the Battle and Hunt. Insects dimpled the surface of the lily pond as frenzied as rain, and Erisar, like a figure from a redundant dream, appeared as young and mirthful as she herself did. A faithful call echoed through her body, and she knew at once what the God was asking. A stick cracked behind her, and she turned around to see the cause of the disturbance. A young fawn stumbled from the bushes and stood with big, flickering eyes; its earsaimed forward like satellites. She cast a backward glance to the lily pond. The God was gone, and a toad peeked at her from under agreen coverlet of pond froth. ::( Two )::=============================== Cissa and Gareth had left the huts already and gone down to the river to spear for fish. They stood on their reflections in the shallows among ghostly boughs, ragged curtains of moss, and luminous egrets. Fish lit the black waters with glints and shimmers like stellar atmospheres, and at first the boys ignored theirmother's call. Dahlia waded toward them until the pulse of the river knocked at her knees and her voice easily penetratedthe green gloom. "I am called away. "The youngest, Gareth, splashed closer and plunged his spear into the mud so that he could grasp for hismother. "Who calls you away, Mother?" "It is a fateful call, child." He bowed his noble head, and his brindled hair shone like the current in the river. She cosseted him, andwhen he looked up, his pale eyes shone with sorrow. "It's Battle." Cissa knows. He pushed his spear into the mud and slogged to Dahlia's side. She nodded and put her green-robed arms about her boys. Gareth pressed his face to Dahlia's shoulder."Are you going to die, Mother?" She kissed his brow, feeling as though her heart had been thrown into the depth of a pool, and the waves were closing around the dream that was her life. "We all die, Gareth. How we live is what truly matters.You know that." "I believe he means to ask if you are coming back to us." Cissa said, and swallowed. She met the dread in his eyes with a steady calm. "I don't know," she answered, and kept all her grief coiled tightly between her ribs. "That is why I have come to say good-bye." "Mother, let us go with you," Gareth pleaded. "We are old enough for battle now. We will protect you." Dahlia took his chin in her hand and spoke to the back of his eyes. "This is my own battle, Gareth. Soon enough, you will have your battles to fight. And then, you must be as brave as I must be now. Help me to do what I must by promising me that you will be brave and strong in your love of your home no matterwhat happens to me." Then she looked to her eldest, and spoke, "Remember, Cissa, all I have taught you means nothing if you forget your limits." She stepped back from them, and her slender pale hands retreated from touching them to cover her breasts. "In my heart I carry the memory of you both. In your hearts, carry me. Look for methere." In a steep meadow above the river, a goblin weavemaster waited for Dahlia. As he paced through the rye and the bushes of purple mallow and orange daises overflowing in late, rough-headed blooms, he dragged a blooded dwarf after him. It would have to eat soon, but before he would bother with that he wanted to be done with the priestess. She and her husband had the power to undo all his troops had worked so hard at doing, and he would not stand by and watch his forces be embarrassed by an army of elves. Dahlia ascended the hillside through marigolds and eyebrights from the river gorge, continuing passed the small dwarf and its master. Magic turned like smoke in her, folding into itself and pushing out, growing stronger with her fear that she will never see her children again. In the secret place of her core, Dahlia suddenly sensed the presence of the weavemaster and whirled about to face the creek and her children. The goblin pulled a blanket of magic over him into the shape of the children’s mother and followed the small path down to the riverbank, over the sun-stained slopes to the large boulders around the nucleus of the creek. Dahlia's body had frozen; the dwarf loomed near to her, keeping her at bay from screaming for her children. The voices of her happy sons shriveled to screams as silver flames engulfed first Cissa, then Gareth. The two brothers collapsed, their flesh boiling from their bones. The world whirlled around Dahlia’s essence, and she dropped to the grass-covered hill in an instant. Through the murky vision of her eyes, Dahlia saw a strong, blurred arm reach for her neck; and in the same instant, it disappeared, leaving a warm pain like nettlepricks in her neck. Her arms dartted up and clasped a throat band in the same instant that the spectral bone face of the blooded dwarf veered toward her, its spidery fingers already finding agonizing entrances into her skin. Dahlia felt as fluid as poured water as prayer chants echoed through her mind. She called out for her Lord to take her soul and return herchildren to their lives, yet no answer was heard. She stood up, her mind still covered in a thick blanket of fog. Her brow wore a stamp of determination as her body was guided up the hill, away from the corpses of her children. The skin of her face shone with the gift of blood that the dwarf had left untouched. Firepoints glinted in her sight and shadows stiffened before her. She continued up and over the hill; her whole body shook to the bone as the images of what she’d seen permeated her mind. Her body finally gave up and she slipped to the ground. Her head began to pound and her flesh felt slick and feverish. With one final breath, her mind gave up the struggle and she blacked out. Images swirled in a pool of despair within her intellect, calling forth the face of Erisar and the feelings of love her children filled her with. Her husband’s strong arms gripped her with a powerful embrace, bringingher senses back to life and awakening her mind. ::( Three )::============================== Atop the torched hills that peered down toward the village and the rocky coast, Aelle sat atop his formidable warhorse. Each charred tree of the seared forest around him stood erect, like a scaly stylus, against a sky swept raw and blue by the previous day’s storm. The ground, still faintly breathing vapors, hissed as his men drew up behind, and a smoldering stink of blackened scog tainted the air. All the creatures of the forest were gone except for the crows perched on the flame-frayed boughs like living pieces of the dead landscape. They silently surveyed the infernal waste with him, and watched the world veer away to its rocky margins and to the shining surmise of the sea. He gazed beyond the crisped ash parapets to the sea, wondering when the next wave of invaders would arrive and if he would prove strong and able enough to withstand them. The chemical music of autumn filled the summer air, and sparks like faeries spun through the slant afternoon light. An august presence of leafsmoke and frosty emptiness lingered in the air, drifting east from the seas. Through the brume, he spied what had stampeded an entire village. A veritable behemoth walked the earth. It was a cancerous thing - spraddle-legged, imperfect, and malformed, its huge, tuberous shape hung with flesh like leper-rags: swinging and slobbering its misshapen head on a delirious neck of parasitical lace, the lumbering thing emerged from behind the hills big and warty-shouldered as the hills themselves. "What abomination is this?" Bedevere yelled, his big horse sidestepped and rolled his eyes like a paradedancer. "It’s a dragon made of cold fire!" a nearby wizard declared. "The goblins have created and provoked it!" Aelle sat enthralled with fright. The dragon’s breath wheezed smoke from a face like an earth-fetus, brow lobes cankerous, peeling away in fleshy tatters where the skin had split and pink bone shone among fungoid scabs and horned growths. Eyes colorless as phlegm glared from the torn and grotesquely swollen head in a rage of agony as the beast shambled, moaning through the scalding sunlight. "Daylight burns its hide!" Bedevere called out. "The dragon suffers under the sun!"Bedevere gawked in horror at the leviathan’s warped stride, its bedrock claws plowed the ruined fields witheach step. "Are there more upon the land?" With a bone-jerking blast, the answer came: The dragon’s gruesome face unflanged a jaw that opened deep as a cliff into a gorge of teeth and blue-hot fire jetted from its maw. The blaze consumed half a dozen sheep and left oozing twists of black bone in a pool of melted earth that bubbled like tar. It’s hunched shoulders unfurled to spiked wings, and tattered membranes between pinions of varnished bone snapped like whips in the updraft of its broad span. The vortex it spun toppled the running villagers. Aelle reached for a burlap sack upon Bedevere’s jittery horse and unwrapped his sword. Its star blue blade mirrored the cindered world around them cold and clear as the cognizance ofa vigilant mind. "What are you doing?" Bedevere gnashed, pulling with his one arm to hold his massive horse steady. "The risk is too great! Sheathe your weapon and let us flee from here, Aelle!" "This is the evil that infests our countryside," Aelle said, taking the shield in his left hand. "This is what my Lord brought me here to confront. Now I will fight it." "Not now, Aelle!" A soldier flung a terrified look to where the colossus bellowed, peering through the steam of its own smoldering flesh for its prey. "You must direct your warriors." Aelle swung his palfrey around, aimed her to charge and rode off. The wizard nudged the mule out of the open into a field of gray winter grass and dragged the struggling Bedevere after him. From that partial cover, they stared transfixed at Aelle, who rode full tilt over the ashen terrain, kicking up clouds behind him. In his right hand, his sword spun, flashing stars of sunlight through the sulfur smoke. Bedevere stabbed his saber into the ground and leaned on its hilt, heart thick in his throat, mouth agape. The dragon had spotted the charging horse and swung its obscene head toward the shouting rider and hisbright sword. Aelle pulled Straif up short and stood the palfrey on her hind legs, sword swinging over his head. With a bellow, the dragon veered toward him, yellow steam wafting off its saurian hulk. The villagers fallen in its shadow scrambled to their feet and ran off wildly. The gills of the dragon’s rib cage pulsed in rhythm to its roaring stride as it descended on Aelle. The man lied flat over his steed, and the wizard, who had lifted himself to his knees atop his mule, stood straight up, and said in a voice barely audible in the shuddering air, "He’s talking to her! What in Erisar’s mercy is hesaying to her?" "What?" Bedevere croaked. "What is he doing?" "He’s talking to his horse!" The wizard wanted to turn away. His heart pumped in its darkness anddrummed in his head. The jet of blue fire from the dragon’s maw blasted the air like a stroke of lightning. Bedevere shouted withalarm. "Aelle!" Bedevere cried when he saw Aelle atop Straif lunging through the dragonsmoke. The wizard blinked. The palfrey had listened to the man! She had not panicked under the blows of heat and bone-shaking thunder, nor under the stink - the lung-sore stink of the monster. With dazzling speed, Straif carried Aelle beneath the flame swath and between the dragon’s massive claws. His sword winked like a star as the man swung it upward into the torn leather breast of the creature. A scream ripped to the horizons, and the gigantic beast staggered upright, its cable-thick tendons stretched to their twisted limits. With one heaving throe, the dragon tore into gusty auroras and vanished. From over the creases of earthen hills, the goblin hoard spilled into the valley, weapons raised and warflags flying. Bedevere shouted out the command to charge and the elven army rushed toward the enemies overthe cindered lands. ::( Four )::============================ Dahlia slunk onward, belly against the ground, to her horse shadowed against the broken yolk of the sun. She rode over sun-torn hills and finally arrived at the basin where the troops last were. The confusion of the ensuing battle engulfed Dahlia. It had already begun, and without the proper blessings of Erisar she was stunned at the very real abandonment of her faith by her husband. The sepia battlefield before her glowed with eerie, muffled lights and smoky flares. Renewed sounds of struggle resounded dully through her head, and a strong voice shouted from the deep, encouraging her to ride on. She rode through the phantom landscape with her sword braced against her pommel ready to swing right or gouge left. Before her she saw the veiled wagon of her fellow priestesses and aimed her horse for the surrey. The women saw her approach and when she arrived, they pulled Dahlia from her steed like a wet rag and carried her into the carriage to drape her over a bed. She glowed pale as a candle. The charred pain of her children’s deaths crisped in her, and she sensed within her womb for the lifeforce of her new babe to ensure its safety. "I must know, Dahlia." A young priestess spoke softly to her ear, awaiting the nod from the woman. She placed her fingertips on Dahlia’s wrist, and detected a slicing whine in the wind that seemed to whistle from low in her pelvis. "You bleed!" she cried in alarm. A subtle flex of her iris told her she knew. "Can we save the baby?" The young girl asked the other healers and took Dahlia’s chill hand in her own. She shook her weary head and watched her through narrow, tired eyes. The inexperienced cleric’s eyes shimmered with silver. Dahlia gripped the woman’s forearm and pulled strongly enough on her body to pull her down on the bed beside her. She spoke to her mind with images of the battlefield; charcoal scrawls of pyre smoke revealed her husband, Aelle, sitting in the mud, whole yet hollow-eyed. "He suffers." The priestesses in the room nodded silently to each other and rushed from the carriage, leaving but twonurses with Dahlia. Aelle remained on a knoll over the battlefield. He stared up at the lovely darting of birds and at the fields of death on all sides. The whistle of fate threaded his heart. Aelle, dazed speechless, mute, dreambound, could not seem to focus his will long enough to pray and could feel his life seeping from the deep wound in his chest. His eyes slowly closed, and the image of his wife flashed momentarily before his heart slowed its rhythm and gradually stopped. The priestesses lead him away, shaking with misery to have found him dead and shivering dreadfully at the sight of him covered in gore with eyes so glazed they looked likemuddy jewels. Dahlia crouched alone in one corner of the carriage, pressed up against the wall with her knees tucked under her chin. The Priestess who had stayed behind to care for her had long ago left after relieving the knotted, searing pain in Dahlia’s stomach. Tears flowed freely down her face, attesting to the pain she feltfor the losses she suffered in just one day. The priestesses sent out to retrieve Aelle gradually returned to the sheet-covered surrey to tell Dahlia the news. Many wrung their hands nervously, eyes glued to the floor as one of the older women began to speak. The look on their faces told Dahlia everything she needed to know, and she knew the words would be too much for her to bear that day. Before another word could be uttered by the other women, Dahlia’s hands wrapped around a small, sapphire orb and she disappeared from sight. When she finally woke from sleep, Dahlia found herself in a small, well-kept park beside a fountain. Large oaks towered over her and the fountain, allowing only thin slants of light through their branches. As her tear-stained eyes finally focused in the cloudy light, she was able to make out the figures pressed into the fountain’s metallic side. The two Brothers smiled down at her from their perch over the water. Dahlia’s heart softened its beating as she realized she would be safe there. Ellwynn Class: ClericRace: Elf In the days preceding The Rejoining, a rumbling was heard throughout the passageways of Tilnar's Vein. It was a time of turmoil for all of elvenkind, namely the Dark Elf, traitors to the Sylvan, and the possessors of the Dark magics. Turmoil caused by Kyorl's new found following ... the disdain of the Woodland brothers ... and the concern of the lost souls that could neither accept the future Kyorl offered, nor lose hope in the dream of returning to the ways of the Light (Elves). The "Grey" Elves know there destiny and hope to move quickly to defend there interest in the murky depths of "Tilnar's Vein." Standing watch in the swirling mist, Domaline wondered what was held in store on such a distinct evening. Distinct in the fact that, the battle lines seem drawn. The priests of Tilnar feel that the news cannot be avoided. If the reports are true, then this night cannot pass quietly. It seems that the temple of Kyorl has been destroyed, and the ranks of the Drow following Kyorl seem to grow. It is to be the beginning of the end for may this eve. As a scout of those who have called themselves "Grey", Domaline stands watch over one of the many secret passages that have been built to protect the rear portion of Tilnar's Vein. This is not a surprise, many in the community knew it would come to this eventually. " It is a wonder, these passages have not been found, it is hard to believe we could have out smarted the Drow so easily ... to gain control of the rear of the caverns and push the evil Drow out ... It cannot fail." gloats Domaline. Domaline shivers as he is aroused to the sound of battle horns, explosions, and the clanging of cold elveN metal. "It cannot be ... how ... I have never ..." In a flash of fire, Domaline realizes that he has dozed, missing the enemy scouts, and even the first line of attackers. The fire was that of a Mage in rear lines of the aggressing Drow. Quick to consider his plight, Domaline realizes that he is considered dead ... A scout behind enemy lines. As he slowly creeps from his station, he slowly heads for the surface. "It is my only hope at this point." Domaline shudders. At the first joining tunnel, Domaline is met by a group of patrolling Drow. Bolting, Domaline gains a quick step on the now pursuing patrol. Turning a number of dark corners, he directly enters the grasp of a Dark robed gentleman. " Going somewhere?" stated the robed figure. " I suggest that you follow me." Stepping through an invisible entrance, Domaline follows the robed figure. "Quickly boy, the fight goes badly and the priests wish to close the passages to the lower realms." Dumbfounded, Domaline mumbles "Who are you?" (Silence) " Quickly boy, we have no time!" In the next instant, the figure has disappeared in the swirling smoke. Following to the best of his ability, Domaline swiftly navigates the haze yet, he can see no more than a swirl of smoke and the sounds of a swishing robe. Even his infra-vision seems to be little help ... everything seems to appear hazy. "This must be a line of defense that the priests have created ..." ponders Domaline. As this warped sense of reality snaps back into focus, Domaline looks across a large chamber ... a Hall?, Tomb?, Temple? ... a Temple! ... deeply buried in the deepest reaches of the Vein ..... Stepping out on to the marble lined floors, the echo is deafening. No sooner than Domaline can marvel at the existence of such a work of beauty, shots ring out throughout the temple. The sanctuary is alive with the sound of arrow flight, shot, and magic auras. Snapping back to grim reality ... Domaline notices that the robed figure has cleared two thirds of the Temple. He yells back: "Hurry boy, your life depends on it!" As Domaline clears the first quarter of the temple, a deafening rumble is heard throughout. A large stone slab seems to glow, slowly sliding toward a small passage as the last of Tilnar's faithful pass through. As Domaline reaches the passage the boulder nearly covers the entrance. Amidst the commotion, the robed elder has turned back to make certain the young scout will reach the gate in time. As Domaline reaches the robed figure, he catches a glance of the hooded man's face, in horror he sees himself, only older and very concerned ... time seems to slow as the truth becomes obvious. Domaline stumbles as a fiery pain rips through his side and knocks him forward. As his chest slides across the polished floor, the scout feels a second burst of fire as an arrow pierces his thigh, dragging across the marble, scraping and opening the wound further. As Domaline looks up, he sees the opening about to close ... only to feel to large hands drag him forward ... then an explosion, and darkness ... Awakened, by a shooting pain and the smell of death, Domaline looks up seeing a glimmer of light. The rest of the surrounding chamber is full of rubble, death and thick impenetrable rock. Following the rubble upward, there seems to be an escape. But for now ... Darkness Slipping, for the third and final time, Domaline screams in agony. Having scaled half the distance, only to fall, leaves Domaline tried and his thoughts cloudy. In the moments before his next departure, Domaline looks to the light, in its midst, riding a sunbeam, his sees a pixie-like creature, fair in feature, and light in contrast with this darkest hell. "I hear your screams and it disturbs me, I feel your pain ... as do all who have passed on to Brother Tilnar, yet you continue to survive..." "Take hope young man, for through perseverance and desire you will succeed." As the vision left him, again darkness consumed him... As the last five feet haunted him, he could feel the teasing of the cool evening. Strength at an end, Domaline gritted his teeth and pulled until, at last, he breathed the fresh air of the forest surrounding him. He laughed to himself, as an owl called for its mate, and the stars swirled ... again darkness consumed him ... Waking, Domaline finds himself in a room ... heavily bandaged, and sore. He is looked after by a young Elven healer. She goes on to introduce herself as the village healer, having studied in a distant village in the Northern reaches of the Eldane. Domaline, curious for knowledge outside of the world he knew, occupies much of this healers time. Being that there ages are similar, they seem to find the company comforting. As the weeks pass, Domaline becomes attached to Geylwynn's company. As history suggests, this small community, shuns Domaline, eventually withdrawing courtesy, and suggesting that he move on. In addition, Geylwynn is found to be pregnant and follows Domaline, in search of a fulfilling life. These two find each other to be fascinating, and live together, forming a small hunting and trapping community deep within the Eldane. Domaline and Geylwynn have two boys and continue to work on there family as the small community begins to grow as misfits and the exiled are taken in, in an effort to give them some self worth. The story tells of Geylwynn's devotion to the spreading of Hope throughout the community. Through action and deed, Geylwynn assists any person who asks for help. No request was usually denied. As fall approached, Domaline wished to take a load of Furs into town. Convincing his dearest Geylwynn that the trip was safe, they departed for Nexus. With the two young boys in tow ... both yet nursing, they traveled south east to the town of Nexus. Within two days of Nexus ... the two met a band of battle worn soldiers. Geylwynn, to stubborn to think better, stopped and agreed to assist the band in there time of need. The party was worn, having lost a healer, and two warriors in there hasty retreat. It seems that the lands surrounding Nexus have been under siege by groups of marauding Goblins. As night fell, all would be lost... Both Domaline and Geylwynn where found dead ... the band of soldiers dead ... and the only reason the story can be told, is that rumor has it ... A wizen old man in a dark robe carried one soldier to Nexus, and a Basket containing two young boys... As for one of the boys ... Ellwynn, remembers little of the fateful night. Ellwynn was raised in the chapels, workhouses, and back alleys of Falcion. Running from merchant stand to merchant stand, stealing a dinner where he could. However, as a young adept, Ellwynn has little memory of his ancestry, save for a tattered leather gipser that contains his belongings ... a small dagger, a rabbits foot, and a small bronze medallion that reads ... "May Pandora Light Your Way..Hope Guide Your Journey" Geylwynn and Dormaline Epiphany Class: ClericRace: Sprite Strolling into the tavern with a great big grin Epiphany flits over to the table where the researcher is sitting and makes herself comfortable on the bench. "Hi! I was told you want to know where I comes from." She winks happily and sets back to tell her tale. "Well lessee. Well I don't remember too much of some things. My daddy was a healer type like me and I didn’t have any brothers or sisters cuz my mommy passed away". Frowning slightly she continues, "my mommy was beautiful but she got real sick and my daddy tried and tried but he couldn’t fix her. It made both of us really sad when she died. Daddy went into his bedroom and didn't come out for days!. I did all the things around the house and tried to be brave for my father. He might have been older then me but he needed me to keep him going." Giving an affirmative nod she crosses her legs and continues, "one day I decided to go get my daddy some flowers, there was a big, big field just outside of our house and until then I was never allowed to go because my dad said I was too young. But with him in bed and all I thought I was big enough so I left early one morning and snuck out to the field" A soft smile spread across her face as she twists a strand of hair around her finger "it was so nice that day, the flowers were so pretty and smelt so good! I think I wandered too far though, I remember some big things running up behind me and laughing. I got grabbed up by one of them and they smelt just horrible! They were very rough too. I tried to fight them away but I was too weak". Frowning again she looks down at her toes concentrating. "They hurt me, I don't remember much after I got grabbed but I do remember waking up. I was in a dark foresty place and I could hardly move. My wing was in a lot of pain and I didn't have any powers to heal myself like my daddy could. I used all the energy I had to climb up into a tree cuz I was worried those things would come back and hurt me again. I fell asleep in that tree and stayed there for a couple days. I ate the fruit from the trees and drank the morning dew to help me get energy back".She looks up from her toes and smiles brightly "that's how I met Quasinart!." Grinning happily "he was traveling away from his hometown and practiced some magicks on the tree I was in, it kinda hurt when I fell out but I was so happy to see someone nice! He took pity on me because I was lost and let me join him. We walked forever; on our journey Quasinart helped me develop my healing magicks. When we arrived in Nexus we decided that I could get someone to help me find my home from there and kinda split ways." Idly picking at a spot on her dress she continues "I really wanted someone to take me home so I searched high and low. That's when I met Avanis. He was a healy type and he helped me learn more magicks and he showed me what good we do in Nexus helping all the big guys fight the monsters that threaten everyone. He also took me home to see my father, but I had decided that I had to stay in Nexus and do all the good things I can do. The powers my daddy passed on to me may not have helped my mother but they have helped many people in the city and I am very proud of that! My father was very happy for me and he wished me luck in the big city. I go back and visit him often just to make sure he is doing okay and that he is eating right. But I know my spot is in Nexus helping all the people I can!" Giving one last bright smile she winks "that's my story, it's not much but it's the truth." Shrugging a bit she flits out of the tavern. Firsban Class: ClericRace: Dwarf Firsban was born in a small home just outside of the Nexus. His father was a proud warrior, from a long line of warriors. Firsban, however turned out to be somewhat of a disapointment. Realizing that his calling was not that of a fighter at an early age, Firsban spend most of his time reading, writing or praying - praying mostly to the Goddess he felt closest too - Pandora. When he tryed to explain to his parents he wanted to follow a God other than Erisar, and do something other than join the city guard, they were out- raged. His father forbid that any son of his was gonna disgrace the family tradition, and not become a mighty warrior. So Firsban trained for many years as a fighter, under his father's watchful eye, but at night, he would still read about the Church of Hope and offer prayers to Pandora. Over the next few years, his father became very ill, the healing herbs and medicines seemed to do no good. So the family sent Firsban into the big city of the Nexus to find someone to help, perhaps one of those Clerics. As he wandered up and down the streets, he came upon the Church of Hope. He found an ancient old man inside, and asked him to come to his house with him, to see if he could help his ailing father. When the returned to the house, the old man moved with the urgency of someone half his age, with a skill and knowledge that dazed the young Firsban. After examining Firsban's father, and saying a long prayer to his Goddess, the old man stood, laided his hands on the sick man. A soft glow enveloped the old cleric, then it slowly spread to the sick old dwarf. The grey cleric smiled, wiped a bit of sweat off his forehead, bowed deeply, and walked out the door. At that same moment, Firsban's father's fever broke, and the color began to return to his cheeks. Seeing what great miracles the people of faith can perform, Firsban asked his father once again to let him follow his calling as a Cleric, his father, having just come close to death, and perhaps still a little groggy, gave him permission. So Firsban packed his bags, and started of towards Rymek, to find that sloop he had heard of. Freuden Class: ClericRace: Half Elf ### Excerpts from Freuden's journal, lost somewhere on his journey I have never kept a journal before, and I am excited about this one. Maybe someday, when I finally complete my training and leave this accursed place, I can look back on this and smile. Ah, but I am getting ahead of myself... perhaps I should start at the beginning. My name is Freuden, and my first memories were of a small grass hut in the farming community of Salshire. My parents were both farmers, though my father had the additional duty of archiving all town records and accounts. Growing up, I realized that I was... different. I was not like my parents, nor was I anything like our neighbors. My parents (bless their souls) would deflect my ceaseless questions, telling me instead to concentrate more on the historical documents my father kept as part of his job. (When I was young, it was my delight to sort through and organize these documents. It was through my constant contact with these papers that I eventually taught myself to read.) Over time, however, my parents finally decided to tell me the truth - I was not their son. They had found me as a baby lying in a small bed of grass on the edge of one of their fields. It was then that I realized why I was different. The entire population of Salshire was exclusively human, and I was a combination of...elf... and human? This was almost too much for my young mind to comprehend. After hearing my parent's story, I immediately went to the hut's only mirror and followed the lines of my ears with my finger, perhaps truly noticing them for the first time. Ah, for the age of innocence! I was never able to discover anything about my elvish heritage. Despite that fact that the only culture I knew anything about was human, I could not establish a rapport with any of the townspeople. They never had much contact with "outsiders", as they sometimes referred to me, and they shunned me everywhere I went. My parents seemed to support me, of course, but even they did not choose to stand up to the entire town. Because of this attitude, I spent much of my time indoors, poring over the endless papers my father kept. One day, (by the Gods, I will never forget that day!), I came across a very old packet of sheets bound together. As I leafed through them, I saw that these papers were nothing like the boring account records I had come across before. This packet was a journal kept by Lirdac, a healer from this very town! I was so mesmerized by this story that I read it from beginning to end without stopping, then read it again immediately after that. Lirdac described a place called Nexus, so called because it is the "focus point" or "center" of All Races. He also described the arts of healing in full detail, how to focus the power of the mind to aid the body's natural rejuvenation. I was fascinated. For the first time, I found that I could help others. I thought that maybe if I learned the clerical arts, those around me wouldn't turn me away everywhere I went. And so I began to train myself, slowly, over a long period of time, using Lirdac's narrative as a guide. And so that brings me to where I am now. Over the past several years, this desire within me has become a passion. I feel that I am ready to get out, to see this wondrous city! I feel like I can save the whole world, if I can only get to it! *sigh* I am finally on the road. Last night, while everybody was sleeping, I packed what few belongings I had and set off in the direction (as I could best determine from Lirdac's notes) of Nexus. In one way, I feel sad to leave my parents, but I know that they will secretely be relieved that I am gone. It is time for them to get on with their lives, as it is time for me to get on with mine. Galvin Class: ClericRace: Human In the small mountain hold of Killek, hard times indeed had fallen. The village was constantly raided by goblins, trolls, whatever was hungry. The only thing that saved them from occupation by the goblins was that they had nothing of value to offer. And so they tried to survive, using the nearby caves for shelter and protection when necessary. One such cave was used to tend the wounded, and was all too full of late. Little Galvin spent much time in that cave. He had a knack for tending the wounded, becoming quite adept at not only bandaging wounds, but at finding herbs and roots to be used as salves. One day, after a raid, Galvin was helping bandage some wounds when an old man he had never seen walked into the cave. Galvin was too busy tending the many wounded to notice that the man was watching him. Galvin felt a hand on his shoulder then, and thought he saw a flash of light, but when he turned, the old man was gone. With more wounded coming in, Galvin quickly forgot the incident. As the years passed, and Galvin became a young man of 12, he returned to Killek from picking some roots, and noticed several fires in the village. Fearing another raid, he rushed to the caves to help. He found his mother in one of the cots, badly injured. He rushed to her side, past the villagers who tried to stop him. Her wounds were too deep they told him, she would not last long. Galvin cried out that he must save her, and acted on instinct, lowering his head he put his hands upon his mothers, as he raised his head, his body was wrapped in white light. The villagers quickly stepped back, taken totally by surprise and in some fright and alarm. As they watched, the aura of light spread from Galvin to encompass his mother, where the light touched, open wounds were closed, bruises disappeared. As the light faded and his mother breathed with much greater ease, Galvin pondered what had happened. somehow, *he* had done that! He had reached inside himself and managed to pull that power from some inner resource. No, he corrected himself, he channeled the power, but the power was not his alone. That lay somewhere to the east, and he had to find it's source! As he thought on it, Galvin was more and more convinced he had felt something similar before, then suddenly a memory from years ago returned to him, of an Old Man and a flash of light. That was it! The light, the touch of the light felt just the same, but who was the man? All he knew was that he was drawn to find the source, drawn to the east, and he must go find his destiny. The next day Galvin prepared to leave. There was little opposition, for even though his mother was almost completely recovered, the villagers still feared him, and now kept a respectful distance from him whenever he walked about. He gave his farewells to his mother, and set off east. How he made it he would never know, he had narrowly avoided the goblin patrols time and time again. But lately he felt he was getting closer to what he was looking for. And then he came upon the walled city. As he watched from a safe hiding place, a large band of goblins approached the gates, which appeared to shimmer. The goblins tried to smash the gates, tearing at them, throwing magic in the form of fire and ice upon them, but to no avail, the gates held. Eventually, the band gave up, and walked back the way they had came. Galvin approached the gates, wondering how he would ever get inside, but surprisingly the gates posed no barrier to him, and he walked inside the city. Galvin walked about for a time, in wonderment as he passed people of races he had only heard of in story, there went a dwarf for certain, and there was surely an elf. He stopped after awhile, realizing he knew not where to go, when a man approached him... Galvin smiled as the man, no, not fully a man he realized, noting the pointed ears, approached. "Hello," the man smiled, "My name is Naranek, you appear to be new to the Nexus, may I help you?" Naranek showed Galvin all the wonders of the Nexus. When they entered Aalynor's Temple, Galvin stopped still. This was it! This was the source of the power he had channeled! Naranek had trouble getting Galvin out of the temple to continue his tour of Nexus. When they finished the tour of the Cleric's Guild, Galvin had made his decision. He would join that Guild, and he would learn to use his gift to the fullest, for the cause here was just and right. In time, he was sure he would follow Aalynor, as he knew that somehow he had always followed the path of the light, and that he was somehow empowered by it. Time passed quickly, Galvin gained stature at a fast rate, his healing abilities becoming known through the city. Always Galvin turned to the church of Aalynor for support and comfort. And when he felt he was worthy, Galvin approached Vesper, the Child of the light, to petition to follow Aalynor. Galvin felt his greatest honor is his life, when Vesper informed him he was accepted, and placed the mark of Aalynor upon him. Now he felt he truly belonged here. This was truly his destiny. Gifford Class: ClericRace: Gnome Gifford the gnome was a insatiably curious little fellow as all gnomes tend to be. When he was but a child he would tend to wander far afield from his home in the gnomish village of Korg in the slate mountains. He would collect specimens of rock, insects, and even small animals. He did this in an effort to understand how they were put together and how they worked. Naturally, after he had been about this kind of business for some time he discovered that he really did understand the forces of life to some small extent. He began to strike out farther and farther on his hikes trying to find creatures who were hurt. Quite often when he found one who was hurt in some small way he learned that he could nurse it back to health. As time passed he found that his ability to heal creatures became more and more powerful and he could nurse back to health creatures that were much more damaged than even he thought he could manage. Unfortunately, this drive to heal and this curiosity got young Gifford into trouble. One afternoon Gifford was far from his home and quite busy tending to the wounds of a rabbit who had been slashed by the claws of a fox. The rabbit had escaped from the fox, but was very badly hurt. While he was about this intensive study of the rabbit Gifford was oblivious to anything else going on around him. A group of ugly creatures he had heard of called goblins surrounded him and began slapping young Gifford about! Gifford was terrified at this treatment. He begged for his life. He noticed that one of the creatures was wounded. He offered to try and help the creature if the group would let him go home afterwards. One of the goblins who spoke a bit of Gifford's language shrugged and indicated that the gnome could try. Gifford laid his hands upon the arm of the goblin who was hurt. The slash was long but not too deep and it had barely begun to scab over. The young gnome tossed some herbs into a pot of water and kindled a fire under it. When the water was warm he bathed the wound in water containing the healing juice of the herbs. Then Gifford bound the wound in strips of cloth from his pack. After a few hours Gifford removed the cloth and the goblins could see that the wound had healed cleanly. The goblins became very excited at this and grabbed up young Gifford. They started shouting and gesticulating at each other exclaiming at this feat of minor healing. Gifford protested that the goblin had said he could go home after healing the wound. The goblins however ignored him and kept arguing. The upshot was that the goblins took Gifford with them when they left the mountains. Eventually they came to a large goblin settlement named fango. In fango, the largest of the goblins brought Gifford to a place where even larger goblins worked in a large building pounding and shaping metals about a large fire pit. Gifford's captor spoke at great length with the largest of the goblins in what gifford learned was called a smithy. The two goblins argued for a long time. Eventually, however, the largest goblin nodded and pulled out some shiny metal coins and gave them to the gnomes captor. At this point Gifford's captor left the building chuckling. Gifford was shocked! He must have been sold. Gifford didn't understand why a goblin would sell him to another goblin. The large goblin whose name appeared to be gorf poked Gifford and pointed to another of the goblins. That goblin had a bad burn that must have come from the fire ore one of the hot pieces of metal. Gifford sighed. Obviously, the large goblin had bought him to work as a healer. The young gnome brought out his herbs and set to work. The goblins kept Gifford supplied with herbs for his healing and fed him but the goblins were very clumsy. They tended to burn themselves quite often. Gifford began to despair. He always had hope however that he could some day escape. As gifford learned the goblin language, he heard about their god called Novind. Gifford thought this was some kind of deity associated with the power of chaos. This being the only deity young Gifford knew about he began to learn more about the power of chaos. He discovered as he thought upon chaos that his healing ability became more powerful. At first, this delighted gifford. Then it began to frighten him. Was he becoming too much like the goblins for whom he was a slave? Gifford resolved to find a way for chaos to work for him. He speculated that if he could learn about chaos that he could also learn about how to minimize chaos. He meditated upon the nature of chaos for long hours in the forge when his healing was not required. He discovered that he really could begin to understand the disorder in the injuries he tended and minimize the chaotic quality of them and thus heal them. Hope began to spring up in Gifford's heart at this discovery. If he could improve his ability to heal by understanding chaos then maybe he could find a way to escape from captivity also. Gifford began to hope more and more that it might be possible for him to escape. He found that like his study of chaos that when Gifford felt especially hopeful that his healing abilities became magically stronger. Gifford decided to abandon the power of chaos and focus only on the hope of escape. As he did this he found that his healing abilities became stronger and stronger. Night after night Gifford slept dreaming of hope. Doves came to him in his dreams and spoke to him of hope. Gifford was delighted at this. He was delighted, yet he was becoming a very powerful healer through thinking of the power of hope all the time. Gifford didn't know if he should be using this wonderful hopeful gift to be healing people who had enslaved him. Gifford wanted to heal other beings like himself who would appreciate what he could do and also had hope rather than chaos in their hearts. Finally, one evening after gifford had been locked in his bare room he began to pray that hope would allow him to heal nice people rather than nasty people. For hours and hours he prayed to be allowed to use his gifts in the service of whatever power that there might be that guided hope. A dove appeared before Gifford and sang to him. Gifford's heart was filled with joy! Could it be? Could it be?! Could he escape this place and join with others who also had this dream within their hearts? Gifford began to speak to the dove concerning his dreams and his prayer. "I want to find a place where I can use these extraordinary gifts to heal to help people to fight against despair which is the enemy of all." At this, the dove began to shine. It shone brightly and even more brightly! The dove flew to the wall and a shining door appeared before it and it flew into the light. Gifford rejoiced! Had his prayer been answered? He dove through the light and found himself in a lovely room! He found himself before a huge marble fountain with two statues of youths frolicking in the water. Gifford felt wonderfully at peace with himself and able to pursue his dream! Hellfire Class: ClericRace: Reni Hellfire sat in his small room at the back of Madame Despana's, the month of Twilight was upon Nexus, rain pummeled the roof above him, and he quietly marked another birthday. He sat with a pen and parchment gathering dust before him. Slowly but surely, his hand moved toward the pen. Grasping it in sweat covered hands, Hellfire dipped the pen in his ink well and began to compose a letter 11 years overdue. ******************* Dearest Parents, I hope this letter finds you well. Although it has been almost twelve years since we spoke last I still think of you often and of our last painful, angry parting... ****************** As he writes, Hellfire begins to wander back through time in his memories to his childhood. Born over one hundred years ago, he was still born too late. What once would have been a lifetime spent in peaceful study and contemplation, has turned into a lifetime filled with war and destruction. The reni, once pacifists, had learned to fight and kill and no renies learned that lesson better than his parents. Once upon a time his parents had been no more hostile than any other reni. That all changed one fateful day three centuries ago. Drakan and Sinead were both wizards and had one child, a boy named Safus. Children being rare in a species so long lived, Safus was doted upon. He became Drakan's and Sinead's world. For nearly fifty years they nurtured and taught Safus preparing him to be a wizard such as themselves. Then the goblins came... They attacked the Reni killing, maiming, and torturing all those they could find. Drakan and Sinead went to help with the defense of the village. The fight was long and vicious. Eventually the goblins were driven back. When they returned to their home, they noticed the door slightly ajar. Fearing the worst they rushed in and were greeted with a grusome spectacle. While the main goblin forces had attacked the village from the front, assassins of hate had snuck into the houses of the reni killing all the children they could find. Safus was found... His body was nailed to the wall and his mouth had been filled with his own heart. A message on the wall proclaimed, "Death to the reni!" Drakan and Sinead were driven mad with grief and vowed revenge. While strong wizards both, they knew that they lacked the strength and training to take that revenge themselves. They decided that night to try and have another child. One that might grow to be the wizard they couldn't be. One that might wreak havoc upon the goblin hoarde. For two centuries they tried.... ******************* A lightning bolt lit up the room where Hellfire was writing and he looked up for a moment before continuing his letter. "....learned much in Nexus and yes I am doing my part to help defeat the goblins. I know you probably still resent the way I have chosen to do it...." ******************* After two hundred years, Drakan and Sinead finally conceive. Once again Sinead gave birth to a boy and like before he became their world. This time, however, things were different. Interested only in their plans for revenge, the baby was tutored only in the destructive uses of magic. He was given a name to reflect their desire to see destruction visited upon the goblins. He was called Hellfire after a powerful and ancient spell. Hellfire learned his lessons well. He learned to abhor the goblins and to want their extinction. He took readily to the magic. He learned to control it quite well, but Sinead and Drakan noticed that his spells weren't as strong as they might like. His magic seemed to fight the destruction. It mattered not to them, he was young and they would forge him into a weapon. Ninety years passed and Hellfire grew and learned. He learned the basics of magic and how to use missle weapons. He was taught goblin tactics and how to defeat them. He studied everything his parents deemed necessary to make him a weapon of destruction. However, despite their best efforts, Hellfire studied something not on their agenda....the girl next door. Born ten years after him, Chalsua had been a constant fixture in his life. As he sat in his room studying day after day, he saw her going with her mother to run errands, working in her family garden, reading books, or just sitting outside enjoying the weather. She was the most beautiful creature in his world and Hellfire fell in love. He frequently dreamed of meeting her and even asked his parents one day if it would be ok. Afraid that he would lose focus they forbade it. Not one to give up easily, Hellfire decided one day to practice his fledgling ability to send messages mentally. As he sat at his desk pretending to read an ancient text on the effects and applications of various potions, he watched for Chalsua. Eventually she came outside to work on the garden. As she was weeding, Hellfire concentrated on her and tried to project his mind to hers. He eventually made contact, startling her. After her initial shock, she recovered and discovered that she could send back. From that day forward they talked daily. Through these conversations Hellfire discovered that there was more to life than destruction and the goblins. Chalsua talked to him of philosophy, of religion and the gods, of poetry, of the beautiful uses of magic, and of love. After several months of talking, they decided to risk a face to face meeting. They decided to meet on the night of the New Year festival when all the village would be gathered and even Hellfire would be allowed to leave his house. On the night of the festival, Hellfire contrived to separate himself from his parents in the crowd. Sneaking quietly to the edge of the village he met Chalsua in the light of the full moon. Trying to reduce the risk of getting caught, the two young reni snuck off into the surrounding country- side. They walked and talked for what seemed hours, absorbed completely in each other. A loud noise startled them from their revelry and they looked up to find themselves in an ancient cemetary, confronted by a Tel'ri'vak. The Tel'ri'vak lunged forward attacking them. Hellfire and Chalsua turned to run, but she tripped on a fallen grave stone. Hellfire quickly helped her too her feet, but he was not quick enough...The Tel'ri'vak managed to infect Chalsua with a disease. With Chalsua already feeling the effects of the virus, the two young reni stumbled back to town, deperate to get her some help. Halfway back to town Chalsua failed. She could walk no further she needed healed. Hellfire gently laid her down on the road and tried to comfort her. As she began to fade, Hellfire saw a light down the trail and called out for help. What Hellfire thought might be Chalua's salvation was his parents out looking for their wayward son. They were wizards Hellfire thought surely they can help her. Sinead and Drakan rushed forward and looked upon the fallen girl. Hellfire begged them to help her, but alas, they could not do a thing. They had spent so many years learning how to use magic to destroy, they had forgotten how to heal. Chalsua died soon after her head cradled in Hellfire's lap..... ***************** A noise from the room above startled Hellfire from his remembrance and begins once again to concentrate on the letter. "My mistress Pandora has recently appointed me as an emissary for her church, this position will allow me to help more people and guide young clerics in the arts of healing..." Once again Hellfire drifted off to a time past... ***************** After that fateful night things were never the same for Hellfire, he began to resent his parents. Their focus on destructive magic had cost him the life of someone he loved. On his hundredth birthday, Hellfire informed his parents that he would be going to Nexus to become a cleric's apprentice. His parents were shocked and outraged by his seeming betrayal. They alternating begged him to stay and threatened to keep him there. Hellfire stood steadfast before them saying that as a healer he would be able to help the forces of Nexus defeat the goblins. His parents would hear none of it and told him to just leave and never come back.... So the next day Hellfire woke early and left for Falcion to start a new life. ****************** Hellfire stopped writing and listened the rain had stopped. He checked his water clock and found that it was past midnight and the eleven year anniversary of the day he left home. He looked back to the parchment in front of him and finished the letter. "I hope that time has softened your view towards me and that we can once again talk and be a family. May Pandora's Hope be with you both. With LoveHellfire, High Priest of Pandora,Harbinger of Hope,and loving son." Jocelyn Class: ClericRace: Human Jocelyn shifts, clearly impatient, as she glances at the pile of paperwork that she could’ve taken care of an hour ago had the scribe not shown up. The scribe looks up from his notes and speaks. "I gather that your parents sent you to Falcion because of your lack of discipline." Jocelyn rolls her eyes, starts to respond, and then seems to change her mind. "Let me ask you a question. For the past hour I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what your job is. Are you here to irritate me with your miserable attempts to analyze my life? Or is your goal simply to waste my time? Or are you attempting to somehow supplement your boring existence by conjuring up some grand tale about my life that doesn’t really exist?" Realizing that her paperwork is a lost cause, Jocelyn pushes it away and stares at the scribe. "I have answered your questions as simply as possible. Yet, amazingly, you’re still here. You seem to be waiting for me to tell you that at some point I lost my entire family in some tragic battle, or a village burned down, or I was captured by goblins at a very young age. If that's what you're looking for, you came to the wrong person. I lived a happy, peaceful life, on a boat, with a mother and father and no siblings. I was mischievous, worried my mother constantly, and entertained my father with my antics. All in all, I had fun, and I enjoy the opportunity to take occasional trips with them now." Jocelyn stands and brushes herself off. As she hands water to one of the warriors that guard Lord Erisar's courtyard, she continues. "During the time you've sat here attempting to fabricate some great story about my life, I've received several telepathic questions from heroes with valid concerns. One hero has a question about our quest to close the portal in the goblin camp that I am organizing. Another has concerns about the letter the Council recently received from the Elders of Rymek. A potential follower is waiting to offer me a report about his quest. A fellow church member would like to discuss a new Code of Conduct that we are drafting. And that," Jocelyn points to the paperwork that she abandoned, "is far more important than this nonsensical conversation we are having." Jocelyn holds her hands out gesturing to Lord Erisar’s courtyard and the castle. "This is my life. Serving Lord Erisar. It's as simple and as complicated as that. It's what is important to me, and it's what I enjoy doing. I am an emissary of Lord Erisar's great church. And I am a huntress. If you would like to write about any of the things I just mentioned, then you have a story. If you would like to discuss battle tactics, you are in the right place. If you need me to prepare a group for battle or lead the group in a hunt, you are talking to the right woman. I do not speak baby talk to children, I do not lavish the weak spirited with hugs and gentle words, and I do not take hours away from the duties my Lord has assigned to me to sit wistfully dreaming of the past. I enjoyed it, it is over, and now I have responsibilities to take care of." Jocelyn walks over and picks up her paperwork. Just before she disappears behind the doors of the castle she turns and says, "You know, if you wanted to talk to a starry eyed woman with a burning desire to tell stories about the past and nothing but time on her hands, you should've met with my mother. I'm sure she would be delighted to talk for hours about something really meaningful." Jocelyn smirks and continues. "Like the one time she actually managed to get me to sit still long enough to put ribbons in my hair, how adorable I was when she was finished, and how quickly I tore then out of my hair the minute she left the deck to cook dinner." With a sarcastic grin, Jocelyn turns and walks into her office, leaving the scribe speechless. Lance Class: ClericRace: Not known After a very long day fighting her way through the crowded streets of al'Oronta, Lillia was weary, yet she could not sleep. She tossed and turned in the small bed built into the back of her wagon, listening to the pots and pans banging together as the wind rocked her small, ever mobile home. Why had she decided to become a merchant? She should have listened to her mother. She would have enjoyed following her mother's healing crafts, helping adventurers that wandered into their small village, as well as keeping the population of the village safe from the disease that plagued the land.... But that is not what was bothering her. She was too intelligent to lie to herself. Much as her mother did not approve, Lillia did enjoy her life. She enjoyed seeing new people and new places, and she was still able to make use of her healing talents fairly often. She really did love her life. No, that was not what was bothering her... She could not quite put her finger on it! Just then, Lillia's concentration was temporarily diverted by a sound from the other bed. She got up, walking over to the small cot where her older son, Lance lay. Lance was young by elvin standards, yet he was wise for his age, and beginning to grow into a man. It seems that the healing tradition of her family had found its strength in her young son, and she was often surprised by both his power, and his abilities. As she bent down to see what was troubling the lad, she noticed the look on his face. He was dreaming again, and Lillia wondered what about now. She did not understand why her son was plagued by these dreams, but they often scared her, especially when they came true. She reached down, shaking Lance awake. "Where is he!? Where is he!?", Lance screamed. It took several moments before he realized it was a dream and noticed that he was in his mother's arms. He pulled himself away, not wanting the comforting touch... He had great love for his mother, yet this did not seem the time for her comfort. He had never had a dream that real or that intense. Usually his dreams were vague, cast in mist and shadow, and yet they often came true. He had no doubt in his mind that this one would come true, and it was not the time for his mother's warm and tender touch. He would have to be the man, now... He would have to be the one to comfort her. Rhidak, his father was dead... it was as certain to him as if he had seen the body. He had to break it to her. As Lance looked into his mother's eyes, he felt as weak as if he had spent the entire day pulling this wagon by himself. His stomach churned, and he felt as though he would faint. How could he tell this woman he loved so much that her husband was dead? How could he tell her that her husband had not been at the tavern, but rather fighting off the goblins from the city walls? He just did not have the strength to break her heart... not yet. He had to think, to find the right words. It was not a task he looked forward to. Lillia looked down at her son, wondering what was troubling him so greatly, and why he would not tell her. She knew it must be important by the look on his face, but she knew better than to try to pry it out of him. Lance had his father's stubborn will, yet he would tell her when he felt ready. She just had to wait. As Lance started to get up, he told his mother that he had to get some air. He started donning his clothes, just slowly enough to keep from making his mother worry, yet not at all dawdling. He could see in her eyes that something was bothering his mother. Perhaps she had a feeling that Rhidak was gone. Perhaps she just saw the turmoil in his own young eyes. In either case, he knew that he would have to break the news soon, but he needed to think. As Lance left the small wagon they called their home, he tried his best to prevent the door from squeaking. His mother would worry enough, no need to wake the baby. However, as he walked away from the wagon, he heard a cry, muffled and tiny. Perhaps comforting his little brother would keep his mother from worrying as much. Perhaps the sweet, innocent look in Jaquar's eyes would comfort his mother before she even knew why she needed comforting. Lance wandered the streets for hours, wondering how he would break the news to his mother... wondering what he would do with his life, and grieving the death of his beloved father. He vowed that night that he would make the goblins pay for what they had done to his family. He reached into his pouch, turning the magic token his father had given him. He knew what it was for... and he knew that he would be using it soon. It gave him some comfort that he would be able to avenge his father's death, but there was no wisdom to be found that would help him comfort his mother. Just then, Lance was brought out of his inner struggle by an outer one that was much more immediate. He was nearing the city wall of al'Oronta, and he started to hear screams. Several villagers were running past him, away from the city wall, their eyes full of fear. He could not quite tell what was going on, but he felt a feeling in his gut, one of sheer terror. Something was very wrong, something perhaps greater than even the death of his father. As he approached the city walls, he stopped one of the fleeing villagers just long enough to ask what was going on.... "The goblin hordes have broken through the Northern Gate! The guards say the Eastern gate is about to go as well!" the young woman said as she fled in terror. It was then that Lance's heart began to leap in his chest. The death of his father had been such a terrible event that he forgot the goblins for a moment! His family was near the Eastern gate... he just had to help them before he lost them, too! Lance could not believe his fear as he ran back toward the wagon. He was not fearful for himself, but for his mother and baby brother.... 'How could I have been so stupid!?', he thought 'To fear telling my mother of Rhidak's death to the point that I forgot the danger to her and Jaquar?' He ran as fast as he could, his heart pounding against his chest, his lungs burning with the cold night air, his eyes watering from the smoke of the city, and of the fires starting all around him. He had to save them... he just HAD TO! It was then that a large Ogre man ran past, perhaps running to save his family as well, perhaps running to help in the battle, perhaps just running. Lance barely had time to see his face as he was plowed over by the massive body. The chaos of the city had prevented the man from seeing the small elf. It seemed like time slowed down to a crawl as Lance started to fall. The man had not meant to push him, he had not even seen him, but that did not negate the effect of his skull hitting the paving stones of the city streets. Lance awoke to the smell of smoke and death. As his vision cleared, he noticed that he had a headache beyond belief. Casting the only healing spell he could in his condition, he finally was able to stand. He began to swagger toward the place where his mother had parked the wagon the night before, barely aware of the burned buildings and dying people all around him. He had to save his magic for his family... no time to help those around him, nor even himself. He had to find them, he had to find them. He tried his best to hurry, but he was in bad shape, and barely able to walk. He saw a little girl wandering before him, and a thought registered in the back of his mind... where is HER mother? He tried to talk to the girl, but she ran away, crying. Perhaps he was a scary sight. As he neared the commerce district, he began to hurry, not quite able to run, but staggering faster and faster. Broken and half-burned wagons lined the streets, their owners devastated by the loss. Fewer owners staggered about than there were wagons... Tthe attack must have been fierce and swift. As he neared the wagon he had called home for as long as he could remember, his subconscious noticed that two of the wheels were broken, and the wagon was badly damaged, yet his conscious mind had only one goal. He pried open the door, hoping to find his mother alive and well. What he found tore a hole deep in his soul. His mother lay on the floor of the wagon, surrounded by blood. He hurried to her, hoping to find her well enough that he could heal her, but it was too late. She was not dead yet, but every spell he poured into her failed. Every effort he tried to mend her wounds was hopeless. She was in a state of delirium, crying out the names of his father and brother, more concerned for their wellbeing than her own. She looked into Lance's eyes, tears rolling down her face, and cried out one last time for Jaquar. Lance looked down at the corpse of his beloved mother, crying. He had not found his brother in the wagon, and did not know where he was. He could still feel his life force, so he knew he was well, but Jaquar was no where to be found. Lance began to wander the city, looking for his baby brother... the only one that remained of his beloved family. He talked to everyone he found, but no one had seen the young elvin boy. He began to lose hope, when he found Gariak, an old human bard who had been a family friend, often traveling with them from city to city. Gariak did not know where his brother was, but he had seen him. He knew that Jaquar was alive and well. It was not enough to compensate the loss of his parents, but it did bring warmth to Lance's heart. Lance spent the next two months in the city, looking for a sign of his brother. He heard stories that the elvin boy had been rescued by a human woman, yet she was no where to be found. He mourned the loss of his mother and father, but more than anything, he wanted to find his brother. Jaquar was all that remained of his family, and he had to find him. Lance followed every shadow of a shadow of a clue, and yet came up empty-handed. He could not find a trace of the human woman that had rescued his brother, yet he felt in his heart that Jaquar was alive. It was three months to the day from the raid that had killed his mother and father when Lance came wearily back to the room over the smithy he had been calling home. The blacksmith and his wife, having known his parents well, had been kind to him since their death, putting a pallet in this storeroom for him to sleep, and not charging him anything for his stay. They were a sweet couple, and Lance was very grateful for their hospitality. His supply of gold, which he had taken from the wagon before it was chopped up for firewood, was quickly dwindling. He did not know how much longer he could spend looking for his brother at this rate. Lance disrobed and headed off to bed. He had spent the entire day seeking out his young sibling, and though not manual labor, it was an exhausting task. He made a small prayer as he drifted off to sleep that his brother was still well, and that he would find him soon. Lance had not dreamed at all since that fateful night, so he was surprised to find himself in dream. A thought floated on the edge of his mind that he should not realize the fact that he was in a dream, let alone be surprised by it. He looked around, and found that he was surrounded in a white mist, which had no beginning, nor no end. His entire surroundings glowed with a mysterious light that seemed to have no source. He began to realize that this was no ordinary dream. Suddenly, a soft, yet powerful, female voice seemed to come out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time. The voice seemed comforting, and filled him with love and hope. "Lance, son of Rhidak, you have come to me in hope that you find your lost brother, Jaquar.", the voice said, ringing in his soul "He is alive and well, and you need not worry. The stories that he has been adopted by a human woman are true, and you should not concern yourself with his wellbeing. He will be raised well, and you will meet him again one day. Look no further for your brother, he will find you when it is time. Make your way to the wandering city. Claim your place in the ranks against evil. One day, you will be reunited with your brother, but the time has come for you to follow your fate. Have Hope." Lance awoke early the next morning, knowing what he had to do. He dressed quickly, and sat on the small chair by his pallet, not quite ready to give up the search for his brother. However, the pull of the dream the night before was stronger than anything he had felt before in his life. He took the magic token out of his pouch, thinking of his father as he handled it. It was time. As Lance concentrated, he channeled a small spark of power into the small coin, part of him hoping it did not work. He was not ready to give up his three-months search, yet he felt the pull of destiny at his soul. He closed his eyes and said the magic chant. Suddenly, he heard the sound of running water. As he looked around, he found himself at the Fountain of Dreams. It was time to meet his destiny. Lasher Class: ClericRace: Reni It all started a very long time ago.... a young reni stood amongst his peers, a bright smile upon his face. They were debating the tenants of wizardry versus the power of following a diety. Lasher really did not care for either at the time and stated his case... "Why not just live your own life, power in itself does not make a person, so why worry about such issues.." Grimroth turns to him with a sneer on his face, "Always like you to take no side Lasher, you were always a coward. I myself think the power from within is greater than any given to you by a diety. Magery is the way I shall go." Of course another reni piped in, Halworth turns and just smiles, "The power of a diety given unto another will always outstrip that of within. No power in all of Altin can compare, nor the ecstacy of giving ones heart and soul to a diety". Lasher just listens as one after another, the reni's in his group try to make thier point, yet Lasher was not moved at all by any of thier oratory and decided to take a walk. He turned to his friends, "I can not say one or the other is better, but I know my path, and it will be one of love and happiness, I care not for power and what it brings" Of course, as Lasher was leaving, Grimroth pipes in, "Of course Lasher our little pansy, go on your way now, and leave your betters to our discourse". Most in the group just ignored Grimroth's comments, but some nodded and that upset Lasher to no avail as he walked away. He walked through the town, then outside the walls and out into the wilderness, where he sat beneath an oak, older then any he had ever seen before. Lasher starting to think on what he really wante d to do with his life, soon it was going to be time for the choosing, where those of his age were chosen for apprenticeships and he had no idea what he wanted to do. Soon he was nodding off beneath the tree, a gentle spring breeze blowing through his hair, cooling his body. Dreams came and went, none worth mentioning, when he was suddenly awaken by bell tolls from the city. He woke up quickly and turned towards the north where the city stood. Gongs and bells of all sorts were tolling like he had never heard before. Lasher thought to himself, "What can it be, an attack... no not out here, we are too secluded, it can not be". But, he rose and started to run towards the city as fast as he could. Lasher ran until he was gasping for breath, and then he walked, always moving towards the town. The skyline started to fill with smoke and Lasher began to worry, a boost of adreniline flowing through his body, he launched himself towards town. He arrived to something he would never believe in all his nightmares, everwhere he looked were dead bodies littering the streets and buildings... Of the attackers nothing could be seen, Lasher heard moaning everywhere, but of sounds of fighting..... nothing. He looked around for anyone he could help, but could find only the dead, until....... He arrived where his friends were talking when he had left, and low and behold, someone was breathing....... Grimroth. Lasher gently bends over to aid his companion, even though Grimroth always was the one to tease Lasher. As he bent over, Grimroth's hands grabbed onto Lasher's shirt, "Help me, please... help me....." he gasped out. Lasher had no idea what to do, when a feeling came about him and he spread out his hands, touching Grimroth on the forehead.... "Thy energies return!" he chanted, and as the power flowed out of him, Grimoth started to revive, it was then that Lasher awoke under the tree as if nothing had happened. He shook the wariness out of his head and quickly turned towards town, nothing had changed at all, besides the hour of course. No bells tolled and no gongs rang. Lasher stood and began his long trek back towards town. His eyes looked about him in a totally new life. Spring seemed more vibrant, the animals, the flowers, the grass and the trees all seemed.... more alive. His step was more lively and he seemed to walk on the wind towards his home with a realization in his mind now what he wanted for the rest of his life. Time turned and months passed, Lasher and his friends became busier trying to persuade those of the professions they had chosen to pick them as apprentices, but Lasher did it in a way not all the others did... Everyday he went out into the fields and sat under that tree, and everyday he dreamed something different. Some were useful and others distressful, but everything he had learned from that tree had meaning. Then the fateful day came and all gathered in the center of town for the naming. One name after another were called off of the rolls, and one by one his friends walked off with the one who would apprentice them for the next 50 years of their lives. Lasher though was not called, knowing that the best spots were always called out last, he was enlivened by the thought he may be picked by a Patriarch or even the Head Minister himself of a chosen faith. Then he heard his name, only 2 others stood beside him, Grimroth and Halworth. Lasher started to walk forward as he was presented to...... Theologion, head of the city hand... Lasher did not know what to think.... could this be his purpose in life, he followed Theologion and spoke not a word, but his mind wandered a mile a minute. He knew he wanted to help others, but Theologion was an administrator and Lasher had decided under that tree that he would follow his heart and pledge himself to a specific goddess on day. He even knew when the day would come from the dreams under the tree, but was this how it would all begin? He worked tireless hours with scribes and bookkeeps, dignitaries and heads of the churches. Lasher woke before the sun came up, and went to sleep well past sundown each day, tirelessly he worked, but he knew something was wrong... One day Theologion came to him, "Lasher" he said in his bubblebee tone, "you progress in your studies rapidly, better then any other I have ever seen, but I sense something wrong in you son..". Lasher did not know what to say and just looked up at Theologion as his head lowered a fraction, "I can not tell what it is Master, but I just feel like there is something calling to me...". At this Theologion just grinned as he asked me a question that sent me rocking, "Son, have you been to the great tree to the south?". Again Lasher was fumbletongued, "Master, I have spent all my free time resting under the tree..". Theologion just smiled widely, "And what son, did the tree have to tell you?". Lasher just shook his head, "Master, it told me things I could not fathum, but I know this, I am not meant for this, there is a calling from the south and I feel if I do not go, something dreaded may happen" At this Theologion just nodded and rang a bell, and in came Trinbar, Theologion's son. "Is everything ready Trinbar?" Theologion asked. To this Trinbar just nodded and in appeared a porter with many packed bags, which he dropped at Lasher's feet. "Lasher, your calling has come, to fail it will be your death, to pass the test of that is to come, will make you happier in life then you can ever feel elsewhere. It has only happened but few times before in the life of this town that another has had the callling, and each who decided to ignore the call died soon thereafter of unknown reasons.." To this Lasher nodded, his head lowering slowly, he then smiled, hugged Theologion and Trinbar, picked up the bags and never turned back. Many months he traveled, in realitive safety, until one day he arrived in a town named Rymek. The quaint little village seemed homey to him, though he felt a pull towards the water. He walked through the town towards a sloop and looked into a deep mist upon the water. Taking out the last bits of gold he possessed he payed the sloop master, and ended upon Falcion...... Meridia Class: ClericRace: Human The painting draws you nearer and nearer with it's fine detail, nearly begging you to study it more carefully. It's subjects seem to veritably breathe and blink with every brush stroke. Set in the grand foyer of a manor, high painted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and white marble floors only add to the dramatics of this piece. One could imagine walking across the entry, listening to the eerie echoes of your footsteps bouncing off the muraled and shadowy walls. After admiring the outer regions, your attention is drawn to the unusual number of characters actually standing in the foyer. Piling through the great oak doors is a fleet of elven sentry, each wearing a bright and colorful uniform, gripping their sheathed swords with fixed eyes. Peeking through the hall doors with wide and frightened expressions are human servants, maids and butlers, all wearing spotless black and white suits and dresses, some carrying dusters and cloths while others hold silver trays. A human man with raven hair stands in the midst of the sentry, slightly bent by the weight of the elves. His arms have been pulled and held behind his back by a thick white cord. He looks out with a tired but arrogant expression at a young girl before him. The grim mood of the painting changes as you examine the child, who's light blonde curls fall around the shoulders of the pink frilly dress she wears. Her bright cerulean eyes sparkle with anticipation as she reaches out to touch an elf kneeling before her. Her tiny fingers have grabbed hold of the elf's nose and he is laughing at her. A sickly pale woman stands off in a darkened corner with a drawn expression, as if she is going to collapse. Both of her hands hold her face and partially shield her eyes from the scene before her, but an elderly lady with silvered hair sits beside her, leaning into the light. She looks at the child with a warm expression and smiles. In the bottom left hand corner is a flighty signature written in royal blue naming the artist as Meridia Faith Alexander, Child of the Arts of Andaras. Milead Class: ClericRace: Human For Milead, life at home was always a constant challenge to prove his worth. He was the middle child of seven children, and the 'odd' one, when compared to the others. He was born into a tribe of warriors that was proud of its colorful history, full of battle honors, successful campaigns, and decorated heroes. His father, Freedin, was no exception. He had earned his title as chief of the tribe because of the bravery he showed in the latest campaign. Though it was one of many, this particular one was important because he had managed to lead his small army to victory against a violent breed of cave trolls that threatened the tribe. Again, this would be no important thing, except for the fact that the entire tribe consisted of only humans. However, during that bloody battle, he was bit and infected with some sort of disease. It was known to be a fatal disease, but somehow, he managed to live, though he never recovered his full strength. Freedin spent his remaining years teaching the ways of the warrior to his children, and anyone else, who sought his guidance. This tribe, Angeloss, was civilized, but was still a fierce society. They believed in the existence of the Gods, but they chose not to tamper with the Weave in any way and went against the ways of magick. This had not always been; According to their history, the last known paladin in their tribe was said to have lived 300 years ago. Historians contribute the decline and fall of paladins in Angeloss to 'the day and age'. It was said they were jealous of the stronger warriors and concentrated more and more on strengthening themselves physically, ignoring their faith and church duties. And it is known that when you ignore your faith, your faith ignores you, and they quickly found that they could no longer reach the weave through the aid of their Lord. So instead, the tribe turned to science and practical medicine. Even though it was less effective, it served their purposes and sometimes saved lives where magick would have failed. This is not to say magick does not exist within the Angeloss tribe. Every generation, a new shaman is born. They don't possess the skill to fight as well as the others, and are generally weak since birth, but their clerical powers are highly advanced. This was Milead's case. He was weak from birth, and always last to finish in training. However, a new shaman had already been born a couple of years earlier and was training under the aged priest, who would soon die. The fact that Milead also showed no talent for magick and that only one shaman could be born per generation led to the assumption that he was simply a lazy child. Of course, his father would not have this and made a personal vow to whip his boy into shape, even if it killed either of them. So Milead went under rigorous training. He had heart; there was no doubt about that. He pushed himself nearly as hard as his father did. But he always fell short of his father's expectations in any form of combat, stamina training, and speed. But he made up for this by excelling in his more academic lessons. His knowledge of first aid was impeccable and his craftsmanship was superb. Of course, to actually forge a weapon took him much longer than the others, since he had trouble swinging the hammer, but they always turned out much stronger and sharper. This did please Freedin, but he still wasn't satisfied completely with Milead, so the harsh training continued. It wasn't until Milead was fourteen, a late age to show signs of new ability, that he finally felt a higher connection. He couldn't describe it, it was just as if his eyes had been closed for so long, and his eyelids were finally beginning to flutter. He was instructed to go visit the young priestess, the new shaman of the Angeloss. While she did recognize the signs, and could sense his power, she couldn't help him much beyond that. And the old priest had died a couple years ago, leaving Milead with few options. Training under a rookie shaman who barely understood her own power would do him no good, and training to be a warrior may very well lead to an early grave. And he was too proud to be treated like an old veteran and taken care of for the rest of his days during his youth. His father, after giving it some thought, finally suggested something out of the ordinary. He should go to the distant Falcion, the island of apprentices. It was only odd, because this had never been done before. The people of Angeloss had always done well for themselves and never even had to speak to other societies, much less ask for help. But he could see no other option, and also saw it as a good opportunity. The stubborn cloud of pride had lifted from the eyes of Freedin in his old age, and did what he thought best for his unique son. He had all the potential to be a great cleric, and the basic knowledge of a fine warrior. While he could never be a paladin who has a grasp on both worlds, Freedin made sure to let Milead know that because of the effort he put into the work, despite his weaknesses, he was very proud of his son. He honestly felt like he had accomplished the vow he made ten years before. Milead, never having been the emotionally attached type, left early the next morning with a nod and simple good bye to his father and the rest of his family that were awake for either training, or to see him off. And so, began his quest. Naranek Class: ClericRace: Human Tresell`enda walked in the Sylvan Forests of her people, gathering herbs, and plants, for her healing spells. She was the Spelldancer of the small Elven town of Shi`Linette, and her life was devoted to healing, and helping others. It was a life that she was happy with, and her rewards were the thanks of her people, all the reward that she ever needed. She stepped off a small deer trail, and headed deeper into the cool Forrest. She spied a rare flower, in bloom, that carried immense healing potential, if properly prepared, and headed for it, with a small grin spreading over her delicate features. Her Crystal green eyes registered, first shock, then fear, at what greeted them. A man lay near the flower, in the deep undergrowth, with a large red stain covering his side. A broken spear tip protruded from the center of the stain. She immediately went to work, Incanting her most potent healing spells, and she put her many questions to the back of her mind, for the moment, however one lingered in her thoughts . . .what was this person? The mans eyes shone with wonder, as he gazed out, over the small town of the elves. Never before had he seen such beauty, such balance with nature. It brought a smile to the rangers face. All he could remember was running from an incredibly large group of Goblins . . .a sharp burst of pain . . .then looking into a pair of crystal green eyes, the likes of which he had never before seen, as far as he could remember (which was not much.) Only a slight tenderness lay in his side, and from the wound which he had, that was a small price to pay for his life. The small town was governed by a group, called the elders. Elders the man thought with a laugh, the youngest one was 400 years old! They were quite reluctant to allow the man to stay, even until he had healed, But, Tresell`enda had argued on his behalf. The elders were still reluctant, but they could not dismiss the spelldancers wishes. Few of the elves in Shi`Linette even bothered to talk to the strange human, but the few that did, found him to be quite interesting. Tresell`enda came out, and laughed slightly, at seeing his face so full of wonder. In that moment, the spelldancer felt something she had never before felt in her 235 years of life, a stirring deep within herself. A thought came unbidden to her mind, Love? Could I actually be falling in love with this man? The child looked around the village with wondering Crystal green eyes, one of the traits that he had received from his mother. He had often played this game that his father called Hide and Seek. The elves laughed lightly at the young boys searching. The elves loved this child, so few were born in the village, and his mixed heritage did not even cross their minds. His father had found a place in the hearts of the elves as well. He never could remember his past, and only few things before Tresell`enda had rescued him. He had no name, and the elves observed him, trying to find the right thing to call him. Shinecto was what he was named, the translation was akin to Dream Searcher. The boy ran forward, and climbed up a tree, to tag his fathers leg, and giggling, jump down. The young boy (for he was that to the elves. His age was about that of a teenager, much younger by elven standards, and older by human standards,) chanted slightly, and placed his hands, that were glowing blue upon the elfs arm. The burn seemed to withdraw, and then vanish. He smiled to the Elder, as he looked up. "You are finding your powers, little one," said the Elder, as he pat the boy on the head. The boy mentally sighed . . .will they never stop calling him little one? The Elder left the small room, and talked to Shinecto, who was waiting outside. The young boy rolled his eyes, and looked at the shelves of ingredients. He, or rather, his mother was running low on some special spices. He decided to go out, and gather them, that night. Naranek ( elven for child of hope) plucked a small Fire Lilly, and placed it gently in his pouch. He looked up, suddenly, feeling something was wrong. His pointed ears pricked, trying to hear. His almond shaped eyes scanned the forest, then it came to him . . .the village. Smoke rose up in the air, and he heard the alarm go up. His home was under attack! He started for the village, quickly. Hiding behind a bush, he saw Creatures, overrunning the village. The creatures matched his fathers description of Goblins. He heard the screams of his friends as the creatures swept through the village like a plague. As the alarm was answered by nearby villages, the air was soon filled with arrows, each striking a Goblin target. The Elven bows sung loudly, in defense of their wielders. He saw his father run out of his small house. Immediately, 5 Goblins jumped upon him, stabbing . . .laughing . . . His mother let out a scream, and ran to the pile of creatures, her hands glowing a fierce red. Many goblins died at her hands, before she was run through with a short sword. Tears ran down the half-elfs cheeks. He turned, and ran heavily, through the forest. He was running for his life, 7 Goblins chased after him, two wore robes, and the rest had armor. His legs burned with the strain, and he had no idea where he was running to, but still he ran. In the distance, he spotted lights . . .a city, perhaps. He now had a goal, and ran all the faster, his lithe body sprinting at its fastest. He felt a stab of pain at his back, and went rolling forward. He was looking into a starry sky, wondering how he had gotten on his back, when a putrid face was looking into his own. "Grik Talla!" One of the robed creatures came up, and said in a gutteral voice, "he wants gold, I would give it to him, if I were you." The Creature atop him ripped his pouches away, and tore them open. So many spices, and herbs . . . but not a single coin. The creature stood, and raised a large Battle axe, poised above Naraneks head . . .What a curious expression thought the boy, perhaps glee? The goblin dropped forward, and the boy rolled to the side. He saw a clothyard shaft sticking out of its back. The Goblins looked to this new threat, and the boy was up and running. Naranek stumbled through the Gate, bloody and bruised. His robes hung at his sides in tatters, and he wandered through the city, seeing only a haze of images. He walked through an archway, and saw a large temple. The feeling of hope entered him, and he walked into the temple. He soon stood before a statue that seemed to be looking into his soul. He lay down, and wept, for how long he had no idea. When he awoke, he found himself looking into eyes so beautiful, his breath caught in his throat. It seemed as though the statue had come to life, and stood above him, he knew he must be delusional. His wounds were healed, at least, his physical ones. He sat up, and looked around. He was alone, in the temple, but felt that this place was where he belonged. He felt as though he was not alone, and never would be again. Nathalie Class: ClericRace: Reni As I look up in the sky I notice that the sun is covered in dark clouds. At this sigh I sigh and thinks about birds in the sky, and the sun standing high shining down on my beloved city, Nexus. Is I am daydreaming a scribe approaches me. - Hello, My name is Delron, and I am a scribe.- Hello Delron, says I.- Are you Nathalie, the priestess and follower of Aalynor?- Yes I am.- Would you like to tell me your life story to me? He asks- Why would you want to know that? I reply- I want to write it down and put it in out library here in Nexus. Me having nothing else to do agrees to tell him the story, and we walks off to Tristas tavern. When we enter I order a meal, and sits down with the scribe at the other side of the table. - Want something to drink? I ask the scribe.- No please, I would just like to hear the story, he says and gets ready with the quill.- Ok, here we go, I say and starts: I was born in a village pretty far from Nexus. I had 2 older sisters and 1 older brother. My mother was a cleric also, although we did not call it cleric in out village. My father had just left us, just before my mother got pregnant with me. When I asked my mother where he had gone, I never got a straight reply, only lose answers. I was not very old, and did not think much of that. The years passed and we lived happy in out village. When I was about 50 I discovered that I had in some strange way, the ability to heal people, and my mother taught me one of the simplest spells she knew, namely Vigor. When I had learned that spell good, my mother started to take me with her when she healed persons. And there I learned about how to cure different sicknesses, infections, poison and other things. When I noticed that my mother had two ways of dealing with it I asked how she did it. - My daughter, she said, yet you are to young to learn these spells.- Ok, I said, and walked of to the patients a bit sad. Many more years passed and when I turned 100 there was a huge party to honor me, the daughter of the healer. There I found a boy, Elision, whom I fell in love with. Later that year we got married and I moved into his house. But then disaster struck out hometown. It was a later night, and me and Elision where cuddling in our bed when we heard a frightening battle cry, and suddenly a big thunderstorm came rolling over our town. Elision jumped out of out bed, took his staff, told me to stay inside and ran out. Of course I didn't do as he told me, and got dressed and ran out. I wish I had never done that. On the streets there were goblins running around, killing everything they saw. Then I heard a great noise, and I saw as the earth rose and trapped several goblins inside and then closed itself, trapping the goblins. Then I heard a familiar voice. When I turned around I saw Elision dressed in his robe, but there was something special about him now. The air around him was sparkling with raw power. He waved his hands in front of him, chanting and released lightning that struck down in the goblins. And next to him was an old man standing, with long white beard, and age was hard to tell. I had never seen the old man before, but if Elision's spells were hard, this old man's were even harder. Goblins melded as they had been consumed by inner fire, the ground started to shake under others shaking them to death. Great thunderbolts landed on other goblins. The fight continued for what for me felt like hours, but might only have been 5 minutes. Then suddenly the old man fell over, with a big arrow stuck in his back. Elision lost some of his concentration as he looked over at the old man and a goblin came up to him and raised his sword. I can remember myself yelling at my husband, but he did not have the time to avoid the blow that came at him. The sword from the goblin entered in his left shoulder and exited on the right side of his body, and my husband was cut in to pieces. I was stunned, but my mother came out and dragged me into a house, and showed me place where I could hide. I can say this, I was not in the mood to hide, but my mother forced me into it and told me to stay foot and be quiet. Then she left outside. Many hours later I started to smell smoke, and I started to have problem breathing, so I sneaked outside buy saw no goblin. What I saw was even worse. The whole town was putted on fire. I ran to my house, but the house was already full of flames. Then I turned my face to the place where my husband was killed, and saw him laying there, in to pieces. I walked over to his body and kneeled. Then I burst out in tears. I don't know for how long I cried, but it was early in the morning when I stood up and took a look around. Since we lived not far from the ocean, I grabbed my husband's body and dragged it to the shore. - Rest well my loved, I said and let the body float away in the water. I did not return to my hometown again, but set of following the beach a long way. Many days later, when I reached a small village, I was nearly exhausted from lack off food and totally heartbroken. An elven child saw me, and screamed for the guards to come. The guards came and helped me to get to a tavern, and the tavern owner gave me food and his wife helped me up to a room where I could sleep until I was better. I did not do much else then sleep, but it was long. When I finally woke up, I started to cry again. When I had stopped to cry I walked down the stairs and started to talk to the Tavern owner. He told me that this was the small fishing village named Rymek. He gave me a short story about the town. He told me about Nexus, the training Island Flacion, the hordes. I asked where I might find this island and the man showed me a sloop which I boarded. He took me to a fountain, where he loosed ma and said - This is where your training begins. If you want revenge on the goblins you must starts here. Learn, learn, and when you think you are full of knowledge, learn some more.I bowed before the man, and looked around. I wiped some tears of my chin, and then I looked at the scribe. - Is this enough?- Yes, he said, that was a touching story. I shrugged and stood up and walked out of the door. Ochoski Class: ClericRace: Drow Many people have told their story, their story of how they came to be. I wish to keep my story to myself, as I am not an open person. Yet, many people ask about my life. Here is the story of my life, to all those curious individuals. I am a drow, as many can see. I was born to parents unknown to me, deserted in a forest as a baby, to fend for myself. Fortunately, for me, I was found by an elderly human by the name of Reginald Ochoski. As I was nameless, I was given the name Ochoski, the last name of my caretaker. Reginald is a good man, a healer by trade. He taught me many things about life, healing and many other studies. He wanted to fill my mind with knowledge, so I can see the world as a whole. We lived in a cabin, isolated from most people. A few travellers dropped by occasionally, mostly the shopkeeper from the nearby village to deliver supplies. My daily activities included my chores, my studies and my training. Every morning we would milk or cow named Martha. Tend to our garden, where we grew our herbs and vegetables. We also worked on any other things that needed to be tended to in the forest. After lunch I would study mathematics, religion, history and many other studies. Reginald made sure that I would have a complete education. During the evening, I would train in the healing arts of herbalism. I learned ways to heal with herbs found in the forest and our garden. I also learned some basic combat skills. I did not understand at the time why I trained to fight, but I do now. I did this the majority of my life. I aged, and grew older, I became an adult and eventually, I grew tiresome and bored of my life. I achieved all that I could achieve under the guidance of Reginald. Reginald, most likely sensed this feeling in me and spoke to me about a place named Falcion. I do not believe I have to tell you the story of the purpose of Falcion, because chances are, you already know about Falcion or shortly will. He also told me this was the only place I could further my abilities. Obviously, I decided to come to Falcion to train. Reginald supplied me with some rations, some gold marks and a map to Falcion. The next morning I said my goodbye and set out on my journey to Falcion. Here is my life, they way I want it to be heard. Please do not ask for more information, this is all I am willing to share. Signed, Ochoski, the Drow. Orthae Class: ClericRace: Drow Tilnar’s Vein, home of the dark, and most fiendish of beings. Buried under thousands of tons of rock, these beings live in the depths of the mountains. Two rancorous houses ruled with a tyranny so violent that none speak their names free of fear. De’ramour, the house of malevolence and Bathoney, the house of the blade. Both equally ruthless and powerful, their blood feud has existed since the first great schism. The house of Bathoney was led by a succubus of a house matron. The deeds of Ell’ Saba Bathoney reflect well the cruel precepts of her following. Their house is located upon an island in an underground lake. This lake is circled by sheer rock walls except for a small inlet where the drow land there boats. From here they would have to trek for two days through rough trails between rock cliffs, water traps and sinkholes to reach the battle ground to siege the other house. Ell’ Saba was known as the felated whore, diva and temptress. One of her many "partners" was a drow known as Melange. He was a powerful sorcerer, possessing rare innate abilities to manipulate magic and bend it to his twisted whim. After three years of the matron’s favour and many bloody battles, a male was born of Ell’ Saba’s rotten womb. As an infant, he remained unnamed as he was born with an oddity. Alone amongst his brethren, this boy was born albino. His searing red eyes would randomly flash with spite and radiated the power his soul aura. Serving in the drow fashion, the boy labored daily to please the females of the house. As the young male matured, the matron fell to a great illness that no one within the house could heal. The house healers tried for days to no avail. Her death bed was set and she rested thereupon listening to the grim news of great wars lost as armies lacked her guidance. Without direction the young male went to his mother’s side. He whispered ancient words he had not previously known into her fevered ear. The magical words he spoke and soon after forgot. After this had been done Saba grew cold and warmed to perfect health. The boy was then named Orthae, which in the drow tongue of his house; skilled aid, or great healer. Unknown of his full powers the boy grew and continued to serve the lady heads under a hated watch from the male portion of the house. Orthae was tormented, ridiculed and harassed every hour because of the great favor shown him by the women, and having been born with such power. Upon the shores, Orthae stood and watched over the serenity of the water for sometime. Often he would do this, to escape for a moment the world he lived in. He would often wander up and down the shores, but on this occasion something life changing happened. He found upon the shores a small crystal. Not knowing exactly what it was he hid it in his uniform until he could further study it. That eve, he hid the rock within his room. After attempting to sleep he searched for the stone to examine it. This rush of excitement had never filled his heart before. Feeling the rock, it was almost mud like in texture; it also seemed to be squishy. Little did Orthae know that within his own quarters was another of his siblings, Denothnor, hidden, watching his every move. Once Orthae went soundly back to sleep, Denothnor slipped out of the room and began to walk down the halls. He came to an elder male’s dorm. Knocking upon the door he then related what he saw Orthae do. The elder seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then stormed out of his room. Particularly powerful was this elder male, a special method of torture he used. To bind pain, and cowards in a visual form to ones very soul. Opening his eyes, Orthae noticed someone standing over him. Words were beginning formed from this figures mouth, but nothing was making any sense, until the person produced the stone of which Orthae had coveted. Dragged from his place of slumber, the elder took the young one in front of the Matron of the house. She was awaken and brought out to her throne. Remaining silent, with his head bowed Orthae stood before her, knowing all to well what would become of this. "Why had you hoarded this item from your family boy?" spoke the Lady. Silence filled the air. "Speak boy, you know of the rules, you know you were commanded to bring anything found before the elders of our house. Speak!" the Old Man said. Orthae remained silent, this time raising his head to stare the lady in the eye. Lady Saba spoke "You disgrace me, you’ve done a great deed before, but now that is forgotten. You are no longer one welcomed in this house!" She spoke to the Elder in whispers for a moment. "Boy, for your treachery and show of Treason you are hereby to be tormented and marked for the rest of your days!" the Elder spoke with a grimacing yet sadistic smile on his face. The young drow continued to stare the Lady in the face, with his eyes flaring full of rage and hate, for he did not expect to live long after this. During his time in the lab of Unkom’lon many slaves had passed on giving in to the fierce torture. Scarred were his hands, to wound him from ever using them to cast spells. Marred was his face, so that no women could love him, and bound to his soul was an ever burning and toiling mist. The mist marked him as a traitor, so that if he were to hide, he’d be found, and killed. 20 years he spent in the torture labs until he was summoned before the lady. She looked upon him, broken, scarred, and marked for death. She showed pity then, in a rare moment of weakness for his behalf. "You may take your rock, we’ve studied it and it is nothing of worth!" she threw the stone at him. Orthae picked it up then he stared at her. "You’re still silent? Well we’ll see" she now turned to the guards, "Let him go ashore, see how he fares in the heat of battle with nothing but his silence to guard him!" snickering the guards did as they were told. Showing no concern Orthae followed in silence having no need of restraint. Ever staring at the stone, he stepped into a small boat that would bare him across to the main land. Both guards watched him carefully. Eyeing the Stone, Orthae fingered it carefully, detecting some hidden power within it. He summoned it up then, in a blinding fashion! The guards shielded there eyes, as the oarsmen jumped into the frigid waters. Urged with some dark power the device activated "The Gods Rescue Thee!" Lying naked and unconscious before the Altar of Twilight. Priests came to his aid. They clothed him in a dark garb. Orthae covered his eyes; the pain of the dim candle light seared him like nothing else. Remaining within the confines of his mind, he asked where he was. "Welcome to the Cathedral of Twilight" spoke the voice of a priest. Pious Class: ClericRace: Human As Pious was born in the Nexus, the historians have maintained his life story since his birth. Born out of wedlock to one of Madam Despana's Strumpets, his father unknown, Pious was abandoned at the door of the clerical sanctuary soon after birth. Unable to ignore the poor child's cry, the clerics took him in eventually becoming quite fond of the boy. They raised him to follow their profession, instilling in him a tremendous amount of piety. Pious learned at an early age that healers must devote themselves to their craft, for good healers were lifesavers in times of battle. As soon as he was old enough, the clerics began to take Pious along on adventures, teaching him to concentrate on healing the adventurers, and ignoring all else. At first Pious would attempt to join the fight,casting what few offensive spells he could, leaving the healing to others. However, he soon learned the errors of his ways. In a furious battle, his mentor was suddenly attacked, and badly wounded. The task of healing not only his teacher, but also all of the adventuring party, now fell upon Pious. Turning his attention to the most seriously injured, Pious began healing them. In his foolishness, he did not stop casting offensive spells on the enemy. As the battle wore on, his mentor, seriously wounded, screamed for help. Turning toward his beloved friend, Pious attempted to heal him, discovering too late that he had used all of his magic. Fearing for the life of his mentor, Pious forgot all else. He dragged his wounded friend out of harms way, and returned to the battle. The enemy was all but dead, and the adventurers were calling for a healer, so that they could finish the attack. Unable to use his magic abilities, all Pious could offer them was a few magical blue orbs, so that they could heal themselves. Finishing the battle without the help of a healer did not please the adventurers, and Pious could not hide his shame. Though the battle was eventually won, and none of the adventurers were killed, Pious knew he had failed in his duties. Picking up his friend, he carried him back to the clerical sanctuary, so that he could be cared for. He knew that excuses were pointless, and his shame was great. All of the clerics gathered around to hear what had happened, and Pious explained what had gone wrong. All of his "family" nodded their heads knowingly, and allowed Pious to continue his training. They explained that it would be some time before he was allowed to go on another adventure, as he needed to learn much about responsibility first. Time passed quickly for the devout cleric. He immersed himself in his studies, learning all of the healing spells he could. He never forgot the lessons of that day, and knew he had nearly cost several adventurers their lives. He spent his days wandering about the city, healing newcomers in their inevitable battles with criminals, madmen, and spies. He became known as a healer of great talent, though he had yet to accompany adventurers on another mission of importance and difficulty. Several years passed, and the goblins had begun to mass outside the gates of the city. Suddenly the call went out! A party was forming, as a white dragon, several giants, and battleslaves had been spotted just outside the east gates. All clerics that were available would be needed, and Pious was determined to redeem himself. The party formed in Aaylnor's Temple, and was soon marching toward the gate. There were many good clerics in attendance, and all prayed for a successful mission. Outside the gate, the first enemy the party came upon was a white dragon. The attack was quick, and the clerics kept everyone alive. The dragon soon fell, and the party was victorious, though just a little too sure of themselves. As they headed east, they ran into strong opposition. Rounding a bend, the party was ambushed by several fire giants and battleslaves. Changing tactics, they all focused their attention on one member of the party. Despite the best efforts of the clerics, Aragon was slain. His death shocked the party, and caused them great anger. They attacked with fury, and soon the entire enemy force lay slain. Pious performed his duties that day as best he could, the loss of Aragon saddened him, but he had tried his best. The sheer force of the attack had been too much to overcome. Back at the clerical sanctuary, his mentors explained that it was impossible to prevent all deaths in battle. In recognition of the fact that pious had learned his lessons well, it was decided that he would be allowed to join in future adventures. HISTORIAN'S NOTE: Pious continues to heal adventurers as of this writing, and still spends many days helping newcomers to our fair city make a name for themselves. His healing spells keep them alive as they fight the everyday enemies, which the skilled adventurers have no time for. Rapheous Class: ClericRace: Half-Elf Rapheous walks into the hallway of the Nexus Library, he pauses for a moment looking about, before spotting a scribe walking past with an armful of scrolls. Motioning the young man towards him, he simply says, "I've come to give the tale of my past." The scribe looks at him for a moment, then nods, "We are always pleased to hear of our heroes exploits." "Bah, I'm no hero, I just do my job." "Of course, of course, they all say that, well some anyway", the scribe responds, before directing Rapheous to a small room. The scribe briefly disappears, returning without the scrolls, but armed with quill, ink and paper. "Now, in your own words, and take your time", says the scribe as he sits down. "I was born in an elven village quite some distance from Nexus, the result of a human soldier taking advantage of a young elf maid." Rapheous grimaces slightly before carrying on, "It quickly became apparent that I was not of pure elven blood, and soon after my 5th birthday, mother and I were exiled from the village. After two days walking, we stumbled across an abandoned cottage, and for the next 10 years this became our home. Whilst life was hard we survived, and we were happy. Mother had an interest in herbs, and found all sorts of uses for them, from helping to heal cuts, to easing head pains and settling upset stomachs. As I grew up, she passed the knowledge on to me. One day, not long after my 15th birthday, I returned home from collecting herbs, to find the cottage a burnt out shell, mother dead inside. Holding her in my arms, I felt helpless, no herb in the world could save her now. I buried her in the shade of a large oak tree that grew nearby, tears obscuring my vision as I whispered a few words to say goodbye. Looking at the cottage again, I realised that the fire had been caused by someone or something of evil intent, and the helplessness welled up inside me once more. What would I do if they returned? Putting my hopes into a few leaves and grasses did not seem to be an option. With everything in the cottage destroyed, I simply walked away, with just the clothes on my back. I walked without purpose or direction for days, relying on my herb lore to keep me alive, eating the berries and grasses that I recognised as edible. I was amazed one morning when I found a road cutting across the countryside in a north/south direction. Shrugging my shoulders, figuring one way was a good as another I headed south, thinking that at least the road must lead somewhere. That somewhere turned out to be a village called Rymek, which stank of fish, and there were people everywhere! I stared, wide eyed with amazement, seeing people of all shapes and sizes walk past me, going about their business. I kept walking through the village and the smell of fish got stronger and stronger, and then my vision was filled with the sea. I must have been starting at it for quite a while, when a voice brought me back to my senses asking, "Well, ye been staring at that bit o' water fer an hour or more, so ye obviously want to cross over to Falcion, so come on board laddie, and hurry up as I haven't got all day." Blinking I nodded absently to the man who had spoken, and walked onto the floating thing, wondering what it was that mother had said they were called. Made of wood, the thing was packed with people, all seemingly headed to this place called Falcion. Things seemed to happen very quickly when more land suddenly appeared out of the mist that had surrounded us. Everyone got off, and we soon found ourselves waiting to walk through some tall gates. I waited in line, having got nothing better to do, trying to attract as little attention as possible. Eventually I was at the front of the line, and a rough looking, short man with a large red beard asked, "What do you want to be then eh?" "Be? I don't know what you mean", I responded. "Another with no clue as to what he's doing eh? What are you good at then? Anything?" "Herbs are all I know", I simply replied. "Herbs..alright, how's about trying out as a cleric? What do ya think? Yes of course, cleric it is". With that he propelled me through the gates, before turning back to the line of people behind me and shouting, "Next!" The scribe looks up, waiting to see it there is any more, then puts his quill down. "An interesting tale sir, but might I ask one question?" Blinking, his thoughts seemingly still in the past, Rapheous nods. "Well, and pardon me for intruding, but I can see how you became a cleric and all, but..", he pauses and then glances meaningfully at the shackle on Rapheous" finger. "Oh, your wondering how I decided I wanted to became a follower of Mistress Paelina? My training as a cleric quickly made me realise that magic was a far more powerful force than using simple herbs, and that the healing that could be accomplished was often nothing short of miraculous. Having decided that becoming a cleric was the right choice for me, I focused on my training, determined to save as many from death as possible. My decision on faith was one that I did not make lightly nor quickly, based on researching the ideals of those followers I could speak to." The cleric pauses, glancing at the scribe," Perhaps we should leave the reason why I chose the religious path that I did for another time." The scribe sighs and then nods, "Very well. Thank you for your time. Hopefully the next time will not be too far away." Rapheous smiles and nods, "Thank you for listening. May Honor guide your actions." With that Rapheous bows and walks off. Soh Class: ClericRace: Human To know the story of Soh, (or as he is properly known Pachelbel-Soh) one must first know the story of his father, Pachelbel-Vivaldi. When Vivaldi was just a boy living in the northern plains town of Travato, his people were hit by the ferocious eastern plague. Everyone in Travato and the surrounding region perished, except the little Vivaldi. In later years, when he thought about it, he assumed he'd been protected from the virus by divine providence. During the outbreak of the plague, his innocent life force must have won favor with the then tortured mind of Tilnar. He could think of no other reason. Orphaned in a deserted land, Vivaldi had no where to turn and no one to help him. Tearfully he buried the remains of his family and placed grave markers in their remembrance. Standing on his village's high ground, Vivaldi breathed deeply and absorbed the decimated scene. He tightened the straps on his bulging backpack and headed toward an unknown future. Packing as many supplies as his small shoulders could bear, he went out into the dark wilderness. Vivaldi matured much on his long lonesome journey. Through the blessings of Tilnar, he began to develop a sixth sense of nature, a familiarity with the healing arts. In his travels he learned the secrets of how to resist poisons and diseases. Using natural herbs for healing and nourishment became an everyday activity which he soon grew proficient in. One late night, while dosing by a small fire, an extraordinary event occurred which forever embedded itself in to Vivaldi's memory. When sleep had nearly overtaken him, he was troubled as the moon slowly began to turn color, swirling black and blood red. Standing up tall trying to gather his senses, he rubbed his eyes. "This can't be happening," he thought to himself as the twilight sky turned deep violet. Suddenly the small fire which Vivaldi had burning began to grow in intensity rapidly. Magical energy crackled loudly causing Vivaldi jump back in alarm, the flames grew to the towering height of the mighty oaks around him. He hid in fear and awe as a midnight black shape rose from the flames casting an eerie silhouette against the changed moon. "A gryphon?" he asked himself, having been daydreaming that very day of them. "How could that be?" An enchanting moan howled from within the flames causing the earth itself to rumble. A divine darkfire consumed and blessed Vivaldi, placing him into a deep sleep. Awaking what seemed days later, he recalled the wonders which had happened to him at his small fire. Vivaldi had learned much about the Lord of Death and his symbols during the plague. Many of Vivaldi's fellow villagers had vainly sacrificed their children in bizarre rituals to appease Tilnar; better they thought then letting them endure the awful plague. Prayer became part of Vivaldi's daily routine in order to calm his fear and awe brought by the power and twisted madness of Tilnar. After surviving on his own in the wilderness for nearly four years, Vivaldi came upon a hidden valley deep within the northern Crystal Mountains. Between the sheer rock faces rested a peaceful village of the name Toffle. The elders welcomed Vivaldi with open arms and he quickly gained the reputation of resident medicine man. Surrounded by bountiful soils and fatted calves, he gained a tremendous amount of weight within his first few years out of the wilderness. His belly size came to symbolize his triumph over past hardships, and wisdom as a healer. His body as well as his daily prayers began to change after settling in Toffle. While he used to pray out of fear, he now prayed out of devotion. His prowess with healing herbs was used to cure the sick, and his prayers to a true deity gave him supernatural insight into many things. As young men do, Vivaldi eventually came to take a wife. Customarily taking her husband's name she became formally known as Pachelbela-Mia. Mia was a well-learned and well-bred woman who became the light of Vivaldi's life. However, she was uninterested in his religion, the thought of praying to the Lord of Death frankly scared her. Mia and Vivaldi's years were many and they were well advanced in age when they gave birth to a giggly fat baby, named Soh. From an early age, Vivaldi tutored Soh in the ways of the healing arts and the beliefs he held. As young as the age of eight, the townsfolk of Toffle began consulting Soh for healing knowledge and prophecies. He enjoyed his responsibilities and his legacy, which he was responsible for carrying on. His knowledge and belly began to grow in size, mimicking the appearance of his father. Entering the sunset of his life, Vivaldi shied away from the everyday needs of the townspeople, leaving Soh as replacement medicine man. Thanks to his father's teachings, Soh's abilities blossomed and his reputation helped make a name for Toffle in the surrounding region, which ultimately served to be its downfall. The strategic location of Toffle eventually caught the attention of high ranking goblin officials located in the east, because of the famed rotund medicine man. From scouting reports, they gleaned that it would be the optimal command post for their northern army because of its hidden valley and strategic defensive position. It was Soh's 13th birthday when the goblins decided to make their move. The townsfolk of Toffle were going about their daily business when goblin warlords created a giant rockslide, brutally smashing two thirds of the people and their homes. The initial rumbling caused Soh to jump to his feet alertly and rush his aging parents to the cellar. From inside the moist earth they heard the bloodcurdling screams of crushed villagers. Soh cursed himself, knowing that they been attacked only because his notoriety had spread the word of his hidden town. Leaving through a secret tunnel way, Soh led his terrified mother and father to a secluded home in the Eldane Forest, where they reside to this day. Vivaldi's faith in his God and his son continue to remain unwavering. Soh chose a life in Nexus so that he would never again bring atrocities to those around him, and so that he may one day seek retribution upon his Goblin enemies. When arriving in Nexus, his life force instinctively sought out Tilnar's famed church. His father's and his path continue to follow the guide of Lord Tilnar. On occasion, Soh travels to his parent's cottage where they greet him with warm butterbread and warm hearts. Summerlinn Class: ClericRace: Sprite "Sprite arrive, and bring excitement."One moment Summerlinn was practicing her flying, frowning intently as she beat her wings vigorously off-rhythm, the next she was in a dark cave, surrounded by looming, ugly monsters. Momentarily night-blind after the sun-dappled green afternoon she'd just been in, the huge shadows around her seemed horrible and threatening. She screamed and flew straight into a wall. "Thy energies return!"Their faces were no less hideous when they hovered less than a foot away from her own. Dark faces, dark eyes, and monstrous tusks jutting out of hard mouths. She squirmed frantically to get away, but only managed to get dust all over herself. A horrible rumbling noise came from one of them, then spread to the others. They bared their vicious teeth at her, and after a moment of frozen fear, she realized that they were smiling and... laughing. She forced herself to smile back tentatively, hoping to keep them laughing. One of them rumbled to another in a thick, snarly accent, "See, she's alright." Then, en masse, the lot of them left the cave, leaving her alone in the dark. She stood up groggily and fanned the dirt off her wings, feeling horribly alone in the cavernous darkness. They charged back into the cave in such a fierce rush that she cowered, hoping she would not be crushed. There was a moment of silence. When she looked up, the monsters all had strange expressions on their faces that she couldn't interpret. One of them finally said hesitantly, "Why is she still here?" Well, if they wanted to get rid of her, she'd be glad to oblige. She searched her land-sense for home... and there was nothing there. She searched again, looking for that line of green welcome that always rested with cool comfort in the back of her mind, no matter how far she'd gone exploring. It wasn't there - this land was barren. She closed off awareness of the confused murmurs around her, focusing on her search. Yes, there was life here. Shy, hesitant clumps of life that clung tenuously to the sparse earth or huddled furtively in the shelter of cracked rocks. But none of it pointed her way home. She felt faint. What fearful place had she come to, that she could not find her way back home? When would she see her mother, her father again? Would they be able to find her in such bleakness? She opened her eyes as wide as she could, trying to hold in the tears. Even so, tiny sprite tears spilled down her cheeks. At some point she had crouched down, hugging her knees to her chest. Now she pressed her forehead to her knees and tried to stifle the sobs that racked her body. Something brushed against her back gently and oh so carefully, not even crumpling her limp wings. She wiped her eyes hard with the heels of her palms and looked up. One of them was smiling at her, extending a huge calloused hand. The smile looked odd. Summerlinn realized it was because this friendly stranger was trying to cover its tusks with its upper lip, perhaps to seem less intimidating. This surprised her enough to attempt a sniffly smile. The stranger shuffled a little closer, hunched in an uncomfortable- looking position to get down to Summerlinn's level. It rumbled, "Don't be afraid. You can live with me until we can find your home. I have a little girl, Danika,, who I think will like you very much. Maybe you will like her, too?" Tentatively, ready to snatch her hand back instantly, Summerlinn laid it into the hugely gnarled one. The stranger didn't even close that massive hand, but just lifted up. Almost magically, Summerlinn followed it up into the air, suspended from the hand, wings limp with wonder. Taringail Class: ClericRace: Elf (Taringail cleans the paperwork from his desk and lays his journal before him. He tips a waxed feather with ink and begins writing in fine elven penmanship.) Panur, Prairiefire 14th, 1347 WE/IY 958. It is not often that I address matters of my history upon the pages of this journal. To be an elf with honesty, I rarely think of my own past. It is now that I will terminate this shadow and devote my ink to remembrance. My memories of the settlement, Voronwerea, are scattered and confused. Whenever I attempt to map the geography of the area, it is only my home that I remember. High in the oaks of the this nameless forest sat the house in which I was raised. I remember the lack of pleasantries and decorations. Everything was made of wood - the furniture, the dinner plates... everything. My father, a faithful Amandil of the Daer’lin Goddess Pandora, was strict in his parenting. I remember he would awaken my mother and I everyday before sunrise for worship. He would have us all kneel on the front porch to watch the rising of the sun. The height of our home allowed the most breathtaking of views. Writing this, I feel chills throughout my body. It was such a wonderful sight. I remember we would chant, over and over, "Today is the Day of Hope. Today is the Day of Hope". I embraced Hope. At even my young age, the beauty of Hope was known to my soul. Tears of joy lined my eyes those mornings on the porch. Hope is the fire in us all. After worship, my mother would begin her work about the house and my father would walk me to church. It was there that I was educated. My father always insisted on my education. Even on Dilur, Aalur, and Tilur he had my eyes attending a book. I never realized it, but my father never taught me of the world outside of Voronwerea. He kept me ignorant of Altin’s realities. I know now he was tailoring me to one day take his place and run the settlements only church. With his harsh molding of my character, I no doubt would have done a fine job. The hand that created my innocence also destroyed it. I can remember the evening clearly. My mother had supper set, my father was in his room to change out of his robes. My mother and I were standing next to our dining chairs, awaiting my father to enter so we may sit and begin prayer. When my father entered, my mothers face paled. In his clenched fists was a piece of paper. "How dare you," he yelled, "Selling Pandora’s Gift for money! Money! You are the foul wench of Sin and Lie!" I remember the look in his eyes when he became too angry to speak. I remember blood and tears mixing on the floor while my mother was beaten. I was so confused, so lost. I knew only that I could run from this nightmare. And I did. I ran all night and all morning - my back to the rising sun. For many years I wandered from town to town. Drunk was I every night. I gambled, I stole, I committed the Sins my father insisted I fear. I was a lost soul.. I had no direction, no purpose, no Hope. All who tried to befriend me I cast away. All those who showed me love saw only my back in return. It was the lowest point of my life. When the Goblin force was no longer avoidable, I followed the masses into Nexus for refuge. I remember I was seeking shelter from a storm the eve Trelek found me. To this day, I am amazed he recognized the son of one of his pupils. He picked me up and brought me to the Temple of Hope, where he immediately began destroying the masks I had created over my years of despair. Trelek is very important to me. Without him, I would have never found myself and my Faith. He showed me I am capable of accomplishing anything. He returned to me the great Hope I had once felt on a porch high in the oak trees. Perhaps one day I will try to locate Voronwerea, or perhaps one day it will reveal itself to me. Whichever the case, I will never return to the despair I once had. To Pandora and Her Church, to my family, to my friends, I now dedicate my life. Faith in another begins with Faith in ones self. Tiras Class: ClericRace: Human Autobiographical HistoryTiras D'Borhannia - Priest of Paelina, Protector of Nexus. My story, in my own opinion, is not one to make the history books, nor one to strike awe into the minds of its readers, but as it has been requested, so shall I provide. I was born into a wealthy Highborn house in the City of All Races, Nexus by name. I was raised in the life of a noble, learning their ways and preparing to one day take over my father's holdings. Mine was a life filled with comfort, with many servants to do the minor housekeeping labor, thus leaving me to learn the art of politics and intrigue that makes up the game that nobles play to increase their assets. Needless to say, my way of life did not lend itself to battle experience, and I was in fact so sheltered from the outside world that I was under the false impression that battle was something that only occurred in stories and such that were read to children. Because of this, my first encounter with such things was quite a traumatic experience to say the least. I recall a sunny day.... I had left my parents home to simply stroll the streets. Where I was planning to go I do not recall, only that there was a commotion about the entire city with men and women hurrying from one gate to another. Stepping to one side of the street to avoid being trampled while I watched, I quietly took note of the party before me. Some wore heavy sets of armor, while others walking cautiously behind simply wore robes and carried ornately engraved books, while still others blended into the shadows as they walked so that they were almost lost to the eye even as I looked directly at them. After a moment of quick discussion one of the larger members of the party called an order and the others fell easily into formation as they hurried off toward the eastern gate. Frowning to myself with my curiosity peaked, I followed along behind to discover what the commotion was about. What I saw would change my life forever... As I slipped outside the gate I could only stare in horror at the scene before me. Blood splattered the ground thick enough to be stand in the soaked soil. Foul creatures attacked with cunning, and valiant warriors, powerful magi, and priests dressed in white robes assisted. The blood was terrible.. Arms were rent from sockets, knees shattered, swords ran through armor like a knife through butter. Unable to bear the scene any longer I left into the gates once again heading for my home.. running the whole way.. The months that followed were haunted by nightmares of death and gore. I could not look at even a servant in my own hold without seeing him in my mind's eye being torn limb from limb. After a time my own anger began to grow. I had been held, protected against the truth of the city in which I was living. I was gaining from the blood, sweat, and tears of those fighting for my freedom, and I was in turn giving nothing back in return. There was no honor in the life that I lived. I had a duty to this city to protect it with my life as so many had before me. It was at this time that I visited the city of Falcion for the first time. Trainers there worked with me day and night to help me determine how I could best be used in the defense. The ways of battle came quickly to me. I was a hard worker, and even though I received no joy from the killing, the necessity in weapon use was clearly evident. Due to my smaller build, the life of a warrior was obviously not the path to take. Instead, my abilities quickly grew in the arts of healing. The reason for my affinity toward this art was not immediately apparent, but my trainers surmised that it could be that my dislike for killing may be dissuaded somewhat if I were able to heal as well. Whatever the reasoning for my ability, my life as a cleric began and such has it been to this day. At this time I am currently a proud follower of Lady Paelina and I strive to act in an honorable manner in all that I do. Tyran Class: ClericRace: Human As chronicled by Christados of Lebo, "The Chronicles of the Krieger Empire" ..........had it not been for Artix's personal request that Tyran, an old reni cleric among humans, accompany what the Khan had said in their private conversations to be a "testosterone based group of over zealous Krieger who suffered from invulnerability syndrome", he would have walked from the room on the very mention of the histories relating to Drakath and his vampire minions. This vehement fear of the undead which made "Preacher" Tyran so irrational stemmed from back when Tyran was a child, before he had even envisioned himself as a servant of Krieger. Long before a freak mistake of identity took him from his true love and his friends, to a realm called Nexus. He had been different back then, been unafraid. He had laughed along with a group of his other reni friends when one of the younger children had dared another to enter the forest bordering the small village he had grown up in. Located on the brink of Lidrak Ka-lith, the village was home to small reni families who made their living on hunting and trapping business the forest animals of the region could provide. Since before he could remember, the elder folk of the village had told stories and legends about the mysterious powers of the forest, claiming it to be haunted by spirits of dead warriors who had died in wars long past. Tyran had never seen anything which might support these tall tales and he had often laughed when the other children told him spooky stories in the attempt to frighten him. Other children were not as brave as he however, and it was in light of this that he had smiled and leaned back against a willow tree as his friends dared one of their own to enter the woods and bring back the bark of the spruce trees which were known to grow inside it's confines. The child was one year younger than Tyran's age of ten but nearly as tall. He laughed back nervously at his friends, accepted the bet and started towards the edge of trees as the late afternoon sun began to set behind them. He stopped suddenly when a little girl shouted out in a taunt. "Remember, moonlit night... spooks delight!" She quoted, pointing up at the rising moon as it began its nightly climb into the top of the sky. The pressured boy stopped but did not look back and Tyran could remember seeing his shoulders rise and fall, as if he were looking for the courage that a deep breath could offer. The boy entered the forest cautiously, looking back one final time at his friends who sat there watching him. Then with a sigh, he plunged into its depths. He had been gone for over an hour when most of the children either had gotten bored with waiting or were called home by parents. Tyran had remained, however. Worried that his friend may have gotten lost and feeling partly guilty for allowing the dare to occur, he decided to peek into the woods and search. The evergreens, which sheltered the inner forest, were hard to circumvent without climbing and catching his leggings on several thorn bushes which surrounded them, but after he had braved a few cuts and scratches he managed to break it's borders. The forest was silent and cold and there was no light except the pale moonbeams which; managed to penetrate the frightening canopy above, dancing in and out of the shadows their absence caused. He was about to call for his friend but hesitated, worried more about what attention he might draw to himself. He didn't believe in the ghosts, but he was worried about more realistic monsters like bears or wolves. Doing his best to silently step through the underbrush, he lost track of the time he had spent looking. It had been at least an hour, that much he was sure of, when he recalled stepping around a large spruce tree and into a clearing, bringing him into contact with the nightmare vision which he would remember for the rest of his life. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he could make out a shadow bent over on the other side of the clearing. As it became clearer, he drew a deep breath in terror. The pale moonlight reflected off a body; which had been horribly mutilated beyond recognition, so much in fact, that the only way Tyran knew it had been his friend was because, at his feet was one of the boy's sandals, bent and cracked. As he crouched silently and picked up the shoe, he realized the ghoulish form over the boy's carcass was feeding on it. He fell back in a sudden onslaught of nausea and terror, slipping on some moss and crashing in leaves. The ghoul stood up instantly and turned to Tyran with rotting eyes full of hunger. With amazing speed, the creature bounded towards him with glowing yellow claws outstretched. It had bridged the distance between them in a matter of seconds and Tyran raised his hands over his head in panic, staring with panic into the eyes of his attacker. As he waited in horror for the beast to rip his flesh to shreds, there was a massive flash of bright white light blinding him instantly. An agonizing screech from the creature caused him to cover his ears in fright to shut out the noise and he found himself joining in with a scream of his own. As his lungs propelled the last of the air from his body, he opened his eyes to see the thing crumpled at his feet. In a panic, he turned and bolted, reaching the edge of the clearing before coming to a stop. He slowly looked over his shoulder seeing that the ghoul had remained unmoving where it fell. Through the scarce light he approached it, ignoring the scream of warning his mind continued to pound him with. When he reached the thing, he placed his foot on it's shoulder and shoved it slightly. To his amazement, the form crumpled into nothing but a pile of dust which a small breeze had already begun to scatter. Confused and terrified at the events, he turned and fled from the woods. The next day hunters from the village had followed Tyran in the safety of the sunlight and collected his friends body for burial. Tyran had related his story to the priest in the village who had listened with intense interest, particularly when it came to the part on the destruction of the ghoul. According to the priest, the ten year old Tyran had managed to destroy the undead creature in a way similar to that done by the highest clerics in the church's order. The trauma of the event combined with the release of such power had left the young boy's eyes devoid of pupils, a phenomena which the priest had mentioned he had seen only once before. Besides the unique eyes which were noticed everywhere he went, Tyran was haunted by dreams of the occurrence continuously, both when sleeping and when awake. * * * * * * * * * * "C'mon, Tyran." The voice came from Thrawn and snapped the cleric out of his daydream as he realized he had been left behind and in the dark as the others squeezed through the opening. He could see the torch light beyond the collapsed rock, flickering as whispers of conversation reached his ears. He slipped inside the crevice................. Velshari Class: ClericRace: Human The history of Velshari is actually a very unremarkable one. He was born on a small farm, only a short ride from the famed city of Nexus. Velshari managed to excel in all that he tried, despite a crippled leg at birth, due to hard work and determination. Always greeting visitors with a warm crooked smile, he became known for his abilities with medicine and healing. As the war with the goblins began to draw nearer to the farm, weary travelers would appear at their doorstep looking to have their stomachs filled and their wounds tended. It was during one of these instances that a certain priest came upon the farm with one of the hunting parties. The priest, Darshantis by name, saw the boy and was extremely impressed with his natural talents and decided to stay on at the farm. For a time, perhaps three months.. maybe four, the kind priest trained the boy in the ways of healing. Several months passed after Darshantis' leaving and the battle continued to rage closer. Velshari's parents finally decided that it was the time to collect all of their precious belongings and move inside the protective walls of the city. Velshari, already forced to leave his home, made it known to his family his desire to move on to Falcion to continue his training as a cleric. Upon reaching Falcion, Velshari worked hard and after many long months attained the Priesthood status. Fighting along side the heroes and overcomming his disability with enough success that many failed to even notice it, he worked up in the ranks and began to strive for other things in addition to his training. The first of his loyalties fell to his chosen deity, Andaras. Velshari had spent countless hours at the farm humming melodies to himself as he worked, and drawing small pictures in the sand as he would sit at the river admiring a sunset. Because of this love for art and beauty he could do nothing but strive to bring it to touch everyone's lives. Another drive that pushed the young man would be his endless quest for knowledge. After meeting and speaking to Derwyn, Guildmaster of the Guild of Knowledge, Velshari joined the group, and as always before in his life he excelled, soon becoming one of the Head Trainers for the guild. Presently Velshari works to become High Priest in his church and hopes one day to become one of the chosen followers of Andaras. His crooked smile and sometimes sarcastic remarks brighten the day of many a weary traveler. Verdis Class: ClericRace: Gnome Gnomes are known to be inventive, and Verdis's father certainly was. He was a typical gnomish engineer, constantly designing and testing the most strange looking devides for purposes that he never fully explained to anyone. Or maybe he couldn't, given that he never quite knew what he was going for. The only atypical thing about him was that some of his contraptions actually worked. Verdis' mother, a merry woman with a gift of great ale making, was so impressed by this that she asked him to marry her, contrary to the custom of men asking women to marry. One of his successful inventions was an invisibility device. Inexplicably, the device captured the magical forces and cloaked items attached to its 'outlet.' It worked very well - in fact, it worked too well that he could not find the prototype machine ever again when he mistakenly turned on the machine with the outlet attached to itself. He was delighted, then was concerned. What if this invention fell into the wrong hands? Less battle-like than dwarfs and less nimble than hobbits, gnomish people were already devastated by the invading goblins. It was unquestionable that soon the horde will show up at this small village, and they may take the device! But he loved his contraptions too much to destroy them. He decided to take the invention, leave the village, and, making the most of the invis device, hide out in the woods with his family. Hiding the whole village was impossible, but maybe he can hide a small cottage and its yard. When they left the village, the villagers could hear loud creaking noises of a wagon pulling heavy loads, but could see no wagon in sight. Verdis doesn't remember the old village. She was still a suckling when the family left. She grew up lacking nothing, with loving parents in a house and a lovely yard hidden from the world. Her father eventually devised a partial neutralizer of the 'cloaker' so that if she wandered outside the cloaked area, she could still find her house. But he admonished her not to wander much. She didn't mind. She wasn't adventurous, and was quite content to stay close to the comfort of home. Every night, her mother would pray to the goddess Trista, thanking her for the good fortune and the wonderful ale she allowed to brew. If Verdis got sick, which wasn't rare, her mother would feed her the smoothest gnomish ale, saying a little prayer to Trista. Verdis loved the soothing and blissful feeling prayers brought within her, and would soon start praying together with her mother. All of this protected happiness ended one day unexpectedly. Verdis was about twelve, a kind, precocious child with a quick mind but with no athletic abilities. Short even for a gnome, she had hair of warm brown shade and dark brown eyes that twinkled out of her round face. She was clumsy, stumbling occasionally just by walking. She was cautious, never venturing far from home. One afternoon, she walked down the familiar path to a flower patch, the 'neutralizer' hanging from her neck and a goatskin filled with her mother's nourishing ale slung across her shoulder. The woods were strangely quiet. Verdis thought she heard a wimpering sound. Peering through the undergrowth, she saw a fawn trembling. "Shhhh, it's all right," she said as she reached to the fawn. Just then, its eyes grew wide with fear, and it sprang up, trying to run away. A second later, with a deadly swooshing sound, a handaxe flew over Verdis' head and struck the fawn dead. Filled with horror, Verdis spun around to run, only to fall flat on her face. Scrambling to her feet, she found herself staring right into a blood-stained armor. She looked up trembling, and her fear-filled eyes met evil, leering eyes set in a strange, twisted face of a ... "person." It took her no time to realize this was a goblin she had read about. Every strand of hair stood on her body, and she ran away screaming a thin scream. She hadn't gone too far before she realized with relief that the goblin was not chasing her. She stopped and looked back. Through the trees she saw the goblin scout still standing in the same spot, fiddling with something in his hands. The 'neutralizer!' She must have dropped it when she fell, and now the goblin had it! Her eyes filled with tears. Without the 'neutralizer,' she wouldn't be able to find and get into the house. Then a horrifying thought struck her. The goblin would be able to see her house!! And he'll kill her parents! She had to do something! Without thinking, she grabbed a stone and threw at the goblin, yelling "here, here!" Verdis immediately regretted her action, as the scout turned and started toward her. She threw another stone, now trying to chase him away. "Go away! Leave us alone!" The scout leered, delighted to have found another toy to torment. That fawn died too easily. This gnome might be more entertaining, he thought. Verdis ran as fast as she could now, which wasn't very fast. The scout shot a couple of arrows, but thanks to her small size, they zipped right by her. Or was he just enjoying her fear? Running out of her breath, she tried to hide by jumping into the bush; unexpectedly, she found herself tumbling down a slope. All scratched and bruised, Verdis lay hidden. She was lost and weary. She'd lost the neutralizer. Her parents and the lovely home was in danger. What should she do? Then she noticed that she still had the goatskin. Saying a prayer to Trista, she took a little sip. Instead of making her feel better, the ale made her miss the warm, safe home so badly that she started to cry. A shadow stepped in. She heard a resonant voice chant, "Thy energies return!" and her tiredness magically disappeared. Looking up, she saw a pleasant face of a tall stranger. This looks like a... human! The human made motion to keep quiet and follow him. Instinctively trusting him, Verdis followed the stranger deeper into the woods. Out of immediate danger, the human coaxed out of her what had happened. He seemed thoughtful. As the evening fell, he told her she should come with him for now, and led her to an encampment. Verdis gasped as she stepped into the small clearing lit by torches and magical light; many different races, from tiny sprites to half-giants, were there, atmosphere tense with an anticipation of a battle. The human went to an important looking mage (she must be an elf, Verdis thought) and seemed to be talking about Verdis. The mage nodded and announced to the defenders that a goblin scout got hold of an interesting item, and now there was no chance that the band of goblins they spotted would pull back. We must attack now before more goblins show up, she said. Immediately the warriors prepared for the battle. Battlecries rising, the defenders rushed into the woods to destroy the goblins. Verdis shook in fear. She heard in the distance clashing of swords, and magic-filled air made her skin prickle. She smelled blood. She cowered and hugged herself and sobbed. Please, I want to go home! She desparately prayed to Trista. She didn't know how long she stayed like that, when the wounded started coming back into the camp. Those with enough energy cast healing spells and went back into the battle. Some were too tired and just lay there, bleeding or poisoned. A tall elf with blue skin and red eyes in a clerical robe would run back and help those badly hurt, before going back into the melee, to be on hand to heal the warriors. The casualty mounted. The dark elf looked harried and tired. He noticed Verdis standing and yelled at her: "Don't just stand there, come here and help me!" Snapping out of her state of shock, Verdis ran to the cleric's side and tried to help tend the wounded. Not knowing any healing magic, she did the only thing she knew; she fed a warrior her mother's ale, as she prayed for Trista's help and mercy. The wounded orc smiled at Verdis. "That was the best ale I've ever tasted," he muttered. Verdis did what she could assisting the cleric, bandaging and helping the wounded for what seemed like an eternity. Then finally, the battle was over and the weary defenders came back to the camp, happy that no one died and the goblins were decimated. The cleric, finding a little break, apologized to Verdis for snapping at her. "I"m sorry, little gnome, I know you know nothing about the battle and nothing about healing. But I needed every little help I could use. There aren't enough clerics as we need." Just then, the human who helped Verdis in the woods stepped up. "Is this what you lost?" He was holding the 'neutralizer.' Verdis jumped with joy. "Yes!" He handed her the gadget. Verdis's heart sank. The neutralizer was slashed neatly in half. She let out a sigh, which trembled into sobbing. She'll probably never be able to go home now. A kindly hand fell on her shoulder. Verdis didn't look up. A voice said, "you can come with us back to Nexus. We'll think of a way to get you home." The cleric lifted her chin gently. "Little gnome, would you like to come with me and stay in the clerical temple? You seem to have the aptitude for healing, and your parents taught you well to be pious. If you wish, I will teach you the art of healing." Verdis was quiet now. Something told her that her life just started, away from her safe home, from her parents. She thought of them and how they must be worried. Her heart ached. But then, she realized that her parents were safe, if only for now. She wiped her tears. "Please take me to Nexus." She seemed to suddenly mature a year or two as she curtsied formally to the defenders. "I am called Verdis. Please take me as your student so that I may be of help some day soon: I want to be a healer." Zharina Class: ClericRace: Reni I was on my way back to my home village, not so long ago. The healer there had taken sick and they were unable to heal him. They lived far to the west of Nexus and their isolation had cut them off from most outside help. My mother had sent word to me and I dropped everything to go help. While I made the journey, I thought often of the family I had left 10 years previous and my heart fluttered at the thought of seeing them again. Upon my arrival, I rushed to the healer's home to diagnose him. He was afflicted with a slow-acting poison that had taken him to death's door. Because of my many experiences in Nexus, it was simple to make an antidote and bring him back to health. Shortly after, I made the trip to my family's cottage across the village. My heart pounded and my breaths came quick. As I walked to the porch I could smell my mother's scented candles burning and I was overcome with a rush of childhood memories... helping my mother at her chandlery...my always-smiling, but rarely-present merchant father...my innocent baby sister... I found myself staring at the front door. I gathered myself together and knocked. All my composure left me when I saw who answered my knock. I gaped at a mirror image of myself! "Krenna?" "Zharina!" I hugged my sister tightly. She was so much taller! "I can't believe how much you've changed!" "You should talk." She smiled playfully at me. "Please come in." As I stepped in, I heard a voice from the kitchen, "Who is it dear?" "It's Zharina!" my sister yelled back. The house was just as I remembered it. A sense of well-being filled me. My mother hurried in and we embraced. As I looked at them, it struck me that we looked like three versions of the same person. "I'm working at my candles, you can help Kren mix herbs for the scents." That was my mother in a nutshell, never idle and always efficient. "Is dad around?" I asked. "Sorry dear, you missed him by a couple weeks." The three of us talked and made candles late into the evening. Finally I retired to my sister's room. Mine had been converted into a storeroom. My mother didn't even waste space. Krenna told me of her desire to become a scribe and asked me to tell her my reason for leaving. "It was a difficult decision, but it was something I had to do. Mother always said I acted more like dad, though I look like her. I've always remembered dad's stories of far-off places and finally I decided I had to see what was out there for myself or forever dream of what I did not have..." "So where have you been all this time?" She asked. "In the far east, I've found a great city where all the races of the realms dwell. They are constantly at war to defend the city from the goblin hoardes.." "The what?" I sighed. "I forget how secluded our village is. The goblins are a twisted race, in body and soul, and seek to destroy or control everything." A look of horror passed over my sister's face. "Heroes and heroines have journeyed from across the lands to protect this great city. I myself have taken a vow to aid them in any way I can. That is why I became a healer." She fixed me with her eyes. "Will you take me there?" At first I was going to refuse, but the look in her eyes showed that she would not be dissuaded. And it would be better if she came with me, than if she wandered off alone as I had foolishly done. "Okay." We left three days later despite my mother's best arguments. We were fortunate enough to get there unmolested by goblins. Of course, the first place I took her was the library. She was in awe. "I've never seen so much knowledge in one place!" We spent most of the day there. In the evening of her first day in Nexus, she handed me a scroll. "What's this?" I asked. "Well, I saw all the stories of those brave adventurers and I wondered if you might submit this, my first work." "Of course I will, but what is it?" "It's your story." It was one of those rare times when I couldn't say anything. I was shocked and touched at the same time. "Thank you Krenna." She smiled and nodded. The next morning I took two scrolls to the library. One was written by my sister and the other by me, the previous night. It was a request for apprenticeship for my sister. -Note by Senior Scribe Horush: I have taken young Krenna as my apprentice and she promises to be a most excellent scribe.Fighters Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Aleph Class: FighterRace: Half Elf Aleph's story begins with his parents. His Mother, Malana, was a very attractive Elf of royal blood. Her kingdom, Woodspaire, was home of many of the local wood elves but one time a traveling group of goblin hunters came through the area and she met this one human, Benae, who was just a perfect match for her. He was a tall, well built, and had a tongue that could melt the hardest female heart. His words were of philosophical roots but he was not the smartest, she could tell. They fell in love and had to meet in secret for she did not know what her parents would think. Malana's older sister did not like her and always looked for ways to get her in trouble. One day when Malana tried to lie and say she was going to the forest to gather flowers, so she could see Benae, her sister followed. Her sister saw them together and listened to them talk about how much they love one another and how much they couldn't live without each other and her sister saw a great way to get her sister in trouble and destroy her love for this human. Malana's older sister ran home to the kingdom to tell her parents. When she told them of what she saw they seemed enraged. Malana's sister thought she was going to get her good but did not realize how good. When Malana returned home her parents were waiting. They argued over it and in the end they gave her the option to leave and be with the human, or she could stay and remain royalty and have a prosperous happy life. She did the more romantic, heart led decision and picked to leave the kingdom and be with Benae. When they returned to Benae's home village she was not welcomed with open arms. They did how ever eventually get use to her since Benae was the best blacksmith in the whole village. They lived a semi-regular life and she learned from the other local women, the ways of the working wife. Benae felt she might not be very happy there so he tried to make her feel more at home by helping her keep some of her old customs. As time went on she grew more and more adapted to her new life. Also she grew pregnant. When she had the little boy she was officially the settled into her new life. She helped teach the boy, Aleph who was half-elf and half-human, the ways of her people and let Benae teach him the boy things. Benae was a master of arms and a great blacksmith. Malana was very well educated, she taught him things like reading, writing, and ideas of magic even though he was slow to pick them up. After about nine years of regular day-to-day life, Aleph was doing good enough to aid in hunts and help around his father's blacksmith shop. His mother started to grow ill. She was losing her beauty and she was not able to move. She was very young for an Elf. They sent for Cleric's from all over and no one could heal her illness. Benae and Aleph were devastated that no one could heal Malana. It wasn't long before she fell to Tilnar's touch. Aleph wanted to be more like his mother since she died, he wanted to keep her spirit alive but just wasn't smart enough so he decided to be the best at what he was good at to make his mother proud. What he didn't know is that he was a lot like his mother and she was proud and her spirit would live on in him. Twelve more years went on and Aleph was growing into a very admirable young man. He was now in the ranks of the goblin hunters and led small groups to hunt for food. Benae was very proud of Aleph and all his good work. Benae found himself growing older and more depressed since the passing of his wife and real reason of living besides Aleph. One morning before Aleph was going on a goblin hunt, Benae stopped him to have a talk with his son. Aleph and Benae talked about some father son stuff and Benae started to speak to him of moving on and expanding his horizons. Aleph did not want to leave at this time in his life. Benae insisted and tried to make it sound like he had to go. Benae obviously knew something no one else did. That following morning when the village awoke, his father did not. Aleph was worried cause his father wakes up before the rest to get his shop up and going to start the day. Aleph went to wake his father to realize he was not going to wake. Aleph thought about what his father had said to him and he gathered some of the best supplies from around the smith and had the village come together to tell them what has happened. The village was sad for their losses but they respected Aleph's decision to move on. Aleph then started out of town and on his journey that would lead him to Falcion, where you know him now. Ariade Class: FighterRace: Half Giant The sounds of laughter woke him. Bellowing laughter, dragging him from the depths of his dreams and re-acquainting him with the cold, hard ground beneath his wet and ill-clothed body. Peculiar laughter, Rey thought. Bitter and delirious, as if oblivious to the outside world. Shivering and attempting to lie still, Rey pulled his patched cloak tightly to his body as he squirmed further into the brambles he had used for a rainy night's shelter. The laughter seemed to be everywhere at once, yet as his eyes focused in the dark he could barely discern a tall figure in the stark moonlight. The looming figure could only be a half-giant. He seemed to be leaning back, reclining on a fallen log. The laughter abruptly stopped, and a low, base-ridden rhythmic voice spoke out into the night air. "Ophelia, is that you? Where have you been? Come my Shieldmaiden, the battle awaits. I have felt your absence as a blade in my side." A feeling of disquiet inhibited Rey from moving, and carefully fidgeting among the brambles he attained a more comfortable position. A scribe at heart, he carefully unwound a pouch carrying his greatest treasures: A master's delicate scribing pen, and silver ink case. Carefully spreading out a single sheet of papyrus, he focused intently on the words floating through the darkness. He shivered involuntarily at the shadow that seemed to fly across the half giant's face. ********************************************************************** A moment of confusion crossed Ariade's shadowed features, and a sudden haze clouded his mind. Speaking to the vision of heart's desire before him, he breathlessly said, "Ophelia, where have you been for so long? You left me, and I believe I may have gone mad. I spend my days reliving the past, when you and I used to fight as one, Ariade Blademaster and Ophelia Shieldmaiden, side by side. Ho, all is right with the world again, if you and I may be together." Confusion tightened the half-giant's brow, and in a tight voice he continued. "But it's odd, you know, my love. I had a dream, again a dream of our battles together. You and I were surrounded by Warslaves of the gobin hordes. We had been betrayed…but by whom? It's hard for me to recall now, it has been a long time since that dream. Yet I feel as I have..been there many times. I have dreamed many dreams since you have gone." Gazing into oblivion, Ariade spoke aloud, his voice cracking and breaking with the remembrance of a forgotten battle. "I remember being struck from a mage's blast and falling, my flesh torn asunder. On the ground the trolls leapt on me, their blades lancing my flesh as numbness crept through my fingers. I remember you coming to me, ever my savior, my heartseeker. You defended us both as Shieldmaiden, strong, proud and beautiful." Chest heaving and hands shaking, Ariade choked out, "You fell to one knee, their blows hammering your body. Shield still raised above my broken form you fell atop me, striving to ward off, nay, absorb their hits meant for me, on your own flesh. As the cold consumed me the last thing I recall is the blood: blood of mine and blood of yours, mingling amid the cold, dead ground." Gasping for breath with a voice breaking into delirium, "Your back! I used the last of my energy to put my arm around your back, but when I reached for you, you were riddled with too many blades. Cold protrusions, stealing you from me." The night air rings as Ariade grips his wide-eyed head and screams, screams of a wounded, piteous beast, a beast in the claws of delirium and insanity. Shutting his eyes tightly with hands clasped over his ears, Rey struggled not to hear the tormented voice of the half-giant. The cavernous shouts penetrated Rey's weak form, waves of anguish rolling over his consciousness. As the screams died down, Rey carefully lowered his hands to hear a sorrow filled mumbling. "Oh aye Ophelia, the madness takes me. You were stolen from this world and I am but a shadow, a walking corpse. I died that night, but yet I live on. I live in a dream, and in this dream I will seek the city of Nexus. I will seek an end to this dream amidst the last known fortification against the Goblin Horde, where I will wake once more in your arms and by your side, so that we may be together, soul and flesh." Heaving himself up with a heavy burden, Ariade trudged away, not bothering to push away the sharp branches that must have bit his flesh. Quickly packing his tools, Rey scrambled in the darkness behind the half giant, a small shadow gazing into the torture of a heavy soul. Atriedo Class: FighterRace: Ogre Hellos. Mys name is Atriedo and I's will tell yous my story. I's was borns on the potato farm back over the other sides of the mountains and that was good. Mys dad name was Schlok, my moms name was Mooshi. I call her mom. I also used to have a mom's mom, but she died. She taughts me hows to reads, and hows to write. I's good, you thinks? So, I grew ups on the potato farm, learning to makes stuff with potatos. Mys favorite is the sugar-glazed hot potato. Here is recipe. 1 potato5 handfuls of sugara hot fire Alls you do is melt the sugar in a cup, and then poke lotso holes in em potato. Then yous dip it in the sugar, and waits till it get hard, then yous eat it. Its good. Another good thing yous can do with potatos is to throws them at peoples. Theys only hurt alot, they no kill. So anyways, I's lived on the potato farm. I tell yous story about one time there. Theres is a creek running over there next to the farm, and one days, this big bird floated by on it. It was a Swan. I runs out to it, and I throws a rock at it. It looks at me, and it goes, "HONK!!!!" And it flapped its wings and bobbed it's neck. It scary. Then, it chase me all day, and part of next. Moral of story is, Swans can float. Another time, there was this guy and he comes to our house. He says, "Hello!" We looks at him, and he says, "Would you like to buy a shovel? It must be hard to plant potatos with rocks!" He had seen us planting, methinks. Then I says to hims, "What is shovel?" He says, "This is a shovel!" And he shows me this thing that is shiny and shaped like a half a potato! Schlok, he goes, "Oot! it shaped like potato!' So he buys and the man shows him how to use it. I tell yous, We can plant lots more potatos with it. Like maybe a trillion. So anyways, this guy says, "Could I trouble you fine people for room and board?" We looks at him funny. Why he want that? So, Mom says, "Okays." She goes into the shed, and gets a board, and gives it to him. Then wes back away. He look at us funny, and goes, "A place to sleep. We says, "Why not you says sos in first place?" He made a face then. The next day, The shovel man, he says, "Well, thank you all for your kindness." We sayed "Yous Welcome," and then I starts waving. Schlok and mom start looking at me, then back at shovelman, then he look at me, Then mom and Schlok say, "Wes give you to shovelman to learn to be a shovelman. "Come back somedays. We wait for yous!" I's say, "I don't wants to bes a shovelman!" Then shovelman says, "I will show you things better than shovels!" So I think for a minute, and I says, "Okays." It not fun being shovelman, we wandered around for a long times, selling shovels to whoever wanted ones. Not many peoples want shovels. The shovelman, He not nice. He make me carry all the shovels. They heavy. One day, shovelman, he says to me, "Come quick, we are about to make a sale!" So, I follow him, and he takes me to a a little house with smoke coming out the chimney, and we go in, and this old lady, she says, "Do you have my shovel?" Then the shovelman gives her her shovel. He says, "Where is my money?" She says, "I decided not to pay you." He says, "Then I will take back my shovel." The lady, she looks at him, and then she starts to yell stuff at him, she say, "May you be cold as the dead!" Then the shovelman, he started shivering! Methinks shes was a witch. Then, she looks at me, I was skeered! She starts waving her arms around, and I got skeered more, so I just gave her a good one right in the noggin. She faints, and we ties her up, and we warms the shovelman up. Then, When she wakes up, she glares, and starts spitting at us. So, shovelman, he says, "I will show you what happens to witches!" Then, he picks up the shovel and starts digging a hole outside. It takes two days to finish, and the witch almosted escaped, because the ropes was frayed. But I tied her ups with more. So, when he done, the shovelman, he put her in the hole, chair and all, and she starts saying, "I'm sorry!" Then he says, "I don't believe you." So, he did some mean things to her. He threw mud on her, and put water on her, and she got really angry, and she says, "I will kill you both." This scareded me bads, and I say, "Shovelman, wes gotta go!" He laughs, and keep being mean. So I start running, I not wanna die! I run, and run, and run, and run, and I come to this place, where I not know where I was, it was a forest. I got lost, and just kept walking, and finally, I comes to a mountain. I decided to climbs the mountain, to see if I's could see. So, I starts to climb the mountain, and Theres this cave. I's can see light at the other end, I think, it mebbe a shortcut. So, I's go in. Then all of a sudden, a big, shiny, thing came outta the wall! It says, "YOU ARE IN MY MOUNTAIN!" I scream and I run. I outta mountain. I starts climbing again, and this thing comes outta cave! I climb fast and fast and fast! Finally, I gets angry, and throws rocks at it. It falls down mountain, and I heared it go CRUNCH! CRACK! POP! and this gross wet sound there no word for. So, I's go back in cave, because, I thinks, I killed it, now I's go and get his stuff, I hungry, mebbe he got food. So, I go in cave, and where I saw him come outta wall, I's look, and there is actually a hidden door. So, I's go in, and I sees lotsa bones, and armor, and stuff, I put the armor on, and in a sack, there was this note that says, PLEASE RETURN TO NANOC IF FOUNDINQUIRE IN FALCION, RYMEK, OR NEXUS.$$REWARD$$ I thinks to meself, He no need this, so I go, and take sack. I climb to toppo mountain, and see a big camp so I climbs down other side and I goes down, and there was these ugly things, and one seeses me, and grunts! He picks up this big ole sword, and runs at me! I bashem in the noggin, and he drops sword. I pick up, and cut his head off! It was gross! So, I sneaked around the camp, and see they ares fighting people that looks like me. I says, hellos! They look at me, and says, "Someone help him, There is a goblin about to kill him!" So I say, "What is goblin?" They say, "look out!" Then I feels this sharp pain in my bottom, and I looks, and it is arrow! I starts crying, and run over to them. They pull it out, and heal me, and take me back to big city. It was Nexus. Then they says, "Go to Falcion, they will help you train to become a fighter." So, I's ask directions, and they show me way, and I go to Falcion and becomes a fighter, because me no knows way back to potato farm. Mebbes I find it someday. Stories Of Mes Training After mes get to Falcion, I's decides to becomes a fighter, becauses mes not too smarts. But not as dumb as barbarian. Sos, I gos, and I starts looking arounds. I goes to this place, called Fountain of Hope. Thats is place where everyone goses. I sees this Chest, I looks inside, and sees lotso stuff! I take it all. I starts looking around mores, and I goes north from theres, and I comes to a pawn shoppe. So, I's goes in, and I says, "Hey! Mes Atriedo, yous wants some stuff?" She looks at me, and says, "What have you got for me today?" So, I's dump out all my stuff, and she says, "What tier are you?" I says, "Me One." She looks at me, and says, "Where did you get a Steel Breastplate?" I says, "Oh, theres was a chest, and it no looks like anyones, so I takes it!" Then I grins. She leans over the counter, grabs mys ears, and says, "I don't take stolen goods. Get out of my sight!" So, I leaves. Moral of story, yous reads the proclamations and notices next to things. Another time, I's was walking around, and by nows, I's was about three tier. I goes over to tavern, and on the way theres, I notice a hole in the rock! I's not sees before! Sos, I go in, and starts looking arounds. I about to leave, becauses it looks like nothing there, but then I sees a crack in the wall. Sos, I go in there, and I cant no go backs! I start stumbling arounds, trying to find a way out, and all of sudden, KERPLUNK! I was knee deep in a pool of water, and something was in the pool with me! I's scared! This big monster comes and trys to eats me! I runned! I was almost giving up for dead, when, I sees a light! i can no climb up to its, so I yells, and yells, and yells! Finallys, a mage, he find a barbarian, and the barbarian get rope and pull me up. That cave, I never go back in again! Except for one times, but I died thens. After thats I never goes back in. When I's was sixth tier, I was walking arounds, minding my own businesses, when all of sudden, a big bug, it poop on me! I look ups, and sees all the bugs! Everywhere! They started landing and killing peoples! I hide in corners, because thoses bugs, they nearly kill mes with one pinch! I brain talked to someone and tolds him about the bugs, and he brain talks back, and says, "Stay there, We are coming." Soon after thats, A bunch of big strong mages and fighters and clerics, they come and kill the bugs. Then someone says, "Someone needs to clean up these streets!" So, me and a bunch of other peoples, we get the bodies, and we buries them over by the pier. If yous look close, yous can still see graves. But then, right after we finish, this guy, mes forget his name, he come and kill some of us, and try and kill me! He not finish me off thoughs. I's was too strong for him. So, they go, and they catch hims in a big forest, and I not know what happens to him after thats. After thats, I gots to be seven tier, and I goes to Nexus. Well one day, I's was in the Townsquare with Will, and Sevel, and mebbes Frolus, and we hears that a highwaymen killed someones! Then the person, he braintalks, and says "Highwaymen blocking Tothese Road!" So, everyone starts looking, and sure nuff, theres is highwaymen! They were tough, but a bunch of us killed them alls. A little whiles ago, Theres was a little goblin problem in Nexus. Me, Will, and Felicity was ins the Townsquare, and we sees the goblin spys run out of the shadows! We screams, and Felicity brain-talks, and says, "Goblin Spies in Nexus!" So, I starts looking for more, and people were brain talking, and saying wheres theres was bad guys. Peoples was tellings about Elven Sniperslaves, and Ogrish Deathralls, and Goblin Warriors, and lotso others! I go out the west gate, and I run smack into four Goblin warriors! I Run back to Nexus to tell everyone, and I tells them, but theys was busy killing other stuffs. So, I helps them. First, we kills some trying to rob the jewelry store. Then, We go in bank, Because Calvin, He says, "They are in the bank!" So we go in, and There is so many! So many, that even Serge got killed! It took awhiles, and I not able to help much, but we killed them alls! They not get into the vault, even though they tries. Then, I tells them about the four warriors. We all go, and kill the warriors, then I scout some more, and I run right into a Morloch, or Warlock, or somethings like that. I's was toast. For real. he zap me good, two times! He kills me, and I angry! I comes back, and they tells me, they ran off! But, I got two good clubs out of the whole thing. Moral of story is, yous sees a Morloch, runs and gets helps! That end of story, I tell you other stuff now. RECIPE FOR MASHED POTATOS One potatoA big StickA PotSalt Put the potato in the pot, and smash it for a really long time. Then you heat it up, and put salt on it. RECIPE FOR POTATO SALAD PotatoKnifeLettuceLard Yous cut up potato and lettuce, and put lard on them, and eat. RECIPE FOR TWICE BAKED POTATO Same thing as baked potato, only bake twice as long. POTATO LOVERS OF NEXUS Join the Potato Lovers! It fun. STUFF I HAVE LEARNS FOR PEOPLES IN FALCION If yous first tier, fight in the park.If yous two tier, fight in the sewer.If yous three tier, fight in the cave.If yous four tier, fight in grey building.If yous five tier, fight in mansion.If yous six tier, fight in mansion.If yous seven tier, go to Nexus. It fun. Lotso peoples. STUFF I HAVE LEARNS FOR PEOPLES NOT IN FALCION Fight in Tothese Woods. Lotso bandits, need law enforcement. Don't use teleport devices fors fun. I's got killed one time. But if yous do use one, and yous end up in a desert, walk around untils you find the black pyramid, thens yous brain talk for help. If yous in a cave, don't moves. Just gets help. Brost Class: FighterRace: Orc Draila looked to her husband, Beltok, right in the eyes, as he raised a knife from his side. "How could you..." he said softly, as he quickly slashed her throat with the blackened blade. Draila had just given birth to a child. However, something seemed amiss with the newborn. Beltok brought the child to the village shamans for examination. After one intense look at the child, they revealed to Beltok the painful truth; Beltok was not the father of this child. Moreover, the baby had birth defects that brought his future into question. Faced with a motherless child who would ultimately lead an unfulfilling life, Beltok chose to expose the newborn. He climbed the mountains despite the fierce biting winds and extremely cold temperatures. At the summit, he made his prayer to Erisar, and laid a carved stone that read, "Brost Uk'Beltok, the Forbidden Child. May your life destined for suffering end so that you may sit with the Gods." Three days later, a giant found a basket with a newborn orc in it, barely alive. Not quite sure what to do, he examined the child carefully for a while, holding it tightly to warm it, and decided to take the child with him, taking the carved stone that lay near the child. Fearing for the baby's health, the giant searched for the nearest temple so that priests could evaluate the little orc. "How is he?" asked the blue-skinned giant, in a deep, somber voice. "He was exposed for many days, "explained the priest, "The fact that he is still alive is a miracle in itself, in my mind. We've healed him as best we can. There is not much more we can do." "How does his future look for him?" asked the giant. "We can't determine that. It appears that he may have some sort of physical abnormality, but we can't really tell. I haven't dealt enough with orcs to be able to know for sure." The giant nodded and continued on his way to Dilran, his home village. When he returned, he went to the town orphanage and put the child under its care. He left the carved stone with the caretaker and left, confident that the child would be safe. The child's name was determined to be Brost by a foster parent at the orphanage who, by some odd coincidence, could understand the orcish written language. Although much smaller than the Storm Giants that he was surrounded by, the caretakers were amazed when he equalled or, in some cases, bettered his counterparts in certain games of strength. However, the caretakers also noted his slow mental development which worried the workers at the orphanage. Though certainly a part due to physiological differences, Brost's complete inability to grasp the language of the Traenol gradually became a greater cause for alarm. In addition, his overly rounded face which resembled an ogre more than an orc made his parents wonder whether the child was even normal. Brost was raised by the Traenol orphanage for five years, until the village of Dilran was assaulted by the juggernaut of the Horde's armies. The outnumbered Traenol warriors fought with incredible valor and unparalleled skill, but the sheer numbers of the Goblin Army proved to be their downfall. As the warlocks began to cast anti-barrier spells in unison, the giant by the name of Havaris ran to the orphanage and mounted a winged beast, flying away to the southeast to the city of Tae'rival. Havaris flew for many days with Brost the Orc in his arms, stopping only briefly to feed himself and to feed his young companion. The two of them reached the Crystal Mountains about a week later, to find a pair of cloud giants marching up the mountain trail. Noticing the two beasts, he attempted to travel around them, but he noticed more hostile troops all around. Havaris decided his best attempt would be to assault the pair of cloud giants. Pulling out an enormous claymore from his scabbard, he ordered his beast to fly low and accelerate as he charged the two giants. The beast let out a cry, and as he did, Havaris took a deep breath, offering a prayer to Dilanis and Tilnar, and let out his war cry, sword in hand, ready to impale. The beast swooped ever lower, and was now within ten feet of the ground as Havaris prepared his sword. The cloud giants turned quickly, to see what was behind them, and immediately Havaris swung his sword, slicing one giant's head off with one giant chop. As he passed the giants, he flipped backward, dismounting the beast and landing on his feet, about 15 feet away from the remaining Cloud Giant. He noted a pair of stripes that lay on the giant's bandolier, and immediately recognized those stripes as the mark of a leader. Havaris locked his sword, tip pointed at the giant's forehead, and immediately began running, his head moving forward like a bullet throughout his charge. He let out a long battle cry, and swung his sword backward, in a backhanded uppercut slash. The giant, still disoriented, threw his sword down as he desperately deflected the attack. The two exchanged parries and blows for several minutes. The cloud giant then caught Havaris off balance, and swung his sword brazenly for his head. Havaris instinctively put his arm up, allowing his forearm to take the brunt of the strike. Wincing once, then pulling a straight face, Havaris returned that attack with a thrust aimed for the cloud giant's abdomen. The giant dodged the blow partially, letting the blow smash through a rib, as he returned another slash across Havaris's chest. Havaris twisted his claymore, gutting the innards of the giant, as the giant's broadsword carved an enormous wound across his chest. Havaris pulled his sword out, and thrust it once again into the dying Cloud Giant, this time in the middle of his chest. The Cloud giant fell into a heap, his translucence fading away as his life force left him. Bloody and dying, Havaris covered his wounds and returned to his beast, where the child waited, eyes wide open and in utter shock. Havaris ordered the beast up, as he slumped against it's back, searching the ground for a caravan. Several minutes later, he spotted one, and weakly ordered the beast down. Upon landing, Havaris collapsed onto the floor, his bloodied body sprawled across the ground, as he inched toward the stopped caravan. A man stepped out of the wagon, and ran to Havaris's side, examining his wounds. To this Havaris replied, almost inaudibly, ". . . Take the orc on my beast . . . and let it go . . . He ... will ... know ... where ... to ... go ... but please ... bring Brost ... to ...safety......." Havaris looked up to the sky, and saw a blue aura around the beast, as the man took the child. He then saw Dilanis's face looking at him, kissing his cheek and saying, "He will one day fight as you did . . . with the utmost honor." Dilanis faded from existence, as the world became black. The merchant saw the pitiful, dying traenol and shrugged, taking the small orc from the best, who immediately flew away. "Hey Will, get off your lazy ass and come look at this," he gruffly called, prompting a bearded man to exit the wagon. The bearded man looked at the small orc. "He looks kinda funny to me, wonder what's wrong with him," the bearded man said, holding his chin in contemplation. The merchant then began talking to the boy, trying to get a response. "Hey, kid, you hear me? Answer me, boy. Damnit, I said answer me!!" the merchant called, with increasing frustration. Finally, he pulled back his hand and slapped him across the face. To this, Brost responded by glaring at the merchant, and pushing him flat on his back. The merchant got up quickly, startled, and said to the boy, "Why you little ... I'm gonna ...!" as the bearded man held him back. "Hey, he doesn't look too bright, but maybe we can make a little act to showcase that strength of his," said the bearded man to the merchant. The merchant looked at Brost thoughtfully, and said, "Hmmm, that sounds good." He then picked Brost up, and carried him to the wagon. As the two men rode to the nearest village, Rytolla, they discussed ways to exploit the child. Among other things, a way to bind the child to prevent running away was discussed. Upon arriving to the town, the two men went to the blacksmith and asked the man to make handcuffs and a steel muzzle, all connected with chains that go to a neck piece. In addition, another chain stood at the back of the neck piece, which could be tied to any object to keep him in one location. With this slave's outfit on, the two men began to test his strength by throwing heavy objects at him. The orcish boy caught each one, despite having chained hands, with relative ease. The two men then rolled a large boulder at him, which he stopped, and then, to the men's astonishment, picked up and threw back. With this simple yet astonishing show set up, the two men began to perform shows. On their first informal show, the audience simply sat there, astonished. The two men netted a total of 5,000 gold pieces as a result of this one, informal show. The two men continued to rake in an abundance of gold as a result of their new circus slave. As the child orc's reputation grew, so did the crowds who came to see this wonder, to see if the rumors were actually true. In the middle of one show, the two men were interrupted by a half-giant as he arose, with a deep scowl on his face. "How much have you made off this child?" his voice boomed as he asked the question. The bearded man replied, "Why the hell do you care? Sit back down and enjoy the show. You are disturbing the rest of the audience." "No." the half-giant boomed with frightening conviction. The merchant chuckled, and said, "And what are you going to do about it, kind sir?" The half-giant gave a small smirk, and, throwing off his cloak, pulled out a sharp, blackened katana. "Do you wish to debate this further, or are we in agreement that you will stop exploiting the child and hand him over to me?" The merchant returned his smirk with a deep scowl, and unsheathed two daggers. With the flick of a wrist, a small knife flew out of his right forearm, toward the standing half-giant. The half-giant quickly dodged the knife as he moved forward, toward the two men. The bearded man unsheathed a curved shortsword and a small knife, looking smugly at the half giant. The merchant struck first, daggers slashing opposite directions. The half-giant deflected one with his katana and disarmed the first dagger. Before the second dagger could strike, he struck the merchant with the flat of the katana blade, stunning him. He then directed his attention to the bearded man. The man went for a downward stab with the shortsword, but the half-giant effortlessly deflected the blow, and sent the shortsword flying across the village streets. He then sent a powerful kick to the man's stomach, pushing him into the ground, out of danger. The half-giant returned to the merchant, pointing the sword at his neck, and said, "Do we still have any problems?" Not waiting for a reply, he searched the man for a key to unchain the boy. After retrieving the key, he unlocked all the boy's chains and said, "You're free. You can come with me." While embracing the boy, the half giant unexpectedly turned and thrust behind him, piercing the chest of the retaliating merchant. He then turned back around, wiping his sword with a cloth, and resheathed it in a beautiful carved jade scabbard. "My name is Ariade," the half-giant said softly to the trembling orc, "I will not hurt you, Brost." Ariade carried the orc on his left shoulder as he walked across the Crystal Mountains to his home, Nexus. Carston Class: FighterRace: Unknown "Faster, boy! If you want to fight with us, you have to keep up!" Fenwick boomed at the boy, whose round babyface betrayed his body of a fully-grown human. Carston trudged along, struggling to keep up with the rest of his cadre of trainees. His father, Wicked, watched from Fenwick's side, his shadowed face as emotionless as ever. Only a tender child of eight years, Carston trained on the front lines, receiving a premature and gruesome lesson on the true nature of war. The green squad marched through the forest, struggling to keep up with the grueling pace that Fenwick demanded of them. As they were marching, Carston heard a faint rustling in the shrubs by his feet. Although the rustling unnerved him, he shrugged it off as a squirrel or other small forest animal as they marched their way back to the camp. As the squad approached the camp, the group could sense the chaos that was building around them. Plumes of smoke rose from a tent. The faint sound of crashing metal emanated from the base. As the signs of a fight were more evident, Fenwick ordered his group to move as fast as possible together so they could help out at the base. Carston, who struggled with the previous pace, watched Fenwick and Wicked in awe of their ability to move so swiftly while donning a full set of armor. He gasped for air as he trudged through the muddy forest, trying desperately to maintain their pace. When they were within one thousand yards from the camp, Fenwick halted. Carston's focus switched from Fenwick to what was in front of him. He saw a mixed squad of both drow and goblin, unsheathing their weapons and preparing for battle. Behind him, he heard loud footsteps meeting the squad's rear. Turning around, he saw another squad of goblin soldiers, walking toward their rear. Fenwick screamed, "Attack!" as the Goblin forces descended upon them. In that next instant, Wicked and Fenwick charged the Goblin soldiers, each moving with lightning speed and leaving blood and gore in their wake. Carston turned his attention to the rear, and looked in horror at the experienced Goblin soldiers attacking the timid, untrained crew that he belonged in. Screams followed grizzly screams as more of his comrades were slain. Carston unhooked his mace from his belt, and charged one of the soldiers. Mace over head, he swung his mace downward as hard as he could over the unprepared goblin's head. He watched the brown-skinned creature crumple into the heap on the ground, and looked around him for a new target. As he met with their blazing red eyes, however, he suddenly became filled with fear. He found himself unable to think normally as they came after him like ravens. He desperately fought off their attacks with his mace, trying to keep alive. As he walked backward, trying to get away from them, he tripped over a rock, leaving his helpless body sprawled across the ground as several angry goblins approached. He looked the goblins in their eyes, their predator's faces eagerly awaiting another victim. Then, suddenly, one by one, the goblins' faces turned from carnivorous to shock, and they fell to the floor, blood oozing from their backs. Carston looked up, and saw Wicked and Fenwick standing over him, breathing heavily. He then stood up, and looked at the sight around him. He looked at the seven men from his squad that lay dead. Each body was replete with large, hideous wounds. One man's slash wounds were so bad that his guts leaked onto the bloodstained ground. Another man's arm lay detatched, a foot away from the rest of his blood-soaked body. Carston vomited, unable to stand the stench of death and the horrible consequences of battle. Wicked stooped down low to enter the tent in which Fenwick was housed. Upon entering, he lowered himself to one knee to make himself comfortable with the low ceiling. He found Fenwick sitting by a table, studying reconnaissance maps and planning his troop movements. Fenwick looked up, and opened his mouth. "You wished to speak with me, Wicked?" asked Fenwick in a stone-cold voice. "Yes. I am sending my boy back to Nexus," replied Wicked. "As you wish. May I inquire why?" Fenwick answered. Wicked replied, with stern emotion, "I cannot bear to allow my son to be forced to witness the appalling aspects of war at such a young age. The last thing I wish is for our young to forget just how evil and how horrible war is. We have been fighting the goblins for such a long time, and I fear that we have forgotten how to live without fighting. On top of that, I fear for his safety out here. Not only does he have talent as a fighter, but I care for him, my son, as I would for myself. His life is equal to my own, and it would devastate me if I had to bury him. One is supposed to bury his parents, not his sons and daughters." Fenwick listened, and replied in a less-harsh voice, "I understand your decision and the desire for his safety. I will arrange for him a place to stay in Nexus, and make certain that he continues his training there. I wish him the best of luck back home." Wicked looked at Fenwick and gave a rare smile, as he said, "Thank you. You do not understand what your support means to me. I keep you in my prayers." With that, he walked out of the tent. Cole Class: FighterRace: Half-Orc He is faceless among all the other half breeds. his appearance quickly forgotten among the myriad of races and creeds in Altin. If you were to ask him his name, he would respond with simple and complete detachment one simple word, Cole. He would maintain his distance and keep his eyes averted. But that was not always so... Cole was born in the year 1218 of the Empire, on the 19 of the month of Wildfire. He was brought into the world by Lillian Heart, a local human healer, and Ravo Tholmsbane who spent most of his life unemployed, but aspired to be a great warrior. As you might have guessed Cole was not his given name. He was born as Kymrok Tholmsbane in Rosehelm. The first few years of Kymrok's life were uneventful, he spent it under his father's drunken tutelage, learning how to be a fighter. Spending his days watching his father hunt rats or simply practicing his parrying. Kymrok soon learned he had a natural ability with a sword and a strange natural strength. At age nine, Kymrok began his apprenticeship with the Rosehelm bank (An attempt by his mother to keep him out of trouble). He learned slowly and after two years of miserable work, the banker announced him unfit to keep ledger there. So feeling dejected, Kymrok began spending much of his time doing nothing, simply sitting at home waiting for messages from Nexus, City of all Races, crowned jewel of Altin, the one place he had wanted to always see. So the days dragged on to months, months to years, and Kymrok woke up one day to find himself at the age of fourteen. This was a vital year for Kymrok, he had to decide his profession this year, he was becoming too old to be coddled by his mother. So one morning he set out to the local blacksmith, resigned to his fate of dreary, repetitive work. But as he was nearing the Smithy, he noticed a sudden change in the weather, the skies became a overcast full of what he knew to be thunderclouds. A steady rain began to fall and quickly became a torrent of water striking him. Kymrok became alarmed by the weather, but decided to think nothing of it, and continued to head towards his destination. As he came to the door of the blacksmith's shop, he heard the sounds that would end up changing his life forever. He opened the door and heard a huge explosion! Followed by several screams and yells that sounded vaguely like "AT ARMS!". Mr. Aneon, the Smithy, yelled for Kymrok to come inside quickly and bar the door. Kymrok did so and found himself being dragged to the cellar of the shop all the while hearing Mr. Aneon muttering "I knew those damn goblins were coming, if they had only listened ... if they only listened.". While he continued his mantra, what he had said sunk into Kymrok, the goblin hordes had found their way into Rosehelm! Suddenly Kymrok arrived at the very corner of the cellar. Mr. Aneon flipped a switch and a secret opening sprang up before Kymrok. Kymrok was quickly thrown and locked inside and could hear only the faint sounds of water running. After what could have been a minute or eternity, Kymrok heard quiet scratching above him. A sudden burst of torch light greeted his eyes as Mr. Aneon, blood running from a wound in his forehead, Took Kymrok from his hiding place. The injured Smithy told Kymrok to run home and see if his mother was still well. Kymrok, having forgotten about his mother, quickly set off towards his house. As Kymrok neared what remained of his burning home he saw what had been in his dreams since he could remember. A tall dark half-giant, Covered in head to toe in silver armor and wearing a flowing black cloak. The warrior quickly noticed Kymrok's presence and asked him if he had lived in that house. Kymrok nodded and the shining giant knelt down and told him very quietly, "you should come with me then, your parents have been slain during the goblin attack". Kymrok followed the Shimmering hero, tears flowing from his cheeks, and left Rosehelm. They walked a day's travel and arrived at a strange sloop leading to an island Kymrok hadn't seen before. The warrior then simply said "This is Rymek, if you wish to avenge your parents' death, board that sloop to Falcion and enter the gates, they will teach you to fight". And so he did. Vowing vengeance for his parents death and promising to fulfill his dreams of becoming a fearsome warrior. He walked. Upon arriving he changed his name to Cole and quickly graduated from Falcion to become a Myrmidon. And to this day he fights for Nexus and his parents. Decimus Class: FighterRace: Half Giant I don't remember much from the first years of my life. But at the age of 5 the elders in our little tribe started to train me in the arts of combat. The first two years I was trained as a barbarian, but the elders in our tribe said I wouldn't fit as a barbarian, because they could not sense the rage inside me. Instead they suggested I should learn the finer things in combat. One of the drillmasters told me he knew a man that could help me with my training. So I packed my things, took my sword and walked of. After a few days I arrived to a house, almost overrun by the wilderness surrounding it. As I approached the front door I heard a branch snap to the left of me and a split second later I felt the tip of a blade at my throat.- Who are you? Asked a voice coming from behind a large stone.- I'm Decimus, I said and let my hand slowly slid towards my sword.- What are you doing here? The voice asked. So I explained why I was here. I felt how the sword disappeared from throat. You can guess how supprised I became when a dwarf came crawling down from the stone. At first I had a hard time to believe that the dwarf was a master in the arts of fighting, but as the years passed my respect for the little man grew. I stayed at the dwarf's for a long time, mostly training all the time. One night he woke me up and told me to arm myself and then to follow him. I did as he said and we sneaked out from a hidden exit in the house. When we had found a good spot to observe I understood why he had told me to follow him. Outside the house was a small squad of Goblins, looking interestedly at the house. - Now it's time for you to show me what you have learned, my trainer said and handed me a human hard and a blue orb.- In case things should go really bad, he added and smiled slightly. I wielded my sword and walked down to the goblins. The first two goblins died after my first 5 cuts. The rest of the goblins started to surround me. Before they had surrounded me, I charged at the goblin in front of me killing him. Quickly I sidestepped and the blow from the Goblin behind me missed. As he tried to cut me and missed he left his entire back open, and I just thrusted the sword down in his back. The four goblins left looked at me with a little bit of fear in their eyes when suddenly one of them shouted something and the three goblins charged at me, whilst the one shouting the order tried to flee. I killed the three goblins fairly easy and tried to see where the last goblin had fled. Then I saw something round flying towards me, it landed in front of me and I saw it was the head of a goblin. I looked at the way the head had come from and saw my teacher walking towards me, cleaning his blade. - Piece a cake, he said and went inside. I cleaned my weapon and headed to bed. The morning after when I woke up my teacher told me it was time for me to leave.- Why? I asked- The city of Nexus needs good fighters like you. But first you must prove yourself worth on a island. I shall take you there today, then leave you for your destiny. So we went out in the woods and after 12 hours he showed me a sloop and told me to board it. I waved to him, and boarded the sloop, and the beginning of my adventures started. /DeCiMuS Do'Gas Doralus Class: FighterRace: Half-Giant A young reporter was sitting in the Tavern in Falcion, quietly sipping his drink. He paid little attention to the two fighters that walked in and took their seats at the bar, until they began to speak. Quietly eaves- dropping, he learned that the younger of the two was being interviewed for acceptance into the Fighters' Guild. This piqued his curiosity even more, for he had never seen this strange, wild-looking half-giant before. After time, the two stood and shook hands, the elder seeming pleased. As he left, the reporter stood and ran to the door before the other could leave. "Ah, hello there. I'm Stryne," he said hurriedly. The large fighter stopped and looked down at him. "What you want?" "I just happened to hear part of your conversation there... I'd like to talk to you and write some of it down. It sounded interesting." The half-giant grunted and moved to leave, but Stryne reached out a hand. "I'll buy you a drink." The larger one sighed, aggravated at being detained, but not willing to refuse a free drink. He sat down with a grunt and gruffly ordered the bartender to bring him some ale. Stryne sat down next to him and pulled out a pad with a quill. "So, let's start over, shall we? What's your name?" "Me Doralus," was the short, guttural reply. He was still not happy at being held up here, but he was at least enjoying his drink. The reporter smiled and began to take fluid notes as he spoke. "I heard something about you being in a carnival. What happened?" Doralus grunted, "Bah, start sooner dan dat. Me wander since young. Came to dis town. Dis man dere, he like me. Show me tricks." "What kind of tricks?" Stryne asked. "He show me throw tings in air, den catch. People watch, dey laugh and clap." Stryne's quill didn't stop moving. "Ah, you -were- part of a circus then." A grunt was his only reply, and Stryne chuckled at the image of this large brute being a carnival side-show. "Were you there very long?" Stryne had to wait as Doralus ordered more ale. "Me dere some time. Learned lots. Learn throw knives, clubs, every- ting." Doralus boasts, "Me make blade do what-ever me want!" "Ah, I see. So what happened after that? Obviously, you are not still there." Doralus frowns darkly, "Da goblins happen." He muttered something to himself as he took another sip of his drink. "Dey come every-where. All town, kill every-ting. Dey come to us, we try fight, but we do no-ting." Doralus glares at nothing in particular as he finishes his second ale and slams it down on the bar. "Me try hurt dem, bash wit clubs me use. Dat no work, so use blades me prac-tice with." Stryne just nods, writing furiously. "Dey come anyway. Kill every-ting. Me friends yell, 'Run! Run!' so me turn, run to dem, but da goblins get dem first. Me see, den me run into woods." At this, Stryne pipes up, "So you got away? They didn't follow you?" Doralus grunts and nods. "Me lose dem in woods. Den me start wander again. Have one small blade, use get food," he said as he ordered yet another ale. "So how did you end up here?" "Me keep wander, come to dis town, Ry... ry..." Stryne looks up from his notes, "Rymek?" Doralus grunts and nods. "Some person dere ask help wit hunt, need food or some-ting. Me help, den dey pay me come here." "So why are you here?" Doralus stands and drains his ale in one gulp, then sets the empty glass on the bar with the others. "Me train. One day, pay dem back." Doralus nods to himself as he walks quickly out. Stryne calls out for him to wait, but Doralus has already gone. He sighs, gathers his papers and stands to leave, but he is stopped by the bartender who points to the empty glasses and holds out his hand. Dratin Class: FighterRace: Ogre During one cold day of winter an ogre child was born into the world. This child would leave his own people to lead others to victory. This child was Dratin, a born huntsman and leader. The story of Dratin is not to be told in its entirety for it is not completely finished or even known. Dratin was born into a wealthy family a decade or so ago. His father was a successful hunter and tradesman. His mother was given a large area of land in which the rest of the family farmed all year. Dratin’s birth was widely rejoiced at first, since his mother was thought to be barren. His birth also excited Dratins father immensely. Now his father had someone to share the passion of the hunt. In Dratin’s early years were typical of any ogre child, filled with hard work and long days. He stood tall with huge forearms and bulky body. He had the ways and teaching of a leader. At the age of five Dratin went on his first real hunt. This day will live forever in the memories of Dratin as the day his father was killed. Dratin and his father were walking through the woods in search of a tiger cave. They stumbled upon a corpse of a dead unicorn. The unicorn was mutilated and covered with strange marking burnt into its flesh. Dratins father seemed very startled, most likely because he knew that no good being would ever slaughter a unicorn. Unicorns are a beautiful and elegant race, and should never be harmed. As the two ogres stared upon the unicorn’s corpse a greater evil was being unleashed on a neighboring village. Dratin and his father were totally oblivious to the death and destruction that was taking place near the very place both of them grew up. Some how a mutated beast resembling a tiger had leaped over a small barricade and was tearing a town full ogres to shreds. The beast stopped at nothing to destroy the town, even when all the warriors joined for a resistance they were all slaughtered. Mean while Dratin and his father started home to gather a scouting party to find out what killed the graceful unicorn. On the trek his father took the time to explain to his son what it meant to kill a magical creature like a unicorn and how a hunter should respect his prey. Dratin understood what his father was saying completely and agreed to protect the hunt. As they approached their town they saw a massive cloud of billowing smoke off in the distance. Both the ogres ran home, as Dratin was preparing for danger his father was gathering a group of the best warriors and scouts. Every ogre in the town was fully armored and stood dissipate ready at their posts around the wall. Dratin was sent up to the main north wall with his father. The smoke had begun to dissipate and scouts were sent out to he village. After four hours and no word from the scouts, two more scouts were sent out with full armor. They rushed out and ran quickly through the trees. When they were out of sight another ogre scout was sent out to check the near by forest. After a few minutes an incredibly loud sound echoed through the area, a roar that will never be forgotten. Dratin’s father immediately gathered the fighters and sent out to the village. A sense of fear could be felt and seen in the eyes of the ogres. When the men were out of site Dratin sneaked out and followed the path of the fighters. As Dratin approached the village the sounds of clashing swords could be heard. Dratin quietly came to the edge of the forest where he saw the most horrible thing ever. A mound of dead ogre warriors could be seen through holes in the small fence of the smoldering town. The groups of warriors from his town were surrounding a huge tiger like beast. Left and right ogres would go flying back and slam against the ground. At the head of the assault was Dratin’s father. The group of ogres were fighting their hardest and striking blows to the tiger constantly. When Dratin thought it was safe he rushed into the group. Immediately Dratin was sent flying by a blow from the tigers right claw. At the same time a left claw slashed his father. Dratin rolled right into his father who was badly injured. At that moment Dratin felt a burning desire in the pit of his stomach, a desire to destroy the beast. In one movement Dratin stood up and slashed the throat of the hulking tiger. Blood sprayed out all over him and his father. It was over, yet the pain was horrible. The blood from tiger acted like an acid on the ogre’s armor. Dratin quickly striped off his armor and rolled in the dirt. When the burning stopped he glanced over to his father who was motionless still in his armor and still on the ground. He was dead The beast was killed but at a high price half of the warriors of his town were killed along with his father. The whole village mourned the deaths and tried to get on with life. But Dratin did not go back to his normal ways. He spent many days and nights in the woods in search of what evil had killed his father. Finally Dratin decided to leave completely, so he did. He roamed the country for evidence of similar beasts. One day he came to a destroyed village, still smoldering. The stench of a familiar beast was in the air the tiger beast. Dratin ran to the sounds of swords clashing. He came to a group of fleeing humans who were being chased by similar tiger. In one moment he stopped the fleeing people and instructed them to charge! The people were perplexed by the orders but with another booming order from Dratin the people obeyed. The people Raised up their arms and charged to the tiger. Dratin quickly barked orders to the people and unsheathed his blade. He joined in on the fight along side the humans. After an hour of battle Dratin delivered the final blow. Many had fallen dead in the attack, but again the beast was slain. The people rejoiced greatly and that night dinned on fine grain and deer. Dratin was given a golden helm and given the name "Honorable fighter". The humans asked Dratin to stay with them and help rebuild the town, but he refused. He said, "If I am to be the leader of all races I need to go where I am needed more. I need to find where these evil tigers are coming from and lead others to victory against it. After he spent the night in the town he set out and would never return. He journeyed to the city of nexus where he now trains and searches to destroy the evil that killed his father" Faith Class: FighterRace: Human I arrived late at the For-Hire matches in Reymuth and had to elbow my way rudely into into a proper vantage point. The crowd pressed at me, traders seeking bodyguards, petty lordlings looking to replace slaughtered men-at-arms, mercenaries after new recruits, and pickpockets after everyone. The dusty ring lay before me, empty. A sigh went up as the ringkeeper raised the pennants for the next match: red and black for a novice, then a long pause while he searched in his chest for the other- purple! A grizzled soldier at my side shook his head. "A Were-beast, and at full moon! We're soon to see a very stupid greenie become a very dead greenie." "These matches aren't to the death, are they?" I asked, uncertain. Reymuth was far from home and customs diverged wildly in these desperate times. "Try telling that to an angry Werebear." He snorted. The Assassin emerged from the contestants' tent and dropped its purple silken cloak in a disdainful heap. I had only seen one before and not at such close range. Its size and vitality startled me, its utter, intrinsic alienness. The light which burned in those two black eyes could not in any way be human, nor the finger-long, needle-sharp fangs, at their apex now with the phase of the moon. It shrugged beneath its elaborate harness of leather and horde-jewels, rumbling ominously. "Berserker!" hissed the veteran beside me. She had already stepped from the tent and stood cloakless, deathly still in the arena. Once I had laid eyes on her I could not look away. It was not her tall, whipcord-muscled body clad in supple leather which held me, nor the eyes that glowed with fever blue behind the traditional mask. I had no time to search my feeling as the ringkeeper held up his hand for bids. The crowd rustled restively despite the low minimum. "What's wrong? Why don't they offer?" I asked the solder. "Not daft, you know," he answered. "What commoner would work with a Were-beast that can't be blood bound to him? And as for that crazy greenie-girl, even if she isn't dead or crippled afterwards, she's just proving she has no sense." "Maybe she's very good-" "Or very desperate." He turned his shoulder to me in disgust and made off through the throng. The ring keeper still called for more bids, all well below my purse. I raised my hand. "win or lose?" "Both," I said. My neighbors stared openly at me. All the "win" bids were for the Were-creature, but I wanted the option if she survived. She turned to look at me for a fleeting moment as she took her place in the ring center. In those burning azure eyes I saw, or perhaps I only imagined I saw, such relentless will that I did not know if I wished her victory or the peace of death more. "Weapons?" called the ringkeeper "Tangles" I called "No, bare hands!" roared the others. They surged like a many-headed, ever-hungry beast lusting for blood. The Werebear stepped to its place, dwarfing her by two heads' span. I winced, wishing I had not bid and could leave now. The ringkeeper clanged his gong and it was too late. The Werebear snarled, its huge muscles rippling beneath its pearlescent fur as it settled into a stance and raised its joint-sundering arms. She was instantly a blur of movement, slamming aside one heavy arm as her other hand sped upward, angling sharply toward the vulnerable base of the creature's throat. In the blink of an eye, her boot had swept its feet from under it, her fingers digging deep into the vital reflex point. The Werebear went down, coughing and spitting in outrage, rolling heavily to break her hold by its sheer mass. The crowd grew suddenly, horribly quiet. The Werebear heaved itself to its knees, but she had already spun behind it to land an explosive kick on the side of its heavy-boned skull. Another sweeping step took her directly in back of the creature, a knee between its scapulae driving it forward to its face in the dust. On a man it would have worked, but Werebears are not so easily stunned, and it caught itself with one forepaw, recovered, and leapt directly to its feet. I saw her eyes flash grim as she circled it, looking for another opening. Enraged, it would not stop for mere pain now. She would have to disable or kill it, or she would not leave the ring alive. The Werebear closed with alarming, dazzling speed, swinging a punch like a mallet at her head, impossible to block in its utter power. She curled in a circle toward it, seizing the Werebear by the neck as if they were dancing partners, and spiraling it away and downward along the arc of its own momentum. The great beast staggered, clawing at her and knocking her to her knees. It reached for her as she threw her weight on her hands, lashing out with one booted foot. The Werebear howled and fell back. She scrambled to her feet and backed off, taut and alert. Whether by luck or art, she had surely stunned it, for it lay grunting and pawing its eyes in the gray dust. The ringkeeper came out and counted the full five which declared her a winner, while the crowd muttered, cheated of its death. I went around to the pursekeeper's stand behind the tent and put down the hiring fee. She came, bearing the traditional long knife and a small leather pack, which she set at my feet as she put her mark on the deed of release. For a moment it seemed she was about to write her name, which of course a mercenary for hire could not do, but then she made a clumsy, ordinary bird-mark, the novice sign, and turned back to me. She was still wearing her contestant's mask, The pursekeeper motioned for it; they did not give away anything. She untied the mask, still fixing me with her searing blue gaze. Her face resembled her body, strong, functional, hinting at a bitter, uncompromising spirit. She touched me, disturbed me in ways I could not name. "Name?" I asked, a little too brusquely. "Faith. And I serve?" Her voice was of medium pitch, as pure as a bell. "I'm Eddard and you're for my master, not me." "Well," she said, picked up her pack and followed me to the inn. She was easily as tall as I and her easy, swinging stride more than matched mine. I wanted to ask what had driven her to accept challenge of the masterless werebear, but custom forbade. The rules of For-Hire meant that she had sworn that she was free and without blood-price on her head; that was all an employer was entitled to know. But where had she learned to fight like that? Not in any backwoods garrison I knew of. I had heard drinking tales of knights but they were all of the old, old royal blood. When we stepped through the open portal of the inn, doubt assailed me for the first time, An unknown greenie, fierce though she might be, was not what my master had in mind. We needed dependable protection until we could reach the sanctuary of Nexus. Why had I even bid on such an unrealistic choice? I had been better educated than most men-at-arms and did not believe in witches, but there was something about her that caught at me, compelled me, almost gave me hope in these darkest of days. We climbed the narrow wooden stairs back to the small private rooms. I opened the door and went in first. He lay on the rude bed, my dear lord, his eyes were still eagle bright. "Eddard," he said, motioning me foreword. "What fortune?" I stepped to his side and bowed. Faith moved in her long powerful stride to the bedside, her eyes darkening to mystery in the ill-lit room. Slowly she went down on one knee as was proper, but with such grace and strength that the gesture was no obeisance, but a courtesy. "This is all you could get!" stormed my lord. I trembled a little, but not from fear of him. His wounds in the last terrible siege has cost him dear, and he could not afford the luxury of unnecessary anger. "She bested a Werebear," I protested. He hauled himself up on his one good shoulder and glared at her from beneath wild, bushy eyebrows. "Did she?" She stirred, a flicker of quiet power beneath her smooth, unreadable surface. He lowered his eyes. "She'll do for now." She touched her fingertips to her lips and forehead in the formal gesture." My lord Bardon. "Eddard-" "My lord, I swear I didn't tell her!" She brushed my protests aside and stood. "My lord, as I am now your shield arm, I must tell you that Reymuth is not safe for you. You are a marked man, and the Goblin King's troops are but a day's march away." "Child, how came you to know who I am, and such news of the horde?" She shook her head proudly, as if her hair were loose and not tightly bound beneath a tooled leather cap. "I am no child!" Lord Bardon's voice deepened into the kindly stern tones I had obeyed and respected all my years. "I am your master, child, and you are whatever I choose to call you. Or did you shame your bond oath when you obeyed and respected all my years. "I am your master, child, and you are whatever I choose to call you. Or did you shame your bond oath when you vowed service at the For-Hire meet?" "My lord." Faith bit back a reply and bowed her head, trembling a little. "I have seen your-likeness before, and heard of the siege and fall of Bardon Tower. As for the rest, it is rumor, but from a source I trust." I dropped to my knees beside him. "We dare not risk a longer stay, lord. Another day will not see you stronger, and we must not get cut off from the passage." He drew in his breath, gathering the rags of his once-massive strength, and sent me down to pay our accounts and have our mounts made ready. We took the traders gate from the town, mostly deserted in the late of the day, A pair of cutpurses leapt out at us as we neared the northern forest, but Faith beat them off with her long knife with easy competence. My lord smiled as she came trotting back to us after chasing them into a darkening corpse. I drew an easier breath, knowing that he was pleased. "We will not camp tonight, but backtrack along the suns' path," he said. I began to protest, but Faith silenced me, saying, "You yourself said it, Eddard. There is only more peril in delay. Our mounts are still fresh, and once we find the entry point we can relax a little, Until then we must push on." We went on through the deepening forest, Faith leading the way with a small torch, then my lord Bardon slumping in weakness in his saddle, and I at the rear. Leaves of a thousand dead seasons muffled the hoof beats of our mounts, and I startles more than once at the innocent sound of a wakeful night creature. Once Faith drew us to an abrupt halt , motioning for silence and shielding the light of her torch, listening intently. It seemed like a dream, following her through the night, keeping the brilliance of her beacon ever before my eyes, following her.…Although I was worried for my lord and his deep unhealed wounds, and frightened lest an errant sound signal the dreaded Goblin King's troops, there was such comfort in Faith's strength and certainty that the distance passed quickly. She drew us to a halt and extinguished the stub of her torch. Above the choppy trees, the stars glimmered in their slow circling dance. A milky veil tinged the east, and the jagged peeks of the crystal mountains loomed in front of us. It was nearly dawn. "We are almost there," she said quietly. "Can you smell it?" "I thought only those-" I began. "Hush!" said lord Bardon. "lead on, child. These old bones are ready for a rest." I caught the ghost of her smile in the faint half-light. She turned her mount, doubling back the way that we had come… And suddenly the emerald gossamer of an entrance to the passage surrounded us with its brilliant light. Lord Bardon slipped from his saddle with a cry of relief, for the remaining path through the Crystal Mountains was distinct, unique, and untraceable. We need fear no pursuit now, not until we arrived at Nexus. I lept from the back of my mount and went to see him, leaving Faith to attend the beasts. She accepted the task without complaint and soon joined us with the food bags and waterskin. "I gave our mounts a measure of meal," she said, drawing a small knife to slice a round of hard cheese for my lord. "They will have to wait to forage; what grows beneath their feet looks like grass but has no knife to slice a round of hard cheese for my lord. "They will have to wait to forage; what grows beneath their feet looks like grass but has no sustenance." I took the slivers of cheese and chunk of bread from her and fed him with small bites and sips until he drifted off into exhausted sleep. I looked down at his face, etched sharply in the flickering light of the torch. Gray , like a secret silent enemy, had invaded his hair and beard since the wanton destruction of our home. "Damn the Goblin king and all his henchmen!" I muttered in sudden protective anger. Faith, sitting cross-legged apart from me, looked up, her eyes glittering like some strange gemstones. "It is a tragedy when so many good men must suffer," she said. "Tragedy!" I spat, keeping my voice low so as not to disturb him. "It's evil, all of it, from the bloodthirsty demon himself to his demented lust for power. He's been seizing one kingdom after another until there's no stopping his terrorist reign." "The bloodshed is wrong, I agree, I cannot stomach it any more than you can. I condemn it, but-but not the dream of uniting the whole land. We were once one, you know, in the golden ages, when many marvelous things happened, when men could live in peace with their neighbors without constant, bickering warfare." "It's a man's right to defend his own,' I retorted. "Through law and justice, not indiscriminate pillage that starts an endless blood-feud, amongst the races," she answered me, the light in her eyes flashing with inner fire." "Who are you to mouth such highborn philosophy?" I drew back a little at her intensity. She had accepted the challenge of a Werebear, after all; she might be capable of anything…. "I am-" She cut herself off abruptly, and the flame in her deep blue eyes smoldered down under tight control. "I am only one who is tired of slaughter. At the hands of each petty lordling or the Goblin warhounds, it does not matter. People die and their dreams die, too." "Dreams!" I cried, the vision of Bardon Tower crumbling into burning rubble rising before my mind's eye. "What could you know of lost dreams?" "Because I too have a dream, a dream of a land united in peace, a dream of people living their lives in harmony and good will." "Then you had best slit your own throat now and hope to see it in Tilnar's realm, for you won't find such a fantasy at the hands of the Goblin King." I snapped, all the bitterness of my lord's ruin and our exile of terror welling up in me. I drew my cloak around my shoulders and turned my back to her. I did not want to hear her next whispered words, although they were meant only for herself. "I will see it." She was still sitting guard duty when my lord awoke, wan but refreshed. We mounted still-hungry beasts and traveled on through the flickering light. I only know that we went on for sometime until Lord Bardon signaled us to halt. "The City of All Races" he whispered, "We are on the threshold." He looked to Faith and she nodded. "I should go first, my lord," she said politely. She turned her mount, leading us again in the backtracking maneuver which opened the portal of the strange pathway. Suddenly a normal yellow light flooded our senses. I raised a hand to shield my watering eyes and peer about us. We stood at the edge of a grove of trees just outside the borders of Nexus. Across a gently rolling, grassy slope I could see the Barrier-shielded walls of the sanctuary. The road before us lay open, inviting. I urged my mount foreword. Faith raised a cautionary hand and drew her long knife. "This is the most dangerous part," she warned. "We must ride prepared." We spurred our beasts into a ground-covering trot, scanning the surroundings for ambush cover. I heard my lord cry out as his mount stumbled and recovered, jarring him cruelly. My nerves tightened with fear and I glanced up at Faith, riding at our head as if she were born to it. We came down one hill and across the flat expanse at its base, seeing the rocks and bushes which had been hidden from our sight before. The shelter of the sanctuary grew ever closer, the open gates holding welcoming arms to us. The howl of a battle-pitched Mercenary Captain shattered our hopes as we drew almost within reach of our goal. My heart stilled within me as I saw them pound toward us from around the walls; at their head a trollish captain bearing the sash of the royal house-hold guards. We pulled our mounts to a halt. Faith whipped around to face us. "I'll go first first and draw them, " she shouted in the oncoming din. "Eddard, take Lord Bardon around to right to the eastern gate. Do not stop for me!" "Are you crazy?" I shouted back. My mount began to plunge about under me with excitement. They were almost upon us. I could see the gleam of the sword the man bore, the black light in his eyes as he bore down the last slope. "Do it!" She commanded, and the regal authority in her voice shocked both of us into obedience, swinging our mounts into a hard gallop as she had directed. At first I could hear only the pounding of my animal's hooves above the pounding of my heart, my eyes fixed on my dear lord who clung grimly to his saddle. Suddenly, I heard her voice rising like a paean above the tumult, shouting, singing, chanting the wild words a battle prayer to lord of Dawn in the ancient tongue. My head throbbed with the sound of them, my heart catching in my throat at their beauty and power. We were almost at the gates. I slashed at the rump of my lord's mount with my riding whip, sending it frenzied across the threshold to safety, and reigned my own beast to a halt. Looking back, I saw her sitting tall as a goddess on her prancing steed, one arm flung wide as the giant man snarled before her. The soldiers milled in confusion, keeping their distance. I drew in my breath to call to her, but the echoes of her command held my tongue. Slowly, incredibly, the Troll bent to his knees before her, dipping his massive, terrible head. She urged her mount to the kneeling Troll, speaking him in a voice too low for me to hear. I saw a flicker of gentleness light her face for a moment as she laid one hand on his shaggy skull. I trembled on my snorting, nervous mount as Faith came toward me, the mercenarys quiet and obedient at her heels. The captain of the soldiers herded his men into a semblance of order, waiting, watching. A movement at the gates demanded my attention; my lord Bardon stood there on foot, supported by two of the kind, simple folk of Nexus who offered anonymity and sanctuary to all who fled there. His eyes glittered, fierce as a hawk's as she brought her mount to a halt before us. She slipped from her saddle. 'My lord, I must stay,' she said in a low voice, "It must begin here, the hope of all the realms lies here, and from here it must spread. I have completed my charge to escort you here. I beg you to release me from your service." "Child," he said softly, and reached out to sweep her leather cap from her bowed head. The knots had loosened in our last flight and it came away easily, revealing hair which was dull, dyed black everywhere except the roots, where the pure, iridescent silver of the imperial blood shone like moonlight. She smiled fleetingly, her gaze meeting his, "I had feared you would recognize me from your time in my father's court." "You were younger then. My lady Faithula, and your brother-" "My brother serves the Goblin King now!" she cried with sudden anger. "And in their quest for power, they are tearing this land apart, slaughtering leaders and innocent folk alike. I left his bloody court when I would no longer be party to it, I-" She paused, hands resting on the hilt of her long knife, tears luminous in her eyes, "I thought I could carve out a world for myself, for my own dreams, beginning as a mercenary…. …Now I see that my selfishness will achieve nothing, I realize that my duty is to serve all those that live in these realms, because I choose to make it so. You and your dear lord have shown me another way to rule, by inspiring love instead of terror; love that is not learnt by a single example but by constant reminder. " "What will you do, lady?" "I will make a stand here, and I shall return to our land But not to support his bloody throne; only to rule in his stead," The azure fire in her eyes leapt high, challenging the light from her silvery hair. "That's suicide!" I sputtered, my tongue finally having regained its wits. "you'll never be able to wrest power from him." "I will not contest them by force of arms, but by force of right," she said quietly. "The gods will show us a way if we have faith. Now take your lord to a place where you both can rest" I smiled and I turned to help my lord to the rest of Nexus, In my memory her blue eyes and silver hair shone, piercing me to the core, tugging at my soul to be gone and at her side. Frolus Class: FighterRace: Ogre In the depths of the Crystal Mountains lived a small nomadic tribe of barbarians. This tribe of barbarians was composed of nothing but ogres and all of the ogres trained much like the guild of barbarians in Neuxs. By the ogre tribal leader Frouk and his wife Lusia, Frolus was brought into Altin. Growing up, Frolus did not have many friends because he was not interested in the skills of the barbarians and could not use his madness as strength. In the tribe Frolus, like every other ogre child, was forced to train as a barbarian. At the age of three Frolus, his family, and the whole tribe was attacked by goblins. His father, mother, and most of the tribe were killed, with just a few including Frolus imprisoned. In the goblin imprisonment camp Frolus spent five years of his life. At age eight Frolus was at an age for an ogre in the camp to be able to fight in the battle ring. In the camp the goblins would have two prisoners fight to the death. These battles were made to control the overcrowding in the camp. Frolus being very young choose a steel sword as a weapon when he was first made to battle. His first opponent was a half-giant with a name he did not know of. Frolus did not want to battle anyone but was forced to or he and his opponent would both be slain if they did not. Frolus won the first battle. During his three other battles that he won, passed three years, which was one year each battle. Frolus, before going back to his cell got a thief there to steal weapons from the battle ring and supplied the many prisoners. When it was time for the prisoners to get locked in their cells for the night, Frolus and the other prisoners attacked the camp and escaped. Frolus did not know that he had one hour to run from the camp, for the goblins had send a scout to run to another camp to get other goblins to track and kill him and the other escaped prisoners. While walking away Frolus was met by the trackers and he ran as fast as he could south of the Crystal Mountains. Frolus, after running for two hours came exhausted and fell at the west gates of Nexus. He was then met by a cleric of nexus and was healed. Frolus searched around Nexus for some time and decided that Nexus was the place for him. He was then sent to Falcion for his training in hopes to one day be able to train in Nexus. Since Frolus was trained in the goblin camps in pure fighting skills he decided to join the fighters guild that was offered to him in Falcion. He was skilled at the basic skills of fighting already so he quickly trained in the guild and was out of Falcion in just one week. Frolus now trains in Nexus hoping one day he and the rest of Nexus will be able to rid Altin of the goblin imprisonment camps and avenge his mother's and father's deaths. Garender Class: FighterRace: Ogre Garender started life in a small village on a secluded island. He was born to the leader of the village and grew under his tutelage into a fine young lad. His father was the greatest Warlord the villagers had ever known, and much was expected of young Garender. He was like any kid though and would skip out on his training sessions sometimes to sneak off down to the beach to be with the young ladies. One day during one of these excursions he and his lady friend came across something they had never seen before...it was the corpse of an elf. Though, they had never seen such a thing, as the only other inhabitants of the island were a savage group of trolls who lived on the other side of it. He immediately got his father and the town council had a meeting. The decision of the council was to investigate where the elf had come from, and Garender was volunteered by his father to lead the expedition off the island. A ship was built in no time. Before leaving, Garender's father gave him his blade, he told him, "I wish for you to wield this as well as I by the time you return." and with that he gave him a Warlord's Katana, which his father had found on a ship that had washed up on the shore. And so Garender departed, heading for who knows where. After many days of travel a storm caught the ship. Seeking shelter from the storm, they made an emergency landing on a nearby island. As they trudged through the jungle looking for food, they came across a mob of beasts the likes which they had never seen. He was later to find out these beasts went by the name of Bugbears. They attacked him and his comrades. The ogres scattered and were picked off one by one. A few ogres made it back to the ship and they lifted anchor and left with another group of ogres, including Garender, stranded on the beach. Garender was much faster than most his comrades and outran the Bugbears as they swarmed onto the beach in hot pursuit of the ogres. Luckily for Garender, he found a Row Boat hidden in the reeds and used it to escape...but his friends were not as lucky. He had no oars, so he drifted on the sea for quite some time. He nearly starved to death. He was so famished that he passed out and when he awoke he was surrounded by strange people in white robes, which he later found to be the clerics of the Healing Hand. They had found him on the shore of Falcion and revived him. And so he began training in the city of Falcion as a member of the fighter's guild. After much hard work, the trainer on Falcion told him, "You have learned all you can from me, it is time for you to go elsewhere." and so Garender took the Transport sloop over to Nexus for the first time... When he reached Nexus he was overwhelmed by the diversity of people and the size of the city itself. It took a while, but eventually he made some friends and was proceding with his training very nicely...until two tragedies befell the two best friends he had made at the time. One committed suicide and the other followed Kyorl. He was devastated by the losses and decided he wanted to leave Nexus. He hired a crew in Rymek and sailed for home...but when he got there he was not happy with what he found. A Goblin Pirate ship had followed the retreating ship of his comrades from after the Bugbear encounter. The Goblins had ravaged the island. They had killed or enslaved half of his people. He found that some ogres had even betrayed us, one of which was Garender's sister. His father was leading a small rebel force against them and he was quick to join his father in battle against the menace. The battle was long and hard. Many were killed on both sides. At one point in the fight Garender's father was fighting off half a dozen Blademasters. One struck a blow through his father's leg and leveled him to the ground. In a desperation attempt, Garender parried the blow of the Goblin Striker he had been fighting and struck a lethal blow to the neck of the Goblin Blademaster that had felled his father. As his father lie there, Garender's sister appeared. She tried to slay there father, but Garender did not allow it. He didn't have time to parry the blow off is father, so instead he took the blow, and it tore through his ribs. At the same time he landed a blow through his sister's collar all the way down to her sternum. As they both lay there on the ground awaiting death, she looked over at him and said, "Oh Garender, what have I done...I'm so sorry..." and he forgave her just as her eyes rolled back into her head and she was gone. The ogres barely won that battle, and the Goblins fled the island with many ogreish and trollish slaves still in there possession. The village was decimated, there was almost nothing left. Garender's father got an infection from the wound and died soon after. But before he did, he did two things, he told Garender to leave the island and start a new life somewhere else and that he was proud of how he handled his sword in battle. Garender buried his loved ones, his father, sister, and the sweetheart he had left behind but couldn't save. With that he returned to Nexus, the wound in his torso nearly killing him as he managed to drag himself back to Town Square where several clerics worked to heal his wound. After a long state of depression, Garender came to and started training once again. He continues to this day to defend his adopted home of Nexus. Groth Class: FighterRace: Ogre In our lives there are many paths we take, some we choose others it seems we are forced towards. I remember when I was a child the path that started me on my journey that brought me to the island of Falcion. As a child of no more than 8 years I used to wander the land with what I guess you could call my clan though we went by no name, we lived in caves or whatever shelter was around. We took what we needed and what we wanted from villages and travelers we came upon, in the process usually slaughtering the people. One day I was out wandering around with two others in search of any signs of adventurers to slaughter and loot, when in the distance we saw 3 scrawny little creatures. Grins came across our faces as we broke into a run each looking to be the first to kill one. They had also seen us though, and two of them sprinted away while the other took up behind a nearby boulder to hamper us with his crossbow. To my left one of my clansmen took a bolt in his leg and stumbled slightly but kept moving on. I chuckled to myself and brought my makeshift club back and then let it fly through the air towards the creature. The club smashed into the boulder nowhere near the little thing and as I cursed my aim, the others had all but closed in on the little archer. I started to walk over knowing by the time I got there the creature would be dead. After looting the body we dragged it back to our cave to show the others. A few stared blankly at it, some I could tell recognized what it was and then I heard Etrius the oldest among us and our leader if you will, growl out the word "Goblin." I could not help but laugh as I said, "This is goblin? This what be killing all in its way?" Speech as for most of us was not my specialty. Etrius growled again and I shut my mouth. "This is just scout, worthless. There be more around, lots." Then he asked us "This was only one you are seeing?" We told him of the two that had fled and I thought I caught a glimpse of fear in his dark eyes. He told us all to gather our things and that we were to be off away from this place and we all did as he said. We had made our way from the cave each carrying all we could and as night fell we set up a camp area to rest and were to be off at first light. I had drawn one of the last watches and so I gladly went to sleep. I was later awoken by shouts of warning and cries to arms. As I jumped up and scrambled for a blade I heard 3 thunks, I looked over to see Gwylum, a fierce warrior standing looking down at 3 arrows deeply embedded in his chest. Another rain of arrows came down, some finding marks but most falling harmlessly into the ground and then in the distance form the dark stepped an innumerable amount of these creatures that were goblins. We were pitifully outnumbered and I recall looking around and thinking to myself that this is a good a night as any to die. They stood in ranks the first bunch seemed very anxious, this was obviously there young soldiers, behind them stood the more impressive warriors and behind them still concealed in the night was another dark presence that could not be seen. One of the younger goblins started to laugh and to my side I saw Etrius pull out an axe and let it fly through the night air. The laughing goblin's head snapped back violently and then he fell first to his knees and then to the ground to lie dead, face down in his own blood with his skull split open. There were shouts from all about as the young soldiers charged in, and so it began. These poor soldiers were not skilled at all. The first to me swung high, I easily dodged and slammed the hilt of my blade into his face. I heard the crunch of bone as he staggered backwards, as he was blinded by pain I brought my blade about and embedded it deep into the side of his neck. I pulled by blade back as his head sickly hung to one side and turned to the next soldier that was coming at me. He came in with an overhead chop and I brought my sword up to block it. As our blades met I looked into his cold eyes and smiled as I picked my foot up and brought it down delivering a crushing kick to the side of his knee easily breaking his leg. As he fell to the ground I circled behind him and drove my blade through his back as I felt the bite of steel on my side. The battle with the soldiers raged on for many minutes and then with most of their fodder lying dead on the ground the larger warriors started to step forward. I took the time to glance around and saw Gwylum with 3 broken shafts still in his chest breaking the neck of the last soldier in his hands. I laughed to myself "too stubborn to die that one." We had not gone without our losses and among the dead soldiers lay a good couple of my clansmen. The warriors advanced slowly, and we could tell no foolish mistakes were to be made by these ones. Then for some reason the stopped their advance and for a second I thought the gods had smiled upon my clansmen and myself. That though did not last long though as from the night emerged the dark presence that I had felt. This goblin wore no regular armor but instead a robe and held a staff in his hand. I heard someone behind me say the words "Magic Man" and it was at that moment I knew all was lost. Gwylum who had been too stubborn to die before had no choice but to succumb as blades of ice burst out from within his body, to the left of him another fell to the ground in spasms as bolts of lightning racked his body. Chaos ensued and a few of the warriors began their advance again. I gripped by sword tightly as I watched them advance and then ready to meet my death in battle I charged forward as my clansmen did the same. I swung down with all my might at the first warrior I came upon, he brought his sword up to block my strike but his blade shattered under the strength of my blow and my blade continued down deep into his body. As I tried to free my weapon, I caught a glimpse of a warrior advancing on me. I turned in time to see her attempt to relieve my body of the burden of head. I flung my head to the left as the blade whizzed by taking off the top half of my right ear. Already off balance I expected the ending blow to come but it never did and as I looked back I saw the warrior impaled on Etrius' massive sword, the goblins legs dangling a good foot off the ground. Many of my clansmen had already fallen and soon enough we would all be dead. Far off to the right horrible screams could be heard as an ogre's body was consumed by flames, Etrius then looked to me and said "We must flee and get revenge another day." He shoved an old sack into my arms that bared the symbol of unbalanced scales and said, "You fought good, but go now. I will save as many as can" I started to protest but before I could speak a word he held up some strange device and then the whole battle field was gone, I was standing in some strange forest. I had no idea as to what happened and started to yell out for any of my clansmen looking around desperately. I yelled out for Etrius to bring me back that I would die with them on the battlefield, no answers came to me but I continued to yell. Soon the blood loss began to take its toll and no longer able to stand I collapsed to the ground. It was then a human male ran right by me then turned around and came back to stand next to me. I growled a lunged for him and soon found myself unable to move any of my muscles, more magic? I growled and cursed at the lone man who just stood there and looked at me. While I was unable to move he started to mutter words under his breath and as I near glared a hole through his head I could feel my wounds starting to repair themselves. "I am no cleric but I what little I can do to help you I will." he said, "My name is Khalil. I have not seen you about before. Are new around here young one?" Still unable to move I spat out a few more colorful words at this man who was trying to help me. He then sat down and said "I have all day young one, and can keep you from moving as long as I like." Hours later having listened to him talk and talk and talk about nothing at all I asked, "Where am I? How come you not kill me yet?" He then told me much about where I was and that I could stay with him and the few others he had taken in. Completely lost and confused I followed him, and we went to the island I found out to be Falcion. I passed most of my time on the island alone and up until recently spent much of my time in nexus alone, learning from this adopted family I had come across and studying the way of weapons. Many mistakes were made and I am sure I will make many more in the future. My past is my past and there is much I have not said and will not say, I committed many unspeakable acts before my arrival and acceptance into Falcion and have worked hard to become what I am today. Since my arrival I have learned much including the ability to read, write and speak, though a hint of my old broken speech is still present at times. I have learned for the most part the difference between foolishness and bravery along with the difference between wisdom and cowardice. Upon my formal acceptance into the Fighter's Guild I have tried to become more active with people of nexus and of Falcion for the betterment of my guild, though I still do not care to be around many people. I will continue to do my best to uphold my Guild's honor, and will fight until the day I die or until I need to no more. Jennikki Class: FighterRace: Half-Elf Jennikki was raised by her mother in the town of Talmet. Her mother had two elven children as well, but their father had been killed by goblins just before they were born. Her mother, being lonely and poor, met a human ranger who used to come to Talmet for supplies and they fell in love and had a child, Jennikki. She loved her father very much, because he was the only one who really loved her, because she was a half breed in a society of elves. Even her half brothers despised her and the only times she could feel safe and comfortable was alone with her father. When she was 15 years old she witnessed her father being killed by a wolf and she mourned him for years. With her father dead her brothers began to bully her even more and she became aggressive, and often had to defend herself physically. After a fight with them she had to leave the village for good. She left for Nexus where she accepted any work she could find to earn a living on her own, she served drinks in taverns, worked in the stables and in shoppes and stores. At the age of 21 she decided that she was getting nowhere in life and that there must be a purpose for her, and enlisted in the fighter's guild and went to Falcion for her training. The aggression that her brothers created in her would now be turned into an asset, and she soon learned control and self discipline. With no friends or family to spend her time with she spent her time fighting and training and soon learned how to use a sword and shield. After a couple of months on the island she met her first love, a fighter by the name of Caliban. He was lonely and had gone through so much hard times, and for the first time since her father died, Jennikki felt needed and loved. But Caliban disappeared and she never saw him again, but he had inspired her with hope because now she knew that she may some day be loved again and that all was not lost when she lost her father. The day came when she completed her training and she was a Myrmidon of the fighters guild. She got ready to leave for Nexus again, but was told that during her time on the island, the fishing village of Rymek had been besieged and there was no way to reach Nexus at the time. She contacted an Arch Wizard who told her that the best, and only way to reach Nexus at the moment was to use a magical spell called teleport. Slightly worried, but determined to reach Nexus, she tried it. Disoriented and dizzy, she found herself facing a band of goblin warriors and two huge shadowy figures that looked like giants but larger and blurry. Exhausted and wounded, she managed to flee into the woods, to heal her wounds and rest. With directions from a ranger from Nexus she reached the town and was at last safe. It did not take long before a group of heroes set out to rid the roads of alchemist forces and requested her help, and soon the fighting began and it continued every day for as long as she stayed in Nexus. Goblins, werebeasts, wolves and such were common opponents, and as she grew stronger, bugbears, cavebears and necromancers made excellent challenges. Obviously talented, it did not take her long to advance to a prominent rank in the guild and her name is now inscribed into the Roll of Honor in the fighters guild and she has been dubbed a guild elder by her acting guildmaster, Wolf-biter the Champion. Kleto Class: FighterRace: Human The earth shook underneath his feet. The soldiers feet marched all about him. He knew he shouldn't be in this open area but he smelled food. That was for sure. Quickly he turned around only to find a massive object careening down upon his small body. Lerti heard a distinct crunching underneath his foot. Looking down he found the remains of a rather large ant. Grimacing over how he would get this off his boots he walked over to his troops. "Listen up! We have scouts reporting the movements of the Clansogres. I will not lie to you recruits, this fort will be hard pressed to stand against them. That’s why I need you all to fight with all we have taught you thus far! Sure, you have not finished your training but I have seen some of you perform incredible feats! Now I demand that you not falter under this siege. This is what makes us Champions!" To that there was only silence. A few of the soldiers passed out, from all of the tension and fear. Standing in the back of the formation was a young human by the name of Kleto. He stood grinning at his elderly drillmaster. For all the times he hated the man, this was his time to prove that he was better than his fellows. With feet spaced apart he looked quite the warrior. With his battle sword in hand he felt certain he could take on all the Clansogre himself. A siren sounded within the fort. With a smirk he rushed off to his battle position, at the gate. Sweat beaded his forehead. "I thought they were supposed to be here hours ago!"’Kleto grumbled underneath his breath. Reaching down he grabbed a rag and wiped his forehead. It was the heat of the afternoon. A low rumbling came from the north. Quickly he tensed his muscles. There was no clerical outpost here. If he died, that was it. Removing his blade from its sheathe he quickly had it in front of him. Holding his breath he readied for the impact of the Ogres. Before him the gates were ripped open, charging through were dozens of Ogres all carrying clubs the size of humans. Quickly Kleto rushed towards his prey. Finding an Ogre that had turned his back he quickly spun and plunged his blade deep into the massive back of the berserker. Falling to his knees instantly Kleto hacked at the Ogres knee, disabling his victim. Jumping up from his kill, he had no time to savour the moment. Immediately attacking an Ogre with a good friend of his, Kyoto. The half giant quickly sliced through the Ogre's arm cutting him down. Glancing at Kleto, he grinned and they both charged the Ogre Chieftan. Looking around the fort Detin surmised that he would easily win this battle. The ramshackle building had cluttered the Crystal mountains far too long. Quickly dispatching all the pitiful fledgling soldiers in his way he made way toward the Drillmaster of this pitiful post. Coming upon the chieftan Kyoto and Kleto were astonished to find the Ogre clutching the bloody head of the ancient drillmaster Lerti savagely ripped from his still warm body. Scanning the ogre for any weak spots the two soldiers quickly went about their futile task. Kyoto took the front of the assault, it made sense since he was so much bigger than his friend. Parrying the Ogre for all he was worth Kyoto held him at bay, while Kleto made his way to the Ogre's backside. He knew he would only get one strike at his enemy, before the monster was upon him. Hefting his bastard sword over his right shoulder Kleto charged forward letting out a thunderous warcry! Heaving his sword up he managed to clip the Chieftan's lower back. With a gasp of pain, Detin threw his arms in the air quickly seizing his assailant by the throat. Swinging his club in a direct path for the human's body, Detin lurched as he felt the cold bite of steel.. within his gut. Looking down he found the half giant on one knee with a battle blade poised in his powerful arms. Dropping the human instantly Detin pawed at his killer with his hands, as if flailing for a fly. Blood spewed out of the Ogre's mouth as he called out his last orders. "By Kyorl's fury, kill these basta...rd..s.." Detin cried, as he fell to the ground atop Kyoto. Kleto quickly glanced at Kyoto who was chuckling, yelling for him to get this monstrosity off of him. Kleto ran over to his friend and started to heave at his torso, to no avail. Quickly grabbing the Ogre's twitching foot, Kleto pulled with all his might, but it would not budge. Glancing up at Kyoto he saw the half-giant grin to himself.. That was the last time he saw Kyoto's friendly face. Blood spattered onto his face along with bone fragments cutting into his face. Wiping the mess from his eyes he could not believe what he saw. His friend was no more. He felt himself choke on tears instantly. A surge of pain split his skull, as he felt a warm liquid cover his scalp. A putrid smell waft over the place where he lay. Opening his eyes he saw a whole company of Ogres sitting around him. There was no where to go. He could do nothing. A grunt could be heard among them. "Whats we do with’em?" "He killeds our battlemaster, he deserve terrible death." An intelligent voice was heard over the group. "Fools, I will show you a most terrible way to do away with the fellow and alas, he will not die for weeks, but writhe in pain while the birds pluck at his innards." This seemed to be just what the Ogres wanted. Not wanting anything of the sort, Kleto quickly stumbled from his place of rest. Slowly fumbling through the camp he tried to be quiet but nothing could have stopped the noise. "Confusion of mind, and blast of body." was all Kleto heard. Struggling to turn his eyes towards the group. He found that he could only make out a figure. The Ogres were upon him in an instant restraining him while the figure stepped into the light. What seemed like elven features were present. "Well, hello fool. You were quite foolish to have lived through that battle. You have murdered their Battlemaster. Quite a foolish thing indeed seeing how you were so easily caught. Anyhow, and don't take this personal, you will die a cruel death. I do believe it will be quite hilarious indeed." With a cruel chuckle he turned his back upon the human. "Urhm, Astaroths whats we dos?" "Leave that to me, just knock him out." Into the darkness Kleto came yet again. Who was this Astaroth? Why was he helping the Ogres?! What in the name of Altin! "Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!" Kleto gasped his breaths coming in ragged succession. The pain was excruciating. Straining to look up he saw that a stick was sticking through his stomach. Tears wet his face in the heat of the day. He turned his head looking down, Kleto could see that he had been pierced by a small tree, sharpened to a point. There was no more bleeding, his wounds had been healed with the tree jutting through his abdomen. Kleto clutched for his weapon, anything to end the pain, but even that was taken from him. He could not even end his life. He flailed his arms in a helpless manner causing him pain from which there was no respite… He passed out yet again. Overlooking a ridge in the Crystal Mountains was a Drow. Peering over the edge he saw an oddity in the midst of some bushes. Squinting to see he could make out the faint outline of a person. Quickly he made his way down the ridge. From afar anyone could have mistaken this for a dead tree. But upon closer inspection Deriseus found that a human had been placed upon this small tree in an absolutely cruel form of torture. The man had passed out as anyone would have under that pain. Coming to the tree he saw that no vital organs had been punctured. Touching the human's neck he found the man to still be alive. Smiling at such news he spoke a few words and the limbs of the man lift level with his torso. Taking out a small blade he cut away at the small tree, breaking it free from the root he lifted the man from his supposed deathbed and quickly pulled the rest of the tree from his stomach. Lifting the human's arms Deriseus grunted, "Now let's take you somewhere safe, and you'll tell me of what happened to you child.” With that Deriseus chanted, "Go where the winds carry thee." Krono Class: FighterRace: Human Krono spent his earlier years in a small town, Aldonica. His household consisted of his father, Relam, his mother, Talissa, and his sister Myra. Krono was your typical small child, running rampant around the town and getting into trouble here and there. When Krono reached the age of 11, his father felt it time that Krono learn the art of swordplay. Relam trained young Krono vigorously for years and gave him little time to do much, other than train. During his free time, he would play with the other town children, causing mischief and whatnot. As he aged, he reached that point in a young man's life, and he became fond of his sister's friend Aylaa, and began to spend his free moments with her. He even mustered enough courage to skip some of his father's lessons to run off with Aylaa. Now, almost a full fledged man, Relam felt that there was little more Krono could learn from him, and had the town blacksmith forge Krono a sword of his own. His life seemed perfect, for he was now a skilled swordsman, and his feelings for Aylaa had blossomed into what he thought was love. Weeks went by and Krono had been taken in as an apprentice for the town smithy. One day, after working for only a couple of hours, the smithy gave Krono the rest of the day off. Krono rushed home to eat, and then planned to go spend some time with Aylaa. When he arrived home, he found his father speaking with the Queen of Cigam herself. Krono, interested in the conversation, eavesdropped for the remainder of it. When the queen left, Krono's father summoned him. "Son, the queen had come to personally request that I be one of the Elite Guard. I have accepted and we shall be relocating to the kingdom in the early morn." Mixed feelings overwhelmed Krono, for new life would be exciting, especially living in the kingdom, but he would be leaving Aylaa behind. The next morn, an hour or so before it was time for Krono to leave, he decided to spend his remaining time with Aylaa. The two went deep into the woods to spend their last moments of intimacy in peace. When they reached a nearby clearing, sounds of dreadful screams and wails of suffering filled their ears. They quickly turned back and headed to town, and when they arrived, they saw strange, hideous creatures they had never seen before. The hoarde of creatures were slaughtering the inhabitants of Aldonica and pillaging the town. Krono quickly drew his katana and began slaying the humanoid creatures. He guarded Aylaa till they arrived at her house and he told her to get her club and join him. He then saw his father slaying the creatures near a mysterious yellow opening in the air. He was quick to aid his father at his side, and the two battled the creatures as they stormed out of the yellow opening. "Go see if your mother and Myra are alright, many of the creatures slipped by me when I was baffled at what was going on. I'll hold them off here" his father said ecstatically. Krono, heeding his father's command, rushed to his house, slaying a creature here and there as he passed them. Wasting no time, he kicked down the door only to find his sister mutilated on the ground and one of the strange creatures holding a blade to his mother's throat. Krono screamed with rage and charged the hideous being, but it swiftly got behind Talissa, keeping the blade to her neck. The creature opened his mouth and began to speak, "Another move, and this woman receives the same fate as that girl." Krono looked astonished "You can talk?" The creature snickered and swiftly dashed out of the house, still holding his mother captive. Krono quickly chased after them, only to see the creature jump through the yellow opening with his mother. As Krono ran toward the opening, it disappeared without a trace. He looked around only to find bodies of villagers and the strange creatures covering the ground. He saw Aylaa kneeling beside one of the corpses and as he neared it, he realized it was his father. Devastated at the death of his father and sister, and the abduction of his mother, Krono knelt beside his slain father, and wept for many hours, Aylaa at his side, offering whatever comfort she could. As Krono finally began to calm, he and Aylaa heard a strange noise. As he stood to search around, the yellow opening appeared again, and a dozen of the creatures emerged from the gash in the air. Seeing the creatures he drew his katana and went into a ballistic rage, giving the damn creatures only seconds to live. After he slew the last of them, he turned to Aylaa, then to the opening, and back to Aylaa. She took his hand into her own, and nodded her head slowly, and they both walked into the yellow opening, and disappeared. The two were quickly spit out of the opening and as they looked around, they realized they were in a foreign area. They analyzed their surroundings, only to see trees and forest floor. The two walked for a short time before coming to a city, the city of Falcion. As they entered the city, the two encountered many things they had not seen before, such as elves, ogres, trolls, renis and half-giants. Among these they also found other humans, which was relieving to them. As they spoke with the inhabitants, they were informed that the creatures that had destroyed Aldonica were known as goblins. Krono, eager to find his mother, if still alive, and to avenge the deaths of his father and sister, joined the fighters guild and began new training in Falcion. Krono's new life has yet to unfold. Lanaya Class: FighterRace: Elf With a blink she looks up from polishing her armor, "You want to know my past hmm?" A soft smile breaks her face, "Alright i'll tell you what I can remember." ------------------------------------------------------------ I grew up in a small village, about twenty adults and five children including me, I was the only girl in the village. My father was a woodworker, he made many beautiful and wonderful things, one of the things he made was a toy sword, he gave that to me just as a joke of a gift, but it turned to be a lot more. I loved that sword, it was special to me, even though it was made of wood, to me it was a real sword. Hours upon hours I would practice and play with that sword. I loved it, the weight, the way of swinging. Soon though it became time that my parents wanted to look to find me a husband, I was still very young, but they wanted to marry me off early so that I would be happy or some such. But I was happy with my blade, the boys of the village would have nothing to do with me because well, they were afraid of someone that could beat them with a sword I suppose, never thought much about it. But soon I began to feel like I was a disappointment to my parents, which made me feel bad. We got word of a war being fought in a far off city, and that they were in need of any who were willing to help, I told my parents this is where I would go, and well as you see I am here now ... this is my home, and I will always fight to protect it. Much has happened since I first came around, and I have acquired many wonderful friends and even family members. Most of my past, like many of my years here, I have lost to my memory, unable to remember much at all. I am sorry if my past story was not much for you to enscribe, but I hope it will help. Licede Class: FighterRace: Ogre Fifteen years ago on Ruvur, the twenty-second of the month of the Twilight, in the year 1,637 since the Godswar, and year 1,220 of the Empire a young warrior from a great line of warrior blood was born. Young Licede Maximus Corwin was born, his name meaning brave one. He lived 3 happy years with his family. Even at this young age he mimicked his fathers hopes and dreams. His father, a noble warrior, taught him ancient values. One night in his village, Ofike, to the south of our great stronghold, his father awoke with a piercing cry, for his heart had been pierced by the knife of his beloved wife, Licede’s mother, Gena. She had been spying for the goblins for 1 year now, and was maddened with the power of dark sorcery. But she could not end the blood line with Licede’s death, for when she stood over his innocence, knife in hand, she felt a moment of weakness. In that split second the child was whisked away by Rolend, the trusted advisor to the family and powerful weavemaster. Wizard walk was his tool, and he sacrificed himself in this great drain of power for the sake of Licede, leaving him with only a magic medallion, passed down through centuries. The amulet was crested with a dragon. The edges glow in his times of need, protecting his soul. They flair with a mighty aura and the burning prophecy that the Corwin blood line would one day take part in leading the alliance against massive hoards. Lost without Rolend to guide him, Wizard Walk could not be understood or controlled. He fell to a different world. He met a nameless warrior who he somehow knew. This warrior nourished his skills and taught him to fight with all weapons. His world was training, but he could see into our realm. He longed for a different kind of companionship. His blade sung and arrows flew with wildfire, but he lacked a certain magic. One day he saw through his one-way curtain between worlds, a beautiful women named Kura. He plead with his master to go and see the world, woo this ogre, who was sheer beauty in his eyes. His master reluctantly let him go. His master sent him back through a portal to the crystal mountains, but his power had grown and his presence was sensed by the dark powers. The alchemists disguised themselves as beggars and villagers. They brought him to a long sleep with powerful draughts. They infused his blood with the rich blood of black dragons. They hoped they could possess his soul and bind his life-force to the dark side of the weave. His amulet glowed like fire and purified the blood in his body. The searing heat of the amulet burnt a dragon emblem into his chest linking him to the prophecy. When he awoke his essence had not been turned; His body and heart had been strengthened by the blood under guide of the amulet. He then over through the alchemist that was contorting his being. He ran for days and lived off the land and the wild creatures that inhabited it. He finally came to his destination, a small town called Hida. Exhausted by the travel he was brought in by Martin, a young warrior of similar age to Licede. Martin brought Licede to Falcion where he quickly advanced in rank with his power and training. Licede won his love. His blade protected them, yet his hatred for the goblins and the evil heart that possessed his mother drove him further to seek revenge. Lisaninizi Class: FighterRace: Reni Resting her hands softly on her belly, she dreams. Though she faces the clear night through her window, her eyes are enormous, dark, and softly unfocused. Her pupils drown most of her iris, but for a thin rim of gold. Though the night breeze is chill, she makes no move to either close the window or move away. A secretive smile dawns on her face as she cups a hand gently against her abdomen. She remembers Dr. Fillis, so brilliant she thought the force of his eyes must burn her. She remembers his soft voice, his soft hands, the compelling power of his gaze. She was sixth sub-assistant to his junior associate and the idea that she could help him with his work thrilled her. Dr. Keyrine Fillis had made Yerris-fulln famous with his research on sub-theoretical chant manipulation in areas of low ether concentration. To help him concentrate, to help him focus - this was a great work. Sometimes, watching him furrow his brow at a particularly difficult schematic, or stretching his shoulders after a long day, she wished for more. Even as she went to him, to offer him comfort, release, she treasured different hopes in her heart. When she felt life begin to grow within her, she thought the Gods had given her a chance. Her hand reaches into the air over her shoulder, stroking hair that is no longer there. She sees it still, luxuriant sweeps of darkly glimmering sapphire. Her hair had swept smoothly to the small of her back, clinging to her sleek aqua fur. She had been considered beautiful. She drops her hand back to her lap. She remembers the way men had looked at her. How they had vied for her attention. And she remembers the way sad Dr. Kurrint had stared at her for so long before speaking... before... before... She had thought that he meant ask her out. She had thought he was evaluating the morality of her position as his patient. But that was before... For a moment, she almost remembers something very sad. She almost remembers his hesitant words as he explained how she had lost the baby. How, sometimes, under stressful conditions, a child could be re-absorbed by its mother. How she was devouring her own child. She almost remembers something beyond bearing. She turns her back. She closes her eyes. Her body has not moved, but it is just that, a body. Sometimes she goes somewhere else, and no-one can find her. There is a mirror on the wall above her bed, containing a gaunt reni with dull, matted fur and jagged-shorn hair. A fly lands on her cheek, resting near her eye like a tear, but she does not twitch. There is a little light in those eyes, still. One day they may open again, and see what must be done. Magmus Class: FighterRace: Ogre The many stories of Magmus are occasionally conflicting, but always horrific. I, Ts'okn the scribe, have chronicled Magmus' past from the many stories told of him and have found the following to be, if nothing else, the best attempt made thus far to chronicle this Ogre's checkered past: It is said that his origins lay in the northern Crystal Mountains. Though little is known about actual his birth place, it is known that along with the many other unlucky races whom have toiled at the hands of the goblin horde, Magmus too grew up knowing only a life of slavery. Because of his apparent size and strength, even at a young age, Magmus was assigned to tasks normally saved for beasts of burden - which he soon became. From dawn to dusk, his hands and feet were shackled together. By night, he was chained to a large stone wall, spending many a cold night bare to harsh elements. Magmus came to know years of being forced to plow fields and turn millstones, his strength harnessed to feed the hungry masses of the goblin horde. After many years of whippings, wound saltings and inadequate shelter, Magmus had finally reached a time when he could escape. Metals had come to be in short supply and was needed by the Goblins for weapons and armor among the many implements of war. The chains used to subdue Magmus were melted down for stock, and his restraints were replaced by hemp rope. When this change was made, Magmus effortlessly cast off the ropes with a flex of his thick, rugged musculature. Grabbing the head of his sleeping Goblin taskmaster, he twisted it off like a mushroom cap, releasing it from the limp body. He is often found carrying this very skull present day. The details of Magmus' history become increasingly vague after his escape from the goblin labor camps. He apparently spent many years alone, wandering in the wilderness, taming his ravenous proclivities on stray sheep and cattle. It seems from most accounts that Magmus has an almost instinctual urge for combat, a bloodlust far beyond even the most fearsome of his race. Perhaps his years of torture and slavery are responsible for this, perhaps not, his words are few and often in discernible. In my evaluation I have found Magmus to be more of a beast than a 'person'. His sheer physical strength has come to both respected and feared because it is accompanied by organizational and strategic combat skills. For a seemingly simple minded beast, he is extraordinarily resourceful, able to live for several suns with naught food nor water. His close friends are few, as he often may not at first remember them. This trait has made him an almost perpetual rogue, like a boulder rolling in its own direction on a seemingly predetermined course. Mandela Class: FighterRace: Elf Name? asked the corporal at the desk. Mandela Quilin'siir, corporal, I answered. Quilin'siir ... not on the list of Inheritors of the Blood, is it? No sir, I'm not aristocracy, sir. Not among the High Class, either, murmured the corporal, sifting through lists of names. No, sir, I replied, wondering what he was driving at. Well, he declared, you've no title and no real money. Infantry, for you. Sign this form, then report to the Quartermaster. Yes, corporal, I replied, taking up the quill ... I sat on the ground around one of the Double Blue Regiment's watch fires, looking out over the field the Third Flag was camped alongside, and cleaning the grit off of my pike. The fires of the encamped army spread around like a reflection of the sky, each star a burning spot of flame in the dark ground. The lines spread for almost a mile and a half down the plain, at Irith Sol. I could see the rest of the Nineteenth Infantry, also the Third Elite Bows, the Eleventh Mounted Dragoons ... half of the Elvish Third Flag forces, making ready on the eve of battle. Looking across the plain, I could just make out the glocks' camps as well, like some sort of seething, firelit anthill. My army and theirs sat in the darkness that night, and watched each other. Excuse me, ma'am. I looked up, it was Arcis, my corporal, wearing his standard-issue drab green uniform, and a smile. Battle group assignments are in. We're with the Greys and the Treble Greens, with some lovelys from the Third Elite Bows. Lieutenant Durbin requests that we brief our squads and get them armed, the convoy just pulled in. Good old Arcis, always on top of things. You get worn down after thirteen years out in the muck, but he had only been out for five, and was still full of patriotism and excitement, a little kid still playing soldier. I got up, straightened out my uniform, and started off to take care of my squad. We were up before the suns the next morning, forming up the lines. Lieutenant Durbin, our commanding officer, was out being pretty as we got our pikes and knives ready, wearing his gold braid like some sort of visiting General. He was thrilled over being given a regiment from the Elite Bows as support for our Double Blue Regiment, normally we got Standard Bows, if we got anything at all. I took my colors pike off the stack, and lashed the battle flag to it. The Color Sergeant has to keep the squads together in the fray, and I was a Color Sergeant. My rank privilege, apparently, was getting a flimsy toy of a colors pike, longer and lighter for carrying a flag, instead of a nice heavy battle pike like everyone else. Corporal Arcis and Lance Corporal Felliwit got the squad into the forward line, as I checked with the Field Sergeants on either side to make sure they had their men together. My flag group was running in front this morning ... first in, last out, and nothing needed to be left to chance. Across the plain, the glocks had their lines formed, big and black, waiting for us. We took the charge at a full run, pikes down, careening across the plain like demons, our lines and the glocks’ dashing madly towards each other, until the final, inevitable crash together. It was the standard hell for a while, every man Jack fighting to keep alive ... either you killed the glocks, or they killed you, and if you died, that was it. You were bagged, tagged, and sent home to your mother in a big wooden box, fit only for worm food at the down-six. I kept the flag up until about fifty percent of my squad of twenty was downed, and then started using the pike as the good Lord Erisar intended it. It didn't last long, without the metal sheathing of a battle pike, some glock chopped it in half in fairly short order. I gave him the end with the point on it as a present for his liver, and almost grabbed his pike instead (I have never yet used my general-issue combat knife). That was when the horror beast showed up. By horror beast, I mean only a glock larger than your standard infantryman. Every so often, you'd meet one out in the field, trying to mince you up better than the standard piker. This one was one of the trained warriors, all in black armor and leather. I had seven out of my squad left, and it didn't look good. Apparently it didn't look good to Lieutenant Durbin, either, because he told his regiment of archers to open fire. The only problem was that my squad was still in the thick of it. Warbows are not discriminating about who they put holes into, and the arrows mostly don't stop until they hit the ground, they'll go through three or four bodies, given the opportunity. What was left of the three squads in my flag group ended up being torn apart. I didn't have a weapon to worry about, and managed to get all the way under my shield, there are advantages to being smaller than most. When the arrows stopped coming, everyone that was still alive got up and ran. There were three of us left. Felliwit died later that night, unable to breathe with his lungs full of blood. Arcis lost his right leg, which had been so completely torn apart by nine separate arrows that the medics gave up on it and just lopped it off. I was ready to kill, and people knew it. Durbin had opened fire on his own men, like an incompetent, or like we were some kind of trash, which I suppose we were. Still, we're there for the glocks to kill in massive amounts, not to be torn up by our own. I had been in the hospital tent for two days and a half when the aide-de-camp showed up. He handed me a new uniform and a wheelbarrow full of excuses. This isn't my uniform, I told the aide, looking at it. This is a dress uniform, and it has five stripes on it. That's Master Sergeant, you blithering fool. I'm a Color Sergeant, and what I need is a combat uniform. The aide looked a trifle afraid for a moment or two, before beginning his practiced speech. Er ... ma'am ... it is my happy privilege to inform you that Lieutenant Durbin has promoted you to the rank of Master Sergeant, and that you will be moved into the Quartermaster Corps immediately for administrative ... That was when I blew up on him ... Durbin was going to give me some presents and try to appease me. I snatched the uniform, threw it on, and started off for Durbin's tent in a blind fury, knocking the aide over a table as he tried to stop me. Ah, Master Sergeant Quilin'siir, Durbin said with a self-satisfied smile and a wink as I entered the tent he had his office in. I've heard they're putting you in for the Valor Cross, even, and I have to say that ... You slime, I said, my tone in itself making him stop his happy small talk. I'm sure I beg your pardon, he said uneasily, looking rather confused. You, I said, killed my men. You are a gold-braided two-starred piece of undercooked glock flesh. Now, now, my dear, you see ... were the last words out of his mouth before I hit him. I will take the credit for breaking his nose, but I maintain that it is his fault about the concussion he gave himself for foolishly falling onto the corner of a desk. I left the Nineteenth Infantry that very day, before my court-martial and execution could take place, and before any more ineptitude or apathy killed more of my men. Markham Class: FighterRace: Ogre "Markham!" screeched a woman. "Coming," roared Markham as he emerged from a bush. "It's 'bout time you got here," said the woman. "I's sorries mothers," replied Markham. "Are you ready?" she asked and Markham nodded in response. His mother nodded and threw a sheathed katana to him, "It's swords day." Markham caught the weapon with a growl and nodded. As far back as Markham can recall every day has been rigorous training and weapon wielding. His father was one of the leaders in the Warjin tribe and his mother resides as the chemist of the tribe with the title of "War Maiden." They were well known throughout the tribe as adroit and proficient warriors. Through this reason is why Markham trained himself. Markham was partially forced in the early beginning, but ended up enjoying the time he spent training and never missed a chance to compare himself with others, especially his father. Markham resembled his father in many aspects, but he lacked the intelligence his father was known for. The daily rituals Markham underwent were always the same and coordinated precisely with the commanding general of the tribe, General Cosell. He was more or less the biggest ugliest ogre of the tribe. He was cruel and hostile to everyone of the tribe except for Markham. He always enjoyed his time with Markham and wished to handle his tribe training and recruitment. As Markham exited the door he arrived to a crowded street full of people with different racial backgrounds. At this point in his time he was about used to the racial differences, but many of his peers and loved ones coped with it differently. As he left the steps of the blacksmith shop he was bombarded by a crowd of salesman. "Yus cummings?" growled Cosell. Markham laughed and ran to the man nodding leaving the salesmen befuddled by his disappearance. "I's redies," replied Markham gripping the katana sheath. Corsell patted his back and said, "Yus gon r-" just as he started his sentence a blood curdling scream emitted a few hundred yards in front of them. A dark red giant appeared in front of them and as Cosell began to walk back they encountered two more giants except these two were dark tanned and light blue. Cosell signaled to the gateguard. A loud rumbling bell rang throughout the city. The gates were immediately opened and people began evacuating. The tribe was gathered in many squadrons over the city. The giants began attacking the buildings and Cosell summoned Markham, his father and mother to dispose of the red giant. "Nos runs in and attaks Mark," grunted Cosell. Cosell ran behind the giant and slashed it viciously in the back. Markham nodded to his father as they both leaped at the giant. Markham stabbed the giant and his father left but a graze. Markham struggled to remove the katana, but it was lodged inbetween the giants ribcage and collarbone. The giant howled in pain and knocked Markham clean into a wall. The yelping giant wrenched the katana from himself and darted toward the edge of the city backhanding any obstacles from his way. "Get wolves," roared Cosell. Immediately two immensely large wolves ran to his side. "Mark! Yus cums wif mes, " declared Cosell. Markham leaped onto the wolf placing himself behind Cosell. He strapped his arms around Cosell and grunted. The wolf dashed off following the scent of the giant. Following them was his parents. On and on they went following the giant until thud! A tree trunk landed a blow to Cosell's chest knocking him and Markham off. Markham flew back and tripped the second wolf sending his parents off also. Cosell growled and grabbed his sword. "Yus okies?" he asked looking between the three. All of them nodded in unison returning to their feet. "Who ther?" snarled Cosell. At this question a hoarde of goblins armed with tree trunks emerged from the forest. Cosell growled, "Arm yuselfs. Mark taks left arms, Sergeant yous taks right sides, I's will taks frunt." At this order they ran to the position as the goblins marched toward them bearing their teeth. "Kemis! Cums back hers!" yelled Cosell. Markham's mother placed herself in between the three. A boulder was thrown at her and she barely dodged it as she stepped back. The rocks gave way under her feet. She stumbled forward and looked behind her. Below her was the ocean breaking against a nearby reef. The goblins charged and the three of them fought: slash, stab, slash. The bloodshed kept growing, as did the goblins. Markham's mother knelt down and began chanting prayers. Four goblins charged Markham's father. The man growled and fought for his life. The goblins clawed and bit and finally overthrew his father. No one was aware of his casualty as he died silently. Once they were sure he was dead they moved towards the kneeling woman. One claw-bearing strike to her neck left her decapitated. Cosell growled at Markham and said, "Gos jumps!" Markham shook his head furiously Cosell lunged at Markham and threw him over the cliff. As he watched Markham struggle to maintain his composure he was bashed instantly unconscious by the goblins. Markham hit the water and fell unconscious as water slowly covered his body. He drifted through the endless sea unconscious as waves rippled over him. He coughed and sputtered water out of his lungs one lonely evening as he came to his sense. Markham rubbed his head with a dismissive grunt, "Ughs mes heds hurts. .whers am I's?". He growled and looked around maintaining his head afloat. He slowly swam to a small beach and removed his dripping clothing. He wrung it out and placed it back on. He searched the area for people and growled. He walked forward a few fields and finally came upon a beach hut. He looked around and finally heaved a deep breath and walked towards the hut. He yelled, "Hullos?" and a young human lady emerged with a gaping mouth, "Are you alright my dear." Markham just shrugged and asked, "Wher's mes ats?" The lady standing there with an astonished look and said, "Why your at Rymec silly, where did you think you were?" Markham just shrugged and said, "Mes gos homs from hers?" The lady said, "Where is your home at?" "I's no nos," replied the ogre. The lady sighed and said, "I do not know then, but by the looks of you, I'd say you could live her with no trouble." Markham eyed her and shrugged, "Mes wunts gos homs to keel dos goblins." He growled and the lady stumbled back in fear, "Well if it's goblins you wish to kill this area has a goblin problem that you could take care of." The lady summoned an a man with a letter and said, "Give this to the one in the city looking for men to fight." The archer nodded and left immediately. For the next few days Markham stayed with the lady and became good friends with her. Her name was Shikara. On the fifth day a man came to the hut. He was carrying a parchment and quill and looked at Shikara, "Is this the man you were speaking of?" She nodded and said, "Indeed this is Markham, he wishes to return home, but lacks the knowledge of it's whereabouts, and he has some grudge against the goblins from what I've heard. So sir, if you do see his predicament, he would be of great assistance to this army." The man nodded, "Well I'm sure Fenwick would love his company upon the field, but he would have to undergo some training upon the island." The woman nodded, "Well whatever it is, I'm sure he'll do it." Markham just nodded looking off into nowhere. "Well I'm sure we can send him tomorrow," said the man. So the night before Shikara cooked him a fine meal and said, "So before you get all famous and well known come back and see me please. I'd love to see how you turned out." Markham just shrugged at this kind statement and said, "Mes dos." Markham awoke the following morning to the man banging upon his chest. Markham just growled and said, "stups." "It's time to wake up sunshine, now get on the boat before I whip you to submission. Markham just laughed and rolled over. A few moments later, CRACK! Markham jumped to his feet rubbing his back, "Mes gos," he growled. He boarded the boat and leaned over the railing slowly closing his eyes as he drifted back to sleep. Merca Class: FighterRace: Troll Merca was born on Panur, the ninth of Midnight, in the year 1,629 since the Godwar, and year 1,212 of the Empire, in a small desert tribe. Living his life out as any normal troll, he spent the time learning to survive in the desert and tending goat herds. An only child, his father taught him what he knew, the use of weapons to fend off rogue scorpions and lizards. Tending the herds was a menial and boring task for Merca. Guiding the goats around the hostile creature and sleeping with them at night. The only benefit seen to his young mind was the wyverns, sometimes raiding the herds for food. Wyvern hunting was among his favorite pastimes, relishing the challenge of tracking and slaying these beasts. Different areas of the desert hold different threats, to be treated in different ways. The oasis located towards the southwestern edge was one to handle with care. With water nymphs inhabiting the area getting the goats in there thrice a week for water ending up being a continual challenge. Traversing across all areas of the heated sands, the young troll found something many had forgotten. On one of his common forays into the forbidden areas of the pyramids, he came upon an ancient relic. Carrying it to this day, the magic container once gifted to Ta'Urag, the Honored Battler by Vrackon. In the last year before the goblins found and enslaved the tribe, Merca came upon a scouting party. Leading the scouts was a giant talking wyvern, holding the goblins under its sway with fear, its ebony black scales and sizzling saliva filled jaws. Using the tricks of the desert Merca removed the goblins one by one, until there was only the wyvern left. Being young and foolish Merca tackled the wyvern head on, challenging it to a battle on a sandy desert plain. Coming down to all fours, the reptile eyed him in contempt for daring challenge him. As as the battle started, Merca knew he had met his match, this wyvern was far superior to any he had fought before, using both cunning and magic. In the end luck alone saved him, his foe disturbing a giant scorpion sleeping under the sands. Enraged at getting woken on, the scorpion drove the beast driving off to the north. Merca did not escape his foolhardy thrashing unscathed, the dragon scarring him badly. Its scar tinged from the green saliva, runs from his left ear across the front of his face down to his shoulder. Later, to the horror of the camp, the goblins returned enforce to enslave the trolls. Being outnumbered and out skilled, the trolls never stood a chance. Merca was out scouting the red lizards, incase they were looking to hunt the herd again. Returning to find the goblin warparty throughout the burning tents, his tribe enslaved and society gone. He had no option but to venture west, surrounded by impenetrable obstacle all on other sides. From there Merca found Rosehelm and came upon Nexus, City of All Races. Still at a loss what to do now his tribe has gone, he has made the city his home at least temporarily. Having no fondness for the goblins, holding and using his bitterness against them for destroying his life. Living now to slay the giant wyvern, learning from the Fighters Guild how to combat its claw, breath and magic. Minsc Class: FighterRace: Human Born into a comfortable lifestyle, Minsc was bound for greatness from the moment he stepped into the world. His father was the chief advisor to the Mayor, an old man who has lived as a rule over the small town for all of his life. His mother was a young woman that was recently married to his father, after the devastating loss of his wife, who died suddenly in the night. As a child, Minsc spent most of his time in the presence of the local militia, fascinated by the training the soldiers underwent. With all of his time spent watching the soldiers, he started to get informal training from the soldiers during their spare time. After a while the generals took note of this, and found out who this child was. Once finding out he was the son of the Kings advisor, they began to train him in the arts of strategy and leadership. Minsc proved to have a natural affinity for battle, and gifted in the ways of leadership. By his early teens Minsc was already in command of a small division of new recruits, and was settling skirmishes along the border. Even though he was younger by sometimes decades, his troops always gave him the respect they would any skilled leader. By his second year in command he was at such high respect that he was assigned the leader of the entire militia squad, second in command only to his father and the Mayor. Proving himself over and over, Minsc never lost a battle. After a particular bloody and long battle, the town signed a peace treaty, throwing the city into a time of calm and relaxation. Taking advantage of this, Minsc decided to leave the city to further his training as a warrior, and a leader. He decided to go to travel the world in search of an army worthy of his skills. A few months into his travel, Minsc heard from a local drunkard, who seemed to be an x-soldier, that there was a large city that was under attack by the goblin hordes. After further inquiry, Minsc learned the location of the city, and how to get accepted into apprenticship. Leaving immediateley for the long journey ahead of him, Minsc set out into the world alone, with only his wits and his sword, in hopes of finding this rumor to be true... Nertz Class: FighterRace: Unknown Bursting into Trista's Tavern, Nertz greeted all her friends as they pushed bottle upon bottle of spirits into her arms. After downing one bottle, warmly hugging friends and lewdly kissing others, she started on another bottle and made her way over to a shady table in the corner. "Allistar, how are you doing this evening?" she asked The scribe turned and saw a warm, loving smile on Nertz's face, yet her eyes had a haunted look to them, unable to hide the horrors they have witnessed. "I am faring well. You appear to be haveing quite a nice time." "Yes...well...after a hard day's killing, one has to unwind." Nertz turned leaned back in her chair and put her feet up on the table. "So, I assume by your presence that The Archivist told you I was here to collect the story of your life in Nexus." Allistar rolled out his sheets and inked his quill. "Yes, I got his message. I hope you don't mind my current condition, but it shall probably make the tale come easier." "As long as it does not make the story more interesting", Allistar sneered. "I fear there is no room for embellishment, as it is not a life to be proud of." Nertz polished off the bottle and started on the next. "My father was known as Zahnithar, one of the few drow elves who chose not to walk in the shadow, even going as far as to swear off his natural magical abilities, lest he be tempted. As a farmer before the hordes came, he lived a quiet, happy life in fields outside Nexus. He strived to help those in need and often had very little left for himself. Commonly tagged as caring and generous, he was well liked by a majority of the populace. During the first goblin attacks, his farm and lands were destroyed, so he retreated to dwell within Nexus as a produce merchant, again living a relatively quiet life. It was not so happy as before, as he was constantly tortured by the cries and torment of those returning from battle, badly wounded. He broke his promise to himself and started using his magical abilities to heal those he could, spending any extra time at the University studying to improve his spellcasting abilities." While the pen flew furiously over the parchment, Nertz took a long drink to loosen her toungue, and to give the scribe a chance to catch up. "After a particulary bloody battle, he was frantically patch-healing people with low-level spells so as to keep as many from dying as he could before he had to stop and recover his magical power. A team of clerics did the more complete healing behind him, praising his help in keeping the defenders of Nexus alive long enough for them to get to them. Many still died, however, and he fell into a deep, deep depression. Just as he was seriously contemplating suicide, a voice came to him: it was Tilnar, apparently during one of his more tender moments. He, from what my father told me, actually thanked him for keeping so many from entering his realm before their time. He asked my father to continue his work, and that he would see to his happiness. Then father awakened, as if from a dream, and was presented with the last survivor off the field by the now-exhausted clerics: Nert, a human barbarian. She was very close to death, yet through the horrific wounds and blood my father somehow fell instantly in love with her. Attempting to do the best healing he could, he was surprised at how completely he managed the spell. A few weeks later, they were married. He often told me he thought Tilnar had given him some extra ability and Nert as thanks for his efforts. I've often heard of Tilnar granting powers, but never mates." Nertz chuckled a little and took another long pull off the bottle. "Ah, parents...who knows the truth of the legends they tell of themselves. Now..." One more sip. "My mother was a completely different person! How she and father ever got along I'll never know. Maybe it had to do with her belief in Dilanis. She always told me that she was raised to believe that the more people believed in and prayed to Dilanis, the stronger her shade would become in Tilnar's realm. She even believed that if enough people prayed at once, that Dilanis would actually become resurrected from the very love she represented. Bah!" Slumping back in the chair, Nertz takes yet another drink. "She was a barbarian. Very good at damaging things. She was kinda chunky by human standards, but I guess with all those muscles, she really couldn't help it. Father used to tell me that between his slender elven form and her muscular form that I turned out pretty good. Some others tell me they agree." Drunken giggles. "Anyway...back to my tale..." Allistar looked up, peering over his glasses, "So far I've heard almost nothing about you...just your parents. I am here to get your story, not your entire geneological history." Glaring back, Nertz stated coldly, "It is very hard to understand me without understanding *who* I came from as well as *where*. I will get to myself in good time." Another sip, and a suddenly relaxed posture. "Ok...mother...She was one of the finest barbarians in the land, coming from far north in the mountains. Her build made many wonder if she were a small giant! She had an affinity for causing the shortest, least-painful deaths she could in battle. As one of the few remaining followers of the now-dead Dilanis, she professed love and understanding to all she met...even as she bashed them. I think she would have made a good follower for Trista, as well, as she enjoyed spirits every chance she got." Nertz opened the next bottle, and began to reduce its contents. "Guess THAT'S definitely a trait I inherited, huh? Anyway...she came to Nexus to help defend it against the goblin hoardes. She often led the groups that ventured outside the gates, usually coming back battered, but still alive and with plenty of loot. At the beginning of the month of darkness, she rallied with one of the largest forces ever brought to bear against the goblins. As luck would have it, the goblins had assembled their largest force that same day. Many bloody smaller battles occured in the whole of this battle, and mother was in the group against the Dragons. She could not do much but break their toes, but it was enough of a distraction to let the mages practice their deadly craft successfully. Battered and near death, she was the last one brought off the field. Apparently, she was under a dragon corpse, and was discovered by a thief searching for dropped goods. Once she was brought back to town, the clerical team had already exhausted their powers and feared they could do nothing for her. An uncharacteristically kind drow elf had cast a detraumatize spell upon her so well, that she never even bore a scar from that battle. She was so taken by his kindness, even after she had slain so many of his kind in defense of Nexus, that she fell instantly in love with him. At least, that's what she says...I still think the gods must have had some hand in it, no two people that different fall for each other on sight!" Allistar continued writing as Nertz tossed empty bottles into the air as practice targets for some of the more enebriated mages. "Ok, now we finally come to me..." Nertz opened the last bottle in her posession. "I was born some time after the month of darkness, and my parents were a very happy couple. In their haste -- I was born between battles -- they named me Nertzanalina, a twisted, poorly thought-out combination of their names." "It's about time", Allistar muttered under his breath. "Oh, I loved them and my name...I didn't know any better, but that whole thing is just too hard to pronounce when you're drunk. Anyway...during slower times, father would teach me how to barter with the shop owners, so as to fetch the best price possible for an item sold. He also taught me some of his healing skills. I'm not very good at healing, but it has saved my life and others at opportune times. Mother would take me out hunting, and back when the Wildlife Preserve was still overpopulated, she would teach me how to hide and strike out, surprising an intended prey. When battles raged, they would put me in the care of Delepidous, their mutual friend at the Fighter's Guild. As a child, it was frightening to witness so many battles going on in one place. Once I realized they were all practice, it became exciting to watch as heros honed their skills. Delepidous would even train me on days when the Guild was near empty, and I began my journey as a fighter." The last drop goes down. "One day, a goblin batallion broke through the city gates and made their way into town square. All three of us happened to be at father's stand that day, and mother immediately joined others there in the defense. Father rushed in in an attempt to keep mother alive. The battle raged on for several minutes when a group of goblin assassins appeared. One assassin, who was much larger and better equipped than the rest motioned for the entire group to attack mother. Mother was mercilessly slashed with poisoned weapons repeatedly, and father, in a frenzied panic to save mother, was grabbed by a goblin warrior and thrown. He landed squarely on the chest of the large assassin, striking a rather intricate-looking bone amulet, and disappeared. No one has seen or heard from him to this day. Mother died within minutes as all the other healers in town were busy healing others in other parts of the city." Tears begin to fill Nertz's eyes. "I was about 15 then...you know...just starting to 'fill out'. A pair of soldiers bound me and took me to their camp. I was raped repeatedly. In the morning, they 'presented' me to a high-ranking battlewizard in exchange for enchanting all their armor and weapons. He treated me well enough for a goblin, I guess, but I was expected to 'perform' each and every night. The bastard even presented me as a party favor to higher ranking officers, even the ones they consider female..." "We can continue this some other time if you wish", the scribe said, noticing a black rage burning in her eyes. "No," she said, calming down, "I want to get all of this out of my soul...it's been eating away at me for years, now." "Very well, but stop anytime you wish." Another bottle materializes before Nertz. She turned and waved in thanks to a friend, skillfully faking a smile. "As I got older, the battlewizard began to cast spells on me. I noticed that my adolescent skin would clear with each spell. I guess he liked young girls and wanted to keep me that way.. One day, he and a group of warlocks he had shared me with incanted a spell together and blasted me with a magic so painful, I shall never forget as I can still feel it -- to some degree -- to this day. I asked him what I did to deserve such torture, and he stated that it was not torture, but that he was preserving my youth forever. If I were a vain person, it would still not have been worth that amount of consuming pain." The black fire raged again. "One day, he was playing card games with some drow that were temporarily stationed at the camp. He bet me to a high-ranking officer and lost. The officer must have seen the drow parentage in me, for after that, I was taken to an obviously rich house of drow, and was given to a royal warrior who had just lost his wife in battle. The customs and expectations of dark-elven wifehood were flogged into me. Again, I was to 'perform' on command. I bore a son, who I have not seen but for the few seconds after he arrived into this world. He was taken away, and I was told that he was full drow, and that he should never have to suffer the shame of a half-breed mother. Apparently, he was raised by a surrogate family." Tears streamed down Nertz's face as she guzzled more liquor. Allistar continued writing, his own eyes beginning to tear up. "An apparently high-level exploration team from Nexus stumbled onto the drow house, and proceeded to eliminate the family. In the skirmish, I escaped to the woods and hid, moving by night, until I found the western gates of Nexus and returned. Since then, I have defended Nexus, and trained at the Fighter's Guild. Delepidous had long since died, but there were some there that remembered me and welcomed me into the guild. They were so aged by then, I barely recognized any of them. I don't know if it's my elven parentage or the spell blast that has preserved my youthful appearance, but I do notice that I don't seem to age like any of the other races here." Nertz's pained expression faded, and the black rage was replaced with diamond-blue joy. "The male fighters don't like to practice with me much, I guess because I have this strange knack of starting my battles with a bash between the legs with a sharp or thrust weapon. I don't know why I do that, I just do. I had and have many a good friend here. I am even engaged to a fine mage, ya know!" She flashed her ring to the scribe. "We had children, and then he disappeared. I dearly hope that he has not been killed!" The haunted pain returned to her eyes. "I would very much like to find out what happened to my son and my fiance, and maybe teach my son to be as kind and good as his grandfather, and to unite him with his sisters. I would also like to know what happened to my father, and whether or not he is still around." "Perhaps you shall." Allistar reached across the table and took her hand. "Many wonders exist in Nexus, and even the dead have been known to come back a time or two." Nertz hugged the scribe, tears forming again, got up, and left the tavern. Olven Class: FighterRace: Human I was born in a small little village a long way from Nexus. The village was a quiet place and everybody was good to each other. My father, Kurik was a farmer that had retired from the armed forces. He started to teach me the basic skills of fighting at a very young age. My mother, Lillian, was a typical small town person. She was nice and polite to everybody, both those who lived in our town and to visitors. The years slowly passed in the town and I helped my parents out on the farm. When I was 14 years old I met a girl named Micelle and we fell in love. About 3 months after we met we got married. Then, one month after we got married something happened. It was a cloudy day when two men came riding up to our house and wanted to speak to my father. Father had a short talk with the men's then returned to the house. He went straight up to the attic without saying a word. When he returned he was dressed in a black splintmail armor, mithril leggings and sleeves. By his side hang a big sword and around his neck he has a silver colored cloak. He ordered me to go saddle his horse while he spoke to my mother. 10 minutes later he came out and sat up on his horse and looked straight in my eyes. - I must leave now, my son. Now you must take care of your mother and your wife. Then he turned his horse, nodded at the men and they rode of. Life continued after my father had left, and me, my wife and my mother kept the farm in a good state. One morning when I was lying in my bed, my wife came in the room and laid down next to me. - Olven, my love. She said. I have something wonderful to tell you. - What, what? I asked curiously. - I'm pregnant!, she exclaimed. I was a bit stunned for a while when her words while through my brain. Then I started to laugh and we hugged for a long time. A week later, at my 16th birthday, my mother came up to me and said that she needed some stuff from a town that was about 2 days of riding from here. So I saddled my horse, kissed my wife and rode off. I got to the town, bought the stuff and went back. When I was about 2000 meters from my hometown I saw that something was burning. I rode as fast as I could to the town and saw something horrible. The whole town was burnt to the ground. I jumped down from my horse and ran to my house. There I saw my mother and wife sitting and holding each others hands, all bloody with a big sword trough their bodyies. I just ran back to my horse mounted it and just rode. I rode, rode and rode until I came to a small village named Rymek. There I boarded a sloop and cane to some island. I walked up to the gates and asked a guardsman if they had any tavern with strong ale and some place to sleep. He showed me one and I bought a room there. Just as the guard was about to leave I asked him: - What place is this? - Its Falcion, the guard replied and walked out in the night. Schoddo Class: FighterRace: Human "Sir?" Commander Frederick Rhuskias turned in his chair to look at me. The light cast by the hooded lantern on his desk did little to illuminate the office, and yet I could clearly see the fatigue in my father's eyes. When he was facing me, I stood rigid and saluted. He nodded. "At ease, son," he told me. I relaxed my shoulders. The commander sat back, taking in a deep breath and crossing his hands over his lap. "What can I do for you, Schoddo?" he asked with a smile. "I wish to give my report now, sir," I told him. "Aye," he replied, with a wave of his hand. "Go on, then." "My scouts have returned, sir. A goblin encampment was found forty miles south of Knoll's Meadow in the Mythwood, sir." As father listened, he looked towards the ground with a knit brow, pondering as I reported to him. "How many were they?" he asked. "There were reported to be over three thousand, sir." "Three thousand..." he repeated to himself, thinking it over. "Apparently they were putting a lot of effort into keeping their campsite concealed, sir." He nodded. "Aye. I'd wager they're setting up for an ambush on Jostforth, then." "They have been awfully quiet these past few years, sir," I added. The commander then stood up. "Schoddo, return to your platoon's barracks and await my command. I am going to see the king and tell him of this predicament." "Aye sir," I gave in reply. I turned to go, but I felt my father's hand touch my shoulder before I went. "Schoddo," he said, his voice more relaxed. I turned to look at him. "Yes, sir?" His voice was earnest but warm. "It is most likely that we will be going to war. That said I want you to prepare yourself, not only with your armor but with your heart as well. The goblins are a formidable enemy and it will take more than a swift blade to bring them to their knees." I nodded in reply, and felt an involuntary smile form on my face. The expression of determination and courage that resided in my dad's perpetually youthful face would make you believe in hope even if losing was inevitable. With that, he stood up and dismissed me. Surely enough, after hearing of the goblins and consulting with his advisors, King Karnad, the ruler over our city Jostforth, issued orders to the Dragoons to go to war. A group of scouts was sent to the encampment, and soon after they came back with the goblin's strategy. Apparently, they were to leave in a tenday towards Jostforth. Given that, my father ordered that my, Captain Hergiut's, and Captain Bontrew's men leave in a tenday to meet the goblins. Calculating their pace, we would intercept them at Knoll's Meadow within the course of five days, granted we made camp and rested every night. The days leading up to the day we were to leave were filled with both anticipation and cheer. When ten days had finally come up, there was a great celebration, and with hearts heavy but proud, the Dragoons rode off, thus embarking on the journey to finally eliminate the Goblins and the threat they imposed. On the third night en route Knoll's Meadow, I couldn't sleep and so began to stroll around the camp in assistance of the guard. As I walked by a part of the defenses, I noticed that one of my Dragoons, an introvert by the name of Paldur, had disappeared from his post. I notified a guard that I was going to search for the truant, and left the camp. After about fifteen minutes of searching, I came upon a figure bathing in a lake amidst the moon's reflection. On the banks lay Paldur's armor and tunic, so I presumed him to be the one bathing; however, upon further inspection, I discovered that the bathing figure was no man. It was a woman! The moment that this dawned on me, she became aware of my presence, and darted to the clothing lying on the bank. I leapt into the water and grabbed her arm as she ran past. She squirmed vigorously, but I kept my grasp. Giving her slender naked body a quick look over, it became apparent to me why Paldur never bathed with the rest of the Dragoons. I gritted my teeth and spoke to her, keeping my voice low but firm. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed? It's dangerous around here!" I said to her. The woman cowered as I spoke, her jaw quivering nervously and her eyes squinting pleadingly. I shook her arm to encourage her, but she only scrunched her face harder. I allowed in a moment of hesitation in the shaking, and we both stood motionless, her face turned away and my hand tightly on her arm. The authority I felt began to swell in my gut, making me feel about twenty feet taller. As I wallowed in my little ego-trip, though, she turned to me, and the expression on her face now was not that of fear as it had been just a second earlier, but of ferocity; and, before I knew what was happening, she kicked me in the gut, stunning me and throwing me into the shallow water on my back. I shook my head and lifted myself to try to regain my composure, only to be met at the neck by the point of the woman's gisarme, held steadily and confidently above my skin. Suddenly I felt like a halfling under the blade of a hungry ogre. Despite her nakedness, this mysterious woman stood with the posture of a warrior. A flame of courage and fearlessness flickered in her eye and her hand gripped her sword adeptly and without trouble. The woman caught the pleading expression on my face, and withdrew her sword. I stood up and brushed myself off. After I was reoriented, she grabbed my arm. "Schoddo. You speak of this to no one, you hear?" she said sternly, keeping her voice low. I furrowed my brow. "Who are you? Why did you do this?" I inquired of the woman. After a moment, she sighed. "In due time, Schoddo, I will tell you. But a battle awaits us, come the morn following the next, and we must put this behind us. And again," she raised her sword again, "no squealing." I nodded in agreement, and climbed onto the bank. The woman, after pulling on her armor and again looking like a man, followed me out of the forest and back to the camp. In the nights after that, Paldur and I would go on nightly excursions and talk to each other. We told each other of our families, our goals, and ourselves. Within this period, she answered the questions I had asked her on the night we met. Her real name was Rosilia Gartan. She came from a small, isolated village deep within the forests to the far west. She and her people lived peacefully hunting and foraging their food, until they were ambushed one day by a small band of goblin shock-troopers. The village's people took up arms, but their primitive spears and arrows were no match for the cruel swords of the goblins, and the village was soon destroyed, it's buildings burnt to the ground and it's people killed. One girl managed to escape armed, however. This girl was Rosilia. She was thirteen years old at the time, and from then forward she swore vengeance on the goblins. Two years later, after she had perfected her fighting skills, she attempted to insinuate the goblin forces from within. After she was caught and she only narrowly escaped, though, she decided she couldn't serve as a one-woman army. She entered the city of Jostforth to renew herself and her equipment after the diversion, and while at a local tavern heard word of the Dragoons going off to war with the goblin hordes. The opportunity of fulfilling vengeance once again became possible to her. The only problem, however, was that only men were allowed into the Dragoons. So, naturally she did the only thing she could do: she bought a concealing outfit from the local tailor with what little gold she had, and enlisted in the Dragoons as a man named Paldur. Finally, the day of the battle came. I awoke to the camp in a buzz, everyone running to and fro in preparation. After shoving down a quick breakfast, I equipped my horse and myself and assembled with the rest of the men in front of the camp. My father stepped in front of his men, and called everyone to attention. My heart swelled with pride at the sight of him. He was clad from head to toe in magnificently forged adamant armor. Despite the cloudy sky, his armor glinted radiantly as if the sun were shining right over him. His great stallion Firehair was also wearing adamant, with plates of it under his saddle and on the bridal over his head. Father removed his helm allowing his red hair to fall out and flow in the wind. With his crystal lance in his hand and the courageous expression on his face, he almost resembled a god. When all was silent, he spoke. "Men!" he cried. "Today we go to war with the Goblin Hordes! They have threatened our people and our livelihood ever since the war of the Gods. We cannot go on without disposing of this threat, so we must now gallop in battle against them. It is unfortunate that blood must be drawn to settle this conflict but they have refused diplomacy, so inevitably we must clash blades with their warriors. So, my men, as we ride to the meadow and meet the formidable goblins, hold your heads high and carry the banners of Jostforth with pride, and we shall stand over the corpses of our enemies valiantly, not only for ourselves, but for our people!" With that, he raised his golden trumpet to his lips and let out a blast that echoed through the lands. All of the hundreds of Dragoons raised their weapons and cheered, "Long live Jostforth! Long live Jostforth!" I looked over at Rosilia (clad still as a man) and she too was cheering loudly. Our hearts joyous despite the fate approaching, the Dragoons rode off to Knoll's Meadow. When we arrived at Knoll's Meadow, the goblins' army was assembled on the opposite side of the field as if they had been expecting us. Despite their bewilderment at this, though, the men each assembled within their platoons behind the commander quickly and without problem. There was an ominous pause as the Dragoons stood on the crest of the hill overlooking the meadow and scanning the enemy. All that was heard was the whistle of the wind passing through the trees and sweeping the armor of our men. Clouds covered the sky, and the wind became stronger. Without a word, Father raised his lance into the air, and the banners were raised in each platoon. Then, the archers stepped forward and let assail a wave of arrows into the goblins' forces. Then, Father gave a great cry, and led everyone in a frontal attack on the goblins as they defended themselves from the arrow assault. It was truly a spectacle, every Dragoon racing forward on their steeds, intent on only one thing: killing as many goblins as possible. Fortunately, our strategy of striking when the goblins focused on the arrows worked. We caught the goblins off-guard, thus reducing their defense and making them twice as vulnerable to our attacks. However, some goblins were quick enough to erect pikes as we attacked. My steed was, unfortunately one of the horses caught and killed by a pike. Acting as quickly as I could, I tossed away my lance, jumped forward over the mane of my steed, and drew my bastard sword from my belt. I slashed as I landed, successfully killing two goblins in the process. From there, the battle raged horribly, all sense of unity or order lost as every man fought by his own accord. Father caught many a goblin upon his lance as he leapt through the battle. I saw Rosilia, who's horse had also been taken by a pike, in battle with two large goblin troopers. One got a successful slash at her from behind with his axe in her helm. Fortunately, the helm absorbed the entire hit, which destroyed the helm but left Rosilia unhurt. The helm then split in two, falling off of her head and allowing her golden hair to flow out and over her shoulders. The goblins stood bewildered, at which point Rosilia impaled the goblin behind her with her spear, caught his axe as he fell, and swiftly beheaded the goblin in front of her with it. The battle lasted for hours. During the fight, the clouds darkened and rain poured down, washing our blood from our wounds and rusting our swords. The goblins were stronger than we had anticipated, and many of our men were killed alongside theirs. In fact, by the time the few goblins left retreated with their tails between their legs, all that was left of the Dragoons were me, Rosilia, Father, and forty one other Dragoons. Everyone was wounded, and several had lost arms and legs. Only seven horses were still alive, and these horses were used to carry the wounded back to the camp. For two weeks we stayed at the camp, however this time we were twice as vigilant, given our weakness from the battle. We had won, and yet our losses still lay heavy on our hearts. The amputees soon bled to death, leaving our company with even less than before; however, those without permanent injuries were soon back on their feet and able again to carry their swords. Those who were not healing or being healed assisted my father and I digging a mass grave and burying our dead brothers. After all had been buried and a ceremony was held, we packed up camp and headed home. When we approached Jostforth, we heard great commotion from within the walls. We expected it to be from a celebration to commemorate our victory, but as we neared the gates, we saw what the activity really was about: the goblins had invaded the city. I stood gawking at the city in shock. Then, I buried my face in my hands. "Of course! The goblins attacked the meadow to lure us away as they claimed the city! How could I have been so stupid?" I wailed. My father rode up beside me, and lifted my face to look at him. "Schoddo!" he commanded. "Our city is under attack! This is no time to be scolding yourself!" Wiping away my tears, I nodded, and we led the Dragoons into the city. The city was in shambles. Every building was either burnt to the ground or burning. The dead citizens covered the streets, and blood covered the ground. Goblins swarmed through every which way, either torching the buildings or murdering the townspeople. The guards tried desperately to hold them off but the goblins' number was too great. The Dragoons immediately poured into the city and began disposing of the goblins. Father turned to Rosilia and I and yelled, "Schoddo, you check the upper city for survivors, and Rosilia, you check the lower city! I'll be holding off their champions in the town square!" With that, he rode off. Rosilia turned to me. "Good luck," she whispered. She removed my helm, kissed my quickly on the cheek, and rode off to fulfill her duty. I stood swooning for several seconds, but I quickly snapped out of it and galloped swiftly off to the upper city. The upper city was a wreck. Dead bodies lay scattered atop each other amidst the charred buildings, though none were currently burning. Evidently, the goblins had eliminated of this sector first. After a thorough check of the area, I sped back to the lower city. Contrary to the upper sector, fire blazed fresh here, and goblins were all over the place. When I found Rosilia she was in a fight with a shocktrooper who was holding two children hostage. I galloped up behind the trooper and disposed of his head. Rosilia flashed a smile to me as she lifted the children onto her horse. Farther down the street, I spotted several Dragoons fighting a band of scouts they had caught sneaking through the alleys. I galloped in to assist them. I beheaded an assassin that was trying to backstab a Dragoon who was fending off two other scouts. When I wasn't looking, however, a deathguard cast a blindness spell on me, and a battlemage used telekinesis to throw me off my mount. As I lay stunned from the fall and shaking my head blindly, I felt the body of a goblin lean over me. He giggled maliciously, and I thought I was going to pass out from the rancid breath he omitted from his lips. Suddenly, I heard a staccato squeal as a warm fluid splashed onto my face, and the weight of his body toppled onto me. The body was lifted from me, and a hot liquid was poured into my eyes. It stung like hell, and I screamed in pain, but afterward I noticed my eyesight had come back. Before I could thank the Dragoon who had done this, he became occupied with several more goblins. After we had slain these goblins, Rosilia, myself, and the other Dragoons near us went to the town square. The town square was a center of activity. Amidst twenty mounted goblin champions, all wielding great hammers and spears was my father on his faithful stallion Firehair. He leapt to and fro, jousting the champions one by one with his mighty lance. The Dragoons joined the fight, finishing off the jousted champions and helping slay those still on their mounts. As we fought, we warded the champions away from the square and into the streets. Suddenly, the goblins stopped fighting and looked skyward. In the sky, looming over the city was a behemoth black dragon. He spread his massive wings and blanketed the night sky. He was truly a spectacle to behold. The dragon let out a mighty roar that shook the ground beneath our feet. As we continued battling the goblins, he let forth a great belch of fire upon my father. Father held forth his shield, though, and the flames split wielding him no harm. The dragon then swooped down at Father and took him and his horse in his mouth. He then flew high into the sky over the city. The dragon swallowed Firehair whole, but Father was able to scramble out of the dragon's mouth before he could be swallowed as well. He climbed onto the dragon's head and stabbed him in the eye with his lance. The dragon tossed his head, bellowing an earth-shattering scream as black blood squirted out of his eye. Father was knocked off of his feet but grasped the dragon's fangs before he fell. He then climbed into the dragon's mouth and stood the lance upright in it's mouth before it could close on him. This angered the dragon greatly. As Father unsheathed his sword and started slashing away at the dragon's mouth, he let forth a great flame that engulfed my father whole. When the flames settled, the dragon spat out the ashes that had once been the great Commander Frederick Rhuskias, leader of the Dragoons of Jostforth, and my father. The warrior that had looked like a god on his mighty stallion just two weeks earlier had now been transformed to a mere pile of ashes before my very eyes. I slew the champion with whom I was combating and sprinted to the square, looking up at the mighty black dragon as it levitated in the sky above me. I picked up a spear from the ground, and in a rage blinded by tears and hatred, I threw the spear with a sudden onslaught of strength aimed directly at the dragon's heart. The spear hit right in the dragon's chest. The dragon let out another great scream of angquish that echoed across Altin, and fell in a limp spiral to the ground. I fled the square just as the dragon hit the square. The drop shook the entire city, causing several buildings to collapse and knocking every Dragoon, horse and goblin off his feet. The goblins then grabbed all the surviving townspeople and fled the city before the Dragoons were able to regain their composure again. I then fell to my knees and sobbed. Whether it was for my father, my city, or the slain Dragoons, I don't know. Whatever it was, though, my crying didn't cease, not for the hour after the dragon's demise that we stayed in the city gathering supplies, not for the ride southward toward the goblin encampment, and not for the time that it took to set up camp with our feeble equipment. And, by the red eyes of Rosilia and the whimpers I heard throughout the night from the other men, I could tell that I was not the only one who cried myself to sleep that night. The next morning, the nine remaining Dragoons, Rosilia and I sat around a small bonfire tending to our ruined armor and broken weapons and eating a meager breakfast of cornmeal. We had just finished burying all over our dead citizens and Dragoons, and spirits were not high. One man, a captain by the name of Hergiut, spoke to break the pending silence. "The mighty city of Jostforth is now a ruin, our people have been decimated and taken hostage, and us still remaining are left with broken equipment and meager supplies," he said quietly. "Now, all that is left for us to do is sit back and slowly wither away into Void." He then buried his face in his hands and wept. The other men also began to murmur and weep to themselves at this somber revelation. I could almost feel the hope leave these men and escape us under our feet. I looked over at Rosilia. The expression on her face wasn't one of sadness, though, but one of anger at the crying men. Suddenly she stood up, dropping her breastplate on the ground. All the men stopped and looked up at her. "Look at all of you!" she cried. "You call yourselves men?" She motioned an arm to scan the camp. "So what if we lost all but two of our horses? So what if all we have for cover are rags atop sticks? So what if our food will only last us a day or two? This situation is something at which peasants and noblemen cry at, not warriors! We are Dragoons! Our city must be avenged, so avenge it we must. If that means that we have to fight the goblins with clubs of wood and stones, then we will do just that! We can survive this, men. How can we give up with a vengeance unfulfilled?" She stuck her hand out, and suddenly pushed the side of her knife against her palm. Her eyes darted up and she looked from man to man. "Take your blades men, and swear on your blood that we will avenge our people!" she commanded. I stood up, and the rest of the men followed. I withdraw my knife and pressed the blade against my palm. Raising my hands into the air, I cried, "Long live Jostforth!" and with that sliced deftly, drawing a stream of blood out of my hand. Rosilia smiled at me, and raised her hands. "Long live Jostforth!" she cried, and she too cut her hand. The rest of the men then did the same, and together our fists rose into the sky, blood dripping freely into the bonfire below us. Then, with hope anew shimmering in our eyes, we set to work preparing ourselves for what was to come. I was sixteen at the time, and for the next year we survived as nomads. We hunted with self-fashioned bows and spears. We foraged any fruits we could find. Our mail soon broke, so the hides we wrapped ourselves in became our armor. Having to hunt for our food built our battle skills three times as much as they ever did when I trained in the city, so our little traveling band of warriors became quite the formidable bunch. Our original plan was to travel southward and insinuate the goblin forces within their encampment, but as we soon found out, they had left the camp in the Mythwood and gone back to their kingdom. So, without any knowledge of where to go, we began to wander the lands, searching for any information on the goblins' location. Rosilia and I together were accepted as the leaders of the new Dragoons, without any prejudice from the men about Rosilia being a woman. As we traveled, Rosilia and I fell in love with each other. At the end of the year, I couldn't take my temptation any longer, and I asked her to marry me. She accepted almost immediately, and we promised that the next city we came to, we would have a priest marry us. Unfortunately, this day never came. The following week, goblin troopers ambushed our camp. We were able to hold them off for a while, but their numbers grew to almost four times that of ours. I couldn't remember much of the battle, though, because as I was fending off several shocktroopers, one snuck up from behind me and knocked me unconscious with a sap. When I reawakened, I lay in the ruins of our camp, with all the rest of the men sprawled dead around me. Apparently the goblins had thought they killed me, so left me in the camp. Then, I noticed something: Rosilia wasn't among the dead men. Had the goblins taken her back with them? My ears picked up a bit of noise from outside the camp. I peered out, and I saw that a few goblins were still making their way away from the camp. I grabbed my spear and followed them, keeping to the shadows. The goblin camp was in some great ceremony when I snuck in. All the goblins were in a circle around some a bonfire, and eerie chanting arose from the circle. I climbed a tree to get a better look at what was going on. To my horror, in the center of the circle, atop an altar in front of the bonfire was Rosilia, naked and wriggling desperately. A chieftain, adorned in a huge, ugly headdress, was holding onto her with one hand and grasping a large bone knife in the other. An evil laugh came from his lips as she screamed. She turned her head to look desperately around, and she spotted me in the tree. Suddenly, all around me seemed to disappear, and it was just Rosilia and I in an empty, white void. She looked at me, her eyes in a swoon, and whispered with the last of her strength, "Schoddo...avenge my people, avenge Jostforth, and most of all avenge the Dragoons...I wish I could be there with you, but it seems all so futile now...don't lose hope, even without me Schoddo..." I pleaded with her, begging her not to go, but she pressed a finger to my lips. "Don't speak, Schoddo... Fate has a funny way of...doing things. If this is how she wants it, then this is how it will be... Schoddo, go and bring vengeance to the goblins...and know always...that I love you." With that, she sputtered, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she keeled over dead. The void disappeared, and once again goblins surrounded Rosilia as her naked body rolled onto the ground, blood pulsating from her throat. Warm tears flowed down my face, and my mind became a cyclone of thoughts. My fury overcame me, and I lost all conscious control of myself. I gripped my spear and, with a great cry, leapt from the tree and down upon the chieftain, impaling him on my spear. The goblins started running to and fro in their confusion. I impaled one goblin from behind and stole his scimitar as he fell. I then chased every goblin and beheaded each one by one. Their blood splattered on my face, and I enjoyed it. I truly felt I had succumbed to insanity, but I didn't care. I didn't stop until every goblin was dead. One last goblin that was left broke my scimitar with his axe, but when he saw the fury in my eyes after he did so, he started to flee. I grabbed a staff as I ran and stuck in front of the goblin, tripping him flat on his face. I caught his axe as he fell, stood over him, and hacked like I madman, not satisfied until he was a bloody mess. My anger then left me, and I dropped the axe, huffing my breath. I then ran over to Rosilia's body on the altar. I lifted the body, and shook her as if trying to wake her. After I was sure that she was indeed dead, I placed my cheek against hers, and wept. Snow began to fall from the sky, covering the bodies of the goblins and their camp. The world was silent, cold, and cruel. Every friend and family that I had ever had was dead, and now the one who I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with lay cold and lifeless in my hands. I stood up, and was about to shove the chieftain's knife into my chest and end it all, when I remembered Rosilia's words: "Avenge my people, avenge Jostforth, and avenge the Dragoons..." She was right. I was the only survivor of it all, so now it was my duty and mine alone to bring vengeance for everyone slain. I couldn't kill myself with so much to still do. The dagger fell from my shivering hands, and, with a heavy heart, I salvaged materials from the mess around me. The only usable weapon I found was a shoddy lead flail, and I was not able to disengage any of the armor from the bodies of the goblins. So, with a crappy weapon and only rags covering my hide, I left the camp with no certainty whatsoever of what was to become of me. That was on the twenty-eighth of Icedrake in the year 1626 since the Godswar, my seventeenth birthday. A year later on the same date, I arrived in the city of Nexus after much aimless wandering. I heard of the contempt for goblins they had there as well, and so I decided to join their forces and help them in their fight. I enlisted in the fighter's guild, and was sent to Falcion for my training. I became learned in many things, telepathy probably being the most prominent. My life once again was back on track. When I entered this city, I planned to use it solely for bringing revenge to the goblins. However, as I became more and more attached to the city, it became more than a flunky. It became my home, and its citizens, my friends. Many of my better friends (Bomp included) committed suicide while in the city, but my obligation to the city is what sort of kept me from killing myself as well. But now here I am, with not only reprisal to meet, but also a city and a people to protect as well. Siegfried Class: FighterRace: Half-Giant Fatherly figures were missing in Siegfried's life. His father was a Sergeant in the war away from the East Gates. His father's name was Dallien and his mother's name was Mayana. They met in the harbor of Rymek. There they spent many dates eating, and finally his father proposed to her and she accepted. Later on after the wedding Dallien had to do an exploration mission for Nexus. He had to head down in the underworld where he found the perfect place for a house. He brought Mayana down to see the spot and she approved of the location. Dallien then started building the house and made it into a three-roomed house. Then in a few years a child would bless them by the name of Siegfried Kashanu. Fenwick called Dallien into war when Siegfried was two. His mother got frustrated because the war was going on for ages. She finally gave up, turned to Siegfried and said "I a™m sorry son, but I€am going to have to leave your father and you because well ... I cannot live like this supporting such a big boy. I hope you can understand...". She then took her stuff and left the house. This is the only thing Siegfried could remember his parents telling him besides the mail he was receiving from his father. Siegfried then decided to train his strengths and weaknesses so he could join his father in the war. Siegfried met many friends in his journeys, but one stood out. Her name was Lanya. They became close friends and finally he proposed to her. She accepted with a warm smile and joyful hug, but a few years later she left without a note or a goodbye. This was a major crisis for Siegfried. He started moping around the city of Nexus until he met Gryphon one day. His father told him about Gryphon and the Goodman that he is through the mail he was receiving. Gryphon gave him a mentorish speech, which shook Siegfried mentally. Siegfried then met up with Rhelton who joins him in journey for power. Rhelton was like Siegfried in many ways except for the fact that he was not going to join the army at war instead he was going to avenge his parents deaths. Siegfried invites Rhelton to stay with him in his house, which Rhelton honorably accepts, and their they make strategic plans to find and slay some big beasts to enable them to train, thus able to take their place in Nexus more quickly. They end up being welcomed into the city of Nexus as citizens and honored. Starfire Class: FighterRace: Human There once was a small and peaceful island in the Sea of Tears called Cleaos. Cleaosinhabitants believed in communication, and fighting was abolished before anyone of them could remembered. They did not follow any god since they were afraid that the gods enemy would send his followers to attack them. Trading was their way to survive, and it kept them neutral in the wars between the good and evil. They lived as merchants, and that was all that they will ever be. Then, one day, a child was born with the symbol of the Fighter guild on the back of the babys neck. The whole island was shocked and thought it was an omen that this child bears the symbol of what they hated most. The child's parents treated him well, because they thought of him as being the protector of the island, but the rest of the inhabitants treat him lower than dirt. They pushed him around and he always get the hardest task available. The child hated his tasks, but he always did them to show to the rest of the inhabitants that he deserved some respect. Little that he know that the hard tasks that he performed made him better, stronger, and tougher than the rest of the island's inhabitants. The work put him in physical shape to be a fighter like he was meant to be. So the child grew up to be bigger, stronger, and he was hated even more. One day, on the child's 16th birthday, the child walking to the his hide out by the shores to get a little rest, and be left alone by the rest of the inhabitants, he found a man laying on the beach, unconscious. His wounds were severe, but the child manages to bandaged the stranger's wounds and brought the man into his hide out safely. He brought the stranger food and water each day. Two days later, the stranger rise from his deep sleep and saw the young child that saved him. At first, through his week eyes, the man thought he saw a guardian smiling above him, but as his vision got better, he saw the rough face of the young child and he said, "Starfire," and then the man lost conscious again. The child thought the man was talking to him and thought it as strange, but it was the first time that the child got called by something not along the line of dirtball, he even kind of like the name, better than the one his parents gave him, which reminds him of the island and its inhabitants. Therefor, the child adopts it as his own name. When the man was strong enough to speak, he told Starfire his story and how he ended up on Cleaos. He was a fighter from the nexus who had wondered away with a from the city to scout the area south of the Nexus. He came upon a large party of goblins and ran for his life. He managed to make it to the waters and swim away. He had heard of an island of peaceful people nearby, and although they did not like fighters, it was his best shot. He managed to reach the shores of the island, but he was too tired and injured so he passed out. He did not know the fate of his companion, Starfire, and the reason he said Starfire when he came out of his coma was that the child reminds him of his companion who also was a fighter. Hearing his story, Starfire asked him about the Nexus itself, and what it was like. The man answered with great pride and said that the Nexus was a place of peace, where all classes were treated equally and although it have its problems, the Nexus was the center of the known world. Starfire listened closely imagining how one day he would be able to live normally, among people who could appreciates him. After thanking Starfire carefully, the fighter walked out of the room hoping to find a way back to the Nexus. Just when he passed Starfire, for the first time, he noticed the symbol of the Fighter guild on the back of Starfires neck. So, he decided to stay and teach Starfire the way of the fighter guild. After two years of vigorous training, Starfire was ready to become a true fighter on his 18th birthday. By this time, the island have hated him so much plotted a way to get him off of the island to save them from chaos that they thought Starfire was going to bring. They set up a meeting, in which they asked Starfire to help them by representing the island and go to the port at the Sea of Tears and tell the mayor that they are willing to make a deal for a very large trade. At first, Starfire was reluctant to leave his family, but when his mentor, the fighter reveal his feelings of wanting to go home, Starfire finally decided to help his mentor and took the task. As soon as he and his mentor got on the ship, the island started to party and celebrate what they had accomplished. Little did they know that the goblins have learned that the only ones capable of fighting have left, and the goblins have begun to board the island. By the time they realize that the goblins were present, it was too late, mass murder was in progress. On his ship, Starfire noticed a strange figures on the shores of Cleaos and pointed it out to his mentor. They immediately turned around, and head back for the island. By the time they got to the goblins, they discovered that only a few goblins remain, the rest had took off with all the goods of the island. The remaining goblins stayed to kill the rest of the inhabitants. Together, Starfire and his mentor killed the remaining goblins one by one. Starfire and his mentor rushed back to his home to check on Starfires parents. They stood in front of the door and saw the bodies in front on the house. Starfire checked each and everyone of the bodies and did not find his parents. Then suddenly, a goblin assassin stepped out of the shadows behind the mentor and backstabbed him. The mentor let out a loud cry as he sinks to his knees, but he managed to pull out a wand a zapped the goblin with a large fireball. Starfire jumped up, grabbed the sword that his mentor drop, bashed the assassin to the ground and then he swung a full swing at the goblin and hit him in the lower abdomen. The goblin responded by slashing his knife pass Starfires arms, letting knife to taste the young fighters blood. Starfire grabbed the sword with his other hand and slashed the assassin across the face. The goblin let out a terrible scream and fell to his knees. Starfire quickly finished the goblin up with a cut across the assassins neck. The head of the goblin fell down on to the floor beside his body. Starfire quickly tried to bandage the mentor, but the mentor stopped him. "It is too late for me," he said, "the Nexus is your only hope." With that, the mentor eyes closed and he died. Starfire closed his eyes for a few seconds and remained silenced, he sighed and then stood up and continue to search for his parents. They were laying on the ground by the sofa in his house, dead. Starfire walked out of the house with a determined look on his face. He picked up his mentor and put him in a boat, then he took all he could get off of the goblins, and he got into the boat himself. He was determined to get to the Nexus and return the mentor to his home. "The island got what they deserved, all their goods were gone, they will suffer for their mistakes," Starfire thought as he dock his ship into the bay. He made his way through many goblins and finally reached the Nexus. In here, he would be treated equally, and so in the Nexus, he remained ever since. He helped fought off the goblin hoards that plague the city, he done many deeds, and although he faced many hardships, the Nexus was closest thing to a home that he knows. He follows the tradition of not following a god, but not because he was afraid, because he kills anything hostile, but some hostile creatures are good, and some are evil. His alignment keep changing back and forth, and the gods would not accept him as their follower. He never returned to Cleaos again, he did not know what happens to his people, and he did not care. He try to forget everything that happened before his arrival at the Nexus. Stomre Class: FighterRace: Troll The darkness cleared from her eyes, and she was able to look around. The last she remembered was her mother putting her into the secret floor area and then something knocking her head. Stomre shook the dreariness from her throbbing head. She studied her surroundings. The area looked familiar in the gloom. This was still the secret area she was put into. Visions flashed in her head and she once again lived the horror of what took place before she was knocked out. Her family lived in the foot-hills of the Crystal Mountains, though over- run many years before, they refused to leave their home. Her parents', Toran and Gruna, generations had all come from the same area and as one might note, trolls are stubborn to make even a dwarf seem easy to please. Her family lived in a small alcove and was sheltered by tall pine trees. The reason the goblins did not see the tiny moot in the first place was the small patch of pines. Stomre's family lived with two other families in the alcove and enjoyed the peace of each others' company in the time of darkness for the Crystal Mountain Moot which was over-run by the goblin hoardes. They staged skirmishes daily to keep the goblins in disorder and to take any needed supplies the goblins carried. On this day however a goblin party made up of two strikers and three scouts tracked the trolls back to their tiny moot and later brought down an ambush to end the trolls' habitation of the alcove. Stomre was now at the age of ten and could hold her own when her brothers tried to gang up on her though she never dreamed she would have to grow up so soon. She first saw the goblins when they attacked and was able to sound an alarm. However, the mature trolls were battle weary and most were slaughtered in such a swift manner Stomre's mother was barely able to grab Stomre and bring her to safety. And as she was closing the chamber Stomre was in, a great amount of the stone wall broke lose, from an explosion, and struck her mother down and knocked the trapdoor down upon Stomre's head. Stomre managed to open the trapdoor and her nostrils were filled with stench and she quickly became nauseated and vomitted many times before able to continue her way to the outside. The sun had just risen over the horizon when she fianlly made her journey to the outside. There she saw many horrors which made her make cry many a tear. Her mother and father as well as the others had been quartered. Their heads were put up on voulges to be an example of the power of the hoardes. She took the rest of the day amassing the bodies into a great pile. Then she gathered together a number of supplies she would need for the journey to Nexus. She knew she would find help there, and possibly make her way into a guild so she could get the training she needed to get back at the goblins. When she was ready to go she lit the bodies afire and made her way up the hill to skirt the rim. She knew the fire would attract attention and maybe her parents would protect her once more as she started her journey. With her family lost, she needed new hope and the journey might give her something to keep her mind off her misfortunes. But one day she would return to the alcove and reclaim her right to grounds which her family lived in for so long. She swore this upon her familie's honor. Upon arriving in Nexus Stomre quickly found her mark in the fighter's guild. She practiced everyday on the pole weapon, the same which her parents were slayed with. The weapons would be a constant drive and reminder of what the goblins took from her. The training took a good seven years. And not long after she entered to town of Falcion to complete her basics in weaponry did she find another goal in her life. The need to reproduce, to procreate and bring many fine trolls up into the world to populate the land which would be hers one day again. The land which would be free for all trolls to come and live in peace under their own will. Stomre found the name Drizzlegore to be the possible entity who killed her family. She made friends with a sea sprite named Alura who told her of Zindra and Zindra's ever going struggle to find Drizzlegore. It was Alura who showed Stomre the wonderful scents of honeysuckle and who showed her how to keep herself to be attractive to trolls. Stomre hopes to be part of the sisterhood which Alura is part of as well as her friend Zindra. And yet in the back of her mind she still has flashbacks of the horrors which overtook her so many years ago. Stomre tried to get away from the world when she goes into one her depression fits. She will sometimes go to great lengths to fight by herself so as not to hurt anyone who might be her friend. She values her friends over anything else, after all, they are her family. Sulak Class: FighterRace: Orc Looking up from his writing, Sulak notices the tent flap pushed aside by a Rasha'an's hand. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks the thin scribe up and down. Placing the quill back in the ink jar he sprinkles some sand atop his writing to prevent smudging. Rolling up the parchment, he drops some red wax from a candle on the edge, and seals it with the signet of the Ka'ol Rasha. He then hands it to the attendant waiting for the scroll. With a quick wish of fair travels he sends the messenger off. His task at hand completed, he turns to the patiently waiting scribe. "I suppose you are here to take down my history then?" he asks only slightly annoyed at the interruption in his daily routine. Standing up he motions for the scribe to take a seat. Walking to a desk in the corner of the small tent, he pours two glasses of chilled fruit punch. Returning he hands one cup to the scribe and takes a sip from his other. Leaning against his desk his gaze settles once more on the woman who has come for his interview. Young, she could not have been any older then himself, a mere 20 years of age, prime of life by human standards, well into being middle-aged by orcish. Dressed simply, she hooked a lock of brown hair behind her ear while looking down at her notepad. Eventually she looks up at him. "I am Breandra, I am the scribe appointed to recording your history. It seems my superiors like having me interview your kind." Grinning to herself she flips open her notepad and gazes up at Sulak, which he patiently returns in kind. In time Breandra asks, "Well, are you going to start talking, or must I return empty handed? I'm sure those above me would not be happy, and thus, nor would I, so if you would please, start at your leisure." She then places a piece of wood sharpened at the end to the paper and waits. Muttering to himself, Sulak walks around the desk back to his chair and sits down. "I had thought you usually asked the questions you wanted to know, rather then the vague 'Tell me your life' routine." Leaning back in his chair, he takes a sip of his punch and waits for a reply. "I found out the hard way it's better to think carefully before questioning someone, you may end up spoiling it all if you don't think before you act. Now, Since you seem to not exactly be the talkative type, I'll ask-you answer. Simple enough." With that she pulls out a separate sheet of paper with some writing on. Noticing Sulak's inquisitive look she quips, "Standard issue questions. Birthplace, parents, name, age, etc. etc... "So first, your name?" "Sulak," he evenly replies. Coolly lifting an eyebrow she asks, "Just Sulak, nothing else?" "Unless you want my title as well." "That will be fine." "Sulak, Knight of the Ka'ol Rasha" "Thank you," jotting this down she looks up again. "Okay, age?" "20 years old." "Place of birth?" "I wouldn't know." Startled slightly, her eyes are drawn up from the paper at the orc before. "Why do you say that?" she inquires of him. "Because I don't know. Simple as that. Can't answer a question I don't know the answer to," taking another draw of his punch, he calmly watches the scribe, wondering at her calm demeanor and seeing if he could rise her ire. A thing he did every now and then with people he just met, a testing of sort, seeing how well a person can control there emotions, in control of yourself lies power, or so Sulak thought. "Well, if you could explain this to me maybe? Why don't you know your place of origin?" "I washed up on shore of Falcion maybe 5 years ago. All I had was a piece of paper with writing on it that told me my name, an empty scabbard on my back, and a pouch with a bit of money in it. I shook myself off and walked forward. No clue of my past or what have you, I just went forward." Shrugging to himself Sulak stood once more to refill his cup. Motioning to Breandra to see if she wanted a refill she shook her head and motioned to her still nearly full cup. "Well then," she said, "I suppose I can rule out knowledge of parents or family members." Quickly writing in her notebook, she suddenly made a vexed sound after a loud snapping noise reached Sulak's ears. Turning to look at her, he saw that the tip of her stick of wood had broken. "Would you like to use my quill and ink to continue?" he asked her as politely as possible, trying to keep annoyance from being kept from his forms out of his voice. He HAD agreed to do this interview, if grudgingly. Nodding she accepts gracefully the ink well and the crow feather quill. Applying it to paper once more she continues scribbling notes, this time accompanied by a loud scratching noise of the quill pressing against the paper. "Well, what drove you to join the ranks of apprentices on Falcion. I'm sure you could have done something else. Surely a life less demanding then this one, or maybe a life more pleasant." Her poise was once more regained. She wouldn't slip again, of that she was positive. So what if this rather tall man seemed to be peeling her skull back with his intense brown eyes. She would not loose her decorum again. Turning slightly so his side face her, he looked out of a makeshift window of the tent. "I wasn't quite sure of that myself really. I figured maybe I'd have better luck finding out my past by taking part in something that was surely a large part of the future. Besides, I heard of the terror and horror the hoards have brought upon so much of the world. I've done what I can to help ease that some," his eye's crept their way back to hers, and with a grin he added, "That and I love the sword. More then anything I can think of." Blinking, Breandra bites her lower lip thinking quickly, writes something on her notepad then looks up once more. "What do you mean 'the sword'? And what about it is so great that it is a driving factor in your life?" Chuckling slightly to himself, a deep rumbling in his baritone chest, Sulak shakes his head as he sits down again. For such a large man, and in a considerably small tent, he paced enough and made quite a good amount of use of the space it did offer. "Well by 'the sword'," the quotes were audible, "I mean, using the sword." Seeing her frown, he shakes his head. "No, no, no. Not for killing or anything like that. Using the sword properly, is like an art form. Watch the goblin blademasters, or even Gryphon. They do things with the sword that are unheard of. It is like a dance when two masters duel, though an often deadly dance. Still, it is beautiful, and using the sword is being one with it, with life. When you are with the sword, you are aware of all. Time slows." With a brilliant light in his eyes, Sulak shrugs as he leans back, slightly perturbed by his failure to articulate well enough the glory of what he felt. "I practice with the sword daily. Every chance I get when I'm not fighting the hoards with nexus of with the Ka'ol Rasha, or whatever I may have to be occupied with at the time. It is one of the few things in this life that bring me pleasure." Blinking suddenly, as if just realizing he had said so much he took a long swallow from his goblet. Sighing, he leans back in his chair once more and carefully scrutinizes the young woman before him. Head down with a lock of hair fallen forward unnoticed, she furiously worked the quill at the paper, writing all down that she thought would be of need later. Quite an attractive woman. Shocked by his own thoughts, Sulak shakes his head and takes another deep drag of his punch. Thinking about a woman's looks when he was busy with other matters. A woman who was here merely to record at that! Foolish at best. Berating himself, he calmly waited for her to finish and to ask her next question. At last nodding her satisfaction she looks up and says lightly, "Maybe I was wrong about you not being the talkative type." Grinning mischievously, she flipped to the next page. "Well, we're on current times now it seems. Aren't you relieved?" the last added as she heard his deep sigh. "What about the Ka'ol Rasha? How did you come to join them and tell me a little bit about a life as a 'Rasha'an'." Nodding to himself, Sulak started to speak once more. "Well, I heard of Fflarn's attempt to gather warrior who would die to protect others at all costs. Apparently it was a remaking of some old orcish group he had heard of while young or some such, called the Ka'ol Rasha, or Red Shield, though, I'm sure you know this already, considering you interviewed him." Grinning at the quick flash of shock on her face, he decided not to let her know he had asked for her in specific if he was to agree to be interviewed. "As I was saying, I went to him. I considered myself here to defend the people, and if it helped find my past in the process all the merrier. Besides I felt as if I should belong to something more. Something more then just a guild of fighters. Fflarn offered me that chance." Shrugging as if that was just an average, every-day thing, to talk of offering one's self to death on an regular basis. "But, life as a Rasha'an is hard. It's quite fulfilling, but hard. There is no true command or lead. Ideas are proposed and listened to. Bad ones rejected, good ones accepted and implemented when possible. Of course, there is some, well, "reverence" to those who would be considered the modern "elders" of the Shield." Scoffing to himself to show how much he might have appreciated any of this "reverence" he buried his face in his punch cup. "And of your future? What do you plan to do from here? Any hopes? Dreams? Wishes? Anything you wish to record for future generations to know?" "I plan to fight. Until my last breath and until I have saved everyone I can. My hopes and dreams are my own to keep I think, but it is probably fairly obvious I wish to regain my lost past." Leaning forward to emphasize his point, Sulak says in a mild, yet deep and penetrating voice, "As for future generations, study the past. Don't repeat the same mistakes we did. If there will even be a future generation to receive this. By the gods, I hope there will be." Leaning back once more, he smiles warmly at Breandra, his tusks no longer an unsettling sight to her. "Well, I think that about wraps it up." Breandra nods agreement and gathers up her things. "Thank you for your time Knight of the Red Shield. We will record your story to the best of our ability. If lucky, we may even post it for others to read in the library." Flashing him a brilliant smile of straight, white teeth, she turns and leaves out the tent flap that was opened by a Rasha'an for her once more. Sulak was left gazing at the tent flap for quite a while after Breandra's departure. Quite an attractive woman indeed, and smart. Definitely smart. Shaking his head ruefully, he grins at himself and his foolishness to believe that a young girl such as her would ever find interest in an orc like him. Sulak firms himself and gets back to writing placement of troops around the city. With Fflarn absent it seemed as if his workload was doubled. A trouble, but a necessary one that had to be done. In time a squire came in and lit some candles, Sulak never even noticed the difference. Uthar Class: FighterRace: Ogre -This large scroll has not been written by Uthar but does not contain the name of its author- The scroll reads: Uthar refuses to tell anyone where he was born or the names of his parents, he believes in doing so he would be endangering their home and lives. He also keeps his family name a closely guarded secret. The only item perhaps hinting at his origin is a tarnished silver signet ring, which never leaves his person. What Uthar shares about his history is expressed in a factual and very to the point manner. Uthar has an obvious distrust in complex words. He no doubt understands a large number of complex words perfectly and has an unthinkably quick intellect (Which he generally conceals) considering his race but operates on the pretence that people who use nothing but large words generally seek only to hide their truths, camouflaging them among their lengthy explanations and complicated vocabulary. Uthar had originally planned to become a Ranger. He had spent his life living outdoors and had no plans to live anywhere else. He understood nature; he experienced nothing but pure reality each and every day. His remarkable ability with blades is obviously due to the unparalleled expertise of the weapon trainers and tutors provided by the Guild of Fighters, of which he belongs. However Uthar believes Nature was his chief tutor. Uthar mimics the actions of great predators and spends a great deal of time examining their behaviour and hunting strategies. Uthar made his decision to join the Fighters guild instead of the Guild of Rangers a single month after he arrived in Falcion. Uthar trusts very few people, as his contact with others prior to his formal alliance with the good races of Altin was fairly limited. The people he associates with have generally proved themselves to him as true friends, sound logical thinkers, or outstanding tactical warriors. Uthar despises stupidity and ignorance and will mark any man or woman guilty of such things as he feels is appropriate. Uthar plans to live out the remainder of his live in much the same way as he has thus far. Protecting and learning from nature, and using his abilities to protect the good folk of Altin as he swore to do. Uthril Class: FighterRace: Half-Giant Some days I wake up and am amazed at my surroundings. A pike in one hand, who knew me to be a fighter? Why, a few years ago when I was merely ten years of age a typical day for me would include exploring a little farther than my mother would wish for me to and climbing trees. During the weeks of festival, singing and dancing reigned at our small mountain hideaway. No night would be complete without a few hours of stargazing before I went to bed. It was one of those nights. The kind that rounds off a perfect day. The twilight was coming down upon us like a languid caress and I had ventured farther than I had ever before. Just then, the wind suddenly became still. I felt my heart sink a bit with no apparent reason. My pulse began to race and I jumped off my stargazing tree and ran home. I came home to find a sinister looking goblin who had come upon our village. He carried no weapons at all and was swarthed in robes of jet black. Suddenly, I saw the earth rip open like a like ripe tomato. A half-giant stood up, missing an arm and walking with one leg too short and a limp. Many more soon arose and I was confused and afraid. What I saw next still wrenches my heart to this day. I drew closer in curiousity to the misfigured man and locked eyes. He was my grandfather! The terror to see a noble man brough to unrest from his grave was almost too much and I fell back. The goblin walked up to him and spit in his face. 'What have we here? A crippled soldier in my army. Frail half-giant bodies can never be resurrected properly. Begone!' and with a wave of his hand, the body collapsed to the floor, wrenching. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me into the darkness of the forest. Upon the top of the highest tree I could find, I looked at my village and saw untrained half-giants fight in vain with tree limbs and rocks. Women screaming and young children being dismembered. I looked past the village and saw my first glimpse of goblins, alchemists, and horrific dragons. It continued and the forest was drawn back as the goblins advanced. Young and afraid, I turned to Lord Erisar. I had no home, I knew it was time for me to join civilization. I walked for many days before coming to a boot upon a great lake. I asked where the toughest of soldiers must train to fight the Goblins and I was pointed towards Kragesh and the Island of Falcion. I have trained myself beyond anything I thought my body could endure. As my training continued, I spoke to Minsc whose words were so true it was frighening. Only when the Peace is restored shall my homeland be restored from the deadly grip of the goblin armies. I shall then go home and retire in peace. Until then, I carry my pike, hoping one day to bring some vengeance upon the killers of my people. Valas Class: FighterRace: Drow Several years have come and gone since the young Valas stood, with ready blade, among the twenty of his streeahk. They had been sent by the matron of their minor house on a mission of revenge to which they were bound by magic and honour. These faceless men were prepared to administer dark justice upon defilers of a promising wizardress of their house. This would be done in secret as noone knew the other's identity and they were bound to this secrecy by magicks that would ruin their mind should they attempt to administer information of importance. ***** "udos z'klaen vharcan l'streea d'udossta ilharn" the dark priestess of Kyorl had told the young Valas after these spells had been woven. Valas, who had been kneeling with hands outstretched before his person, rose as she nodded then said, "ilharess, sil'in vlos orn stain ussta rahi" The laughter of the dark priestess echoed through the hall as she motioned for her aid to deliver a gift to this precious soldier. He was not only a young man of promise, but her eldest male child. The wizardress servant handed Valas robes of darkleather that were line with strange pouches that contained plates of mithril. Honoured, Valas accepted this gift and was dismissed allowing the next to enter. ***** As he journeyed to what would likely be his death he thought little of his matron's favour. Now it meant nothing. It was expected that he should die in this battle the same as his companions whos faces he did not even see. All in this streeahk wore enchanted masks of horrible crimson. Knowing nothing of the abilities of his companions, Valas had great concern for the success of his mission. He must draw the blood of many nobles or his death would mean nothing. Having no comfort in the abilities of his companions Valas took comfort in his own. Much training had been offered him and many trials had he overcome, even before his fifty-eighth year. When he took his first steps he was given a rune-crusted dagger of mithril which would be his companion for life. As a child it served as a toy upon which he would cut himself only to be tended to by the house's one healer but as a young man it would serve as a lone companion, a means of expression. Valas expressed his desires with it, embraced it and loved the power that it gave him. As he dashed with his death-bound companions he touched this same dagger which was sheathed on his forearm, hidden by the sleeve of his robes. Comfort swept over him and his focus was restored, he would exact the revenge that his dark honour demanded. ***** The group had covered a great distance with impressive speed and set themselves near the compound watching from afar. At the northern gates of the house compound an army of slaves and warriors far greater than Valas had yet seen. The slaves were great in number and were an impressive sight in such a mass. The army seemed prepared to engage another house in battle so it was decided that they should wait untill they leave the city guarded with fewer troops. For three weeks the group waited patiently. They avoided all contact with scouts and vanguards so as to avoid the need to cut them down and alert the enemy of their prescence. In the obvious state of alarm the group had chosen to take no chances. There must be no forewarning of possible assassination strikes. Valas quickly grew tired of hiding in the treacherous terrain of the underdark and waited anxiously that he might end this torture. On the 23rd day of their watch the army marched forward out of the city only hours after the arrival of a prisoner envoy. The time had come, they would now make their move. Silently the twenty males snuck to the southern wall and with grappling hooks and rope climbed up to the battlement. ***** One of the twenty raised his hand after they ascended to the top of the battlement by use of rope and grapple. With a fiery voice he whispered, "faerl kulggen inbal tlus t'larryo udos z'klaen jresh wund draa d'lil akh." They understood immediately that to insure maximum penalty was delt to their foes they must split into two groups. Without another word they did so and linked their minds together that they might communicate amongst each other freely. The streets were empty save it be a few unsuspecting guards who who were cut down without disturbance. It was soon discovered that there was a great meeting in a black cathedral that was central to the city. Two of the drow circled the cathedral and scouted several guardsmen which guarded a steel enforced wooden door which was the main entrance. They also found that there was a niche through which they could fit through. The first group saluted their comrades and positioned themselves outside the line of the guardsmen's sight as the second group which included Valas through a hook which secured itself upon the ledge. Valas was the first to climb up and he poked his head in seeing a loft upon which the ten could stand. He watched as the others ascended into position. ***** Watching from the loft Valas counted an audience of what he thought to be approximately seventy drow. There were some men among them but most were women. As he waited he watched a priestess of great social stature who stood before an alter. She spoke out to the crowd with a powerful voice and held above her a dagger. Upon the alter was a woman who lied naked and dead, victim of vile ritualistic sacrifice. The ten of Valas' group were in position with grapples as a crashing sound of the door raised the alarm of those within the cathedral. The doors burst open and many of the warriors charged out preceeding the descent of the streeahk that had been ready upon the loft. Valas held his dagger between his teeth and grabbed hold of his rope with gloved hands, threw it down and began his descent into the madness of the melee. ***** As Valas descended the rope his boot met the face of a drow caught off guard. Taking his precious dagger which he held in his teeth he drove the killing blow into his enemy's skull. The ring of swords being drawn was matched by the drawing of his own sword which he wielded in his other hand. There was much opportunity for destruction as it seemed that the finest of the enemy's warriors had charged out of the temple, leaving their high priestess with few guards. Valas screamed, "ultrinnan t'yin streea" as he parried the blow of a warrioress' blade and spun around plunging his dagger into her back. His dagger struck hard and pierced her ribs and cut into her heart killing her. Freed from his opponent he jumped upon a pew and examined his situation. The sturdy door was already captured and barricaded by several weapons. It had cost one of his companions his life. His corpse lied dead on the stone floor with several arrows stuck into his chest. The eight others had seen great success and were standing in the midst of several corpses. Finally his gaze turned to the the priestess. She stood before the alter waiting, her face cool and extremely calm. She watched as her soldiers were overcome by the force of the interlopers. To his surprise the wind was knocked from Valas' lungs as an enemy lunged at him throwing him forward. She landed with a harsh crack as her face slammed against the back of the pew knocking her to the floor in a heap but Valas was quicker and managed to twist in the air, his shoulder striking the beautiful hardwood bench. Immediately an new enemy was upon him wielding a massive axe. Rolling off of the seat of the bench and under the pew ahead of him he narrowly escaped a killing blow from the axe which splintered the wood. These splinters cut Valas' face but did not sway his focus. He swung his foot out and kicked the feet from under his opponent then rose with great speed delivering a harsh blow to her shoulder. Her life ended having been given the honour of reading the runes of Valas' dagger as he shoved it through her eye. All that remained were four others and their attention was focused now upon the priestess who had watched as her servants were slain. Valas turned away momentarily as a loud crashing sound echoed through the temple with deafening sound. He then turned back to his friends inclining his head with a nod then sneered at the priestess. Her response was to pull a venomous dagger from a sheath on her belt and begin her walk forward to engage the five. Valas, awed by this display of valour raised his blade in a salute and led the charge. The priestess parried the first strike of Valas and landed her foot in his mid-section. Her balance shifted as she spun around connecting her fist with the face of another while sweeping her free and cutting another across the throat. A sword was driven through her side and she screamed out smashing Valas once more with her fist swung so fast it seemed a blur and without pause she drove her dagger into the heart of yet another of his companions. Valas seeing her back exposed shoved the point of his sword through her neck severing the head. In the fury of the melee Valas did not notice that the banging had ceased. All was silent as Valas removed his mask and looked into the unmasked face of the last of his brothers in arms. A smile creased the face of his friend as he raised his hand showing a small cut from the dagger. Within moments he too fell to the floor cold and dead. ***** As he approached the alter he beheld for the first time the woman that lied dead upon it. It was his matron and mother lying naked thereon. She had suffered the final humilation of being a sacrifice to the demon. Without care for his life he took time and honoured his house matron by dressing her naked body with the blood of the priestess who had sacrificed her. ***** It had been so long.. Why had noone come? Inching towards the door Valas listened carefully. The reason noone had come was clear and the clangs of steel upon steel. He heard the screams of kobolds and drow battle cries and sang as music to his ears. No longer was he bound by his promise, he had done enough and his matron was dead upon an alter which he had stood with reverence before. Taking the rope he climbed up onto the loft where he made his escape out the window from where he came. On the streets slaves were fighting their masters and Valas escaped by scaling the south wall. Having achieved his escape in the confusion, he left immediately to the city where he sold his service as a mercenary to a group of underground merchants. Rumour had drawn him to this group because of rumours of their dealings with surface dwellers. They were accurate and Valas left them not long after to travel to the city of Nexus. For less then a year Valas wandered the surface wondering. He escaped death so narrowly and truly felt that there was reason he was spared. When he first entered the city of Falcion he mumbled under his breath, "usstan z'klaen inbal tlus tai'luen whol natha sanrr" That assertion still echos through this warriors mind today. The mystery he seeks even still. Veryn Class: FighterRace: Unknown The sun shines on the little secluded valley by its inhabitants named the Valley of Valor. Birds sing and diffrent animals run around. Human children run in the woods of the valley playing with the animals and enjoying the day. Suddenly a great shadow goes over the valley. The children run towards the Keep. They all knew what it was, A red dragon. They had heard the stories of the two previous ones who had found their valley. A great battle ensued with the keep's defenders rushing out to slay the dragon or atleast keep it from attacking the children. The dragon who had decided to scorch the valley did not get far in his job before the troops arrived. All the children had fled to the keep but one. Young Veryn age nine saw the whole battle from away. His interest was foremost his father who was fighting. But Veryn fell in love with the beautiful and fierce creature as he looked at it. Thoughts of respect and power filled his head. Already sure that he would be what his father always referred to as, "Us grunts" Veryn know knew he had to work hard to be as powerful and respected as the dragon. The last red dragon that had come was slain by a party where Veryn's grandfather served. And so he was extreamly proud of seeing his own father do the same feat. And what was most impressive was that no matter how many spells the mages cast or how much the archers shot the dragon cast healing spells and continued to attack. The clerics kept the group alive but they weren't sure for how long they would be able to do so. And then tragedy struck. The baron of the keep's nephew was hit with the dragon's large claw right through the armor and into the heart slaying him immediately. The entire group was shocked and stood still for a small while, All but one. Veryn's father now had his chance he ran as fast has he could and thrust his sword up the belly of the dragon hitting between the scales he destroyed some vital organs and with a lethal blow slew the dragon. Veryn was happy but sad. The slain hero was his old sword teacher and a very loved man. After the dragon's death the corpse of Illoran (which was the name of the man) was burnt and the baron threw a celebration in his honor. During this feast Veryn's father spoke to all. He asked that people not refer to him as a hero, for he had failed to kill the dragon without losses. He explained to the people that it sadly and luckily was the slaying of Illoran that gave him the oppurtunity to slay the dragon and that Illoran deserved the praises. For this noble deed Veryn's father was promoted to Captain of the Honor Guard. And against his wishes celebrated even more (Ah the rough life of a hero). Veryn was after all this a very split person. He was moved up two classes in the fighters school, not because his father was a captain but because he was so skilled. Reason he was not moved up more was because his father actually taught his current class in many things. Veryn also learned from scribes the origin of the valley name. According to their history the humans who now inhabited this place had decended from the cliffs upon a Gnoll Stronghold and crushed them in battle. During the battle so many deeds of valor were done the conquerors had no other name to call it. As the years passed the Keep fell into grief the baron's son died. Slain by a wolf in his sleep. The baron after this went mad. Some say he threw his wife out of the window but to the public it was treated like suicide. The baron became a cruel man. Taxing the few peasants high he tortured them if they didn't pay. Even the citizens of the keep felt the touch of his iron hand. Then one day Veryn and his father walked into the throne room just to see the baron cutting the head off his own brother. Veryn's father drew his sword and engaged the baron. Clearly the baron was mad. But the baron was a good swordsman and the fight was even. Then Veryn drew his dagger and in a swift stab put it in the throat of the baron. That night they left the keep claiming that the keep was filled with too much blood. Most of the citizens did leave towards a city named Nexus. The ones who stayed were probably slain since the ones who migrated saw the keep burst into flames from a distance. On the way towards Nexus Veryn was sent towards the island of Falcion with others to complete their training. Veryn's father two days after arriving in Nexus wandered into a clearing east of the city and was slain by a druid who thought it was another Thief or Barbarian come to prey on his kin. For this Veryn resents Druids much. One could say he despised them so much they would probably not live in his sight if he didn't have the duty to Nexus to stop him. Wolf-biter Class: FighterRace: Ogre As a young ogre, I spent many of my days wandering the foothills at the base of the Crystal Mountains alone. This particular day I’d returned to watch some of the wild animals that also called the hills home. A female wolf had taken up home in one of the burrows along the hill, and was teaching her pups the way of chasing rabbits. The small cubs seemed playful, and I thought as I watched them, I’d go join the frolicing in the soft turf. I had never been near wolves before, and much to my surprise, the mother was not happy to have this huge ogre amonst her cubs. She layed into me with fang and claw and I grabbed at her while she snapped at my hands and arms. We fell over in a pile, fur and ogre hair flying, I did the only thing I could think of, and sunk my own teeth into her tail. Perhaps a taste of her own treatment would even the score. The wolf yelped and released the hold on me, leaping away and glaring back. She charged again, fangs flashing and took hold of my arm, near the bicep. The front claws flailed at my face, I pounded at her with my fists, but she wouldn’t let go of the arm. A paw slashed near my chin, and I grabbed it, gnarling I bit down hard near her leg joint. This time, she let go for good, and ran to the burrow, her pups in tow. When I returned to the village, my ogre-mum asked why I was torn and bleeding so. When I finished my tail, she laughed and sayd, "Thats my little ogre...he’s a wolf-biter." After that everyone in the village started calling me Wolf-biter. As I grew older, I noticed our village would bring back smaller things that looked near like ogres to eat. I learned they were called elfers. Some of them were bigger, and had nasty tasting fur, and others were very small, not even a meal. I didn’t think much of it until one was brought back alive. I was told to kill it, and skin it for supper. When I took the elfer behind our shelter, to kill it, it talked to me. It said, "Please don’t do this, we are a peaceful people. Similar to you ogres, and I have a small boy and girl just like you.... please let me go..." I felt sorry for the little elfer..and realized we were doing bad things by hunting them. I let the elfer go, and when the rest of the tribe found out, they tried to kill me. I ran and ran, and only got away by diving into the river. I woke up on a beach, and could only see water for a long ways. I smashed one of the crabs on the beach to eat, since I was hungry. Later, I wandered down the beach, and ran into some others, they looked like elfers, but when I called them that they sayd they were hhhmans. *shrug* They looked like elfers to me, they were bound for a place called Falcion, and invited me to come with. There I learned I was well suited with a club, and began studying the arts of a fighter. The trainer was hard on me, he’d make me walk on logs, pick up heavy stones, eat terrible tasting things, onece he even made me sit with the priest for a few hours. (It seemed like a big waste of time.) Eventually, I ended up in Nexus, and had many adventures with the elfers there. I even learned the difference between elfers and hhmans and renis. One winter evening, I saw some mouses near the town square, they looked all cold and sickly. I dropped some bread for them, and soon one of them climbed up my arm and rested on my shoulder, nuzzling my ear. His whiskers tickled, and when I set him down..he climbed right back up. I guess he liked me. He became my best friend, and would talk to me in his squeeky micer voice. His name was Cheesehead.....I can tell you about him some other time....but he was a brave micer to the end.Mages Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Ailan Class: MageRace: Unknown Ailan was not born of normal parents, like most elves. He was born of the Elven magicks, and of the land. One day, a group of Elven sorcerers known as the Druyin gathered together. They would attempt something never accomplished before. First, they made an elven figure out of mud and wood. Then, calling on their own magicks they tried to bring life to this figure. The first two attempts were fruitless. On the third try, they called on the magicks of the lost god of chaos, Novind. Novind was long since gone, but his magicks still had life in the realms. This third attempt was successful. The figure rose and they named him Ailan, elven for "son of magic". Ailan lived with the Druyin for 5 years, learning the ways of the sorcerers, and learning his own strengths and weaknesses. He also learned how to gather and hunt for food, and everything else that would be needed for a solitary lifestyle. He was very successful in casting spells, because of his own internal magic. He was also very intelligent, and learned quickly. Then, on a day exactly 5 years from his creation, the Druyin told Ailan of his charge. (The Druyin were also very able seers, and had seen the future of Ailan.) He was to travel to the Nexus and assist the rest of the races in vanquishing the goblins, and banishing them from the Nexus forever. Ailan set off for the Nexus. Carrying only a single pack of supplies, he left the Elven homeland. His journey was not an easy one. He set sail, for some of the Elves had taken refuge on an island during the Great War. This island lies across an unnamed sea, far west of the Nexus. Ailan was travelling unmapped territory, but his magic and the stars guided him toward his destination. He fought many vile creatures along the way, and luckily the magic kept him thriving. Finally, after an exhaustingly long journey that took almost two years, Ailan arrived in the Nexus. People were suspicious of him at first. His skin color was a darker brown than most of the elves. But the people of the Nexus were kind, and finally took him in. To this day, Ailan still fights the goblin hoardes in defense of the Nexus. Allanon Class: MageRace: Sprite A small, dark figure levitated in front of the Library. He was about 4-6 inches tall, and all his features were covered by his dark, black robes. He slowly floated towards the door and opened it. Inside, a Reni Scribe quickly ran over to the door, allowing him inside. "Hello, I have heard that the Scribes wish to have the histories of all the adventurers in the city. Is this correct?" The Reni Scribe looked at the small, floating figure and nodded. "I will allow my history to be revealed then. I have been recently been getting asked by many people about my past, and I'd rather them read it, then me telling it over and over." The small, dark figure raised his hands to his hood. These small, blue hands pushed the hood back. A small, blue face now looked at the Reni Scribe. The Sprite's hair was amber, but many different shades of color was in his hair. "My name is Allanon." The Reni Scribe quickly guided Allanon into a small room filled with scrolls, pens, and other tools used by the busy Scribes. Allanon floated over to a seat near the window and sat down quietly. The Reni Scribe quickly rushed over to a desk and pulled out a scroll, pen, and ink jar. Unrolling part of the parchment, the Scribe said, "Tell me of your early years." Allanon nodded and a sadness could be seen in his eyes. "My family lived in a small Sprite village near the Mushroom Ring. All our houses were in trees, so we weren't easily spotted." Allanon paused for a second. "I had two great parents. My father was like a Mage, able to cast spells to help our community. He had only learned the spells from the First Tier." "My mother was the kindest person I knew. She was very good to me, and every other person in the town." Allanon's eyes now showed deep sadness. "This happiness didn't last long. When I was about ten years old, a group of drunken Ogres happened upon our village. Not being able to climb the trees that our houses were in, they just pushed them down. Many people didn't survive to fight. Most of them died when their houses came down." "A small group of Sprites survived. Among these Sprites was my father, mother, and me. My parents hid me near a fallen tree, so I wouldn't be spotted by the Ogres. My community fought bravely. The Ogres out numbered us by size, strength, and number. The remaining Adults fought for hours. The Ogres quickly killed or captured any Sprites that survived the first battle." "My parents were among the captured. The Ogres marched south west from our village, and I followed them. I hid in the trees, looking down on them when they marched. At night time, I spied on their camp while they were hiding. What I saw still gives me sadness..." Allanon looked out the window. "My parents were each held by and Ogre, their wings in the Ogres hand. They pulled the wings off of my parents, and then threw them to the ground. They did this to all the Sprites, and left them on the ground to suffer and die." "The Ogres left right after that incident. I quickly gathered a type of berries from the surrounding bushes. The berries I got were nicknamed "Death Berries" by our community. They are extremely poisonous and one berry can kill a Half-Giant. I gave them to each of the tortured Sprites, and they ate them. They quickly died, and didn't have to suffer anymore. I saddly watched as my parents at the berries and died." Allanon wiped a tear from his eyes, not looking towards the Reni Scribe. "The next morning I buried all of the Sprites that had died, and prayed over each body. After I finished burying the last Sprite, I collected some food, clothes, and anything else that I needed from my house. I then walked away from the Mushroom Ring, and south into the Eldane Forest." "Many weeks after that evil day, I met a large human near a cottage. He wore red robes, and wore the sign of Pandora. I was fascinated by his skills in magic, and he offered to teach me some basic spells. I agreed, and studied until I learned them all. The mage, who's name I never learned, gave me blue Mage robes, and led me to his city, Nexus." The Reni Scribe ran out of ink, and quickly ran over to the other side of the room, and hurried back with another ink jar. "I never made any friends at first, because I was still sad and full of hate from the death of my parents. I quickly learned any new spells I recieved, and rose in power. When I was allowed to chose a god to follow, I chose Kyorl, Lord of Greed. I followed him, because I felt hatred to everyone. I still haven't gotten over the death of my parents, but have gotten friends." "Recently, I have left Kyorl's church and am one of the False. I don't approve of hatred anymore, and am sickened by Kyorl's ways. I am working on getting my aura blue, so I may follow the path of enlightment. I wish to follow Pandora, but I cannot because I am of the False. However I will live my life following her beliefs and devoting myself to aiding those in need and without hope." The Reni Scribe quickly finished writing down what Allanon had told him, and thanked him. Allanon levitated off the chair and floated towards the door. He pulled his hood back over his head, and walked outside into the cold and dreary night. Ambrosius Class: MageRace: Unknown The creature's hands wove a strange pattern, his grotesque jaws moving in incantation, and the Wizard hurriedly threw up a shield, bracing for impact, as he was suddenly buffeted by the powerful magicks of the demon's spell. The sheer force of the attack threw him backwards, and pain bloomed in his shoulder as he landed on a jagged rock. When his head cleared, he looked up. The demon, apparently satisfied that its opponent was no longer a threat, had resumed the ritual. It was in the center of the stone circle, its hideous form towering over the granite slab of the altar where a young girl, drugged and unconcious, lay chained. The beast was saying something. Lightning flashed in unsettling syncopation with its chant, throwing grim shadows on the monolithic stones, briefly revealing the crumpled and bloody forms of the deluded druids who had thought to summon the spawn of Hell. The creature lifted its sword high in the flickering light of its accompaniment, almost constant now as ritual hit its climax... The blade erupted in blue flame, falling harmlessly to the ground as the creature's anguished shriek cut the air. "I'm not dead yet, child of Satan." The wizard slowly, painfully, stood. "And you'll not summon your Master while I still live." The demon howled, and lightning struck, sizzling inneffectually against the wizard's renewed defense. He gestured, and there was a thunderous boom of displaced air around the creature. The demon sneered. "I have made this world mine own, pitiful mortal. You cannot banish ME!" It laughed in malicious glee as the wizard's face fell. The laughter suddenly stopped. The girl, now awake, was struggling wildly against her bonds. The demon looked down at her in sudden recognition. It's red eyes gleamed slyly. "But I, with your blood, can now banish YOU." The wizard blinked, not understanding. But as the demon smiled at the girl, realization hit him with all the force of divine fury. He furiously gathered all his power in an attempt to stop what he most feared. He was too late. In the blink of an eye, the demon's hand struck downwards, imbedding in the girl's chest. The wizard screamed. "NOOOOOOOOOO!" Just as quickly, the demon's arm ripped free. The girl convulsed, and the light went out of her eyes, the vision of the unholy creature holding her still-beating heart aloft having been the last thing she saw. The demon smirked, licked its lips, and, as the wizard unleashed his fury, swallowed the heart whole. Anybody who lived within a hundred miles of that enclosure would tell of a huge explosion that lit the sky and shook the earth that night, obliterating most of the great Sylvan forest, and yet, as rock, earth, tree, even the very air disintegrated around it, the demon merely smiled, completely untouched, and unperturbed. Finally, after an eternity of a few minutes, the wizard collapsed, spent. Though nearly unconsious, the wizard, his face wet with tears, sobbed. "Nimue... Dear Nimue... my sister... go with God." The demon laughed hysterically. "Oh, I sincerely doubt it. Her soul belongs to Satan." At this, the demon was once again consumed by spasms of mirthful laughter. When it recovered, its voice oozed with evil glee. "And the best part is, SHE'S given me the power to defeat you!" In triumph, the demon began to chant in a strange mixture of tongues both familiar and un. Too weak to do anything, or even to care, the wizard merely lay there, and closed his eyes. The demon finally finished, with a flourish. "...and so, BEGONE!" There was a flash of light, and then nothingness. * * * The wizard awoke to find himself in a square, lying on the steps of a great building. It was dusk, and brilliant orange sunlight blanketed the strange and yet beautiful town. Birds chirped on the eaves of the pillared hall, rejoicing in their simple life. And, almost unwillingly, he smiled. In the distance he could see the glimmering spray of a fountain, and beyond that, what looked like an inn. He stood up, despite the protestations of his sore limbs, intent on a hot meal and mug of warm ale. As he started towards the inn, voices, drifting on the cool summer breeze caught his attention, and he looked in their direction. A group of men and women, obviously dressed for battle, but just as clearly not belonging to any army, stood off to his left. His first instinct was to be alarmed, but he soon realized from their jovial laughter and banter that these people were not dangerous, at least not to him. The group started heading East, but one man broke away and came in his direction. The man's appearance was decidedly barbaric. He was of average height but enormous build. Muscles bulged from every part of his body, easily visible through his leather armor. He held a large spiked club over his shoulder, but not threateningly. He smiled through his bushy brown beard. "Greetings, friend. I see that you're a stranger in our land. Is there anything I can help you with?" He held out his hand. "My name is Beowulf." The wizard took the outstretched hand and shook it. The barbarian grinned. "Nice to meet you, what's your name?" The wizard wracked his brain. What was his name? How had he gotten here? It had all seemed so clear a moment before. An image flashed through his mind: A pulsing, bloody heart held in the gnarled fingers of a daemonic beast, the imploring look in his sister's eyes as she took her last breath. Despair overtook him, he was lost in a void of undying shame. Then, from the depths, another vision appeared: people cheering as the king rewarded him for the good deeds he had done, the pride his sister had felt, the vow he had taken to uphold justice and protect his people. He suddenly remembered all that he had stood for. What he STILL stood for. Iron resolve was born in him, and he DID remember his name. He clung to it as if it were driftwood in the roiling sea. He had rediscovered his pride. He smiled at his new friend. "My name is Ambrosius." Anwer Class: MageRace: Half Elf Anwer had a rough life, He was born with a Drow father and a Human mother which of course created a problem. His family could not reside in the vein as the Drow would never approve of such a family and they would probably all be killed. Anwer's father therefore took his family to a small city he had heard of. The city was originaly named Sadrach's Keep after an orcish warlord, but a human hero named Garren had liberated it one thousand years ago and made it a place for elves and humans. The city had all kinds of mixes of elves and humans so the Drow father was welcomed and his family taken care of well. This though was not until after Anwer had felt people's stares, everyone screamed at them on the road and people attacked his father. Luckily for Anwer his father was a trained Drow warrior and could take care of the attackers preferably before anyone died, mostly disarming them. His mother, after Anwer's birth, was always weak and sick and never did much around the house, Cause of this Anwer grew up feeling strongly for his father who could do so much and adored his father's heritage, never denying his past. Anwer's talent for magick was quickly noticed by his father who as a Drow warrior was quite adept at the arts himself, But he noticed Anwer had skill that could be far greater than his. Sadly the father also realized his son was no great fighter with a sword. But it wasn't too much of a deal for the father since in Drow civilization powerful magi are as respected as the fighters. At the age of eleven Anwer met a half-elf named Darkiln. They met through the keep's mage tower where they both studied under an old elven wizard. They soon put their skill to use in pranks and such and were a real menace for the rest of the citizen's. Darkiln, who was close to a year older, was always the leader and acted very eagerly. His father was a mage and Darkiln often told stories of a far away city named Nexus where his father had served. Darkiln's father wasn't the smartest man though and took a loan to buy his son a robe. The loan couldn't be paid and the man who lent him the money demanded either Darkiln's life or the fathers work for fifty years. For an elf this is nothing big but Darkiln wasn't an elf and his father would be stuck for a long time. This helped the friends to get closer since Darkiln's father was away alot working. Anwer's and Darkiln's favorite joke was to cast vigor on the chickens the near sighted butcher tried to kill. He couldn't see well so he just cut them and let them bleed to death. This though didn't work when two little brats were casting Vigor on it and he started screaming and throwing chickens. The mages kept their families living close to the keep so that they could study in the tower and therefore the part closest to the keep was named wizard walk. When the two young mages heard of the spell in Nexus they had quite the laugh. This area was also the scene of the biggest fights since the mages where honorable and kept any criminals out of the keep. With Darkiln's father working for a criminal this was all shattered and the keep was easily infested with thieves and such. At this point mages tried to battle the crimelords but could not destroy them all. In the end they had to accept that crime was a part of the town and now also the inner keep. One day the watchmen spotted a Dragon. Nobody had seen such a creature before and many amazed at its beauty and power. Anwer and Darkiln especially fell in love with the creature. The dragon was a white one and tales from faraway told of their neutrality. The citizens dared not ask it for fear of it being one of the evil ones. Anwer and Darkiln immediately took it upon themselves to meet with the dragon and prepared for this. Sadly to their terror the Dragon was scared away by a band of Goblins lost in the woods. The city defenders swiftly dispatched these but Anwer and Darkiln grieved that day for the rest of their lives. Darkiln soon knew the truth of his father and decided to go to Nexus and train to be a better mage. He swore that when he became a Arch-Wizard he would come back and save his father. In the beginning this was just talk but Darkiln was soon making plans for his trip. Then one night he left, leaving his father, his friends and everyone else behind. Anwer continued life in the city but his attitude changed from a happy and loving individual he became resentful and angry. His mother had died two weeks before Darkiln's departure and it was said her only influence over Anwer was her kindness and love. The father being Drow didn't really strive to achieve this and took more honor and fear to him. It did work for him since he had risen to the rank of Captain in the keep guard. Anwer got into trouble more often and not anymore little pranks but real trouble he even stole from a rich nobleman to buy himself a new robe. At this point his father put an end to his son's behavior, theft was dishonorable. Anwer no longer fit in and his father told him to seek up Darkiln. Even if his father didn't like it he had to admit Anwer and Darkiln were sort of loners who only could function together. Without Darkiln around his son got into too much trouble. So Anwer made plans for his own trip to Nexus. Anwer never did leave for the city. Two days before an elven boy who had left for the city a while back returned, a large feast was held and the boy was put into the spotlight. When asked what he had seen he told everyone he was sent to the island of Falcion where he trained and where he had met Darkiln. After hearing this Anwer changed his plans, he needed to go to Falcion. When asked what he had been trained as the boy answered proudly that he was a ranger. Anwer asked the boy if he could get a map to the city of Falcion. Ten days later the Ranger gave him one to a small city that he said had a way which led to Falcion but was very secretive, and said to Anwer to watch it since the goblins were quite the enemy when you are alone. And so Anwer set off from his home city on route for Falcion the City of Apprenticeship. Anwer started his journey one sunny afternoon. He walked a long way and finally rested in the evening finding a nice little clearing where he slept. In the middle of the night he was awakened by an angry little sprite who told him he was in their home. Anwer quickly moved seeing that the sprites where quite angry and walked around in the night a long time until he started sleeping under a tree. Just when the sun came up Anwer woke up a second time hearing noises, He found to his fear that he was sleeping ten feet from a Goblin camp and that they hadn't spotted him yet. Scared to death Anwer quickly sneaked away and from that day he never slept on the ground again but always in a tree (Unless he is in a city). The days after were nothing special Anwer walked in the woods and met different creatures and learned many lessons. One day when he was walking he saw a Raven fly in the sky and as he looked at it while walking he didn't even notice he walked off a cliff. Luckily for him it wasn't a large drop but he rolled quite a bit and when he regained consciousness found his robe all torn and his food smashed to pieces and animals eating the leftovers. Anwer struggled in the forest cursing for a few hours until he ran into a Goblin Battlewizard. Anwer once more had the luck not to be spotted and he waited until the wizard went to sleep. Knowing this was his chance he snuck by him and when he was almost in the clear he realized the Battlewizard was at his mercy and walked over to him. He lifted up a rock and smashed the Goblin's head five times. For the first time in Anwer's life he had killed something that wasn't an animal but a real intelligent life form. Anwer quickly stole the robe and fled the scene spending that night thinking of his deed. Anwer soon got over it maybe because he had some Drow in him but he after a while didn't care. So one day he stumbled upon a party of elves. Anwer's peculiar look made them suspicious and they captured him and put him in a large sack. The elves were from the city Talmet, a city quite close to Nexus. The elves presented the prisoner to their elders who luckily had met a Half-Drow before and explained the matter. The elves where still suspicious but the elders told them that any drow that wished to "mate" with a non-drow can't be evil. Of course there are other solutions to the whole thing but Anwer quickly noted that if anyone even hinted rape about his mother he would kill them. The elves took this for a sign of love instead of a threat and openly apologized to Anwer who confused got help to pack some food and got a new robe, and was escorted to the city of Rymek. In Rymek Anwer got the same weird looks from his childhood and quickly asked for the way out of the city. Getting the answer that there's always the boat to Falcion he was overjoyed. Finally setting foot on Falcion after many glares and frowns from the sloopmaster Anwer set out to find Darkiln. Anwer didn't get far for when he entered the town center placed by a Fountain he saw a mage standing talking to some other people from three or four different races. Anwer approached him and looks at him a while and asked "Darkiln?" the mage turned and screamed "Anwer!" and the reunion was a fact. Darkiln filled Anwer in on the guild and the island rules. At the word rules they both frowned and laughed a little, Anwer was a little behind in the magic area and Darkiln told him to become his apprentice that way he could teach him alot about spells and such that he couldn't learn until he came to Nexus. So the friend's became mentor/apprentice instead obviously putting a strain on the friendship they still remained friends. Anwer took the little island to heart and decided to stay there keeping training at a low, Darkiln on the other hand had a goal and trained on and on. After Darkiln's tragic death at the hands of the executioner for treason, Anwer lived in deep grief not wanting to believe his friend had committed treason. He followed the idea of the law being corrupt as blindly as a Cleric can follow his god. After a short while Anwer began training again and left the island which he thought had changed so much he didn't want anything to do with it anymore. Anwer is now training to achieve the tiers his friend and mentor did and also go past that accomplishment and come back to home as an Arch-Wizard. Ariel Class: MageRace: Human Ariel sat in the Library, facing one of the Renis scribes, her eyes clouded as memories long suppressed came flooding back. "Yes" she said. Attempting a gentle smile at the scribe, "I will tell you of my family, of my journey to Nexus, but please bear with me. This is the first time I've spoken to it in depth to anyone." "My parents, Aldara the Mage, and Zephinus the Cleric, were both from minor noble houses in the City of Anubis. They were both Followers of our Lady of Hope and had known each other since childhood. Their love blossomed against the disapproval of their families, whose political aspirations decreed that each should marry into stronger, wealthier families. They were kept apart during their youth but their telepathic abilities could not be controlled and so they stayed close, "talking" to each other constantly, not one thought concealed from the other. As my mother grew into young adulthood her need to be with my father became uncontrollable and she threatened to run away, to disgrace her family, to let the other noble houses know of her oppression. Eventually her family agreed to the marriage but refused her a dowry. My father cut off all contact with his family in order to marry Aldara and the wedding was held quietly, with no guests, in the family shrine. "Neither of them wanted to stay in the City, disillusioned as they were by the political manoeuvring and backstabbing, the constant attempts for supremacy by the various noble houses of Anubis and so they left, finding the small village of Tar'ned at the foot of the Crystal Mountains. They used most of their gold to build a house in which to bring up the family they so dearly wanted. They settled into the life of the village, my father healing both the villagers and their animals; my mother teaching them basic hygiene, helping them to build barns to house their animals so they were no longer kept in the villagers' cottages; educating their children, always keeping an eye open for any signs of special talent that might be encouraged. They would both be called away occasionally to meetings of their respective Guilds, or to help beat back another Goblin invasion. "As the years passed, they had three children, myself, my brother Algernon (who, as he grew, retained the only version of his name he could manage as a baby - Allanon), and Arianne who showed a distinct talent as a cleric whilst Algernon and I were to be sent to the nearest branch, in Anubis, of the Mages' Guild. "We were a happy family, growing up surrounded by love and by frequent hugs and cuddles, secure within that love and within the respect and love of our villagers. There were only two problems to mar our childhood, but they were major ones. Genga, the local warlord, had always levied a tithe on the towns and villages under his protection but these tithes increased over the years, leaving my parents and our villagers on the verge of poverty. We always had enough to eat, though, which was more than many people had in those days. The other problem was the increasing number of goblin invasions and word of the destruction of many towns and villages began to filter through to us. We had been fortunate thus far though. Genga, his warriors and his bands of hired mercenaries, had managed to keep them away from us but we all knew we lived on borrowed time. A fact we didn't become aware of until much later was that Genga had hired himself a mage, a GOBLIN mage, presumably to have a foot in the goblin camp should they ever succeed in overwhelming the Realms entirely. "One of the highlights of my childhood was my 14th birthday, the birthday on which my parents gave each of us a family signet ring - a black adamantine stone, with a copper dragon inset in the stone and with our names inscribed inside the circle of gold. My father started to tell us of the history of that ring, drawing us close within the warmth of his voice. He told us of Dal'nar Anubis, his ancestor and founder, centuries earlier, of the House of Anubis; of how, during an early goblin invasion, he went high into the Crystal Mountains in search of dragons; of how he found a group of copper dragons and, after much eloquent pleading, persuaded them to let Cypfria, the youngest and least needed of them, to join him in battle. With the help of Cypfria the tides were turned and that particular battle was won. Dal'nar was awarded for his bravery and was given much land and the City was renamed Anubis, in his honour. The House of Anubis continued to flourish, as did the friendship between Dal'nar and Cypfria, though after Dal'nar's death her visits declined and eventually stopped and the power of the family slowly, over many many years, started to decline. Political machination became a way of life as my father's family struggled to maintain their fast dwindling power until, eventually, all that was left was the idea of power, not the reality, and the House and City of Anubis were once again regarded as of no real import in the doings of the Realms. * * * * * * * * * * "I couldn't know, on that 14th birthday, that I had only two years left with my family. During the year I was 16 I was allowed, for the first time, to accompany my father into Anubis, where a meeting of the local Guild of Clerics had been called. We stopped overnight in Starrlinden, a small town slightly less than a day's journey from my village, taking the ferry the next day in order to continue our journey. We arrived in Anubis late that day, staying with a fellow Cleric, a friend of my father's." Ariel stands and walks to one of the embrasures, looking out over the Library garden, not wanting to turn back to face the scribe as she started, slowly at first, to continue her story, her voice no more than a whisper. "I was taken around the City the next day, spoiled and showered with gifts by our host's wife and her family. That night, however, my father was quiet and withdrawn, a constant frown on his face, and our visit was cut short. We set off early the next morning to return to Tar'ned. He was quiet and withdrawn on that journey too. My chatter obviously annoyed him so those two days spent on the road with him were quiet and tense. I could get nothing from him except that the goblins were massing again, more powerful than ever, and that the future looked bleak. But he would tell me nothing more than that. "There was no sign of activity in the fields as we neared the village but that didn't disturb us too much as it was late in the afternoon and the villagers would have returned to their homes. However, the first few houses we passed were empty, their doors wide open. I looked at my father, fear in my eyes. "Goblins?" "Perhaps", he said", "but there is another possibility" He would tell me no more though." Ariel sighs deeply, still facing out towards the gardens, not seeing them, her eyes far away, full of horror and pain. "My father would not let me go with him any further into the village but went on his own, into a horror that's stayed with me ever since. I waited for his return An hour?. Two hours? Eventually I could bear it no more and slowly made my way to the village green. What I saw there is as real to me now as if I were still standing there. The green was full of the slain bodies of our villagers, every last one laying in straight, tidy lines, all facing towards the Village Hall, their eyes fixed in death on the last thing they saw in life ... the body of my mother, Aldara the Mage, nailed to the door of the small Hall, her hands cut off at the wrists, the only sign of life being the sun glinting on her wonderful red hair. "My father knelt before her, keening, wailing his loss to the Gods, his mind having fled as the loss of his love, his life, cut deeply into him. "As I watched, too numb to do anything, I saw my father take a knife from his backpack and ..." Ariel closes her eyes for a moment, her voice stumbling slightly as she continues. " ... used it to slice deeply into his wrists; watched him fall to his knees before my mother as his life flowed from him; watched as he died before my eyes with me too frozen, too numb to do anything. That was the moment, I think, that the red hair we had all inherited from my mother turned to the white you see before you now. "And, to my shame, when the use of my limbs was restored to me, I fled. I ran. I left the people I loved most in all the world unburied and unhonoured. I didn't stay to look for my brother or for my sister. I just ran. Ran until I was exhausted and collapsed. I wandered for days, staying away from people, avoiding towns and villages, not caring if I lived or died. Eventually the natural healing processes took over and I started to feel stronger, to look to the future. I decided to make my way to the City of Nexus, to enter the Mages' Guild if they would have me, to honour my parents in the only way left to me, by becoming as powerful and strong a Mage as I could. "I stole or begged on my journey for those things I needed - food, a weapon, a torn shirt or ragged pants. And so I arrived at the gates of the great City, little more than a beggar but I was admitted freely, finding a welcome beyond all I could have expected. "A mighty mage, or so he seemed to me then, became my mentor. I met and married a wonderful man and we have adopted a son, Tralok. I've been adopted, in my turn, by many and now have sisters, brothers, nieces - a whole family, and have learned to live with what I once saw as my cowardice, although this is the first time I have spoken of it with a view to having it become public knowledge. One thing that has teased my mind, though, since I came to Nexus and since I have fought in many battles against the Goblins, is that I've never, ever seen a raid like the one on my village, with the bodies laid like they were, unmutilated except for the death stroke. And that "other possibility" of my father's stays with me, causing me to oft wonder what he might have meant. Could it have been the Soldiers of the Holy Light perhaps? Perhaps I'll never know. * * * * * * * * * * Eventually, only a few years ago, I returned to the village of my parents, wanting in some manner to honour them but not knowing how. I stood before the Village Hall, looking at it and remembering the horror and the pain. Someone had returned to the village at some stage and buried the remains of my family and the villagers in a communal grave in the centre of the village green, and had taken the time and the trouble to erect a crude, wooden obolisk carved with the names of those who lay below it. I stood before the Hall and found my hand reaching unprompted into my backpack, found it closing around a white rose, Pandora's White Rose, which I had carried with me ever since it had been given to me. Almost unbidden I bent to plant the rose at the door of the Hall and started chanting, using my magicks to coax the rose into life, into abundant and wild growth, watched as its tendrils started to cover the Hall, as it grew and flowered until nothing could be seen except the White Roses of Hope, their perfume like a gentle caress carried on the warm evening breeze. * * * * * * * * * * With that, Ariel turned back to the scribe, bowed slightly and walked out into the night, towards further battles and further deaths, but with her hope intact and her love for Pandora warming her heart. Autumnfire Class: MageRace: Unknown "The beginning is a good place to start, I suppose. As early as I can remember, my family was a band of gypsies. I know not from where I came, but I know my mother was a High Priestess and my father a General, they were both involved in the wars. They died protecting one another, from what I hear it was true love... "From birth to the age of six, I was a part of the Carnival, and belonged to one of the few remaining Gypsy Clans. I learned some basic magick for my act, showy lights and fantastic illusions of anything I could imagine. I was popular at the time, with my act, trinkets, gadgets and charms. We were a prosperous band of carnival gypsies. A little too prosperous for some of the Goblin Warlords. "For many months, goblin spies were in out midst. Although, it was the soldiers who would cause a few problems. I understood pain all too well, both from personal experience and what I could see. "Eventually, the situation caught the eye of an Elven Warlord. He promised the Clan protection from the Goblins. Blindly, they took the offer, unaware that for the exchange of our safety, a few of us would have to go. "Against my will, I was quickly placed in their stronghold. At first, I was just a servant or a page, depending on what I was required to do. Several summers passed and I lived in fear. I tried to hide my coming of age by keeping my hair short and wearing the men's clothing, for I knew my services would change once I was noticed. That day I feared the most had come and I became the Lords' favorite toy, each of them wanted "Special Favours." If I did not perform to their pleasures, they would "teach" me to be proper with them. I learned quickly to know what pleased those men as to not suffer any further. "One of the Lords was an Adept Class Mage, who was kind in his own right. I seldom received my "lessons" with him, but he did teach me how to enhance my illusions. He was rather pleased when I produced exotic women in erotic clothing. It was relatively fun in his chambers, his excitement unsuppressed by bouncing around the illusions like a small child with a new toy." She grinned wildly. "By this time I was 13 summers old and I looked to be 20. I had spent my extra time becoming acquainted with the underground network of servants and guards. Shameful as I was, I used myself and my body to escape their stronghold by the underground network and with the help of my illusions. I had never felt so relieved and free, but I still had a heavy heart... "A few months passed before I stumbled upon a Secret Society of Blood Guild memebers. The name I am unable to disclose for fear they would find me one day and become one of their "Wells"... A name which they gave to their victims of empowerment. "They taught me some useful magick, as well as blood magick. Basic magick, such as shielding and magickal redirection... For blood magick, I would have to drain a person of all their strength, though leaving them with enough energy to keep them alive until they were useless. While they were alive, we would take the energy of their pain from them. They would basically be tortured to the point their minds would either be broken or go numb to any kind of pain. I promptly learned to block out what I saw to keep my own sanity or I would risk becoming one of them. "My immunity caught up with me when I was told to torture someone I knew from my early childhood. I did what I was told and after that I spent many a sleepless nights, trying to forget. I consumed a lot of energy to keep myself from dreaming. Other mages became aware of this weakness and tried to exploit it. "The Guildmaster caught news of this and made no effort to hide my disgrace. I received my daily thrashings, it was both physical and magickal. Although, they did not take any of my energy, they still allowed me to suffer greatly. "A few weeks went by and finally it was over. It was time for them to move on and they were going to leave me behind. I prepared myself for survival, but I realized that there was a way for me to live without having to stay there and wait for death. "I planned to somehow change and redirect some of the gate power to my own then I would have been able to create my own spell. I used the sporatic magick that leaked from the gate itself and created my own. I am surprised it worked and I survived, but I am still unsure as to how it worked. I am even more unsure as to where the Blood Guild is now... "I would have used a teleport spell, but it was unpredictable. I was too weak and too spent to either fend for myself in a situation of certain death or in a place I did not know. So I summoned my own gate spell and ankored it to a place I had been to before, here, in Nexus. "Once I arrived, I knew I could start from new. In which I was reborn into my name, Autumnfire. The Night-Wolf within me died along with my past. "This place, Nexus, is rich with life and diversity, never take it for granted... I had spent a few weeks helping out the locals and meeting new people and it was not long before I met Tyrin. He was the one who showed me a different life from the one I had known and been living. He showed me kindness and taught me how to love. It took me almost 19 years for me to learn the meaning of love..." She let a single tear roll down her cheek before continuing. "The rest I wish not to discuss..." "I have become a new person since I have found myself here. Many things have changed since I was a small child among the gypsies... However, that is to be expected. Even though I have lost the family which I knew, I have acquired a new one..." Autumnfire smiled wickedly and got up from her seat. "There is not much else to say, I am afraid" She said as she walked away. Azara Class: MageRace: Half Elf My memories were happy ones. Mama was a full elf, and Daddy was a half-elf. We lived in a peaceful valley away from the villages of elves and humans who shunned them for intermarrying. We had a cottage filled with love, and I had a real bed. One night it got especially cold, and when I awoke, I was surprised to find my parents still in bed. I tried to wake them up but they stayed asleep. Then I tried harder, and when they still didn't wake I got a bad feeling deep inside. No matter what I did, I could not wake them. Then I saw these aweful welts on their feet, and the bad feeling got worse. When I saw the first crawly thing come out of Daddy's boot, I ran to the kitchen and got a black frying pan. I hit the crawly thing as hard as I could but it was stronger than I thought and I was weak. I hit it again and again, and then there was more of them. I hit them and hit them and kept hitting them even long after they were all dead. I hit them till they were just dust and I could not lift the frying pan for another hit cause I was so exhausted. I found out many years later that the crawly things were called scorpions. I knew my parents were dead but I didn't know what to do. There was nobody alive in the whole valley except me. After a few days, a horrible smell started to come from my parents room. I knew I needed to bury them, but they were too heavy for me to lift or drag. I took everything I could out of out cottage, and burned it. I cried till I was ankle deep in a puddle of my own tears. I had no place to live after that, and not much food, and it was so very cold! I used my frying pan as a shovel, and dug a small cubby right next to rock wall, and covered myself with blankets and leaves. When the food ran out, I ate berries and roots and drank water from a stream. I was always hungry, but I managed to stay alive. I was five years old, cold, hungry, and I missed my parents, and I was scared of just about everything. One day, when I was six, I found tracks in the mud. I thought I was saved. I thought they were elves, or humans, and I followed them at a run. But when I got close to their camp I heard grunting and snorting and a lot of laughter that did not sound human or elven either. I approached more cautiously and quietly. They were goblins, and they had a human captive. They had already eaten his legs, and cut off his hands, but they were keeping him alive so their meat would stay fresh, and so they could torment him. They were forcing him to eat some stew made out of parts of his own body, and laughing at his helplessness and disgust. What could I do? I could not rescue him. I could not kill the goblins. And I could not just leave him there...like that. I ran away quiet as a mouse. Then I got a peach from a tree I knew. Inside the peach pit is a seed that looks like an almond...except its not. I got a few of those seeds, and went back to the goblin camp at night. Then, I crept up to the captive human and put the seeds in his mouth. He looked at me, and started chewing. Those seeds are bitter as can be and deadly poison, and he knew, and kept chewing, and swallowed it all. Then he wispered thank you and told me to run away. I never knew his name. The next year, I saw goblin tracks again, but by then, I knew what they were. I followed carefully. This time, they had killed a mountain lion. When I backtracked from where they were, I found the cougar's cub. He was just a ball of fur and fury, with tiny teeth. I could not just leave him to starve or be eaten by some bigger animal, so I sort of adopted him and named him Smoke. For the first two years, I took care of him, fed him, played with him. We were all the friends and family each-other had. After he got big and strong, he started taking care of me. One time I got my clothing caught on a gnarly bush, and Smoke faced down a full grown grizzly while I got free. When I was thirteen, we started taking little trips to other places outside the valley. We went farther and farther away. When I was fourteen, we ran across a hunting party of true elves. I was so excited I jumped and screamed and waved! But they didn't see a happy excited girl. They saw a small elven girl screaming and waving, and a full grown cougar just a few feet away. Seconds later there were four feathers shafts in Smoke, and he was dead. I cried for a whole month after that. I refused to talk and hardly ate anything in the elven village. They were very sorry but there was nothing they could do to bring Smoke back. Eventually, I sort of forgave them. They had meant well, and it had been an honest mistake. They taught me many things, reading, magic, manners, how to use a bow, and they enchanted my hair, so it would be emerald to match my eyes. They used to tell me I was the most beautiful girl in generations, but I always just thought they were still trying to make me feel better after what happened to Smoke. Lots of the young elven men wanted to marry me....or something, but I could not bring myself to stay there, and when I reached eighteen, I asked them to bring me to some other place. They brought me here...to the Nexus, and now this is my home. Cephas Class: MageRace: Human So, you want to know something of my family's background. The Vearda'lin lineage goes back centuries to the time the Daer'lin were a powerful race, or so it has been told. It has been passed down thoughout my ancestors that our family is direct descendants of Maanaa the Mistress of Magic. I have always heard these stories since i was but a small child, and I believe that these stories have led to my interest in the mystical arts. My Father was a strong believer in the harmony of the races, but not to the point of interracial marriages. My Fathers family was torn apart when his brother, Erskin, married an Orc woman, and I will always remember the sad days of Father as he talked of this. But from this marriage my cousin Sam was born and he and I remain forever bonded in our common goals.It is upon these same pages you may read of his great abilities as a Palladin of Aalynor's. Therefore, it is of no surprise that the Human blood runs strong in my veins as it does in my brother Cad. From our early days as children Cad and I grew strong together, and we often talked late into the night of how we would both find the truth in our own ways. The truth being are we truly descendants of Maanaa. So, Cad and i vowed to each other to one day combine the forces of our talents, his being his great skill with the bow and his uncanny ability to track the horde. Mine being the knack of combining known magic into new stronger magic that would someday serve our interest in finding the truth. We had always heard of a secret vault where the records of Time have stored , ever since the Battle of the Gods raged throughout the Realms. Rumors have it that Plekto had discovered the records of the Daer'lin and had hidden them in a secluded vault in the mountains of the Realm. It was shortly after that Tilnar struck down Plekto and the whereabouts of this secret place have been lost forever. It is to this great task that I commit my life, to find the hidden records of the Daer'lin and prove that my family roots go all the way to Maanaa. And as my Father always said, "There is Good in everyone", and that one day he hoped that Tilnar would again be reunited with his brother Aalynor and that Goodness and Mercy would reign over the Nexus until the end of time. So, now I shall be about my business, to find the secret hiding place of Pleko, and it is with this hope of my Father's that something I might find in the Daer'lin records would bring my Father's wish to fruition. Darkness Class: MageRace: Reni Years ago, a baby Reni was born in the deep forest beyond the Sea of Tears. The sky darkened as he was being delivered into the world. Mountains of black cloud descended, purring black rain onto the land. The occasional bolts of lightning cracked the sky momentarily before releasing their destruction upon he innocent forest. Before the baby could cry his first, a lightning bolt struck the house and set it on fire. Just as the blaze started to consume the roof, the black rain stopped, and the clouds disappeared as fast and mysterious as they came. The neighbors raced over to put out the fire, but there was not much they could do. The baby, burnt and darkened with smoke, was the only one survived. He was given to a nearby couple, who named him Darkness to record the events of his birth. As he grew older, Darkness became interested in the field of magic. He could often be found sitting in silent at late night, trying to focus his inner forces in ways that he was told possible. At other times, after his work on the family's farm, he pondered about the tales of the city of Nexus, from which his ancestors had arrived. When he turned seventeen, Darkness decided to search for the mystical city. He and a number of young and curious Renis set sail on the Sea of Tears, heading north. After a year of searching, they arrived at Port city. When they heard that Nexus was just beyond the forests at the North, their joy alone gave them enough strength to continue the journey. Arriving at Nexus the next day, they found that they were the only Renis in the city. They also found out that the Renis was thought to be destroyed. After spending time to grieve for the death of the ancient Renis, they decided to send two of them back home to inform the others. The rest of them stayed for the hope of reestablishing their present as Nexus. At the city, Darkness found opportunities every where he went. He joined the mage guild as soon as he found it, and began to learn to use the ancient spells taught to him. As an apprentice, he walks about the city every day, cleansing the criminals off its streets. To further his experiences, he also started to go beyond the city's gates, seeking for the occasional lone goblins. Within a week, he was appointed the title of Mage. As a mage, Darkness no longer waited for those lone goblins, but with his new found friends, he sought to pushed the goblins away from the perimeters of his new home city. Then the bad news came. A shipment of Cleric supplies was hijacked. A number of Nexus's adventurers set out to recover them, and Darkness was invited to go with them. The party included the Human Nightblade Abuk, the Human Holy Warrior Bocker, the Human Mage Cephas, the Ogre Priest Devin, the Half- Elven Nightblade Garpenlov, the Gnomish Priest Gifford, the Elven Priest Lordewok, the Elven Scout Manfdorf, the Human Wizard Reverend, the Half-giant Dark Knight Wicked, and of course, Darkness himself. The God of Light, Aalynor, was also present to guide the adventurers. Led by Lordewok, the party stepped through the Red portal that Aalynor had opened. Immediately, they could feel the pressure from the Goblin Guards and Warlocks. The group scattered to different areas, and was almost destroyed. Everyone teleported back to Nexus. For those who could not teleport themselves, Lordewok helped them. Regrouped in Aalynor's temple, the adventures decided that it was in their best interest to stay together and made their stand in each area. Once again, they stepped through the portal. This time, they were more successful. Room by room, they conquered the goblins until they found the supply wagon. After defeating the Goblin Commander and acquired the key to the wagon, they recovered the precious supplies. Just as they prepared to celebrate, they heard faint Goblin laughers and painful screams echoing from the North. They realized that Kesmai, the monk in Lucis's dream, could be true, and that he could be alive. Once again, they headed north. After clearing out the goblin guards and warlocks along the way, they arrived at the source of the sounds. In front of them was the most terrible scene they had seen. The remaining of Kesmai's body could be seen roasted on the open fire. Some part of his body was missing, as if he was eaten by the goblins. Filled with rage, the adventurers slaughtered the goblins and buried the remain of the courageous monk. With sadness, they returned to Nexus. The city welcomed them back with great awards. For Darkness, he came back to his guild and was appointed the title of Wizard. But for him, the greatest award of all was the feeling of joy. The joy when one knows that he has served his city well. Deriseus Class: MageRace: Dark Elf You can almost hear Deriseus's words echo into your mind. My name Deriseus. I'm of the Dark-Elf Breed. I have no last name. I was born then adopted into a family that could support me in Tilnars Vein. I'm sixty years old. Now that I have introduced myself. I can begin my story...... As I set the bloodied Kleto on to a small cot in the healing hand after I teleported him from his almost certain death bed. I began healing the small boy along with the tenders of the Hand. The human boy looked at me. And asked me why I had saved him. I told him simply that I was not going to let him die. It would be rude and unkind. He smiled the best he could. And he asked me if I would tell him about myself. So I felt obliged to tell him what I could. So I began..... Tilnars Vein is a cruel and harsh place to live. The inhabitants for the most part follow Kyorl. And those who don't are dubbed different. And therefore are treated different. I am one of those Drow. My adopted parents were two drow with a single dream that they carried on with them. They wanted to protect Nexus. They wanted to show themselves to be good. And in all reality they were good. So they taught me to be good. They trained me day and night for the first 59 years of my life to become one of the Magi. They believed the only way that they could become heroic was to breed a hero. So they did their best. And from this they wrought me, the boy named Deriseus. On my 60th birthday, I was knocked out by my parents and later told the missing parts of which would be here by Felicity. My parents had aparently taken me to a caring woman, by the name of Felicity. The woman took me and quickly did her best to transport me to Falcion without being attacked by drow. When I awoke I was given the basic essentials needed by a mage to grow stronger and quicker. Not knowing what to do I studied the spells I was given, put on my robes, bought a small sling and some small stones, and I began to wander about Falcion. What I found was a deep dark hole. I went inside. I was immediately attacked by sewer beasts and began cutting them down with my magicks. And so began my training. I became strong very quickly. And I did it for the most part on my own. Joining hunts when asked and taking monsters on where I could alone. I quickly became tier 4 and was ready to train to 5. But I realized I must join the mages guild to further my progress. I spoke to a man by the name of Tyne. As soon as we had met he eyed me oddly and told me that he must be careful among all drow. It was at this time I learned that my life would go on like this for the rest of my future. And I accepted this as best as I could. Fortunately Tyne believed me ready to join the guild and accepted me. Before long I took place at tier 7 and readied my things and took the sloop to Nexus. I followed the road for a while till I came upon the gates of Nexus. I wandered about the massive city for seamingly hours. Until I came upon my guild and I met another mage. This mage's name was Zany a small sprite. Extremely funny I might add, took me for a trip around Nexus. He showed me around and I yearned to travel more. I quickly made my way to the Eastern Gate of Nexus. I opened it, turned around, closed it. And began to wander off. I traveled through a camp and through a set of badly melted boulders and I pulled my robes tighter to me and I climbed up the side of the mountain to see what I might find. To my dismay I heard a large crash and distant cries of pain and requests for help. I rushed to see what I could and I hid behind a set of trees and looked into a small camp of soldiers. What I saw next was horrific. I saw you (Kleto). You were being attacked by a drow of all things. I couldn't believe my eyes. And then I saw you impaled on a sharpened tree stump. I hid myself as best I could and slowed my breathing till I saw the Ogres and the Drow leave the area. I feared for your life. When I had figured that the beasts were gone. I made my way over to you. I hacked at the stump until it let you free. I did my best to pull the wooden shards out of you. And then I heard a marching and the sounds of voices. With haste I casted a teleport spell on you. And then myself and came and found you and brought you here. And here we are. From that day forward little did Kleto or I know it, but we became quite good friends. And helped each other in battle as he gained his tiers and quickly caught up and exceeded me greatly in strength. I found Felicity soon after this and made a good friend of her. And she told me of how she travelled through the woods to save me. And I was most grateful of her. And so I end my story here as my life continues to progress and I haven't an idea of what may become of me.... Deros Class: MageRace: Human Once a scribe came to the Town Square in a search to write down the pasts of people in the city. He came upon a strange man sitting in the middle of the town holding a book and an Aldan staff lying down near him. The scribe looked around and noticed that this man was the only one in the square who happened not to be talking to others. The scribe shrugged and decided that it would be this man's past he would write about. He tapped the man on the shoulder and the man turned around eyeing the scribe. It was the scribe who first spoke asking "Sir I am a local scribe in this city and I would like to write down the your past for all to know." The man grumbled at first and told the scribe that he could go talk to the bartender in the local tavern, but he would not know his past. The scribe paused and then looked at the book the man was reading and thought he may have a way of finding out the man's past. The scribe tapped the man again once again and the man turned around. The man eyed the scribe and told him to leave him be, that he was studying. The scribe replied, telling the man if he cared so much about knowledge that maybe the city should have the knowledge of his past and the man thought for a few seconds and nodded and closed his book. The man yawned and began. So what is there to say, I was born in the Crystal Mountains in a safe haven-type city called Gorik. There were a few elves, humans, hobbits, and other races that sought shelter from the goblin hordes and giants in the mountains. I, Deros Rowik, was born on Maaur, the twenty-eighth of the month of Midnight, in the year 1,632 since the Godswar, and year 1,215 of the Empire. I was a very small lad at the age of twelve and I read everything I could find in the town since I could read at age five. At age seven my parents began to notice a natural potential for knowledge I had, but they also noticed that lack of fighting with weapons and how strong I was. Since the town I lived in was made up of mostly fighters and barbarians and almost knew nothing about mages. I then later wanted to become a mage at the age of thirteen. My parents encouraged me to seek a larger more protected city that had the knowledge and books I would need to learn about the arts of magic and becoming a mage. So at age fifteen I left the city I was born in to seek a city that I often dreamed of as "The City of Knowledge." After searching for not even a week or two I came south to the city of Nexus and was directed to the city of Falcion to begin my training as a mage. I sort of hated the city oh Falcion because of its lack of wise people so I began my training quickly in hopes of getting to the city that I knew of as "The City of Knowledge" or Nexus. Once I became of the tier that I was allowed to leave the island, I left. I first checked out the library and then the mages tower for knowledge. I then noticed that the city lacked the only knowledge of magic that my home city knew of. After finding this out, I left to go back to my city where I found a merchant that had a book that contained the arts of necromancy. I quickly bought the book and came back to Nexus, but upon leaving one of the people in the city chased me screaming about the book of evil and giants not far away that were traveling in the mountain heard him and attacked the city. I tried my best to protect that city but not too long into the battle I was hit and knocked into a stupor. Upon waking, I looked around my things still with me, but the city and everyone in it destroyed. Corpses lay everywhere and the buildings burned to the ground. I stayed at the city to bury every person that died there including my parents. After I paid my respects, I left back to the city of Nexus. I once thought nobody knew about the art of necromancy when I first came to the city, but upon coming I was condemned and was thought to be evil. I believe I knew very little about the black arts and after speaking with Aalynor and one of my first friends Derwyn and then talking to a man by the name of Zany I thought about it. I later gave up my studies of necromancy and found a book of the studies of Invisibility and other Illusions. Deros then looked at the scribe and said, "That now brings us to the present, where I seek no magicks of the dark and I try to get people to not see me as evil and hope they do not condemn me for what I studied in the past." The scribe then smiled and said his thanks and walked off towards the library to leave Deros back to his studies. Derwyn Class: MageRace: Dark Elf I was born within the Drow caverns, Uthgarten D'wyn. I was the first male child born of Ch'tah D'wyn, a Drow priestess. It was not the fact that I was born that started the problems for my family, but that I was defective. Instead of killing me when I was born my mother decided to let me live. Drow do not possess a high birthrate and I believe that she hoped that I might benefit the family at some later date. Had she been able to foresee the future I doubt I would be here today. I lived in the family compound for over 50 years, never venturing outside it. I had an early aptitude for magic and was tutored in the ways of magic by the wizards that served my family. Though being sent to the Sorcere would be forbidden. Likewise, a male would never be allowed inside of Arach Tilnath. I had other brothers and sisters. Of my 2 older sisters I know little save that both were priestesses like my mother. My younger brother I never met. Shortly after my younger brother was born I had found a way to escape the compound and journey through the city. For months I wandered the shadows of the city. Watching the other Drow and wondering what it would be like to be among them. I knew that if I were caught I would be punished severely. Oh, how I longed to be able to walk freely among them. A foolish thought. Time after time I returned to the isolation of the family compound. I was awoken one night by the lashing of a whip. One of my sisters had been sent to fetch me for my mother. She dragged me to the family chapel. My mother sat upon her throne and gravely looked down upon me. "Why did you go into the city?" she demanded. I told her that I wanted to see the city. "Well! You were followed back! Even now the others align against us! You have doomed us all!" It was then that the doors of the chapel burst open. Soldiers from the other houses swarmed inside our chapel. My sisters fought fiercely but were killed. Only my mother and myself were alive when it ended. As punishment for hiding me my mother was sentenced to death. My punishment was the same, for the crime of being deformed was a sentence of death as well. We were taken to the mouth of the caves and tied to stakes in the ground. Even the starlight hurt my eyes. For what seemed to be an eternity we laid there. My mother screaming at me, me shivering with fright. My secluded life had done little to prepare me for this event. Then the most horrible sight I have ever seen appeared. At the tops of what I now know are mountains appeared the Sun. It blinded me instantly. I felt my skin warming in its light, but I did not feel the burning that I had been always told would occur should its light ever touch me. My mother immediately started frantically screaming and thrashing. She screamed for what must have been hours before she finally became silent. Eventually, I managed to slip out of my bonds and went to free my mother but it was too late. She had gone into shock and died. I buried her quickly, not wanting to be around should my people return, and fled. For weeks I wandered through the Blackwood. Starving and cold I could just make out the lights of city in the distance. Cautiously I crept into Nexus, the City of All Races. Nexus was not at all the place I thought it would be. I had been told that it was an evil place that hated my kind, which had no other purpose than to hate. I found that people here were friendly to each other. Warily I lived in the alleys and shadows stealing food and clothes in order to survive. Eventually I found the Ivory Tower and was allowed to enter into apprenticeship there (The metallic dragons had not yet opened the doors of the island of Falcion to the apprentices). That was the beginning of my path. In Nexus I found the only true peace I have known. Here I have been accepted for who I am, not what I am, and with Tilnar beside me I am never alone. I still cannot forgive myself for the death I have caused, but perhaps Tilnar will show me mercy. Drakewyn Class: MageRace: Human Fire and smoke are everywhere. Another large explosion shakes the ground, and many houses are engulfed in flames, others are blown to splinters. Kerzanic and Merilan run frantically about the Woodrell household, gathering what they can of their precious belongings. Kerzanic can see the fires burning, and the explosions through the window of the kitchen. The sounds of screaming and the smell of smoke are almost overpowering. He looks to his wife, Merilan, who is tending to the baby, then he runs back to the family room, to gather his own things. "Merilan, stay here, I'll go prepare the wagon" Kerzanic yelled, his wife nodded, and took the baby in her arms. Kerzanic, satisfied that his wife and child were safe, opened the door and darted out to the stables. He could see his corn fields starting to burn, the fire being spread from his neighbour.s fields which were completely engulfed in fire. He looked to where his neighbour's house used to be, but it had been completely destroyed by an explosion. He continued on his way, taking out his two horses and preparing the harness on the wagon. The fire was hot, and his skin was beginning to burn. The whistle of balls of fire could be heard off in the distance. The council had been called many days earlier, when first signs of the mysterious cloud had appeared. The village sage warned that this cloud would spell doom for the village, and that all must depart immediately, but no one listened. If only they had known he would be right. Kerzanic brought the horses and wagon around front, and rushed to the door to fetch his wife. He ran inside, and began calling for his wife. Merilan appeared in the doorway, holding their baby. "We must hurry, it is getting worse, go to the wagon, I must fetch a few things first" He gestured to the open door. Merilan hesitated at first, then gave her husband a kiss and darted out the door. "I love you" Kerzanic said, as his wife left his view. He looked about for the items he had gathered earlier. He found them, under a pile of blankets. He examined each item, determining what to bring and what not to bring. He decided to bring his staff, and a special book. He wrapped them in the blankets, and dashed madly for the door, a sense of urgency coming over him. "Hurry honey, time is running out!" Merilan called to him. Kerzanic bolted through the door, bumping his arm on the door frame, dropping his staff. He ran to the wagon, dropped his package, then darted back to the door to fetch his staff. Just then, a massive ball of fire struck the house, and shards of wood and glass flew through the air, striking him down. The house erupted in flames, spewing fire everywhere. Kerzanic consumed by fire, combusted to ash almost instantly. The wagon escaped destruction, only to be hit by flying debris from another exploding house. Pierced through the chest by a smouldering shard of wood, Merilan falls to the ground, her body covered by debris. A neighbour, seeing the unattended wagon, darts over to see what he can do. He sees the wagon is still in good enough shape, but cannot find anyone near it, he then decides to leave with it. He gives the reins a sharp snap, and the horses speed down the road. As the wagon fades off in the distance, Merilan whispers to herself with her final breath, "take care my sweet...little... Drakewyn...". Hurrying as fast as he can, the stranger urged the horses on, mile after mile, until the burning village was far behind. He continued on his way, north down the road for several hours, not noticing the baby hidden in the chest at the back of the wagon. Merilan, fearing that flying debris would kill him, hid the baby and Kerzanic's package in the black, wooden chest, and poked two air holes in the back with her knife. The stranger continued on till night, then made camp at the side of the road. Being an honourable man, he took only the supplies he needed for the night from the wagon, and decided to donate the rest to the needy in Nexus when he arrived. In the morning he set out again, and was making good time. He judged by the changing scenery that he was only two or three days from the city of Nexus. Thinking it was a good time to stop for lunch, he pulled the wagon over, and began preparing himself a meal. Sitting next to a hastily made fire, he went through his own belongings, stored away in his pack. He pulled out some papers, one being a map. He read the title to himself "Nexus roads. Property of Erimus". He opened it up and began to search for any signs of civilization in the area. Before he knew it he was closing his eyes, and taking a nap, just a small one Erimus told himself. He was awoken suddenly to the sound of falling feet. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the horizon. They came to rest on a lone figure, far off in the distance. He was walking very slowly, and was holding a wooden staff. there was something peculiar about this man, Erimus thought to himself. As the man drew nearer, Erimus could begin to see more details. The staff he was holding, was truly peculiar, it was made of wood, but a strange bluish wood. The man was wearing a long grey cloak, with a hood that cast a shadow over most of his face. He had grey hair, and a long grey beard. Under his cloak he was wearing grey robes, and at his waste was tied a shimmering long sword, the hilt, also being made of the same strange blue wood, and wrapped in leather. He had a small satchel and several small pouches about his waist, and a small pack on his back, hidden under the cloak. He continued walking down the road towards the stranger. Feeling a bit alarmed, the stranger rose to his feet, and ran to fetch his dagger. "Hello!!, can I help you?" he shouted, but the man made no sign of acknowledgement. Suddenly, the man stopped, and began waving his one free arm about, a mystical blue energy could be seen forming at the end of his hand, then he was entirely consumed by the blue energy. The stranger closed his eyes in disbelief, and when they were open again, the strange man was standing right in front of him. Erimus fell back a few steps and readied his dagger. "Greetings, I am Wytherin, and you are?" the strange man said, leaning close to hear Erimus' response. He hesitated at first, not knowing if he could trust this magic-user. He slowly opened his mouth and spoke. "I... I am Erimus. I come from.,.," "Yes, yes, I know where you come from, the village of Morian, I came as soon as I saw the cloud." Wytherin said, speaking with impatience. "How did you see the cloud? did it attack your village too?" Erimus asked, dreading to hear the news of more suffering. "Huh?, oh no, not that, I felt that my brother was in trouble, so I used the magical weave to pear through his eyes, and I saw the cloud. Dreadful thing it was, but there is nothing we can do about it, but there is something you can do for me now." Erimus did not know whether to believe him or not, he had seen this man use magic to traverse great distances, but he was a simple man and did not know the ability this man had over the weave, or even if the weave could be used in such a way. "How may I help you?" he asked, noticing that Wytherin had his eyes on the chest in the back of the wagon. "I want that chest, and everything in it" he said bluntly, pointing with his staff at the chest. "You can't have it, these were the belongings of my neighbours, and they will be donated to the needy." Erimus declared, with a boldness that surprised even him. Wytherin gave Erimus a quick smile, then began to speak. "These are the belongings of my brother, the wagon, the horses, all of it. My brother's. You may keep the rest, and donate it, it would do justice to his name, but that chest goes with me, and I need not explain why." Wytherin's words were final, any man foolish enough to stand up to that, deserved to be turned into a frog and squished. Erimus hesitated for a moment, then agreed to the terms. He helped Wytherin take the chest off the wagon, and they bid each other farewell. "Be careful out there, and good luck to you" Wytherin spoke to Erimus, as he was pulling away in the wagon, with Kerzanic's remaining belongings. Wytherin turned, and examined the chest. Noticing the lock, he tapped it once with his staff which then erupted into smoke and fell off. Wytherin opened the chest, a smile fell across his face. Kerzanic picked the baby up from the chest, and help him close to his chest. He rocked him back and forth, feeling the baby's slow breathing through his arms. He spoke more arcane words, and the baby's breathing became more regular. the baby opened his eyes, and looked up into Wytherin's eyes. A feeling of peace came over him, and he went back to sleep. Wytherin set the baby back in the chest, and closed the lid. He stood, and gripping his staff tightly, he began to recite the words to his levitate spell. He directed the spell towards the chest, jumped up in the air, touched the chest, then landed softly on his feet. The chest began to rise, and Wytherin reached into his satchel and pulled out a rope, he tied it to the chest, and began the long walk back to Nexus. Needless to say, Wytherin's adventuring days were over, he sold all his assets in Nexus, and bought a small cabin on the outskirts of a fishing village. He became adjusted to the slow life, and eventually began to grow to like his little cabin. The villager's were apprehensive of him at first, but they began to consider him one of their own, and before Wytherin knew it, he was relying on his magic less and less. He retired his staff, his magical devices and all his arcane books to his cellar, and took up the farming life. When Drakewyn was 5, Wytherin began to tutor him in the ways of magic, and try to instil in him the importance of knowledge. As time went by, Wytherin and Drakewyn grew up together, selling their crops to the villagers, and making small trips to the sister village. They would go on walks together, and Wytherin would teach Drakewyn all about nature, and about the other races as well, Wytherin even tried to teach Drakewyn the elven language, but Drakewyn was still too young. The subject of Drakewyn's parents came up often, but Wytherin was cautious of telling Drakewyn too much of their deaths. He told him only that their village had succumb to a terrible fire, and that he didn't know what happened to his parents. Drakewyn was content with that, after all, he loved his uncle, and he was a happy child. One stormy knight, when Drakewyn was 10, Wytherin sat him down, and began one of his tales of adventure. "Have I ever told you about goblins?" Wytherin asked. "No uncle, I don't think you have. Are they bad?" Drakewyn was honest, and wanted to hear of goblins, so he listened attentively. "The worst there are. Once a beautiful race, they were twisted to match the evil in their hearts, and now they seek to inflict the same punishment on the rest of the races. There is a city, a city of all races, that is far away from this place. I used to live there, but the goblins, in all their evil conquest, have laid siege to it, and it has been this way for some time now." Wytherin paused for a moment, remembering the friends he left behind. "Did you fight them?" Drakewyn asked "Aye, I fought them, and many other evils as well." Wytherin shuddered, and a feeling of dread filled his mind. Lightning crackled outside, as the storm grew worse. Wytherin continued his tale until the storm had grown so loud he could hardly hear himself. "I think it is time you went to bed, I will see you in the morning." Wytherin rose from his chair, and gave Drakewyn a hug. Drakewyn said goodnight, and walked down the hall to his room. He threw on his pyjamas, and went to bed. Wytherin tended to the fire, and then went to the cellar. He fumbled through a stack of books, finally finding the one he was searching for. He looked at the title "Kerzanic's Spell Book", and gave himself a satisfied nod. He returned to the family room, and sat in his favourite chair next to the fire. He opened the book, and ran through the many pages of spells. He knew all of them, and they were pretty low calibre, but they reminded him of his brother. He got to the end, where his brother had hastily scribed a message. He read it to himself: Dear Wytherin, As I know you will find this book if I die, and if you are reading this, then the worst has happened to me. Know that I lived a happy life, and do not mourn me. I write this as a warning, I do not know what evil destroyed our village, but I suspect it is the work of a very powerful mage. We were both adventurers, you and I, and you know that I settled down to have a family, but it seems that some evil persues us, even into retirement. I cannot explain it, but I have felt this evil for some time, as I am sure you must feel it too. Take care of yourself, and my wife and child. See that they are safe, and beware the evil, it will consume us all if we don't act quickly. Sincerely, Kerzanic Woodrell "You were more right than you knew, brother, I have felt the evil growing stronger, and I feel it getting closer and closer. I fear that I will not be able to keep my promise to protect your son, but I will try." Wytherin spoke these words softly, almost expecting his brother to hear him. He began to drift off into to sleep, but suddenly, the front door flung open and a green light shone through. An eerie green mist snaked its way along the floor. Wytherin tried to stand, but his muscles were stunned, and would not move. A harsh demonic voice whispered in his ear: "I have come for you... Wytherin...". Drakewyn awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. He rose from his bed, and opened the curtains, sun light filled his room, filling Drakewyn with a sense of peace. He dressed in his work clothes, and went in search of breakfast. He walked past his uncle's room, and saw the bed was still laid out as it was the night before, with his uncle's un-used pyjamas lying folded across the sheets. "Uncle!" He called, but there was no answer. He searched all the rooms, but there was no sign of his uncle. The door was still locked and closed, and had not been broken. his uncle's belongings were still as they were the night before. Drakewyn saw the open book lying on his uncle's chair, and his heart sank. He threw on his cloak, and dashed out the door in search of his uncle. He searched their property, then their fields, and even went so far as to search the woods around their house. He went to the village and began to ask questions. Amazingly, no one in the village had seen him. Drakewyn searched in vain all the places he could think of, but to no avail, his uncle was gone. Drakewyn lost hope, and retuned home. He let the day waste away, and went to bed early, hoping he could sleep away this terrible nightmare. To his great chagrin, he still felt sad the next day, and the day after, and for the next week. Drakewyn moped around the house, not wanting to continue living. After a time, he began to feel better, and started to tend to the crops again, but the sad feeling never went away. Drakewyn found himself working harder and harder to keep his crops alive, it had not rained since his uncle had gone missing, which had been a month and a half ago. After two months, his crops had almost all died, and so had all the neighbours crops. They blamed him and his uncle for the drought, and they became very un-friendly towards Drakewyn. One night, an angry mob assembled outside Drakewyn's home. they forced him out, and began to beat him. Drakewyn managed to force them off of him, and escape. the mob destroyed as much of the house as they could, but did not burn it for fear of spreading fire on the dry ground. Drakewyn, ran off into the woods, where he stayed for some time, living off the land, as his uncle had shown him. He lived with the animals for several years, growing a long beard, and making friends with the regular travellers. He fashioned his clothes from the hides of animals. He grew tall and muscular, and was very adept at the hunt, and tried to use the magic his uncle had taught him to the best of his ability. At the age of 18 he set out in search of the city his uncle had mentioned, the city of Nexus. Drakewyn encountered many perils on his journey, using his intelligence and wits to guide him out of each situation. He learned much from travellers he encountered, he was told of a place where he could learn the skills he would need to help fight the evil. He gathered as much information he could about the Island of Falcion, and when he arrived in Nexus, he gained apprenticeship, and was sent to this Island to learn. And so ends my tale of adventure, or is it just beginning? I knew very little of this long story when I left my house, but I have managed to piece most of it together, from histories read in the library, to the distant traveller's tale. I have had many dreams and visions, where I see my uncle surrounded by that evil mist, and I still no nothing of his whereabouts, or even if he lives. Dworkin Class: MageRace: Unknown Dworkin's was born to two middle-aged, gnomish parents in Nexus; Felninth, his mother, is a sculptor, now blind, and living still in Nexus. His father Nornarn, a mage and inventor disappeared shortly after his birth, along with his twin brother Rowthal. For many years, Felninth told Dworkin nothing of his father or brother, saying simply that he was an orphan whom she had adopted as a baby and raised herself. When he was six years of age, however, he began to experience strange, paralytic dreams in which he would see himself in a mirror with a man standing behind him. The gnomes in the mirror would speak to him in a nonsense language which communicated feeling tones rather than actual information. Often these dreams were terrifying, and he would awaken from them blind and unable to move or breathe for a time. His mother, when told of the dreams simply tried to comfort him, saying it was his overactive imagination and nothing to worry about. Dworkin grew quickly in intellect and curiosity. As he approached his 13th year, Felninth began experiencing fugue-states in which she would become incoherent and would do nothing but sculpt and babble, sometimes for two or three days on end. Though not common, these incidents frightened Dworkin and forced him to become more independent. He formed a small acting troupe with a few friends and sometimes put on plays on the stage in Nexus when it was not in use, to try earn a few coins for food. He would also find odd jobs cleaning the taverns after-hours or gathering junk for the gnomish inventors, whose work fascinated him. On his 13th birthday, he had a fateful experience. En route to the inventors an ancient-looking gnome stepped suddenly from the shadows and yanked him into an alley. Dworkin could sense magical energies crackling within the robed and cowled gnome who stood before him. A gravelly voice spoke from with the hood. "So, you are young Dworkin are ye then?" The gnome cackled as Dworkin stood, terrified and still stunned by being yanked from the street. Dworkin could see the ancient hilt of a glowing dagger protruding from a scabbard at the gnome's belt, buckled with a glowing blue rune, and he shivered, his voice quaking in response. "Yes...I am Dworkin...what do you want of me?" "I knew your father, before he disappeared, with your brother...I assisted him in his research, many years ago now. We were lost together for a time, but in trying to escape we were separated. I made it back...he is still trying. The man in your dreams! It is he, Nornarn! Listen closely to his words and swallow your fear!" With those words, the gnome vanished in a flash of magical light. Dworkin was shocked. He never expected to hear anything from his father...nevermind the knowledge that somewhere he had a brother. He went directly home and confronted Felnanth, who began to flatly deny that he had any knowable father, but soon broke down and told him the story that he had never heard. "Your father was a brilliant mage, but he was also dangerous, for he cared little for the thoughts of the guild, or even for safety...he was somewhat reckless in his thirst for arcane knowledge, holding it above all other things, except perhaps his love of us...but even there, he faltered, pushing himself to the limits of his ability in seeking answers for questions sometimes best left unasked. At the time of his disappearance he was researching spell theorems. I do not know the specifics, but one of them involved opening a dimensional portal in order to travel quickly between two locations. The other had something to do with traveling stealthily. One night, as we slept, I believe that he accidentally caused some sort of doorway to open into which he, your brother, and his assistant were pulled. You and I were pulled halfway as well, but for some reason we did not remain there, as they did. You were but a few days old at the time. I awoke to see the whole room bathed in shivering light and half-sensed creatures. The vortice throbbed in the wall, pulling all of us into it. I have never seen nor heard from you brother or father since that night. I doubt sincerely that it was Neamythe you saw. Probably just some crazy old gnome playing a jest upon you. Feninth sighed and began to weep softly to herself." Dworkin was filled with anger. "Why did you lie to me all these years? Why did you not tell me of my real family? All these years thinking I was alone, and outcast..." "I am sorry, Dworkin. I know now that it was wrong, but at the time it seemed better to spare you from the pain of loss...I was younger then, and I didn't realize what I was doing...by the time I knew it was wrong...it was too late and I had to simply go along with the lie I told, hoping to protect you. I feared that one day you might find out." "You should have told me the truth...I have lived in your lie all my life now, how will I reconcile myself with this? This gnome said that father was still alive...and my brother as well...if that is the case...then I must find them. Dworkin left the house and went down to the underground waterfall to think through the revelations of the day. ***** That night, Dworkin had another of his dreaming episodes. This time, however, he was prepared...instead of fighting it, and giving in to fear, he let go completely. When he saw his father and brother his heart was filled with longing, rather than terror...and as he let go, he felt the world shift. He seemed to be traveling at terrible speed through a thick and viscous, yet invisible medium. The room shifted and twisted in his dim vision. Finally he arrived in a dream-laboratory. His father and brother stood before him, speaking again in the strange tongue of his previous dreams. They moved extremely slowly, and he realized that at least part of his trouble understanding their words was that they were slowed down. It was then he realized that his brother was many years younger than he...perhaps only five or six. His father puled a black book from his robe and handed it to Dworkin...the book was engraved with a single glowing red rune upon its cover. Dworkin felt that he did not want the book...not a strong feeling, just a kind of resistance, very subtle, a disinterest in the book. But he accepted it and began to look at the rune on the cover. As he looked at the rune, the room began to pulse, and he felt a strange throb that matched the pulse within his body. He heard and felt a wrenching shift in the atmosphere, and awoke, sweating, in his bed, the strange black book still grasped in his damp palm. ***** The book was nearly indecipherable, but Dworkin decided that he must find the secret which stole his father and brother from him. He packed his small cache of goods, bid his mother farewell, told her that he would one day return, and left for the city of Falcion, there to become an Apprentice. When he was not studying magicks, he studied the runes in his father's book, trying to grasp the secret of their meaning and construction. One day he would bring his father and brother back....this he knew...or join them. Ertai Class: MageRace: Human As recorded by the scribes previous, the day of my birth was on Aalur, the seventh of the month of Wildfire in the year 1,629 since the Godswar, and year 1,212 of the empire. I am now 20 years old and write this account as an accurate record of my childhood as it truly occurred for use and study of all those interested in understanding how I've become the man I am now. My mother was a strong woman; she was of noble blood and lived in the city of Nexus. She was graceful and elegant, was always concerned with her appearance. My mother spoiled me with knowledge. She would be at my side at all times and I would point to an object such as a butterfly and she would explain it to me. I learned how to read at a very young age as well, and she gave me many books so that I may study and succeed as a student and that I did. My mind was quick then and is quick now, almost too quick for any normal human. I was a gifted student, in more then one ways. Near the age of 6 I was playing out in a field with the family sheep. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted something moving quick, I turned and before I could react, a gray-shape lunged towards me, it knocked me down and I felt the sharp pain as it ripped the flesh from my stomach. Without being able to think, my hands began to move in an intricate fashion, I had no idea what I was doing but something deep inside my head had taken over. I plunged my thumb into my fist, and pulled it out as the words burned into my mind and I was forced to recite them, "Fire, flicker, ignite!" From somewhere deep inside me, I felt a surge of raw uncontrolled power appear, and work its way up to my hands. Opening my hand a few flickering flames poured forth onto the wolves tender nose, and with a yelp he ran off. I lay there, my sides burning from the wound; I looked down and saw that if the wound was not tended to soon, I would die. I struggled to rise, but found that it only send searing waves of pain though my body. Again though, I found odd words burned into my mind, trying to force their way to my lips. I was scared though; the words brought with them a feeling of power and control, but also the twinge of helplessness. Soon though, between the fiery pain in my side, and the headache the words were causing, I had no choice. I placed my hands on the wound and slowly spoke the words, "Thy energies return!"€The power this time, rather then appear deep inside me appeared in my hands, flowing from them into the wound. Slowly I felt the pain subside, and while the wound was not gone, the size had shrunk until it was no longer a deadly threat. Standing slowly I felt oddly drained, as if something inside of me was gone. I never mentioned my powers to mom, I told her I had got the cut from a nail sticking out of the fence, I almost wish I had told her after the treatment I got. For years after words, I never felt the burning words in my head again, though magic became my obsession. Whatever books I could get on Wizards, or their spells I hoarded. At the age of nine, I ventured into my dead father's room ... no one had been in it since his death. Slowly I crept around, never having known my father I was curious as to what time of man he was. Finally I stopped my search when I found a beautifully polished silver chest in his closet. Slowly opening it my heart raced at what I had found, sitting on robes of stunning green, was a leather bound book with a strange golden crest on it, later I would come to learn that the crest was the symbol of the mages guild of Nexus. Slowly I opening the book, I found among the first pages the spell I had used on that wolf so many years ago. Searching among the books I found what I though were spells that would allow me to take apart cities, my mind raced thinking my father must be one of the Weavemasters of lore and isn't really dead. At that moment I heard a voice cry my name and spun around to find my mother looking at me. She quickly took me from the room, but not without taking the book with her. She sat me down, and we talked for hours about my father. It seems he apprenticed as a mage on a place called Falcion, where they trained heroes of the realms. He had gotten to 7th tier, a rank of some importance in his guild, but he had met her. After falling in love with her, they both moved into the countryside to live a peaceful life. I told my mother about the strange words that had burned their way inside my head, and she said there was no choice but to send me to Falcion to learn to control my powers. I cried for days after this, because I didn't want to leave home. Finally a year later I was old enough to go to Falcion ... one of the earliest apprentices in the history of the guild. Five years later, when I had finally made Mage, I was so proud, my studies had gone slow at first, working on the basics of magic rather then the combat side of it. But then as I began to pen my message home to my mother, a messenger entered my house, he spoke in quite tones, and calmly told me my mother was dead, the goblins had killed her. I sat alone in the darkness, wondering what I was to do now ... Faulk Class: MageRace: Dark Elf Hello, my name is Auris. I'm a scribe of Nexus' great Library, and this is my interview with Faulk, an Arch-Wizard in the Mages' Guild. I sat down in a chair facing Faulk, and he sat down in a chair, facing me. I'd already told him that I was writing a story of his life for the Library, because some people asked about him, and, and, and ... "I find it amusing that anyone would wish to hear about my life. I don't understand why anyone would want to use my life as 'an example'. Especially since I strongly believe that some experiences must be experienced by one's self for them to fully understand that particular thing. Anyhow, enough of my rambling." "I never knew my parents, and since I don't know what they look like, I don't tend to think about them often. I was raised by my aunt, with her daughter, Kylia. I was brought by my aunt to her castle, not all that far west of Nexus, and that is where I was raised. I never liked that place, it was eerie. My aunt always made me do the chores and things with the other servants, babbling things about how men are inferior. Kylia was always there to help me get my chores done though, even though her mother forbad it. At first she just wanted someone to play with, since it wasn't acceptable to play with the servants' children. But as time went on, Kylia and I became nearly inseparable. She taught me how to read and write, and how to cast my first few spells. She would always slip me books she had taken from the castle's library. I spent nearly sixty years there, until one day, I decided to leave. I couldn't take the abuse anymore. Kylia refused to go with me, saying she owed it to her mother to stay there. Her mother had never failed to teach her loyalty. I begged her to come with me, but she kept declining. I headed east, passed Tilnar's Vein, and made my way north. I arrived in the small elven village of Talmet, and right off, I was rejected. A small elven boy said something about evil drow, and told me to go south to Nexus. I shrugged it off, not really caring all that much, and made my way to Nexus. I arrived in the city and heard some people talking about Juggernauts, and then heard a loud crashing sound coming from the east. A group of well armored defenders gathered and organized, then rushed eastwards. The threat was soon neutralized, as telepathic cheering soon revealed. A nice lady by the name of Ariel approached me, and was very kind to me. I found out she was a Mage in the Mages' Guild, and I asked her where I could join. She told me about the new apprenticeship island of Falcion, and took me there." Faulk and I talked about his life afterwards, and he told me a lot. I stopped writing down after a little bit (oops), so I'll tell you what I can remember about what he said. Faulk got married after his training on Falcion, to another mage named Kyleen. He says she was a girl that had a lot of troubles, and eventually killed herself. After that, he went and followed Kyorl, with his friend Jingle. After a while he wanted to get out, and eventually Paelina helped him, by getting his mark of Kyorl removed. Faulk went to Iona, Dilanis' emissary at that time, and after a quest to make sure he was "church material", she marked him. He later adopted a daughter, Katelyn, and proposed to another mage named Ixia, who left him. He told me some more things, but I forgot, and I told him after we finished talking that if he wanted to come back and add more, he could. Fleia Class: MageRace: Reni The family chapel was perfused in the scent of fresh flowers and woodlands, but there were no bouquets in sight. The source was the unvarnished cedar coffin by the alter, filled with irises, forget-me-nots, periwinkles and baby's breath - a flowery bed of blue and white, without an occupant. Silently, a dignified reni entered the chapel, and approached a small brass bell used to summon the family. He paused for a moment. "Perhaps Vera foresaw this," Zordal Lem Kirarskol thought of his late wife, who, in her insanity, insisted on giving birth to four children. He remembered with slight bitterness now old, but still humiliating rumors that they worshipped Kyorl secretly. "Four children? Only 5 years apart each, my, my....," they would whisper behind his back. But Vera was dead serious, and it had nothing to do with lust. Somehow he believed her. After all, magick flowed strongly through her. Strong enough to eventually drive her insane, and literally destroy her fragile body. All the daughters inherited her magical nature as well as her sapphire eyes and amethyst hair. "Rhysa most of them all ....," he looked toward the coffin with a renewed grief. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Zordal rang the bell once to summon his remaining daughters for the service. Fleia Kirarskol heard the solitary bell in her sister's room in the tower, and looked up from the letter she was reading for the tenth time. She let out a silent sigh. "Time for Rhysa's funeral," she thought. Rhysa, my favorite big sister who I thought was always in control - killing herself in disappointment over a failed apprenticeship? How foolish! How wasteful! How could she be so stupid? Fleia thought with anger, feeling betrayed by her sister. She looked down at the letter in her hand. The last letter from Rhysa, brought home by a tree sprite who found it by the lake, explained very little. It was addressed to Fleia, asking her to somehow relay to all of Rhysa's friends in Falcion that she will forever remember them and pray for them. "Falcion, Nexus, her fellow apprentices," muttered Fleia. "Is that all she thought of, in her last moments? What of family, the ever mysterious magick, our peaceful valley?" The bell sounded once again. Fleia did not feel like staring into that empty coffin, though it seemed fitting that Rhysa left no corpse behind. She was so ephemeral that one would have thought her flesh was held together only by magick. "If she was not meant to be a mage, who is?" Fleia thought. Fleia's eyes rested on Rhysa's apprentice's robe, folded neatly in the small open chest by the bed. Her mind wandered back to the day a few weeks ago when Rhysa came home unexpectedly. She stood at the door in the humble cloth robe, smiled half-heartedly and told the family that she withdrew from the apprenticeship to study and understand the mystery of the weave. Something was wrong, but no one could have foreseen this outcome. A flash of inspiration commanded her to cast aside the rich velvet robe she was wearing, and don the humble robe. In a supernatural moment, a vision appeared before her eyes - streets of Falcion, horrifying undeads, goblins pouring out of a mural, the pain of flesh seared by magical fire, fallen foes, fallen friends, a sparkling sea beyond the sandy beaches and low hanging mist, and overwhelming sense of a mission, friendship, and most of all, unredeemable disappointment at the true realization that one will never be what one wishes to be. The vividness and the intensity of the vision made Fleia stagger, and she held onto the bedpost to keep herself from falling. After what seemed like eternity, Fleia regained her normal senses. She now understood her sister, and what was important to her. More than understand, she was now endowed with Rhysa's memory and her purpose of existence. Without hesitation, she picked up the only other item Rhysa brought back from Falcion, her personal spellbook. "Tilnar be praised for connecting my soul with my sister's," she thought. She stepped out of the room, closed the door behind her purposefully, and descended the long spiral stairway to the chapel. Zordal saw his youngest daughter in a rough cloth robe standing by the entrance to the chapel and frowned at the inappropriate attire. Before scolding her, however, he recognized the robe for what it was, and the look in her eyes. Dread, pride, and sadness washed over him as he realized another of his daughters was leaving the safety of the valley to dedicate herself to the cause against the threat to the realms. Her mind was closed to him, refusing to acknowledge his telepathic inquiry. "Vera, protect our child," he prayed silently to the mother of the young reni. "You knew this would happen, you should have the magick to guard her." Then he saw Fleia for what he knew would be the last time, as she glanced at the coffin, bowed silently, and receded into the shadows of the hallway. The scent of lavender lingered on just a moment longer, and she was gone. Horver Class: MageRace: Gnome Born in a small village in a hidden vale, many miles from Nexus, Horver grew up peacefully with his five brothers and sisters and two parents. To the gnomes of his village the war with the goblins was a troubling whisper in the wind, but nothing more. They went about their lives without concern believing themselves safe from prying eyes. Horver, however, was different. While his family was content to work the land, become craftsmen, or tend to a household, Horver dreamt of the world beyond the vale. Sharp of mind but clumsy of body, he was not suited for a life farming or making fine crafts and he sure was not going to have any babies. For many years his inability to fit in with village and family life bothered him. To be sure, he was liked in the village, for he had a quick wit and a ready smile, but he felt that he was destined, or doomed as some in the village would say, for more. As the years passed and village life ambled slowly by, Horver began to get restless. He had tried to apprentice several times, but those forays ended in disaster. He tried to help his father on the farm, but only succeeded in raising dead plants. Horver began to despair and spent most of his time wandering the woods around the tiny settlement. On the eve of his twenty-sixth birthday, Horver strolled out into the woods. As he lazily wandered through the trees, Horver heard a twig snap, saw a flash of light, and heard an animal squeal in pain. Horver immediately stopped and sat down quietly beside a bush. Horver, for the first time in his life, felt a surge of fear. Nothing in his life had prepared him for strange happenings or odd noises. Horver sat as still as he could and felt his heart beating out of control, sounding to him like a smith's hammer on an anvil. As time passed, he knew that he would have to control himself if he were to remain hidden. So he slowly calmed his heart and his breathing and then jumped into the air as a voice came from beside him. "Good you learned to control your fear. That is your first step," said a human with a long flowing beard and a pipe puffing noxious fumes hanging from between his lips. Horver looked at the man curiously. He had heard of these creatures, but none had ever found their way to the hidden vale. The human cooly regarded him in return, staring into his eyes as if searching. Ever so quietly the man said, "Horver, I sense some potential in you. If you stay in the village for much longer though I fear the potential will go unrealized." Horver stared incredulously at the man and stammered, "Who are you? How did you know my name? And potential for what?" The man let out a chuckle and puffed once again on his pipe, the smoke gathering around his feet. "Who I am is simple, I am Psion. How I know your name is a trade secret. And as for your potential, you my dear gnome have the potential to become a wizard. Not so great a wizard as I, but a wizard nevertheless," explained the wizard with a wink. The befuddled gnome sat in silence for some time and then began to protest. "Me a wizard, I think not. I am a gnome of the hidden vale and we do not have wizards here" "True, you do not have wizards here. You must travel to Nexus for training." "But gnomes do not leave their towns," explained Horver quite confidently. "Some do. In fact I know one myself. A priestess by the name of Verdis." "You lie, no gnome would go to Nexus. It is too dangerous for people such as us. We must remain hidden." "Believe what you may, but some gnomes do go off for training and to fight in the war. The people of your village have lived a sheltered life for too long. The war worsens and will come here in time, if all people don't do their parts. And your part my dear gnome is to become a wizard. You have three years to make a decision before your potential withers away." The wizard, now towering above Horver, abruptly turned and walked away. As he disappeared from sight he mumbled a chant causing a deer carcass to float behind him. For many months Horver wandered the village in a daze. Even more distant to those around him than usual. He debated what the wizard said in his mind many times, eventually deciding that he had been lied to for that was safer and easier to believe. Two and half years passed and Horver was still liked in the village, but still had not found his calling. People worried about him. His family sent for his Aunt Gerdie, a wise woman from the neighboring village. She spent many hours talking with Horver about his life and what he wanted. Eventually, Horver, who until this time had kept it secret, told Gerdie about his encounter with Psion. Gerdie listened carefully and then told Horver that she had heard of this Verdis and that what Psion had said was most probably true. Horver sat in shocked silence, absorbing this new information. Slowly as he searched his heart Horver realized the truth of his soul. He would be a wizard and he would go to Nexus. That very night Horver packed his meager belongings and headed out of the vale. He traveled for many weeks eventually arriving in Nexus. Two days short of his three year deadline, Horver began his training. Irwas Class: MageRace: Elf Unlike most mages, Irwas comes from a poor and not so educated family. This sounds very strange, as most mages' education is based on their families. Anyways, to start with his family, they used to live in Rymek, as his father was a fisherman. His mother had died a few days after Irwas was born, when Goblin forces came from the sea and attacked the village of Rymek. From then the family consisted of only 3 members, his father, himself and his older brother, who died some years later. As they are elves, their origination comes from the Eldane Forest, but his great grandfather moved to Rymek to find better living conditions. However, they suffered from poverty. His great grandfather was an educated man indeed, so was his grandfather. He had studied in Nexus, as well as the University, and he had mastered the art of magics. However, due to their living conditions, his son wasn't able to have a normal education. Luckily, he lived enough to teach Irwas many simple spells. He saved money to be able to send Irwas to Nexus and then to Falcion, so that he could have a proper education as a mage. From Irwas' childhood, it seemed that he was a very intelligent boy. He read a lot and could solve mathematic and scientific problems in no time. However, due to their living conditions, Irwas grew up in a quite hostile enviroment. So, in spite of spending his time learning in school, he prefered to walk around the streets with his gang and fight against others to take their money. Even though he was weak (as he was an elf), he was very smart and defeated his enemies not by simply fighting, but playing smart tricks on them and making traps. By the age of 17, he was already very experienced with weapons and basic spells. His grandfather, being afraid that Irwas wouldn't become a mage as he didn't spend time studying, sent him to Nexus (that was before Falcion was created). Irwas was 18 when that happened. However, he was stubborn enough not to change his behaviour in Nexus either. He found new gangs and continued fighting on the streets and stealing. In the underground of Nexus, he was most admired for his high intelligence and his ability to trick the opponents. But his life was to change soon, as he met the man who would change his point of view and way of living. It was Hjmk (it is pronounced as Hajmik). He was an experienced Half-Giantish warrior, who was famous for his victories against the Hill Giants, outside the West Gates of Nexus. Just for the record, please note that he suicided quite a short time ago. Anyways, he taught Irwas the basic fighting techniques and how to use sharp and missile weapons. He found scrolls for him to study and provided him shelter. As soon as Falcion was created, he and Irwas' grandfather found money for Irwas to go to Falcion and have a proper training as a mage. He never involved in any gangs there and he tried to study indeed. He learned many spells and soon got to the 2nd tier of his Guild. He developed into a polite and funny gentleman (as well as a quite handsome elf). He made new friends there and supported them. Now, he has completed his education in Falcion and is allowed to travel again to Nexus and Rymek. It is said that he lives somewhere in Rymek, with some friends. Kalishar Class: MageRace: Dark Elf Kalishar eased his weary body down onto the barstool, the mages guild had asked him to talk to the scribe, and that was the only reason he was here. Looking almost as tired than he felt, he ordered a cup of choco juice, no alcohol for him today. When the scribe came in, he found Kalishar sitting off in the corner by himself, the way most mages seemed to live. Sitting down he pulled out his quill and parchment, and prepared to write the history of the mage some were saying would be the next leader of the mages guild. "The early part of my life is no business of yours", began Kalishar, "I will keep that secret until I die. Suffice it to say, I had an easy childhood, unlike your human mages. The story you shall hear begins after I had decided to come onto the surface." "Many was the day I spent awake, gazing at you humans, wishing I could have been born one of you, short lived, and ignorant of the greater plan. I decided that my place was no longer below the ground, but instead among you. I crafted a spell that would allow me, or any of my kind to withstand the suns rays. At first it only worked for short periods, but gradually I began to improve on it, and now am able to stand in the sun, without cover for as long as I wish. That was my first experience with the protective magics I have learned to craft with such expertise." "when I was able to stand being in the sun for long periods of time, I began my trek to this fair city, it seemed the melting pot, where all were equal, and no-one need be ashamed of his past. Unfortunately I was one of the first Dark Elves to arrive in Nexus, and the population was to treat me as a novelty. Everywhere I walked I was stared at, not easily accepted anywhere except in the mages guild, they did not judge me by my skin, but by my ability. Ability I had in great supply even back then, I proved it by demonstrating my spell, I showed the effects of the sun on me, and then what the spell did for me. I was accepted instantly, and one of the senior mages made the spell have a permanent affect on me." "After time, the citizens of Nexus grew used to me, and even began to appreciate my cruel sense of humor, I grew to make some good friends here, mostly with the followers of the Dark Lord Tilnar, for they were closest to my nature when I arrived. Over time, my aura has shifted from red to blue, for I have no interest in following the ways of my people. As my nature has shifted, so have my interests, the people here have shown me that self-interest does not have to be the only motivating force, and I feel I have learned that lesson well." "From time to time I get asked if I would like to join one of the religious cults in Nexus, my answer has always been, and always will be NO. I have seen what the anger of a god can do to his follower, and what they require you to do, it does not interest me." "Now I suppose you want to know what possessed me to try to cast the spell of Town Shield, the spell that cost Lord Fariol his life. Well, that goes back to when I first came to Nexus, Lord Fariol was the one who inspected me for the guild, and the one who first made the effort to treat me as a person, rather than a curiosity. Over time I grew close to Fariol, came to regard him as an uncle. His death has caused me great personal grief, so when I had the chance to finish what he started, I took it. I also look at what I did as saving the town that has given me so much over the years, and the best chance I was likely to have to show how I have changed." "That is all I have to tell you, anything else you want to know, you will not be told." With that pronouncement, Kalishar picked up his cup of choco juice, and went to a new table to rid himself of the feeling he had told too much. Mishra Class: MageRace: Human "Mishra!", the arch wizard roared, "Put that down now!". The young apprentice sighed and put the wand back on its shelf, and went back to her desk. "How many times have I told you to leave things alone in my laboratory?", the wizard asked. "I am sorry, Master.", she replied with a weak, trembling voice. The wizard sighed, shook his head, and went back to his work. The girl sat down and resumed reading a great tome, occasionally gazing around the laboratory and its many magical devices and experiments. Mishra had lived in the tower since she was born, more than eighteen years now, but each day there was something new to attract her curiosity, and draw her attention away from her chores and studies. The book, "The workings and nature of the weave", was thick and heavy, written by her master decades ago, and contained vast knowledge of how to cast and create spells. She had read it many times before, but each time there was something new to comprehend, or a new way to comprehend it. "Amazing..", she thought, and sank deep into the text. "Now where did I put it..?", muttered the wizard from behind the shelves. Staring at Mishra with his red, drowish eyes he asked, "Mishra, you wouldn't know where my darkstone transmogrant is, would you? Or has it vanished into thin air?" Glancing down at the desk in the corner, where she left it last time she used it, she replied, "No, master.. perhaps you forgot to put it back in its place..?", and swalloved. "Fantastic.. fabulous..", he muttered and walked off. Feeling guilty once again, Mishra sighed and decided to take her reading to the library instead. The next day as she was sweeping the laboratory floor, the arch wizard approached her, "Mishra, so many years have you been my apprentice, but there are things you never learn..", he took a deep breath and continued, "..I am about to begin a major experiment, and I can no longer have you here disrupting me with your curiosity and disobedience." He walked over to a window and looked out across the ocean, "I am sending you away for a time, you will learn and study on your own from now, on a far away island." He studied her for a while and continued, "This was not my wish.. but it will do you good. Perhaps one day you will return wiser than myself.. it is my hope.", he sighed and quietly looked out across the vast ocean. "Pack your bag, girl, you will be leaving early tomorrow." No ships had ever passed by before, but this day a small sailing vessel anchored up and a row boat approached the tower. Mishra and the wizard walked down the winding stairs and she boarded the boat. Not much was said before she was on her way and the wizard returned to his library. He sat down on a chair by the window and watched the ship disappear beyond the horizon. Glancing up towards a painting on the wall he thought to himself, "My love.. perhaps if you had still been here this would not have to happen.." The painting was old and dusty, a young beautiful human lady smiling down at the wizard. "Perhaps I have failed you perhaps not.. but I trust our daughter shall be safe.." His usually expressionless, drowish face now looked troubled and concerned as he silently went back to his work. Myrn Class: MageRace: Half-elf Myrn woke up yawning and looking around him. They were still sleeping. He was born in a noble family, A drow house with much power and many enemies. Myrn though was pretty sheltered from this. He was studying magic. The fighting was left for his elder brothers. Myrn shared this shelter with one other brother. His name was Elgghinn and he was Myrn's favorite brother. The two had the chores of magic and assassination their father gave his sons paths at birth. Due to his elder brother's job. Elgghinn spent alot of time sneaking around home. The other brothers were out campaigning so Myrn and Elgghinn spent a lot of time together. The day came when Myrn's brothers went to Nexus, their father believing that they would become better at fighting. Myrn never understood what his father wanted with his sons and why their paths were already chosen by him, But some grand scheme it was. So one day all of his brothers had gone. Myrn alone was left behind. The days went along slowly. Myrn felt bad for he could learn no more. The day when Myrn heard he was going to Nexus he was overwhelmed with joy. His brothers awaited him and he was going to meet with them in Nexus finally. He packed his things and early one morning left the Vein. Myrn's travels to Rymek was easy, He followed a road to Nexus and then went southwards. Myrn there took the sloop to Falcion and began training. He struggles to become a good mage and seeks his brothers, already having found his assassin brother. Quasinart Class: MageRace: Elf Not sure what he was doing in the forest, Quasinart decided to practice his manipulation of the weave. Sitting on a stump, he opens his spellbook. Deciding on 'hurt', he looks around quickly for a target. Spying a small raccoon in the trees, he focuses his energies. "Breeze, be gentle no more," he chants. Looking startled, the raccoon races under a small bush. Quasinart mutters to himself, and starts walking towards home. In the small human village of Silladel, there is a turmoil brewing. The townsfolk have discovered that a family has been raising one not of their own. In the town meeting that was called, the outcome of this crime will be determined. The family in question has been harboring an elf that it had found alone in the woods. Not only is the elf not human, but it also seems that it has an affinity for the arts. Being very resistant to change, and afraid of the unknown, the townsfolk are asking that the family be exiled from the village. As Quasinart approaches the streets of the village he grew up in, he notices that something is not quite right. There is very little activity on the streets, though the suns are high in the sky. With great trepidation, Quasinart walks into the village. Walking through the empty streets, he hears faint talking from farther down the road, near the town hall. Walking around the building, he sneaks a look into the side window. The sight inside is not one he was expecting to see. His parents are sitting on a stand facing the front, at which sits a panel of elderly looking men. Straining, he can just make out the conversation going on inside. He quickly grasps the significance what the people are talking about. The entire village is gathered here, talking about him! He listens in for a while before realizing what must happen. Hurrying home, thoughts run through his head. Where will he go? What will he do? The fate of the family has been decided. They were given two options: Leave the village with the elf, or force the elf to leave the village alone. They must decide what they will do before the suns rise the next day. With heads hung low, they head home. Walking through the door, they were greeted with a surprise. All of Quasinart's things were gone, and there was a note on the table. Dear Family, I overheard what transpired at the town hall. Rather than burden your lives any further, I will depart now, and take care of myself. I thank you deeply for hosting me, these past eight months. I have learned a great deal, and will strive to be as good as you have taught me. Please forgive me for causing strife in your lives. I will keep in touch. Indebted for life, Quasinart Walking through the forest, Quasinart comes to a clearing with a lone tree in the center. With a fit of frustration and anger, he unleashes a fierce fireball on the tree. Shaking the tree, a sprite falls to the ground. Surprised, he walks over to the injured sprite. She has a broken wing, but otherwise seems unhurt. Feeling pity for the small creature, Quasinart offers his help. She is lost, and scared. Quasinart offers to help her find her home. After many small adventures, they reach a large city called Nexus. They decide that this would be the perfect place for Epiphany the sprite to find someone to lead her home, and for Quasinart to find himself. The rest is history. Quigby Class: MageRace: Elf Quigby Limbdancer was born to two great noble elven warriors. His father and mother, Danner and Luna, were masters of the blade, moving as one with their weapons. The only child of these two warriors, great things were expected of Quigby. Unfortunately, the thin child born to them seemed to have inherited little of his parents innate talents with the blade. At an early age, Quigby was sent to the finest blademasters who could be found. Invariably, his tutelage would be quite short. Finally, his parents had to accept that the life of a warrior was not to be for their son. This being the case, Quigby was sent to religious training so that he might learn the ways of the gods and bring healing to other warriors in battle. This short, but extremely frustrating time for his parents, ended in Quigby being banned from a monastery and two temples. Finally, Luna and Danner decided that Quigby was to be sent to his great grandsire, Reluran to learn the ways of magic. His great grandsire had studied the weave and all its intricacies for quite some time. To him, the weave's powers were to be harnessed only through force of will by following strict guidelines. Quigby entered this man's life like a tornado. The easiest of spells were difficult for young Quigby, the difficult theorems bored him, yet, much to the chagrin of his grandsire, Quigby showed an amazing talent for manipulating the weave in an unorthodox manner. Instead of following the rigorous methods of his teacher, Quigby was fast and free with his use of magic, undaunted by the inherent dangers. Strangely enough, though his mistakes were great and often explosive, Quigby seemed to always make it through unscathed; something his grandsire attributed it to the gods mercy upon fools. Though their methods were different, grandson and great-grandfather grew close. Recognizing that Quigby could not learn and achieve his full potential under him, Reluran sent Quigby to Falcion, so that he could learn through action instead of study. Armed with several wagons of clothes, a portion of his inheritance, and his immutable attitude, Quigby arrived at Falcion, ready to show all exactly how magic should be practiced. Since then, he has served as a scribe, avoided being mana-burned for insubordination, found adventure at every corner, and learned quite a bit about magic. Though those are other stories. Reed Class: MageRace: Reni "Hello, I am a reporter for the nexus newspaper" the man continued "oh my name is not important for this story is about another. It all started the month of Prairiefire when I was asked, by my superiors, to find a hero and to write a story on him or her. I of course accepted knowing that it was my job and I ventured out into the streets of Nexus. I walked in to the town square where I spotted a reni not talking to anyone, but instead sitting quietly and alone puffing a long, well-crafted heartwood pipe. After looking at him I paid no more attention to him and looked around at the many others talking about adventure, danger and other interesting things. The reni remained silent until a man from the crowd shouted "this is a horrible weapon it is dirty and looks rusted!, don't you agree with me Reed?" the man said towards the reni smoking a pipe. The reni, apparently named Reed, looked up and said to him "The appreciation of a gift should not be valued on the worth of the gift, but the kindness of the giver" the crowd drew silent, watching him and for a moment seemed to be in complete awe. I quickly rushed over to him saying "Hello my name is Jim I am doing a report for the Nexus Chronicle and an interesting fellow like you would suit the job." Reed looked up to me, chuckled and said "Me? interesting I believe you are mistaken, but if that is what you wish I will cooperate." I then led Reed to a tavern to talk about his life." "We quickly found a table and I bought Reed a pint of ale. He sat there sipping his drink and smoking his pipe saying nothing. I finally broke the silence "So, Reed tell me about your life, your family, where you come from etc." He stared at me deeply as if he could see through me, into my thoughts. I was sitting there waiting patiently for him to speak thinking to myself "Gosh hurry up you fool" and right before I got up and left he began, "I shall go at my own pace for I came here on request and I am most definitely not a fool." My mouth dropped open and I could think of nothing to say. He puffed his pipe and blew a smoke ring "I am from a town of Reni far to the east, beyond the desert. I can not reveal its name for I promised I would never do so". He puffed his pipe "My family is large, but my immediate family is not, I am an only child but I have many cousins, nephews and nieces." He sipped his ale and began again "Before I began my adventure to Nexus I was the town historian, there is always one at our town a wise fellow.... he had just passed away Rues was his name, one of the wisest people I will ever know." He stared at me puffing his pipe and sipping his ale from time to time and I could think of nothing else to say. "Not as interesting as you would of guessed I see!" he laughed to himself. I knew he was hiding much of his life story, but why hide it I was not bad and he must of known it. I muttered "Are you a mind reader?" he laughed and responded "I wish I possessed the power and concentration skills to become one." I wanted to ask him what he meant but I knew it would only lead me to some hollow mysterious answer." "He asked me "Is there anything else that you wish to ask?" I thought and thought and thought but nothing I knew to ask. Besides I had asked all the questions I usually do and they usually lead me to enough information to write a book. He then said "I take it you answered my question in silencer therefore a no... farewell my friend!" and he walked out. I looked down at my note pad and grumbled in seeing that I had only had the words: big family, only child, far east hidden village, historian. I sighed to myself "what a waste of time." I knew this Reni must of had an interesting story but he gave his advice and knowledge thoughtfully and it was assembled in little puzzles left for your mind to figure out. This Wizard was truly mysterious....." Renton Class: MageRace: Reni I used to sit at a quiet little corner table in Kalim's ( you know the one) and read a book. Sipping coffee or whiskey depending on my mood; watching the people; pondering. I still do sometimes. I would see the scribes to talk to some of our more prominent citizens. Harried, their arms full of hastily wrapped up scrolls, quills behind their ears, they reminded me of myself in the way that they so clearly loved knowledge. But at the same time, I felt akin to the people they were coming to speak with: strong and full of self- confidence. So, I was a little surprised, but quite pleased, when one of the scribes came up to me at my table one day and asked if he could speak to me about where I came from and why I was here. I asked him his name (Leopold) and told him that I would be more then happy to speak with him. "Sit down," I encouraged him, "and I will answer any questions you may have". But as he sat and rolled out a fresh scroll on the table, dipping his quill in the ever present ink jar, I noticed how red and bloodshot his eyes were and how he was clearly fighting off sleep. "Leopold, friend," I told him. "Why don't you go home to your family and get some sleep. I can write this and deliver it to you tomorrow morning". Leopold thanked me graciously as he collected his belongings, dropping a number of quills on the floor when he bent over to bow. "No need for that, " I said with a smile, shooing him away. "Head off now and rest". Leopold bowed again, backing away, before turning and hurrying to the door, clearly relieved. And I found myself in the curious position of being an autobio -grapher. I called the waitress over and ordered some more whiskey to prepare myself for the task ahead... Contrary to popular mythology, the Renis have not been wiped from the face of the realms. However, we have lost touch with the remainder of society. I grew up in a small village, over the mountains, where my family and a few others had been living for centuries. There were other Renis villages in the area, but we hardly ever traveled more then a few miles from our own homes. We had become more simple folk then our ancestors: farmers and such. I, however, was a little different. As I grew into adulthood, it became clear that I was a throwback to an earlier time, for my mind soared with strange and obtuse thoughts. I even knew a little magic and was able to entertain my brothers and sisters to no end with tricks of the mind and of the eye. So it was decided, upon my eighteenth birthday, that I should follow in the path of my forebears and go away to the University in order to expand my knowledge. I packed my clothes and a few choice books in a small nap sack. My mother prepared some food for me. I said my good byes with a tier and a hug and headed out. I was to walk to the next village and meet an old Renis there who supposedly knew the way though the mountains. He himself was too old to travel with me, but he had prepared me maps and detailed instructions. As I shook his hand and bid him goodbye, he reminded me to be careful and to always travel south, always south. I'm not going to lie to you and say my journey was easy. I walked for three weeks before I began to see signs of civilization, and even then I still had another two weeks to go. The people I passed seemed quite shocked to see me, even frightened, and I realized it had been a number of years since a member of my race had been seen walking amongst them. On the whole, though the journey was a very positive experience (except for that night, early on when I fell asleep in a Nightwraith's Cave, but that is a story for another time). I learned to fend for myself and deal with the hardships of the road. I learned to sense danger and how to avoid it. And, I learned, when necessary, to fight. I knew that I had only just scratched the surface of these skills, but I remain to this day appreciative of the lessons learned on my journey. So at long last I arrived in the Nexus, eager to begin my studies. I searched the entire town, however and discovered no University. What had happened to it? (I told you we were out of touch). I spent a great deal of time in the Library, reading up on the past. I spoke with scribes and adventurers alike. Yes, there had been a University, but it had been a part of the old city. It now lay in ruins, buried somewhere beneath my very feet.. For a number of days, I did not know what I was going to do. I wandered the streets, defending myself when necessary. I went to the library and read, but the knowledge contained within the books seemed paltry compared to what could be learned in the halls of the University. I went on like this until I could stand it no longer. One day, I followed a group of adventurers under the city, sneaking behind them. I knew that I could very likely get killed, for I was not very strong, but I had to find the university. And, I did. And it was glorious. I would spend hours there, sitting in a corner, reading by the light of a single candle while others would occasionally fight around me. Eventually, I began taking scrolls and books out with me, reading them in the more comfortable surroundings of Kalim's or the Unicorn. And my thirst for knowledge grew. But all of this I did with no other purpose then to serve my own thirsts and desires. Deep down, I knew this was wrong. I would soon have experiences, however, that would set me straight and give me a renewed sense of Hope. During my first festival in the Nexus, I met Pandora who, like the other deities, was walking amongst us. Through her, I was able to see that my knowledge an power could be channeled for a greater good then my own. In her was the perfect expression of what is right with knowledge. During that week, I also saw what can happen to knowledge if it becomes corrupted. As I saw the look of madness in Arskol's eyes, crouching in the tower of the Library while the other gods battled him, I became even more certain that his was not the path I wanted to take and that Pandora's was. I pledged myself to her wholeheartedly. So we reach the present. And I sit here in Kalim's, writing. When I am done I will go out and walk the streets, talking to my friends, helping those who need it. I know that there is still much more to be learned and I feel confident that I will use that knowledge as Pandora would wish me to. Hope to you all, and Leopold, if you are reading this, I hope that you have slept well. Scorpio Class: MageRace: Humann It was a regular day in Kalim's Tavern, where citizens of Nexus were sitting and relaxing after another fight against Goblins. Everyone was talking about their victories and losses, strange encounters, and they were so deeply into the conversations, that noone even noticed the Reni Scribe, who wandered into the Tavern, looking for another story. He spotted a tall man with blond hair, who wore golden robes with a strange symbol on them.....a symbol of a scorpion. Scribe got a little closer to the man, and whispered something into his ear, and then went to the far corner of tavern . The man stood up, and said:" Excuse me, brothers, I have to do something important.", and joined Scribe. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" the man said to Scribe. "Excuse me for interrupting, sir, but i am looking for stories of lives of Nexus citizens, for a collection that we put together in the Library. I was just wondering if you could answer a couple of questions for me...", said Scribe and got a sheet of paper and a pen out of his bag. "You want the story of my life, stranger? OK, then you shall hear it" , the man smiled and took another drink out of his glass. "My name is Scorpio, and i was born in Rymek....you know, a small village on the Sea of Tears...My father was a fisherman, his father was a fisherman, so they wanted me to be a fisherman too. One can say, that i wasn't very happy about their choice..i mean, being a fisherman was fine, but i wanted more in my life than just going fishing every day to feed my family. But I had no choice, so i had to go and help my father. Being at sea was very interesting, and very dangerous. Several times I saw Sirens, swimming in waves and waving us. It was a very dangerous life, and I started to like it. But, suddenly everything ended. The war came to our peaceful village. First the sky turned dark, like the gods became angry at each other, and then goblins came. We managed to maintain the perimeter of our village, so they never were able to get inside, but outside the village was very dangerous, and only the bravest were going to Nexus through Torthese forest. One night, when i was almost 18, I woke up because of sounds of thunderstrikes and flashes of lightnings. I looked out the window and saw something very unusual.....not very far from the village , lightnings were flashing, and just above one place, like there was a giant blacksmith there. I couldn't resist. I got up, put on my armor and took my weapons and sneaked out the door. It was raining, the sky was the darkest ever. As I was closing to the place where I saw lightnings, I started hearing war screams of goblins and I thought: "This is it. It was a trap, I am dead now."" Scorpio took one more drink, tossed the empty bottle away and yelled :"Bartender, one more bottle here!". "I didn't want to die without a fight", Scorpio continued," so I decided to get get a little closer and see, who were against me. As I stepped into the small wooden area, I saw a man, wearing red robes, surrounded by 5 or 6 goblin warriors. I thought :" This is it! This is the chance I was waiting for! No more fishing!", and I went into battle. The man looked around and said :"Thank you , stranger. Together we may have a chance to survive". The battle was long and very hard. I fought goblin soldiers before, but warriors were much, much harder to kill. Several times I was close to death, and only spells, that the man was casting at me, kept me alive. There was just one warrior left, and I thought that it was all over, when goblin made a vital strike on the man. I killed warrior, but man was lying on the ground, almost dead. He said:"Thank you for your help, stranger. You saved my life. But I still need your help. Can you please take me to your home and let me heal up?" I lifted him up and carried to the Rymek. As I was closing to the my house, I saw an awful picture. Something , that looked like a skeleton, sneaked from my house towards an old galleon on the pier. I ran into the house and realized that my father and mother were murdered in sleep. I didn't know who was it, but I had a pretty good idea about it. I buried my father in the Sea of Tears, like he always wanted. The Wizard, that I saved, was getting better and better. One day he said to me:" I want to thank you, Scorpio, for saving my life. But I don't know how to do it. So I will give you an advise. Go to the city of Nexus, don't stay here. Being a fisherman is not for you. You deserve much more in your life, than that. I can feel the strength of mage in you. One day you will be a great mage. Go to the city , and find the mage tower. It's on the intersection of Market and Pine streets. Join the guild. One day you will be a great mage. And now, I must go. There is still a lot of goblins around the city, and we have to stop them". So he went away and disappeared. I never saw him in my life after that. I decided to trust him and went to the city of nexus as soon as I could. Finding the tower was easy, and soon I wore Blue robes of apprentice. Many years went by from that moment. But I was not able to find out, who that man was, and what happened to him. But I intend to do so." Scorpio layed back on his chair, and finished his bottle." Well, stranger, if you have any other questions, ask them now." Scribe stood up and said :" No, sir. I'm sorry for interrupting your little party. But that was very interesting story. I have to go now, but I'll make sure it will get to library." Scribe bowed and disappeared in clouds of smoke. Scorpio stood up, looked at the half empty bottle, tossed it into trash and walked out of tavern. He had to get some sleep, because next day was supposed to be even harder than any others, because goblins were seen right outside eastern gates. The time has came for him to do what a long time ago strange Wizard did: go and fight for Nexus. Se'mur Class: MageRace: Reni I grew up in a fairly normal family, on the island of Ruvur, born the first of the month of the dragon. I lived with my parents, Richard and Ulanda for the better part of my life, they offered me everything I could ever want or need, though we were no richer than the slightly lesser person. They worked hard to give me a life of my own, I greatly appreciate their efforts and will forever be indebted to them. They allowed me to pursue any dream that I could imagine, forbade me only of following the god of Kyorl, one they dispised greatly. I searched constantly for something that could hold my interest, something to keep me occupied, but nothing could sooth the hunger I had inside for something unknown to even myself. I held few jobs, and always had my nose buried in a book, in constant thought and wonderment at the things that had happened in history, and the things that happened the present day. I often fantasized that I could become a hero, such as the ones in some of the books I read. I would picture myself as a warrior, fighting the devious goblin hordes and saving the day. Where I grew up, magick was not known well, at least not to myself nor my family. We lived in a secluded cabin miles away from most of society. I held a job at a local tavern in a small town near to us, where adventurers and explorers often passed through. One day I overheard rumors of the townfolk about a follower of Kyorl, an assassin, that had supposedly slain a man of great wealth and power. I went about my business cleaning up and serving the few that happened to wander into the tavern, mostly all very drunk, then went home where I slept the rest of the day away. That night I had a strange nightmare. I envisioned a peculuar man. He wore black torn robes, and he whispered strange words to me. His words I mostly do not remember, the ones I do I do not understand, and to this day I don't know of the language they were spoken in. He called forth creatures from the ground, ones long since dead, ones that shrieked in the blackness of the void I seemed to hurl through. His face I could not make out, his eyes glowed red as he pointed the crooked silver staff towards me, and spoke a word that I did understand. "You." His voice was deep and raspy, and terrified me. I awoke from my dream soaked in sweat, and sitting upright from my pillow. Frantically I searched the room, and when I found nothing out of the ordinary, I pushed the nightmare to the back of my mind and soon forgot about it. I fell back into a deep sleep, and slept the rest of the night. The next day I traveled to the tavern, happily going about my business, for that day was the day I would be paid, and I could buy the new book that I had wanted so much. Late in the day, a man walked into the tavern that looked strikingly familiar. He wore black robes, the hood covering most of his face, only his large white nose descending into view. It finally hit me as I was serving him some Blackroot Tea, that he was the figure I saw in my dreams. As it hit me, a slight smile crossed his lips, as if he knew. There was a moment of silence as I stood awestruck, and he said "This is the best tea that I have had in years." I finally sputtered my thanks and walked away, but I was soon sitting in front of him, holding a conversation of small talk about the town. His face I can't remember, and that's what strikes me as strange. I vaguely remember most of his words, at least, the important ones. There was something about him, something...fulfilling. It was like this was where I was supposed to be, and I knew it, I could feel it...something inside me. We finally got around to the talk of magick, and I became very curious. He showed me a book, one that I believe now to have contained ancient incantations, ones written in the same language I believe him to have spoke to me in my dream. He suddenly became very cautious, and stuffed the black book back into his pouch to his side, and told me to meet him outside of the tavern late that night. He also told me that my parents could not know where I was going, or what I was doing. Of course I objected at first, but before I had time he was gone. A fleet of guardsmen arrived soon after he had vanished, and quiried me as to his whereabouts. I felt compelled to tell them that I had never seen him before, but if I did, I would let them know. The leader took his men off in a huff of disbelief. That night I met the man outside of the tavern. The rain pounded, and the storm outside raged, blowing the sign to the tavern in the wind. We rode horse-back, and we talked of magick now and then. He said that I must train hard if I ever wanted to truly understand why he had came for me, and said that I must practice in the art of what was called a mage. He took me to the island of apprentiship, Falcion, and said that someday we would meet again in the town of Nexus. To this day I await his return, until then, I am in constant searching of his whereabouts. Someday, I hope to find that man, and ask him all the questions that have been bottled up inside for so many years. That day will be of great consequence to the rest of my life, I'm sure of it. And that is why I am here, in Nexus, to learn what I can so that I may understand why I was called upon. Silvereye Class: MageRace: Reni Years I've been trying to write this, but have been unsuccessful to put my history down on parchment due to the pains I've endured when I think of my past. I have lived a life of tragedy, where no exit could be found to escape what seemed like a death of starvation, and loneliness. I would like to thank Elayna for helping me tell my past without being saddened as I usually did. This is the story of Silvereye Kornelius Paleo. I was born on Maaur in the month of Wildfire in the year 1,537 since the Godswar in Nexus. My parents, whose names were Palin and Kalina, were poor merchants who sold goods acquired at Tiger's Trading Shop. From what I know of, they had no relatives in Nexus. I was the second generation of Paleos in the City of All Races. We lived on a carpet on Market Street, just a little bit west of the Town Square. We ate food given to us by a guy who owned a tavern near by (I don't know the name of the person, or the tavern ). I had a brother, maybe two (I'll explain it later). His name was Tarnash. He wanted to be a warrior, which was unusual for a Reni. He, like most big brothers, liked to pick on me. He was also an excellent salesman. And that was my everyday life for 11 years, just regular selling stuff to people on the streets. When I turned 11, Nexus was attacked by goblins. Screams could be heard a mile away as people ran to their homes in fear from the hoards. My brother, who was nearing 17 years old, defended the city with my father. My mother and I hid behind the newspaper stand, which would become the main place of hiding for us for 15 more years. Fortunately, the goblins had not broken into the city this time. My father returned, a body in his arms. It was my brother, blood smeared all over his face. The look of horror was a basic way to describe his face. A giant wound could be seen on his leg, and one was on his shoulder. He had died when three goblins came at him when he was alone. They used him for target practice with their spears. Deep sadness made my mother not eat for days. When she finally did eat something, it turned out it was moldy bread with a bottle of Dwarven Ale. My dad stopped working for several days due to the shock of having one less son. Years and years went by, and I finally turned 26. I awoke on an early morning to find my father and mother missing. I figured that they went to get more stuff to sell at the pawnshop, so I waited and snacked on some food ... Days passed, and still no parents returned. Had they abandoned me? I refused to believe so. I searched around for weeks, but no sign of my mother or father. I wish it had stayed that way, for what I saw on the 17th of the month of Twilight has haunted me for over 80 years. I was walking around at dark, and came into a back alley. I saw a body on the ground, and quick rushed over to see if someone had a heart attack or something. I looked at the person. It was a lady ... A Reni lady ... I turned her over, to see the pendant I had given her for her 250th birthday, a truly happy day in her life. But that wasn't all I saw ... Guts and blood hung out of her chest, daggers had been stuck into her forehead and legs. I could only stand to look at my mother's wounds once before I vomited continuously and ran down the alleyway. I tried to give my mother a proper burial, but due to the poorness of me, she had to be buried in the ground outside the south gate, instead of a graveyard where she would have liked to be, where she still is today. When I was around 110, I was apprenticed in Falcion to become a mage. It was there that I learned how to shoot a longbow, cast spells, and most of all, make friends. I met tons of new people, just being apprenticed themselves. It wasn't soon, and I had achieved the 7th tier and could go to Nexus. I met a whole bunch of people who were described to me by young men in taverns as heroes. I also met one very interesting and funny person, who is in the Barbarians Guild, named Ork. He considered me his lovable pet, and decided to keep me so I wouldn't run away. It was probably the funniest experience I've ever encountered in my life. One day, I was checking the post office in Nexus for any letters that I may have, and the postmaster handed me an unusual one. With no return address or name, it described to me that I have a brother, and he is it. I have not confirmed that this is true, and have not been encountered by anyone who fits this person's description. I hope to find out if this letter is of the truth or not, but until then, I have something to look forward to. I have only started living my life to the fullest, after so much sadness and pain in my life that has haunted me throughout the years. Hopefully, I will become as happy as these fine heroes that walk through the world every day, looking for action and adventure. And some laughs along the way would be great too. Until then, I'll just fight proudly, for I am a citizen of the City of All Races. Sinister Class: MageRace: Reni In the farthest reaches of the North, far beyond the habitable reaches of the Nymarian waste, a frigid gust strengthened in a swirl of snowflakes. It gained speed and direction as it surged through a great crevasse that severed one of the massive ice flows. Whipping along the frozen tundra, it fled the dominion of ice, and speedily moved towards a warmer clime. When the great Crystal Mountains reared up before the gale, it climbed quickly to their lofty heights. Great Snow Eagles gathered their young under wing as the freezing blast ruffled feathers and chilled blood. Up the gale climbed until it swirled through the parapets of the Great Ice Castle that stood at the apex of Elaria, the greatest of the Crystal Mountains. Through the portcullis and down the merciless face of Elaria the polar blast soared, into the reaches of the vast Eldane below. Selanu perched like a falcon on a stout branch jutting out of an ancient oak tree. Her keen eyes followed the doe below predatorily. She reflected on the beauty of the creature and recited a silent prayer of thanks to Erisar, the Lord of the Hunt, for her stroke of luck in making such a find. In one silent motion she nocked an arrow and drew the feathers to her cheek. At the instant of her release, a frigid blast of wind tore the very leaves from the tree around her and nearly sent her tumbling from the oak. She uttered a quiet curse as the arrow took the doe in the midsection instead of the heart. With a high pitched whistle it bounded off into the wilderness. Selanu sighed deeply and pulled her rabbit fur cloak closer about her shoulders to ward off the wintry breeze. There was nothing to do now but begin the tracking. Dropping nimbly from the tree, she strode the fifty paces to where the doe last stood. She sat down on her heels and fingered a few drops of the warm blood lying upon the new fallen leaves. Hazel eyes followed the line of the spoor as she raised her head slowly. Running appeared to be effortless grace as she dashed off into the morning. Faran Dobir mopped his brow with a dirty rag and squinted his azure eyes as the sun crept higher into the morning sky. The relentless heat that was characteristic of the harvest season sat heavily upon the land. The merchant pulled his wide-brimmed hat down a bit lower and loosened a button on his white linen shirt pondering the thought that no Reni should be out in weather such as this. Half a day of travel would bring him to the eastern gates of the City of All Races, and more importantly, within reach of a glass of chilled Icewine at Trista's tavern. The latter thought brought a lopsided smile to his weather beaten face. Cursing the light coat of fur that was characteristic to his race, he slapped the reins against his two packhorses and stared off down the road. Faran shrieked a wordless cry as the brush to his left exploded in a chaos of multicolored leaves. He managed to stand on the seat of his cart and face his assailant moments before an attack struck him in the center of his chest. The force of the blow hurtled him from the cart and he landed violently on his back. Startled by the sudden noise and ensuing confusion, the two packhorses pulling the cart reared up and tore off down the hard-pack road, pulling their burden in a flight driven by panic. The attacker dashed off into the hedges on the opposite side of the road and the sounds of its flight quickly faded. Rolling to his stomach, Faran slowly breathed out a long moan of agony. The cloud of dust caused by the tumult had nearly settled and the noises of the surrounding forest began to return to normal. Pushing his hands down into the dust, he drew himself to his knees and began to take stock of his situation. His white linen shirt was spattered with red stains and covered in brown dust. Alarmed, buttons flew as he tore open the front of his shirt searching for the source of the bleeding. A cursory inspection showed that the blood spots covering the shirt did not originate from his body. 'Perhaps from poor Bonnie or Tag,' he thought glumly. Faran brought a hand to his brow to shade his eyes from the relentless sun as they searched for his team and cart. As he cast them up the road, they came to rest on first his hat, then his equine charges. They stood a mere 200 paces away, happily chewing on the dry grass that lined the sides of the road. He barked out half a laugh that degenerated into a coughing fit when a sharp, frigid wind swirled dust up from the road. Shivering and cursing the freakish weather, the Reni stood up and began to make his way to the cart. The doe paused in an effort to gather her remaining energies. Huge brown eyes rolled with dimming vision, stopping for merely a moment on the tall furry creature bending down to retrieve something before continuing on its journey. With a dash she was off despite short breaths becoming shorter while tired muscles gave their final efforts at flight. Finally the doe's foreleg crashed into a fallen branch sending her tumbling down a steep embankment. She came to rest at the bottom of a gully with the broken shaft of an arrow protruding upwards from a bloody wound in her stomach. A valiant effort to regain her feet failed miserably and she crashed back to her bed of leaves, body wracked with spasms. A feeble whistle and sputter of blood from her throat marked the end of her efforts. As her skyward eye glazed over, it was fixed on a black vulture circling high above. When Faran arrived at his cart, he cast his glance in every direction for several moments, searching for signs of observation. When he felt comfortable, he slid a board from underneath his seat and plunged his arm into the resulting hole. His face visibly relaxed and he pulled a silver box from the opening. With a second glance over each shoulder, Faran opened the box for a brief moment and eyed the contents. The box contained several hundred thousand gold pieces worth of blackwood lotus extract, a high profitable, dangerous, and illegal drug. Faran glanced at the sun and cursed with the knowledge that he was already late for the meeting with his contact at Madame Despana's. There would be no time for a drink at Trista's tavern now. Faran quickly placed the box back into its hiding place and carefully slid the board back into place. Placing a hand on the front wagon wheel, he vaulted into his seat. There would be time enough, and gold, for all the wine he wanted later. This was the sale that was going to finally make him a rich Reni. With a snap of the reins, the cart lurched forward. Selanu quietly slipped from the brush lining the road while her eyes searched for signs of danger. Casting her glance upwards, she marked the black vultures she had seen through the forest canopy a few minutes earlier. 'Who could have imagined the doe would have such strength,' she mused. She had been tracking the doe for the entire morning and sweat beaded on her brow from the long journey. An expert eye watched the vultures and judged her quarry was very near. She paused a moment to take a draught from her waterskin and reflect on the journey. Her elven village of Talmet was much too far to carry her quarry to now. The City of All Races was much closer. She would have to carry the deerskin and whatever else she could manage and trade it there. With a sigh of resignation, Selanu melted back into the forest in the direction of the vultures. Faran reined in Bonnie and Tag with a look of trepidation. The walls of the City of All Races loomed high above him even though he stopped a good hundred paces from the gate. The remaining space was filled with all manner of covered wagons and carriages waiting to enter the bustling city. Faran hopped down from his cart and called the attention of a caravan guard lounging against the wagon in front of him, 'Ho there, good man. What is the meaning of this delay?' The caravan guard spit into the dust and loosened his sword in his scabbard as he turned to and walked over to Faran. 'Seems the guards have caught wind of some'tin,' the guard spat out. 'I hear it told they be search'in every wagon com'in from the East. What sort of wares do you be bring'in to the City?' The caravan guard drew himself up to his full height in an effort to look into the back of Faran's cart over the raised seat. 'Oh, just some feed for the stables,' Faran quickly answered. 'Nothing the city guard would be interested in I'm sure.' The caravan guard nodded and sunk back down to his heels. 'Well I'm sure ye have nothing to fear then,' the caravan guard sneered, 'The last bloke who was caught with contraband stills a hang'in from the city walls.' The caravan guard then turned away and pointed upwards on his way back to his wagon. Faran followed his finger up to a place high on the wall where ... something ... was suspended by a length of thick rope. It was difficult to make out because of the multitude of carrion birds tearing pieces of flesh from their perches upon it. Faran weakly sat back upon his cart and stared forward into whatever destiny awaited him. 'Something has to be done about him,' Fariol stated firmly, 'Something has to be done ... and soon.' Thelia's eyes followed the Master of the Ivory Tower as he paced along the railing on the balcony outside of his office. Her mission from the wizards' guild of Tholm had taken an unexpected twist, and not for the better. Fariol stopped his pacing and placed both his hands onto the gilded balustrade, leaning outward to survey the City of All Races under the afternoon sun. 'His black tower is a boil on the southern half of the realms,' Fariol spat, 'A boil it seems that I am going to have to personally lance.' Thelia sighed softly and moved to Fariol's side, placing her left hand over his right as she took a position next to him. Softly she said, 'Do not let your temper get the better of you Tower Master. He has grown quite powerful ...' Thelia drew in her breath for the inevitable outburst her next statement would cause, ' ... perhaps even more powerful than you. A direct confrontation may not be your wisest course of action.' She felt Fariol quickly tense, but his reaction was far from what she expected. Fariol sighed and spoke quietly, 'Your counsel is wise as usual Mistress of Tholm, but the time has come for action.' Fariol turned towards Thelia and pulled her to face him with each of his hands on her shoulders. He looked deep into her eyes and spoke to her on her intimate telepathic mode. 'What are we to do my love?' Thelia sighed and rested her head against Fariol's chest as she replied, 'Whatever must be done, we can do it together.' Fariol gathered her into a tender embrace just as a frigid blast sent his cloak flapping like a flag in the wind. They lingered in one another's arms for several minutes, drawing strength from the warmth of their bodies. Reluctantly, Fariol stepped back and looked once again into Thelia's eyes. Composing himself, he spoke solemnly, 'The time has come.' The Master of the Ivory Tower turned and strode back into his office. 'Guards!' Fariol barked. A moment later two guardsman brandishing halberds rushed into Fariol's office. After ascertaining that the Tower Master was in no immediate danger, the two guards dropped to their knees and spoke in unison, 'How may we serve you milord?' Fariol's stare was far off as he commanded, 'I want the city guard and auxiliaries assembled immediately. We march on the Tower of Sar'Mordal at dawn.' The city guardsman raised his hand and motioned Faran to bring his cart up to the gate. With a light shake of the reins, he set his cart in motion and prayed that the turmoil in his stomach did not show on his face. 'Whoa there!' the guardsman barked. Faran reined in Bonnie and Tag bringing the cart to a halt. One guardsman grabbed the reins from Faran and another began to question him, 'What is your business in the City of All Races merchant?' 'I'm bringing in some feed for Sharma's Stables,' Faran answered quickly. Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his temple as the guardsman held his gaze for a moment. The guardsman then moved to the rear of his cart and began poking through the feed sacks. 'Merchant! Come here!' the guardsman barked from the rear of the cart. Faran slipped from his seat onto the flat stones that paved the road just outside of the gate and sauntered to the rear of his cart. 'Yes sir?' he asked innocently. The guard looked at him suspiciously and asked, 'These sacks bear the mark of a granary just outside of Tholm. What profit did you expect to gain by carrying them halfway across the realms?' 'I was able to purchase them at a discount in Rosehelm,' Faran explained attempting to be convincing, 'A young lass named Maeve sold them to me at Tyler's Trading post.' The guardsman looked at Faran skeptically for a moment before saying, 'I wasn't aware that Tyler's traded in grain.' He whirled to his right and called out, 'Sergeant Diggs, come have a look at this cart.' Faran took an unconscious step back as his nerves frayed to the very edge. Eyes darting right and left, he searched for a means of egress. Finally, he settled back in a balanced stance and eased his short sword in its scabbard. If they were going to take him, he was going to make it as difficult as possible. Sergeant Diggs was a mountain of a man, with shoulders half again as broad as the guardsman. Diggs lumbered over to the cart, turned to the guardsman and snapped, 'Ruthio, what's going on here?' Ruthio spoke to Diggs at length when finally Diggs turned to Faran and demanded, 'Something is not on the level here Dobir. Come out with it now and it will go easier on you. If not ... ' Diggs glanced upward, pausing menacingly. Faran, still clinging to hope, stuttered, 'I ... I don't know what your talking about sir.' Diggs grunted and stalked off towards the front of the cart. He arrived at the front and began to poke about around the seat. Faran hovered on the edge of panic. If the guardsman found the silver box, what would he do? Even if he managed to escape, the loss of the box meant his life was forfeit. If the city guard didn't kill him, the Brotherhood of the Night surely would. As thoughts tumbled through Faran's head, the Sergeant's keen eye picked out a loose board beneath the seat. Diggs exclaimed, 'Ho ho. What do we have here?' Faran tensed as Diggs reached for the board, his right hand slowly moving towards the short sword at his side. The moment Diggs touched the board, the clanging sound of bells filled the square inside of the gate. Diggs paused for a moment eyeing the board before turning towards Ruthio and shouting, 'That's a general alert corporal, form up the ranks!' Diggs glanced at Faran and spat, 'Move this piece of junk out from under my gates,' and proceeded to run towards the open door of the guardhouse. Faran nearly crumpled with relief but managed to weakly make his way up into the seat of his cart. With a slap of the reins he proceeded westerly down Market Street. The cords that bound Sharana's hands to the altar had finally cut deep enough into her wrists so that her blood was flowing freely. For the hundredth time that day she reached out to the weave trying to feel any shred of energy, and for the hundredth time she failed. She craned her neck to stare at the statue placed a single pace above her head, a statue that eerily bore her exact likeness. The altar she had been placed on was constructed of smooth obsidian. It was formed into the shape of a rectangular block a single pace high, the surface only broken by tie downs at the top and bottom and a shallow bowl with a small channel leading off the edge in the middle, just under Sharana's midsection. To the immediate left and right of her head were two pulsing red crystals fixed atop golden staffs two paces high. The altar was located on the top of the Tower of Sar'Mordal and a chilling breeze from the Sea of Tears brought goose bumps to Sharana's skin, but she did not notice. Her eyes were fixed on the hooded figures emerging from the stairwell that ended several paces below her feet. A voice emanated from one of the hoods, 'Well good evening Sharana. I hope you find my hospitality up to your expectations.' Sharana strained against her bonds as she spat out, 'Devin Nightsong, you are a disgusting waste of lifeforce. The Ivory Tower will not stand for this. You and yours will be echoes in the hall of time soon enough.' The Lord of Sar'Mordal laughed mirthfully in a deep voice before replying, 'One would expect that a person in your position would act a bit more cordial. No matter, soon enough you'll learn some respect.' Devin pulled back his hood then turned to his companion and spoke softly, 'Anor, prepare the Spires of Golgolith please.' Sharana watched, paralyzed by fear, as Anor moved to her side carrying an ancient leather-bound case. 'N ... no,' Sharana whimpered, 'Please Devin ... I'll swear allegiance ... I'll do-' Sharana's pleas were cut short as Devin smashed a backhand across her face sending two of her teeth flying. 'Silence bitch!' he roared, 'The time for your babbling has come to an end!' Devin seized Sharana's chin in one hand while withdrawing a vial containing a glowing blue liquid from the folds of his robes with the other. 'This elixir will prevent you from slipping into unconsciousness under any circumstances,' Devin boasted, 'I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss your last few minutes in corporeal form.' Devin poured the contents of the vial down Sharana's throat, heedless of the gurgling blood caused by his blow. His reverie was disrupted by Anor's voice, 'Lord Nightsong, the Spires are prepared.' 'Excellent,' replied Devin, 'Let me inspect them.' Devin moved around to the side of the altar on which the channel terminated. Just below the channel was positioned a mithril bowl supported by three mithril spires. The spires had three sides each and stood nearly as high as the altar itself. Both the spires and the bowl had inlaid arcane symbols covering their visible surfaces. Devin carefully inspected their positioning before turning back to Anor. 'The dagger please,' Devin commanded. Anor placed a wickedly curved dagger in Devin's hand as he strode to the side of the altar opposite the spires. In a peculiar moment of tenderness, Devin brushed a strand of hair from Sharana's face. His face then hardened and using the dagger, he slashed her robes open from the neck to the hem. Devin then held the dagger above his head with both hands and began an incantation in the ancient tongue of the Daer'lin while Sharana lay naked, writhing and whimpering upon the altar. The timber of Devin's voice seemed to grow deeper and permeate the air surrounding the top of the tower. Anor looked down at the spires and took a step back as they began to glow and pulse in rhythm with Devin's chanting. As the chanting reached a crescendo, a bolt of lightning split the evening sky and struck the dagger held a aloft in Devin's hands. The thunder dissipated and was replaced by a loud humming emanating from the Spires of Golgolith. Sharana's flesh sizzled as Devin brought the white-hot blade of the dagger down and placed it against the far side of her stomach. Devin's lips curved into a wicked smile as he looked into Sharana's eyes and spoke, 'Now Sharana, you will know agony.' He then inserted the dagger two inches into her side, and began to cut horizontally across her stomach. Sharana's eyes bulged in her head and her shrieks filled the evening air, each louder than the previous one. When Devin had finished his cut across her stomach, he thrust his hand into her body cavity, tearing her intestines out and holding them aloft. Sharana looked up at her bowels in Devin's hand and uttered a scream so full of terror and pain, it caused Devin to burst out in maniacal laughter. Anor stood by watching silently with a fervent gleam in his eyes. During the disembowelment, Sharana's lifeblood had been steadily running down the channel carved into the altar and filling the bowl placed atop the Spires of Golgolith. An eerie mist had formed within the bowl accompanied by an increasing keen sound in the air. Devin finally took notice of the sound and threw Sharana's entrails down upon her chest. He raised both his arms into the air and shouted, 'Makvoth! Telranoth! Sar'Goranoth!' The mist began to swirl and rise from the bowl, slowly taking a humanoid shape. Devin smiled as the mist congealed into a Soulwraith, the very scourge of all living things. 'Makvoth!' Devin barked, 'Perform the transfer!' The Soulwraith named Makvoth looked at Devin distastefully before replying in a gravelly voice, 'As you command Keeper of Golgolith.' Makvoth then reached out and placed its right hand upon Sharana's forehead and its left hand upon the statue just above her. A new torment was inflicted upon Sharana through her haze of excruciating pain. As the very fiber of her soul was being extracted from her, she fought a desperate battle to retain her unity of self. The Soulwraith looked on dispassionately as the soft flesh beneath its fingers gave way. It completely ignored the spurts of blood that jettisoned from the holes its fingers bore into the life form's skull and unerringly continued with its one purpose, the complete distillation of life force from the body it inhabits. Sharana futilely held fast to her last thread of life for a moment before it was torn from her. A last deafening wail from the convulsing body upon the altar faded into the normal sounds of nighttime. With a wave of his hand Devin dissipated the Soulwraith and turned to regard what remained of Sharana. Her cool blue eyes, once the color of the sea, had now turned completely black and lifeless. Devin grunted and spoke to Anor, 'Step back please Anor.' Anor quickly obeyed by taking several paces back from the altar. Devin took two steps backward and began incanting words of power. He brought his hands in front of him with a clap and all that remained of Sharana burst into flame. Her remains burned bright and hot for several moments before the flames vanished into the night air. Devin strode over to the statue and began to examine it. Grasping hold of the weave, he mentally probed the soul that was now bound within its substance. Devin smiled and whispered, 'What have you to say about respect now my dear Sharana?' Listening carefully, a low moan could be detected at the edge of consciousness. Devin stepped back and smiled while issuing commands to Anor, 'Anor, place the Spires of Golgolith back into my study and put this statue into its position in the hall of conquest please.' Anor quickly replied, 'As you command Lord Nightsong.' He paused a moment before speaking again, 'Lord Nightsong, may I ask you a question?' 'Certainly Anor.' Devin replied as he paused at the top of the stairwell, 'What is it?' Anor spoke quietly, 'My studies have shown that a mere drop of blood is all that is required by the Spires of Golgolith to perform the summoning, am I incorrect?' A wicked smile crossed Devin's face as he replied, 'No Anor, you are absolutely correct. But I do have a flair for theatrics, don't you think?' Anor smiled weakly as he replied, 'Yes milord, you certainly do.' The last golden red and yellow rays of sunset were disappearing behind the flat roofed houses of Hammer Street when Faran brought his cart to a halt. Wagon ruts lined the road and the people in the area seemed to be going about their business under a haze of oppression. On the right stood the busy doorway that led to Madam Despana's brothel, his final destination. Faran hopped down from the cart and tied Bonnie and Tag's reins to a nearby hitching post, he did not expect to be there long. Eyeing the closest wayfarers with caution, he slid the board from underneath his seat and snatched the silver box from its hiding place. Faran turned his attention to the doorway and his mind was filled with trepidation. The Brotherhood of the Night were not individuals to be trifled with. Their underground network had a hand in the majority of nefarious activities occurring in the City of All Races and they counted amongst their members all manner of renowned cutthroats and thugs. Faran was more likely to be killed and robbed than paid for services rendered. 'Great reward is not gained without great risk,' he mused to himself and proceeded to climb up the short set of stairs that led to the door. Gilded chandeliers lined the ceiling dimly lighting the interior of the brothel and adding a smoky haze to the dark recesses of the main room. Musky scents permeated Faran's nose as he waded through the Strumpets searching for Madam Despana. A crystalline voice behind Faran caught his attention and caused him to whirl around, 'What can I do for you?' 'Madam Despana I presume,' Faran managed to cough out as his eyes drank in the sight of her voluptuous body thinly covered in a white dress. 'Why yes I am,' she teased with a bat of her lashes, 'Can I interest you in some of our ... services?' 'Perhaps later,' Faran managed weakly as he attempted to mentally cool the heated blood in his veins, 'I am looking for ... Silthar. Do you know where I might find him?' Madam Despana's visage visibly darkened at the mention of a member of the Brotherhood of the Night. 'I might,' Despana said coolly, 'What is your name?' 'My name is Faran' he replied with a measure of strength returning to his voice. Despana nodded curtly, turned on her heel, and proceeded through a hanging silk curtain in the rear of the room. Faran could not tear his eyes from her supple form as she strode away. Finally, he managed to move to the side of the room that was dominated by a short bar and a shorter dwarven bartender. Despana returned just as he managed to get a mug of ale. 'He wishes to see you in a private chamber,' Despana announced and then glanced down at his full mug of ale before adding, 'Immediately.' Faran gave his mug a look of longing before snatching up his silver box from the bar and stepping in behind Despana. She led him through the curtains and down a short hallway before they stopped at an unobtrusive door. 'Through there.' Despana whispered quietly and returned the way they had come. Faran too a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside. The moment his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Faran was able to see a slender man seated behind a table directly ahead of him with a stocky fellow standing to the man's left. The walls of the small room were decorated with polished shields and a low bed was pushed aside into the corner. Faran held back a smirk as he eyed the shields and internally contemplated about how they presumably afforded a better view to the participants in the lewd activities that occurred in the room. The slender man spoke first in a low, snake like voice, 'You are Faran Dobir?' Faran paused a moment considering the man in front of him before replying, 'I am, and I suppose you are Silthar' The slender man nodded and Faran continued, 'I have brought what you seek, and it was not easy. Show me the gold.' Silthar smiled and said, 'Certainly you cannot expect me to give you gold without allowing me to inspect my purchase first.' Faran shrugged, stepped forward, and placed the silver box on the table before Silthar. Silthar carefully opened the box and a broad smile crossed his face. He then slipped a dagger from his belt and prodded at the contents for a moment before looking over to his stocky companion and saying, 'The gold please' The stocky man walked to the corner of the room behind and to the right of Faran. With a grunt he lifted a large chest, placed it on the table in front of Faran, then stepped away. Silthar motioned Faran to have a look inside the chest. Faran unlocked the dual clasps on the front of the chest and threw the lid back. Before him shined more gold than he had seen in his 203 years of life. Faran picked up a gold piece and looked up to speak but was struck silent by the strange look on Silthar's face. His eyes went wide as he glanced behind Silthar and saw in a shield the reflection of the stocky man with a crossbow aimed at his back. Reacting instantly, Faran dropped to a knee and drew a dagger from his ankle sheath just as a crossbow bolt hissed over his head. Faran threw the dagger, taking the stocky man in the throat. Drawing his short sword, he then whirled to face Silthar only to find him lying on his back, clawing at the crossbow bolt protruding from his eye. Faran took a deep breath as he turned around. The stocky man was seated against the wall, clutching his throat and making gurgling sounds. He walked over and plunged his sword into the stocky man's breast, quickly ending his struggles. After wiping his sword off on the stocky man's cloak, he sheathed it, and turned back towards the chest. Considering the scene, Faran realized his life at this point could be measured in minutes. When the Brotherhood of the Night discovered what had transpired, if he remained in the City of All Races he was as good as dead. He slammed the lid down on the chest and hefted it up onto his shoulder. Quickly he made his way back into the main room of Madam Despana's brothel. With his free hand, Faran flipped the gold piece he had picked up earlier to Madam Despana and rushed out the front door. Captain Varak held up his hand and the long winding column of soldiers came to a halt. Traversing the cliffs of Rymek had been difficult, but assaulting the tower that filled his vision infused him with a feeling of hopelessness. The tower rose 100 paces into the sky causing Varak to crane his neck from his position at the edge of an ancient forest to view its heights. From the end of the forest, a great field of sea grass dominated the terrain before the tower for a distance of 500 paces. Varak frowned as he viewed the approach to the tower that offered little or no cover for his men. His scouting reports offered nothing in the way of encouragement either. Apparently there was no visible entrance to the tower around its base and its extreme height made any attempt at scaling difficult at best. Varak turned his head to the right as Fariol and Thelia rode up beside him mounted on identical white Nymarian thoroughbreds. Fariol spoke first, 'Captain Varak, what is your appraisal of the situation?' Varak frowned and his eyes moved from Fariol to the tower before he began to speak, 'Give me a week and our engineers may be able to develop some siege engines from the surrounding trees capable of doing some damage.' Fariol turned his attention to Thelia and she raised an eyebrow in reply to his glance. 'Varak,' Fariol said calmly, his gaze still fixed on Thelia, 'You have one hour to array your men in battle formation. Thelia and I will provide the means to enter the tower when the time comes. To tarry here longer would be suicide, see to your men.' Only a small part of the turmoil Varak was feeling entered his voice when he replied, 'As you command Towermaster.' As he turned and began barking orders, he couldn't shake the feeling that no matter what Fariol promised, death was at hand. The Lord of Sar'Mordal rubbed his chin as he sat in his study, staring into a farseeing crystal and considering his situation. Fariol acting so quickly was completely unexpected. He had thought he would have time to complete the creation of the thirteen statues necessary to link his lifeforce to the weave, rendering him practically invincible. He would have laughed at Fariol and his ragtag band then. He was not laughing now, for he only possessed twelve statues. Normally Fariol would be more than his match in power, but he possessed a trump card, the Staff of Aidnartim. A powerful wizard created the Staff in an age far past. Aidnartim specialized in linking the powers of many wizards and wizardresses together in order to perform great works of magic no single wizard could perform alone. The Art was thought lost long ago but twenty years of searching had brought the staff within his grasp. With the staff he could use the powers of the souls he imprisoned in the statues to augment his own. Eventually he would have used the staff to complete his binding to the weave that would place undreamed of power in the hands of a mortal. But now Fariol jeopardized all of his plans, something would have to be done about him. Anor broke his reverie as he quietly knocked, entered the study, and spoke, 'Lord Nightsong ...' Devin cut him off saying quietly, 'I know Anor, please send for Krystana and Hatrayhu. I will meet them in the hall of conquest.' Anor lifted his eyes in surprise and queried, 'The hall of conquest my Lord?' Devin's reply came in the form of a distracted wave of his hand. He did not see Anor quietly back out of his study with a look of trepidation on his face. His attention was fixed on the array of forces displayed to him from within the crystal. Devin rubbed his chin again and considered. When he finally stood, he carefully placed the crystal back into its velvet-lined case. His face revealed grim determination as he whirled and strode out the door. Varak reveled in the calm confidence that filled him before a great battle. He surveyed the deployment of his troops with a practiced eye. All was nearly in readiness. Twenty thousand men lined the edge of the forest, their attention collectively fixed on the Black Tower at the far end of a sea of grass. Sergeant Diggs broke Varak's reverie when he spoke quietly, 'The forces are arrayed as you requested Captain.' Varak replied, 'Very good Diggs, return to your company and await the signal' Diggs clapped his hand to his chest and quickly returned to his men. Varak paused for a moment before he lowered his head to the page beside him, 'Phoerum, take word to Fariol, all is in readiness.' The page nodded quickly and sprinted through the ranks behind him. A short time later, Fariol's approach was heralded by the creaking of armor as the ranks separated to allow his mount to pass to the front. He reined his stallion in next to Varak's and surveyed the assembled army. Thelia joined Fariol in the van and he acknowledged her with a slight nod. Varak addressed Fariol formally, 'Towermaster, the might of the City of All Races stands ready to defend her honor.' Fariol kept his gaze fixed on the Black Tower as he spoke softly, 'Signal the advance.' Varak paused for a moment before querying, 'The night comes milord, should we not wait until dawn for an assault?' Varak shrunk back as Fariol fixed him with a gaze, fire burning in the depths of his eyes. He spoke firmly, 'We assault now because we likely would not survive the night, do you understand?' Varak was visibly shaken as he stammered out, 'Y .. yes milord.' He then motioned to a flagman in front of him. The flagman waved his flag, a slash of red set on a field of blue, three times back and forth before dropping it straight down. Several identical flags along the length of the ranks mirrored his movements quickly. As the army surged forward in the direction of the Black Tower, Fariol spurred his stallion and spoke to Thelia on her intimate telepathic mode, 'It begins.' Her reply turned into a whimper when her eyes fell upon a lone figure standing atop the tower, its silhouette clear against the setting sun. The Lord of Sar'Mordal leaned against a crenellation of the Black Tower as he surveyed the advancing forces. The vast army spread along the grassy plain steadily moved towards the tower unopposed. 'We will just have to see to that.' he brooded to himself. His lips curled into a lopsided smile as he stepped back, raised the Staff of Aidnartim, and began to chant. Dark tendrils began to swirl around his outstretched staff as Devin's voice increased in intensity. In moments the tendrils gathered into a giant writhing ball of darkness that stood suspended in the air above him, steadily growing as the chanting surged to a crescendo. With a final guttural sentence, Devin swung his staff downward and pointed it at the field before the arrayed forces of the City of All Races. The giant pulsing ball of darkness raced towards the field in front of the progressing army. Seconds before it smashed into the ground, it seemed to come unraveled with tendrils shooting in every direction. Moments later an earsplitting scream issued from the grass directly in front of the startled men. Others soon joined it. The wails gained in intensity and numbers until the unholy chorus caused the soldiers to cover their ears in pain. The foremost soldiers began to shout and point as movement could be seen in the grass before them. Suddenly thousands of dark forms with piercing red eyes appeared in the waning light of sunset. When the screaming reached a climax, the dark forms began to advance on the faltering army. Devin leaned against the tower wall and breathed heavily from his effort. When he turned his attention to the field again, the broken advance forced a smile from his strained features. 'Now let them taste the power of Sar'Mordal.' he spat as the two opposing forces collided together. Diggs was rocked back on his heels by a blow that shattered the front of his breastplate. Gaining his senses, he was barely able to parry the thrust that the beast of darkness aimed for his heart. Spinning in a full turn, he slashed his sword with all his might into the foul beast's neck. The beast convulsed as its head separated from its body. Diggs grimaced as the force of the blow caused his arm to go numb. His grimace turned to wide-eyed surprise as the numbness crept up his arm and halfway across his chest. Ruthio came to his Sergeant's aid and deflected a blow aimed for his head. 'Sergeant! Get behind me!' Ruthio exclaimed as he engaged two of the foul beasts. He staggered back behind Ruthio and took a moment to catch his breath. Looking around the field of battle he saw a score of his comrades being torn to pieces and fed upon by various horrors. A high- pitched scream caused Diggs to whirl around and Ruthio's viscera spattered his face as a beast ripped him in half. 'We are being annihilated ... ' Diggs considered despondently as he threw himself back into the fray. Fariol frowned deeply as the losses quickly mounted. He had hoped the assembled army would be able to repel the defenses of Sar'Mordal conventionally but the battle was quickly turning to rout. With a sigh at having to tip his hand early he contacted Sabsean, a High Priest of Aalynor, the Lord of the Light: 'Come.' Two hundred mounted Paladins and Priests of various sects burst from the trees and came thundering across the grassy plain. From his position atop the Black Tower, Devin raised an eyebrow as the new force rumbled towards the sagging armies of the City of All Races. Raising the Staff of Aidnartim to the sky, he quickly incanted a spell and then leveled the point of the staff at the charging reinforcements. A huge column of flame leap from the staff and burned a hole in the ranks of the cavalry. In moments the flames died revealing the charred bodies of a score of Priests, Priestesses, Paladins and their mounts. As Devin raised the staff again Fariol shot a knowing look to Thelia. Holding Thelia's gaze he sent: 'We must try Thelia or they will all perish' Thelia returned his look with one of trepidation: 'As you wish. Be it our death or salvation.' Fariol and Thelia then opened themselves up to the weave and began to chant in unison. Fariol gathered as many threads as sanity allowed and began to weave them into a magical barrier. Thelia wound her lifeforce into a single sinuous thread and interwove herself into the fabric of Fariol's barrier, allowing him to expand and reinforce it exponentially. Fariol continued to extend his barrier outward, drawing every last shred of magickal energy his overtaxed mind could muster. Thelia sat rigid on her horse, sweat pouring down her face while she struggled to hold her lifeforce together as it was stretched to the very limit. Soon the barrier stood shimmering over the entire field of battle. Feeling that Thelia was waning, Fariol quickly set the weave of the barrier and concentrated what little remained of his magickal energies to augment her self-awareness as she tried to extract her lifeforce from the magickal barrier. They both cried out and collapsed on their horses after their combined ditch efforts allowed Thelia to return her soul to its corporeal form. Devin brought his staff down and once again the column of flame surged from the tip. It raced across the distance to the armies of the City of All Races only to slam into Fariol and Thelia's barrier and be dispersed. Frowning, Devin knew the barrier would turn the tide of battle. Helpless, he watched as the holy forces of Light disintegrated his beasts and wraiths. Testing the magical weave, he found no path of egress. Fariol and Thelia's efforts had prevented him from flying upon the magical winds. Though he knew his army was defeated, he was not yet ready to retreat from the field. Eyeing the barrier, he leaned upon his staff and reflected, 'What a waste of talent.' He sighed deeply as the faith of the assembled Paladins and Priests turned the last of his unholy host to dust. Knowing he had but a few moments to put his affairs in order, he calmly walked past the Black Altar, down the stairs, and into the depths of Sar'Mordal. Krystana Nightsong jumped as Devin threw back the doors that led into the hall of Conquest. Noting his haggard look, Krystana asked quietly, 'Is everything alright dearest?' Devin replied, 'Yes my love, everything will be quite fine. I am a little concerned however. We have some unpleasant visitors. I wish to place an amulet of protection around little Hatrayhu's neck, may I see him for a moment?' Krystana held out their son and Devin took him into his arms. He moved to the middle of the room, directly in the center of twelve statues that circled the perimeter. The small child watched Devin quietly with fiery red eyes. Devin met his son's gaze for a moment before lifting Hatrayhu aloft and chanting softly. esponding to his words of power, the statues began to shimmer with light and Hatrayhu became surrounded by a dark nimbus of blackfire. In a moment it was finished and Devin lowered his son, cradling him in his arms. Looking into his son's blackened eyes,he whispered, 'The legacy will continue. Krystana spoke out, 'What my love?' 'Nothing dearest.' he replied as he closed Hatrayhu's eyelids, walked over to Krystana, and handed her the seemingly sleeping child. She fingered the amulet that was now hanging from a adamantine chain from her child's neck. 'This will protect him?' she queried. Devin replied, 'It certainly will dearest. Please wait for me atop the tower while I go greet our guests.' Krystana nodded slowly, preceded Devin out the doors, and climbed the stairs to the uppermost reaches of Sar'Mordal. The remainder of the army of the City of All Races circled the Tower of Sar'Mordal in a defensive position. Fariol stood before the Black Tower with an expression of frustration fixed upon his face. Thelia watched his growing anger and tried to soothe him, 'Patience, you will find the way in. Do not let anger cloud your mind.' Fariol sent back, 'Each moment we spend out here is another moment he has to prepare. Aalynor only knows what kind of horrors will greet us when we finally gain entrance.' Suddenly, several guardsmen yelled out, 'Hold!' and Thelia turned to see a young elven maiden ringed by swords pointed at her breast. Selanu cleared her throat and spoke quietly, 'I wish to speak with the Towermaster of the City of All Races.' Fariol broke off his gaze from the Black Tower and sighed, 'What can I do for you ...?' Selanu filled in, 'Selanu ... I sense elven magicks around this Tower and I believe I may be able to help you gain entrance if you wish it.' Fariol said incredulously, 'Elven? I would have been the last to suspect they would have a hand in the creation of this blight on the Southern realms.' Selanu replied quietly, 'It was not such long ago. Will you accept my assistance?' Fariol nodded and motioned for the guard to release her. Selanu slipped up to the wall of the tower, placed her hands on it, and closed her eyes. Her lips moved silently for a time before she spoke a single barely audible word. The world turned around Selanu, Fariol, and their nearest companions as the waning sound of a thunderclap echoed in their ears. In the blink of an eye they stood in a sumptuous room facing two jeweled thrones. Seated to the right was Devin Nightsong, Lord of Sar'Mordal. At his left hand stood his assistant Anor. Devin spoke first, 'Greetings Fariol, greetings Thelia. I suppose you haven't dropped by for dinner.' Fariol curled his lip and growled, 'Nightsong, enough foolishness, your time is at an end. Prepare to be judged by Lord Tilnar.' Devin, Anor, Fariol, and Thelia immediately chanted spells and attacked. Devin's spell was the first to make contact as it ripped into Fariol's chest, knocking him back into Thelia. Anor's spell struck a Guardsman and giant shards of ice ripped him to shreds from the inside out. Thelia's spell descended upon Anor and he issued a pitiful scream as his flesh rotted off his body, leaving only a skeleton of bleached bones to crumple to the floor. Fariol's spell flew towards Devin but his enhanced senses allowed him to dodge its effects. Devin's eyes glowed with fire as he realized he might be able to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. He raised his staff and began to chant when the shaft of an arrow sprouted from his eye, knocking him backwards into a seated position on the throne. Selanu lowered her bow, keeping an eye on Devin's twitching body until it became still. Thelia quickly applied a healing balm to Fariol's chest and restored him to health. Fariol then untangled himself from Thelia and stood on shaky legs. 'We owe you a debt of thanks Selanu,' Fariol spoke seriously. Selanu looked around warily and shuddered as she spoke, 'Any person would have done the same. I trailed your army from the City of All Races and watched the battle from the forest. I am just glad I could take a part in the ending of this evil.' Fariol nodded gravely and stated, 'Lets find a way out of this accursed tower.' From the lofty heights of the Black Tower, the Lady of Sar'Mordal looked out upon the carnage of the recent battle. Clutching her son to her chest, Krystana whispered, 'What terrible thing has occurred this night ... ' In the dim light, she could make out bodies littering the field before the tower as far as the edge of the forest. The sickly sweet smell of burning flesh wafted on the sea breeze up to the heights where she observed the massacre. The moans of dying men intermixed to form a pitiful choir of suffering. She shuddered and held her son closer to her breast, tucking in his swaddling clothes. Krystana's breath caught when she brushed against her son's arm as she placed the wrappings about him. Hatrayhu's arm was freezing cold. Quickly she knelt down and placed him on the stones of the tower, unwrapping his coverings so that she could inspect him. His skin had assumed a deathly pallor and his body was freezing. Krystana began frantically rubbing his limbs and screamed out for help, 'Devin help! Oh please Devin help me!' She lifted Hatrayhu's eyelids and froze in astonishment. His eyes had turned completely black, staring lifelessly out of the sockets in his head. Krystana put both her hands to her mouth and trembled for a moment before her shriek tore through the starry dusk, 'Noooo!' Staggering back, she slammed into one of the crenellations at the top of the tower and sagged into a seated position. 'Devin pleeease ... Devin,' she sobbed as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Her whimpering was broken by the sound of Thelia's voice, 'Devin is dead.' Krystana's eyes went wide as she looked up to where Thelia stood at the top of the stairs. 'You lie!' she spat, 'I don't believe you.' Fariol stepped up the stairs and walked out to stand next to Thelia. 'Do you believe this?' Fariol said firmly as he pulled the severed head of Devin Nightsong from a black velvet sack and held it aloft. The horror that gripped Krystana's heart was clearly painted on her face as she lurched to her feet and stumbled with her arms outstretched towards Fariol and the remains of her husband. Her progress was stopped when her foot ran against something on the ground. She cast her gaze downward in a trance like state and it came to rest upon the lifeless body of her son. The excruciating anguish coursed through every fiber of Krystana's body until she could take it no longer. Choking on halting sobs, she bent down and picked up his body. Thelia began to take a step but Fariol restrained her with his free hand. In a daze, Krystana staggered onto the edge of the tower. Turning, she stared into her husband's lifeless eyes for a moment before hurling herself off. A long, thin scream escaped her throat throughout her fall until the bodies of her and Hatrayhu smashed into the ground. Thelia turned to Fariol with a pained look on her face. He spoke quietly, 'It was for the best beloved. The line of Sar'Mordal must be ended here.' Thelia sighed and pressed herself to Fariol's chest. 'As you say,' she whispered and stared through teary vision out into the starry night. The soldiers dragging bodies to the funeral pyres leapt aside as a screaming woman fell from the heavens and crashed into the ground beside them. A soldier spat, 'By Tilnar's Fist! Can you believe that Lemja?' Lemja paused a moment, then laughed in reply, 'What I can't believe is that she didn't fall on your head.' The group of soldiers exchanged a strained laugh and set about their gruesome task. Lemja sauntered over to the fallen woman and kicked her shattered body over. Underneath her he was surprised to see the crushed body of a small child. He noticed a glint of metal and his eyes shone brightly with greed. Reaching down, he attempted to tear the necklace from its position around the child's throat. A solid yank failed to snap the slender chain and instead flipped the ragged body of the child over. Lemja cursed and drew his short sword. After a couple of hacks he managed to decapitate the child and free the amulet. A barking voice from behind him caused Lemja to jump. He palmed the amulet and whirled around as Diggs snapped, 'What, you didn't think he was dead enough son!?! Stop loafing and get those bodies on the pyre!' Lemja stammered out,'Y..yes sir!' He turned to the bodies and slipped the amulet into his tunic. There wasn't time for a good look, but he was certain the amulet would bring him more than a few gold pieces in Rymek. That knowledge brought a smile to his face and set a spring in his step as he dragged the bodies of the Lady of Sar'Mordal and her headless son towards the burning pyre. Faran reined Bonnie and Tag in just as the rising sun made its way above the Sea of Tears. His perilous flight from the City of All Races had continued unceasing throughout the night, but with the docks of Rymek in view, he felt safe enough to rest for a moment. He eased the cart down the main thoroughfare and came to a stop before a salty inn. The smell of ale from the High Seas Inn and Tavern could clearly be discerned from the street. Sounds of revelry blasted from the interior each time a pair of drunken soldiers burst through the swinging doors leading to the common room. Faran hopped down from his cart, and handed his reins and a pair of silver coins to a dirty stable hand. The boy looked at the coins in shocked surprise before Faran rounded on him, drew up to his considerable height, and fixed him with a stern look, 'I trust the silver will be enough to see my horses and cart safely to the rear of the inn. If some of my goods were damaged or missing when I returned, I would be most displeased.' The stable boy shrunk and stammered out, 'Th..thank you kind sir, I'll look after 'em as if they were my very own.' Satisfied, Faran broke into a smile and replied, 'I trust you will.' With a pat on the young lad's head, Faran wheeled from the stablehand and marched along the front of the High Seas Inn until he stepped in front of the swinging doors. The smell of ale and the sounds of merrymaking drew him as a moth is drawn to a flame. The inside of the High Seas Inn and Tavern was lit by mirrored lamps hung on iron chains from the ceiling beams. They did little to light the blackened walls stained by generations of smoke and grime. Faran sat down at a heavy oak table next to three men playing at dice who were dressed alike in leather jerkins. The men stopped their game and looked up when he turned and yelled out to the nearest serving wench for a mug of ale. Turning his head back to the table, he was met by three pairs of eyes coolly considering him. Faran met the stares and returned his attention to the barmaid, 'And a round for my three friends here as well.' When he faced the men again, their features were fixed in toothy smiles. One of the men extended his hand and spoke, 'Welcome stranger. My name is Caeron. I'm a soldier with the auxiliaries of the City of All Races. We are newly returned from a great battle.' Faran contemplated the men before replying, 'My name is Faran Dobir. I'm a merchant from Tholm passing through on my way to the isle of Miraden. It would be my pleasure to buy you a few rounds in appreciation for your defense of our freedom.' The faces of the men brightened and Caeron fixed him with a considering look, 'It seems you have done well for yourself to be throwing silver around so carelessly. Perhaps you would like to join us in a game of dice?' Faran chuckled with the knowledge that these men had no idea what they were getting themselves into. He was raised on dice and games of chance and his luck was uncanny to be modest. He grinned as he dug his purse out and replied, 'I would be honored.' From the bow of the Osprey, Faran closed his eyes as he leaned into the salt air streaming through his tawny mane. On his way home, he had expected his thoughts to be filled with images of his family. Instead, the previous night's revelry filled his daydreams. The night had proven profitable although he hadn't intended to put himself in mortal danger again. His luck had proven itself over the duration of the evening, almost to his detriment. During the course of their gaming, one of the soldiers had put an amulet in the pot as collateral and seemed particularly upset when the dice didn't go his way. So upset in fact he had drawn his sword and his two companions were barely able to contain him before he thrust it in Faran's direction. Shaking his head, he reached into his pouch and retrieved the amulet. Held up to the morning sun the amulet glistened in kaleidoscopic silver and gold. The perimeter of the teardrop shaped amulet was finely worked with arcane symbols while the center was dominated by a deep black gem that seemed to suck the very light from the sun. An adamantine chain looped through the top of the teardrop with the ends terminating in a delicately fashioned clasp. It was a thing of forbidding beauty and Faran shivered as his eyes passed over it. With a minute twist, Faran separated the two halves of the clasp and held the ends of the chain in between the thumb and forefinger of each of his hands. He slowly reached around the back of his neck and reattached the two halves of the clasp. At once the world fell apart around him. He held the railing in a death grip though he could not see it. His vision had gone black and every fiber of his body screamed agony. He tried to cry out and remove the amulet but found his voice was as paralyzed as his body. The overwhelming pain compelled him to flee from the source, to do anything to cease his endless anguish. His grip loosened and he first felt himself falling, then drifting outward towards the promise of freedom from his suffering. He strained to reach his new goal and the pain increased to a climax. Then as suddenly as it began, the pain ended. He perceived himself to be floating in a black pool of nothingness. Panic began to overwhelm him as he searched for a sign of anything in his personal void. Far off, a point of light appeared. It grew in size and speed as it approached him. A moment before it overtook him, it stopped and hovered before him. Massive, the light stretched to the limit of his vision though it drifted a mere foot from him. He felt warmth coming from the light, and realized that he was growing increasingly cold. He reached for the light, touched it, and was gone. Waves crashed over the few jagged rocks that jutted up through a sandy beach on the island of Falcion. A lonely fisherman threw out his line as the rising sun set the horizon afire in red and orange blazes of color. A short distance down the beach the dawn light brought a mass of seaweed into view. Situated near one of the rocks, the seaweed demanded little of the fisherman's attention until it stood up. With a cry of surprise, the fisherman fell off his low wooden chair and clawed for the stout cudgel tucked in his belt. The seaweed shook itself and revealed a soaked furry creature. After its efforts, the creature wavered for a moment, then with a moan fell to its knees. The fisherman stood up warily, cudgel in hand, and cautiously approached. When he neared the pathetic form, he could see the creature was one of the furry peaceable beings see often in the port of Rymek. Emboldened by the identification, the fisherman knelt beside the creature and queried, 'Hey there fella, are you alright?' The creature opened its eyes and the fisherman stumbled back a foot as the fiery red orbs fixed him with a stare. The creature mumbled, 'I ... I don't know ...' The fisherman returned to the furry being's side and extended a hand saying, 'Here, let me help you up.' The furry creature considered the fisherman for a moment before taking his hand and slowly rising to his feet. It leaned heavily on the fisherman as it tried to stand up straight. After a few minutes, the fisherman stepped away from the creature and looked it over. It was covered in scrapes and several wounds bled through its golden brown fur. 'We need to get you to a healer.' The fisherman stated flatly. He measured the creature for a moment more with his gaze before speaking again, 'I am called Grenwal Haversham. What might your name be?' The creature looked thoroughly confused before stuttering, 'N ... name?' Grenwal chuckled replying, 'Yes your name. What do your people call you?' The creature creased its brow in concentration for a moment. Obviously exasperated, it said quietly, 'I'm not sure ...' The creature looked down and its eyes widened in surprise when they came to rest on a teardrop shaped patch of fur that was burned off its chest. On the exposed skin was a picture of a black tower over which hung a dagger with two snakes twisted around the blade. On the hilt of the dagger was engraved a single word, 'Sinister'. The creature examined the marking with fascination until Grenwal's incredulous reply broke its' reverie, 'Your not sure!?' The creature responded softly, 'I guess ... I guess its ... Sinister.' Grenwal nodded in satisfaction and declared, 'Well then Sinister, lets get you back to town where someone can have a look at those wounds.' Sinister nodded weakly and draped his arm around the fisherman's neck. Grenwal stopped to pick up his rod and they both hobbled off down the beach. Sintar Class: MageRace: Elf Rather than take up the time of the scribes, I shall endeavor to write up a satisfactory manuscript to record a glimpse of the person I am and how I have come to this point in my life. As I sit herein Pandora's Temple reflecting on my life, its seems strange. I am still in the dawn of my life, but I shall do my best. If you are seeking a fantastic or wild tale, or expecting a great tragedy, then I warn you to look elsewhere. If you read about my life with such an expectation, you will be disappointed. My given name is actually Elemmiir Val'nomin. I am the 3rd and youngest child of Thorondil and Melyana Val'nomin. I was born in the City of Talmet on the tenth of the month of Twilight, in the 1,592nd year since the Godswar, and the 1,175th year of the Empire. While I will always considered myself from Talmet, I actually grew up in a cottage in the woods near the village. My father has served Talmet for many years, beginning as a sentry, and currently serving as a village scout. He is well known for his skills as a hunter and tracker, and is quite adept with both bow and blade. My Father taught me to love the woods. I always enjoyed his lessons, however I think I frustrated him many times when he took my brother and I hunting. I was always more interested in discerning the reason for things, than I was in the hunt. More than once, I scared off our quarry asking a question, much to the consternation of my Father. But he always encouraged my interest in learning. No one could ask for a better Father. He taught me love and respect for others, the importance of family, the nobility of service, and a sense of personal honor. My Mother is an adept healer, and she too aids those in Talmet in times of need. Using a combination of herbs, potions and minor faith magic, shewas more than able to handle the cuts and scrapes we found ourselves with when I was growing up. She is also an accomplished musician, and plays both Lyre and Lute. She taught me to play, but I never will play as well as she does. More importantly, she taught me about the beauty and joy of the simple things of life. I have never met a more caring, compassionate woman, and I pray that some portion of that compassion has taken root in my life. My oldest sibling is my sister, Alfarin Corthindil. She learned the ways of healing from my mother, and is now married to the older brother of one of my closest friends. My brother Aiohtar is following in the footsteps of my father, and serves as a sentry in Talmet. I have many warm and wonderful memories of growing up. It was not until I went to Falcion that I truly understood how blessed I have been. Almost every evening, the family would gather for the evening meal, discussing the day's affairs. Then we would sit by the fire and enjoy dessert. My Mother would play music, songs would be sung, stories told and games played. As I think back, I can almost smell the fresh baked goods. Especially the berry cobbler, which was my favorite. I could go on with pages of anecdotal stories, but I shall spare you, the reader, such torment. Needless to say, all in all, I had a wonderful life. In addition to my immediate family, I have several aunts, uncles and associated cousins, as wells as my Mother's parents whom I love dearly. I have many good friends as well. But I do not believe anyone has had more of an impact on my life than Vardaestela Val'nomin. My Grandma Varda lives in a cottage not far from my family home, and I spent many hours with her, often doing simple things. Gathering berries, baking, or just watching her paint while she would tell me stories. She is quite an amazing artist, and many times I followed her into the woods, while she painted the flora and fauna of the Eldane. I would question her for hours on things, such as History, Lore and Pandora. When I was but 12 years old she took to calling me her "Little Sintar". I loved to read, and she had many interesting books. From time to time she would take me to people she knew, who would share their knowledge or a manuscript. In time, the name Sintar was what most everyone was calling me. All, but my mother, have referred to me by that name for decades. It was my Grandmother who most encouraged my love for Pandora as well. Stories of her love for the elves, how her heart was nearly broken at the deaths of innocents, and her tears shed at the creation of the Drow. Yet even with all of that, her Hope remained and led to the rebuilding of Nexus and the alliance that is our best Hope to protect against the Horde. And with the ascension of Kyorl, and the draw of the Void, Hope is our best defense against them as well. I will forever be grateful for the encouragement my Grandmother gave me. She taught me to seek knowledge. More importantly, she taught me to seek Hope, no matter the person or situation. Her quiet grace, pride in her Elven heritage and great faith in Pandora have impacted my life in a dramatic way. I pray that I will be able to be worthy of her faith in me. As you may have guessed by now, faith in Pandora has been an important part of my life as far back as I can remember. In fact, my parents first met at a Hope's Hour celebration, and were married two years later to the day. They celebrated their 125th anniversary just last year. I remember each year on the first Panur of Blossoms, we would gather together with family and friends and honor our Mistress in a celebration of Hope. It was a time of great joy, and I looked forward to it with great anticipation. It was a Hope's Hour celebration that first brought me to Nexus as well. It was the 100th anniversary of my parents, and we came to celebrate at the Temple. I was amazed at the beauty of the temple. I felt such a sense of tranquility and peace there. It was after that visit, that the idea of coming to Nexus first entered my mind. Whether it was a whisper of a temple dove or the opportunity to study I will never be sure. But many years went by, and I enjoyed my simple life in Talmet. Several years later, the time to me seek my own path grew near. Thoughts of coming to Nexus, seeking knowledge and serving Pandora grew stronger. I spent many hours talking with my Grandmother, and later my parents. But what was I to study? I learned of my choices and set out to decide what I was best suited to do. After many weeks, I had narrowed the choices to mage, cleric or bard. But my musical abilities seemed too weak to seriously pursue the bardic profession. And while cleric would have made a good choice, I decided to apply as a mage. I think it was for a variety of reasons. I would still wield basic healing and protection abilities in honor of my mother, yet a powerful offensive ability to defend people, in honor of my Father. Of course it also lent itself toward my nature as a seeker of knowledge. My family supported my decision, and after a wonderful send off, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed south toward Rymek. I took to my studies quickly, enjoying the work, as well as aiding others. While I was unable to leave the training island for sometime, I enjoyed getting away into the park and the wooded areas surrounding the city. I have learned from many while I was on the island. Those such as Danilo, Rapheous, Therise, Lyrasel and Sincerity saw fit to come to the island and share both their wit and wisdom. And of course the resident bard Lathet was always willing to spin a tale or sing a song. After many months I was accepted into the Ivory Tower, and continued to work hard, training to the 9th tier. As my training on the island came close to completion I spoke with Danilo about offering myself in service to Pandora. He encouraged me greatly, and assured me that I could begin the process upon my completion of my training on Falcion. Yet something held me back. Whether it was a need to learn more about myself, my faith or my relation to others is not clear to me. I just knew it was not yet time to leave. I spent more than 2 years on the island. Honing my skills, learning what I could, and helping others along the way. Perhaps it was the voice of my Mistress Pandora, guiding me to a fuller maturity. I do know the time was well spent. I also learned of the Guild of Knowledge, and sought out Faulk about the Guild. The work that had been done to restore the Guild, as well as the tenets that guide it impressed me. It was something to which I was gladly willing to offer my support. After working with Faulk and proving my commitment I was accepted into the Guild. I am proud of my commitment to preserve and record knowledge in all is forms. Some 3 years ago, the fateful day arrived. Somehow I knew my time on the island was complete. Perhaps I had waited too long, for the trainers saw fit to pass me from 9th to 11th tier, believing I had proven myself. It was then that I began my full service to Nexus, and on a path to serve Pandora. With both my vocation and avocation firmly in place, I had one more goal to make my life complete. Since the day I left the island, I have had many opportunities to serve and to learn. Be it battles against the Void, Were-creatures or the Horde or seeking and recording knowledge I have found along the way, I have worked hard to fulfill my commitments. But none were more important than proving myself worthy to Mistress Pandora. My faith to her is not an issue. Even if I were never marked as a follower, I would have happily served her in any way I could. Both through prayer and through action I tried to live my life in a way that would honor her. I would offer words of encouragement to those I thought would need them. I would often bring loads of items to Falcion to aid new trainees, offering advice and help where I could. As I waited, I knew that either way, my life was rewarding. One day as I was sitting in Town Square, sharing news and chatting with those assembled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white feather floating down out of the sky. I was almost transfixed as it wafted down out of the sky and landed at my feet. Many things blow through the square from time to time, yet the feather was so clean and unblemished, I somehowknew it was something special. It landed and was clearly pointing southeast toward Pandora's Temple. I gathered my things, and excused myself as I headed toward the Temple. As I stood before her Shrine, a voice told me to head toward the private room behind the curtain south of the fountain. Pandora appeared before me. I was in awe. I had never felt so many things at once. Adoration, trepidation, reverence, adoration, love and a sense of inadequacy rose up within me. But all was displaced as a sense of Hope and peace washed over me. Our talk was a private matter, but I will never forget the way I felt as her love washed over me and she welcomed me to her Church. While I am still young, and the road ahead of me is long, it is with a cheerful heart I look forward to what lies ahead. I do not know where it will take me, but with Hope in my heart, and knowledge to guide me, I am sure it will be an adventure. Skylark Class: MageRace: Sprite Greetings! I am Yeet (Please don't make fun of my name, it disturbs me, and I'm far too weak to do anything about it.). I'm a bard in the great city of Nexus - born and raised-but it's not my story I want to talk about. You see, I love to talk, and more so to other people than myself. When I get going, I rarely stop, in fact, there was one time that I... Bad Yeet! Bad! Ok, so getting back to my story again, I like to ask people about themselves, and sometimes they get off talking like you wouldn't believe! My mother said I had an enchantment born about me, that causes people to open up to me, but I don't know about that, my mom always was a weird sort, even for a hobbit... er, so back to my story. Just the other day, I was at Trista's Tavern (Finest in all Nexus! Unless you're closer to Kalim's at the time.) and I met a sprite by the name of Skylark. Silly little name if you were to ask me (which most people in their right minds wouldn't) but most sprites have an active tendency towards silliness anyway, or at least such has been my observation. Well I got to talking with this Skylark lass, and she had the most interesting things to say! The bulk of which I couldn't possibly fit into this little message I'm writing to your fine library, but I thought perhaps you might be interested in some of the details about her past. Anyway, I'll try and relay all that she told me, to the best of my recollection.... There's a little known sprite town by the name of Cloudfae that resides in a hill next to a marsh no one's heard of. It is in this town that the leaders (the king and queen if you wish to give them titles, but they rarely use them) decided to get married. Mostly just to prevent a little sprite uprising, and really having little or nothing to do with liking each other. There was a rift forming among the people of Cloudfae, and those who lived inside the hill, were becoming hostile with those who lived outside the hill (have you ever heard such a silly thing?). Anyway, the respective leaders of both looked upon their people with sadness. They were grieved that such anger could be arisen over nothing at all, and agreed to put a stop to it by way of a marriage. As luck would have it, their plan worked. Having seen the new king and queen manage to overcome any differences they had, the sprites of Cloudfae quit their petty squabbling, and made chipper happy friends again. Now for a good long time, things were just so-so with the king and queen. Neither one really disliked the other, but unfortunately, neither one really liked the other either. As time progressed though, they were forced to do more and more things together (in a stately sort of way) and found that they really adored each other's company. As luck would have it, they even soon found that they adored each other. Within a couple years, they were madly in love, and to top it all off, they were already married! It was of this love, that only 5 years after the emergency marriage, King Nippit of Cloudfae, and Queen Taliee of Cloudfae, found that the queen was pregnant (sorry if you don't know where babies come from, but I'm not putting that in this story!). Tension was high on the day of the birth, and the whole tiny city held its breath as the first of two twins (Isn't it odd how twins always come in two's? I always found it odd...) was born. The parents were overjoyed, and placed the name of Skylark on her then and there. But all was not well with the queen... Although the first child had come with ease, the second was causing more pain than expected to Taliee. And so it was that on that fateful day, Queen Taliee passed away. Born to her beloved husband, and king of Cloudfae, were two daughters. Skylark the first, and the second bearing the name of Sorrow... for his grief would allow no other name to spill from the king's lips. Despite the grief of Nippit, he soon was overcome with the blessing of his two daughters, and returned at least partially to his happy-go-lucky spritely self. Skylark and Sorrow were raised in a city that loved them, and by a father that cherished them, but they were also a curious lot. Perhaps it was because they had no mother to teach them of caution, or perhaps it was because their magics were proclaimed as the strongest in all Cloudfae, or perhaps it was... just because, but one fine day, two decades after their births, Skylark and Sorrow set out in search of a wondrous city that they new only by name and reputation. The gods only know where all they went in the years beforehand, searching for this city, but in the end, the twins came to the Nexus, the city of all races, and were welcomed as kindly as if it were their hometown, and so they decided to stay. Do they have some higher purpose for being here? Will they ever return to Cloudfae? Does Skylark drink funny green water? Far be it for this lowly bard to say, but they certainly are cute. Well, I hope you find some use for this tale in your great library sirs, and I'm off to Kalim's, because its just a hair closer from your door! Starla Class: MageRace: Elf Once, I lived happily in an elven village, safely hidden by magics from the goblins for centuries. It seems long ago now, and strangely too as if it was only yesterday. I was out in the forest, playing hide and seek with a deer. When I returned, I found to my horror that death and destruction had descended upon my village. Frantically, I seached for my family. I found them in pieces, so mangled and dismembered that I could only identify them from the shreds of clothing they wore. I found no survivors, not even children or pets. There was blood everywhere, a sea of blood. I must have been in shock for quite some time, lost and alone, just kneeling there in all that blood, overcome by pain and memories. When I regained some sense of myself and reality, it was night. I thought my mother would be worried or upset that I was so late, but then I remembered. I tried to wash away the blood with a river of tears, but nothing will ever wash it away. Eventually, I decided I couldn't leave them like that, food for the carrion-eaters. I tried to bury them, but there were so many, and the roots were impenetrable. So, I built funeral pyres and set about the gruesome chore of collecting the bodies and the pieces of the bodies of those I had known and loved all my life. It took me close to two months. It was a nightmare. There was nothing to eat. Even had there been food, I would not have dared eat. I retched my insides raw. It did not take long before the corpses began to bloat and rot. There were maggots and flies, and that incredible ceaseless stench. At some time during this odious task, it finally pierced my misery that there were no enemy corpses, none at all. I searched in earnest then for evidence of who or what had done this. There was not a trace. There were no lost or broken weapons or pieces of armor, and no tracks in the soft red mud except my own. I thought then, perhaps it might have been a dragon wing, but there were no scorch-marks on the corpses or on the ground or trees. When the last great pyre was lit, I whispered a prayer to Tilnar for those departed and left Thara-lin for the last time. I trudged dazed and desperately weak from hunger along the eastern path, and then I saw the grave. A solitary grave had rested beneath the great oak since long before I was born, but now it was all dug up, empty, no remains, no bones, no tracks. I wandered toward the Nexus then. Our people have known of this place for ages, and I did not know where else to go. As I walked, I thought of what little I knew of that empty, gaping grave from the tales I had heard. It was the grave of a cougar, the only friend of a lost, homeless girl, slain in a tragic misunderstanding long ago. She was said to have been the most beautiful female seen in centuries, possibly ever. Our mages gave her magical, emerald hair that matched her eyes. She never told us her name, but I found her here anyway. I now know her name is Azara. Her adopted sister Oradea who knows of such things, believes some dark force may have possessed the spirit of the dead cougar and may yet hunt me. She crafted a talisman for my protection. Horrible things seem to happen to most who befriend me. The mages I trained with suicided when the weave shifted. Sasha met a final death. Dhamon was marked false. Jewel is but a memory. Oradea's village is besieged. She has left on a perilous sea voyage, seeking to aid them. Azara's brother, Naranek sacrificed himself to destroy an evil, monstrous beast. Now, I fear the friendship of others lest they too come to harm. I have met one here that I might care to love, but he cares not for me it seems. Perhaps that is best. I search for some reason my existence should continue. Mostly, I do it to deny whatever seeks to destroy me, whatever it was that ravaged Thara-lin. Talomar Class: MageRace: Reni Talomar sat huddled on the steps of the town square, shivering uncontrollably. The brisk, icy winds of winter thrashed against his frail, trembling body. His half-shut, weary eyes started to shift hypnotically, as if under a trance. "Please, Talomar, stay. I do not want to lose you as well." A female renis grabbed Talomar's slender arm, though his resolve made it seem merely like a token gesture. "I will return, Mother, when my studies at the university are complete." Talomar shrugged the mother off as he boarded a boat. The renis woman gazed at the boat as it moved away from the pier, her eyes filled with sadness. Talomar disembarked from the boat. He saw a sign that read, "Welcome to Rymek." He nodded and headed north, to the city of Nexus. "The university is WHAT?!" Talomar looked at the man incredulously. "It's been many, many, many years since the university has been in operation. Only the Gods know how many buildings have been built on top of its remains." The man's nonchalant look was in sharp contrast to the enraged Talomar. "Well, tell me Master Fariol is still in the city, something!" The man stared blankly at Talomar. "Fariol's been dead for about 30 years." Talomar replied with strange agitation, "Well who is this famed Tower's master?!" The man replied, "It is Thelia, an elven weavemistress... from Tholm. Mayhaps you've heard of her?" Talomar scratched his head a moment, and nodded slowly. "The name sounds familiar. Perhaps you might know how I can study within the confines of that tower?" The man looked back blankly. "Try going to the tower." The man pointed down Market Street. "Walk down that way, and turn right at the intersection, you should be able to see it." Talomar nodded slowly, and began walking. As Talomar shivered away in the biting cold, a tall human walked over to him, placing a blanket around his shoulders. Talomar looked up and offered a weak smile. The man began singing a song. The man's lyre burned brightly, warmth emanating from it. Pulling the blanket around him tightly, Talomar took in the warmth from the magically glowing lyre as his shivering gradually came to a stop. Tif'eret Class: MageRace: Reni In the midst of my life's journey, I went astray from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood. I never saw so drear, so rank, so arduous a wilderness. Its very memory gives a shape to fear. How I came to it I cannot rightly say, so drugged and loose with sleep had I become when I first wandered there from the True Way. But at the far end of that valley of evil, whose maze had sapped my very heart with fear, I found myself before a little hill and lifted my eyes. Its shoulders glowed already with the sweet rays of sunlight, its feet still wrapped in the cool mist of night. The sight strengthened me against the fright whose agony had wracked the lake of my heart through all the terrors of that piteous previous journey. Just as a swimmer, who with his last breath flounders ashore from perilous seas, might turn to memorize the wide water of his death, so did I turn, my soul still fugitive from death's surviving image, to stare down that pass that none has ever left alive. And there I lay until the racing of my heart slowed to a pace more amenable to the climb ahead. Recalling my classical education, I took a moment to tie a loose thread from the hem of my cloak around a tree trunk. Then, picking off the earth a stout fallen branch, I proceeded to climb, one footfall above the other, towards the crown. As I neared the summit, I entered a small clearing. A boy, young and petulant, sat on a flat stone in its center petting a hyena standing beside him, his finger wrapping around a tuft of brown fur in the creature's hackles. A blood red python lay coiled at their feet. The boy reached into his pocket and the hyena cackled in anticipation. With a cold smile, the boy fed something, it was hard to see what, to his pet. I looked closer as the hyena chewed. I looked at my hands, first the right then the left. I felt no pain or remorse, but I knew what the hyena was eating. I looked again at the empty space on each hand where once there was a finger. The boy grinned again and fed the hyena his second treat. I stepped forward, but the beast would not let me pass, standing so as to block my every turn. I wavered back, and still the beast pursued, forcing himself against me bit by bit till I slid back into the sunless wood. There, I felt a strange sensation around my bare feet and, looking down, realized that I had stepped directly into the coil of the python. The snake began to slowly wrap itself around me, and as I felt my soul's ruin, a presence gathered before me in the discolored air: the figure of one who seemed hoarse from a long silence, hoary headed and long of face. He was reni like my ancestors and his fur was the color of gold and his eyes the deepest blue of night. He held his hand out for mine, and as I reached to grab it, I noticed the hyena descending quickly upon us. Without fear, I clasped his hand and he pulled me from the python's grip. It was almost as if I passed right through the snake's coils. A fog that had been building descended upon the wood. The boy and his pets still lay along my original path, but the reni showed me a route to the summit that appeared out of the primordial ether, and we walked the Wizard's Walk along it. On the crest of the hill stood a great oak tree under which sat the entrance to a cave. The mouth of the cave was not dark, yet it had darkness to it. The air there seemed to shimmer and glow despite the lack of light. The reni pointed to the cave. "I must travel through there," he said. "You may follow if you wish, but first, I ask only that you read this." He handed me a rolled parchment. "I cannot say that one path is better or easier than the other. Each has its rewards. Each has its challenges. The choice is yours to make." With that, he stepped into the shimmering darkness, leaving me holding the parchment alone, the wind blowing strongly through the leaves of the oak. I watched as the reni receded into the depths of the cave. As he moved further away, his form seemed to shift and I saw him take on a kaleidoscope of personas, some of men, some of women, some of whom I recognized, and some whose aura blinded any chance at recognition. As the figure slipped away into the nothingness of the cave, I turned my attention to the parchment. It was made from cobwebs woven together by a subtle, delicate magic that you could feel flowing from it. This is what it said. Greetings from yourself. Actually, I should say greetings from that which was yourself, for that which was is never exactly the same as that which is. If you are reading this, then I can only assume that you have died and your soul has been released. Do not worry, this is a good thing and is all a part of my plan. The first part actually. The shock of death does strange things to the memory. In time, as you became accustomed to your new state of being, all of what I am about to say would become evident to you. That is time, however, that we do not have. I will therefore try and spell things out as clearly, but as succinctly as possible. All of what you have just gone through and what you will soon go through arises from a rather difficult situation that I have found myself in. My body had become an experimental vessel for the ancient wyrm Inferno. This was not a mutually beneficial relationship and thus not entirely desirable for yours truly. When first Inferno began to assert his will over my body, I could not stop him. I was drugged and weakened and the dragon was far more powerful than I was. I found myself relegated to the deepest, smallest, and most secure recesses of my mind. Out of necessity, out of my need to not be erased from existence, came the plan. It was rather simple in nature. But, it was not something I could even think of attempting until the day that the wand appeared. Maana's wand. Inferno was using it, among other things, to aid his transformation. Contact with the god's power, even as remote as mine, lead to a clearing of my thoughts, a greater understanding, and out of this clarity, an idea gradually formed. First, I had to devise a way to kill myself, to dispose of the body in which my soul was now trapped (given the fact that you are reading this letter, I assume I was successful). Second, I had to find a way back. I worked in dreams, exerting subtle influence over those around me. My weapons were silence, exile, and cunning. While I could not assert direct change, I could influence. I could not plant a seed, but I could water a plant that was already there. Hence, I focused what I could of my will on Astaroth and the jealousy that I knew to live with him always. Inferno was slowly teaching him to use Maana's wand. I looked into Astaroth's eyes and I knew he longed to possess the power of the wand fully. He felt that Inferno was holding him back. I also saw glimpses of hatred, despite the fact that he tried to hide them, when he looked at me: the body of his former enemy transformed into such a powerful creature. I wove Astaroth's feelings while he slept. I let him know that I still existed, that I was waiting, biding my time, until the day I could destroy him with my newfound powers. I cultured his jealousy and hatred. I watered the garden of his mind. I pushed him closer and closer to the breaking point. This was the manner in which I hoped to kill myself. To drive Astaroth into such a rage that he would murder me, destroying this body, and setting me free. I can only smile now at the anger that Inferno must have felt as he sensed the body, and that part of himself that he had put in it, destroyed. The second part of the plan took a bit more thought. When my soul was released, what kind of power would I have? What kind of influence could I exert? I assumed that, once dead, I would not have the ability to simply will myself back. It became evident that I would have to arrange for my reincarnation in the mortal plane. I had to find a way to reach from this world into the spirit world. Again, I turned to Astaroth. In his dreams, I saw him standing over my dead body, a look of triumph on his face. He turned to darksilver pedestal in the center of the room and picked up the wand, caressing, it, feeling its power. Here, in this vision of the future, I saw my chance. I slowly began to weave a spell. It was not a big spell at all, for such a thing I could not accomplish. It was small and inconspicuous. Drawing on my research in the alteration of size, I sought to devise a way to expand magic beyond its intent. I surmised that, given a powerful enough spell, a small push could set the magic avalanching beyond what the caster had originally intended. It was this kind of push that I wove with the magic of the wand. I sought to compliment its power so as to more effectively hide my efforts. So we reach the point at which you now stand. If my spell works, time itself will be altered and you will have the opportunity to go back. Despite all of my efforts in this realm, I cannot make you return if you do not want to. The choice remains yours and I respect whichever direction you choose. -Renton As I folded the parchment, I felt a slight tug at my neck. My cloak, its thread now run out along the length of my journey, was slowly reweaving itself before my eyes. I picked up the thread, a bit in each hand, and pulled it taut. If I broke the string, I could sever the connection to what I once was and step into the shimmering cave. While I longed to see what lay beyond, I knew that I could not, and I dropped the thread, allowing it to weave back into place. I began to retrace my steps, pulled by the reforming cloak, pulled by the weaving of the spell. I walked back through the clearing and saw the python lying dead on the ground. I walked back through the woods until I reached the tree around which I had tied the end of the thread and watched as the knot became untied and the cloak became whole. For a moment, and I am not certain how long this moment lasted, there was nothing, an absence of all things. Darkness. Then, a flash of blinding light and I was drawn into it. Through it. I took a deep breath and felt air in my lungs. I opened my eyes. The reni midwife looked at me with surprise, for I did not cry. Something felt different. This was not the body I remembered. I looked at the reni who had given birth to me and the face was not the face I expected, not the face of my mother. I held up my hands and examined the smooth, empty space on each where a finger should have been, symbols of what I left behind on this long, strange journey. I would have to contemplate in further detail later why my original body was not returned to me. Perhaps only the soul is immortal, and only the soul could be affected by Astaroth's misshapen magic. I looked again at the woman who was now my mother and smiled. She smiled back, with love, but also with a look of slight fear and uncertainty, at the strange child that had just come from her womb. I heard a man's voice from the other side of the room. It was the voice of my father. He spoke one word. Tyne Class: MageRace: Human *Written with fine script on a long parchment* For months I've set aside the ordeal of making public events of my life. It is a difficult thing to sit down and write a brief record of the events that have taken place over a 23 year period, 18 of which I have clear recollection. But I will record vital this information not because I was asked by a scribe, but to fulfill an obligation to recorded history, my posterity and most important, myself. As an old man with a rotting mind I know I would rather read of myself above any other in the realms. My name in full is Tyne Aurus Masler, a Wizard trained on Falcion and in the Tower of Nexus. I write this account on Aalur the twelfth, and the month is Chrysalis. I was born the thirteenth of the month of Wildfire as first son to a successful merchant of Nexus. My father would trade goods with such places as Rymek, Talmet, and Rosehelm. I was told, when I was a child, that he would lead the caravans himself with but a few hirelings to aid him. My mother spoke of his proficiency with a blade and how impressive a warrior he had become after serving in the Nexus Guard. When told of these things, I would look at my fat, lazy father and wonder if they were true. By the time I was three years old my father's business had grown such that he did not have to travel. He grew lazy, fat, and old very quickly. At this time he was 45 years old and my mother 28. The attention of my parents was upon me solely. I was taught at a young age to read and write with a fine hand. Books were made readily available that I would be able to study and understand the harsh activity that surrounded my world. I rarely left my home being far too afraid to risk being hurt at this point in my life, but a desire to explore burned within me since the day I was born. At the age of 5 my mother taught me proper etiquette. She had felt it important for me to act like a noble, speak like a noble, and even walk as she felt a noble would. I heard say that she herself had traces of blood within her.. it mattered little to me. I was her puppet and showpiece. At this young age I felt as though something was missing in me. I had read about the gods and prayed to all, save one, as directed by my mother and found it did nothing to fill what was missing inside of me. It was not until the age of twelve that I had found my true calling and gift in sorcery. My mother had given birth to another by the name of Fhyn. He was far different from I. We were for the most part kept separate. He would spend much time with my father and I would be kept by my mother. At family dinners I would look across the table and see my own brother and think him a stranger. While I was quiet, he was loud, amiable, and the life of any gathering. I envied him for that- it was not until later that I found that he also envied me for my knowledge and the attention our mother gave me. At the age of 14 I had been fed up with my lot in life and he soon found out and attempted to aid me in my plight.. It was a Ruvur, probably in the month of Midnight. I remember it being fall, so I am fairly sure it was Midnight. Regardless, this was the first time my brother took me out to meet some of his friends. We left during the late evening to several taverns, and finally Trista's, where I met several people with whom I've been acquainted since. I had the time of my life that night and many nights after. A rebellious spirit grew within me. I would openly defy my mother and father daily. I would make a fool of myself in front of my mother's guests. I would no longer be their puppet to show off. I went so far as to pierce a gold ring threw the centre of my bottom lip. I did this at the age of 16; an act that angered my mother so much as to silence her for weeks. Throughout this madness I continued to study. My mind thirsts for knowledge and craves it. As I grew older I also began to work with the weave. Performing simple tricks and learning to draw from it under the guidance of a man I met during one of my tavern escapades. The circumstances by which I left my home to Falcion are something I will not record at this time. However, if you ask, and you are a beautiful woman, I will probably tell you. (I am of course kidding, I am very approachable) I will end my account here and I will write further as I feel it necessary. Final notes: My parents have remained nameless because it would cramp my hand to write them down. I still have a deep dislike for them for reasons unrecorded here. I will not be a subject to their manipulation any longer. Tyne Aurus Masler. Wilem Class: MageRace: Reni Wilem was born in the town of Lomak, in the south. Lomak was a trading port, a primarily human town, with ships passing through frequently, trading their wares. Into this port ventured Katori and Madelna, a pair of Reni travelers, recently wed. They planned a short stay in Lomak, since the human population here did not particularly like other races and merely tolerated them to trade with. A couple days after their arrival however, Madelna told Katori of a new life growing inside her. Katori was thrilled, but they both decided that Madelna should not travel further with child. Katori and Madelna had one child before, a daughter, who was stolen from them when she was but a month old. Thus, Katori went out in Lomak to seek employment, and was refused everywhere! However, Katori was a very resourceful and intelligent man, and saw an opportunity here. Using his savings, he opened an Import-Export Company. The business was shunned by the human populace at first, however Katori used his keen business sense to get more and more business from the traders, and eventually, while people complained about the Reni, they started using his business nonetheless, greed giving way to hatred. Wilem was born several months later, and for the next few years, things were good. The Reni family stayed mostly to themselves, and Wilem turned out to be an exceptionally intelligent child, even for a Renis. She learned under Madelna's capable tutelage. The child had fiery red hair, and an equally fiery spirit, loving every new thing she was introduced to. By the time she was seven however, she was becoming frustrated with the lack of contact with others. Madelna tried to shield the child from the racial slurs of the human children. At about this time, a representative of the Chioma family came to visit Katori. The Chioma family was a poor excuse for a Thieves Guild in Lomak. The Chioma had no sense of honor or fair judgment, and treated those who displeased them harshly. Witnesses seldom survived long enough to attest to anything a Chioma had done, and on the rare occasions they did, justice was never served. The Chioma representative explained the concept of "protection money" to Katori, who promptly refused, having never experience this sort of thing before. The next day, Katori walked into his offices to find them trashed. He went to the authorities, who laughed at him, having no sympathy for the Reni. Katori resolved not to give into the Chioma, and told the authorities this, and that he would be taking his family and leaving Lomak. When Katori returned home, he saw his wife, Madelna, lying on the floor. As he rushed into the room, something struck him on the back of the head and he fell beside his wife in a crumpled heap. Wilem was brought out of her room by one of the strangers who had come to visit her mother, she cried out, her parents were tied into chairs before her. The stranger held his hand over Wilem's mouth and forced her to watch as her parents were tortured, then killed. Wilem was shattered, she was taken into the service of the Chioma, her spirit, and her body on occasion, beaten. She was a very intelligent girl, and quickly learned how to behave to avoid the beatings. The Chioma became very impressed with her, they never needed to repeat anything to her, and she carried out her tasks diligently. Wilem was 12 the first time she was ordered to work at the brothel house, she nearly died that night, and ended up severely beaten. From that point on, she tried very hard to avoid being used in that way again, and a lot of the time she was successful, but some of the time she was not. Her love of life and fiery spirit were defeated, and she did not care about living anymore. The war of the races had begun by now, and a sizable group of goblins attacked Lomak, carving a path of destruction as they swarmed through the town. At this time, Wilem was with one of the elder Chioma brothers who had taken a liking to her. Distracted, the Chioma got up to go to the window and see what was going on. Wilem pulled a dagger from underneath the pillow and when the Chioma turned back to her, plunged it into his chest, and squealed with delight as she watched the light fade from his eyes. She ran then, not expecting to make it far, but not caring. Surprisingly, she made it to the street, and watched as a group of goblins approached her, swords drawn, and Wilem expected to die. A ball of fire erupted among the Goblins, throwing pieces of them along the street. Wilem looked around to see a tall man in sigiled robes behind her, and watched as he sent a bolt of lightning down the street to scatter another group of Goblins. Wilem was intrigued, and tried to repeat what the man had done, managing only to give herself a small shock. Wilem was intrigued, but disappointed. The man however, watched her and saw the enormous potential in this small, nearly naked child. She had watched him cast one spell and then managed to do some small magic afterwards. More goblins approached and the man held Wilem's hand and gestured and suddenly they were in another place. Dracus accepted Wilem as his pupil. She was very eager to learn, some of the old Wilem re-emerging, and she learned quickly. Wilem had developed into a very attractive young woman, and Dracus, while not being an evil man, was not really good either. Wilem very much wanted to learn, and paid the price Dracus required of her for training and protection. Travelers told Wilem one day of the Nexus. A place where races lived in harmony, where she could continue her studies unharassed. She told Dracus she wanted to leave, to go there, having learned the necessities of magic. In a gesture which surprised Wilem very much Dracus agreed to let her go. He gave her some gold marks, kissed her gently, and stepped back and gestured. The next thing Wilem knew, she was standing in another town. She watched in awe as a Human and what she could only believe was an Elf walked by together. Wilem was still a shambles however, her zest for life was gone, all faith in others destroyed. However, she found friends here, men who fought beside her, healed and protected her without asking anything in return! She found the teachings of Pandora, which gave her Hope, but most importantly she found Trista! Among the followers of Trista she regained her zest for life. Slowly, she began to like herself again, to trust others, and to enjoy life and what it had to offer. With her friends help, she advanced and joined the Mages Guild. She quickly advanced in the ranks of the guild. As soon as she was able, she pledged her allegiance to Trista, who accepted her and greatly enriched her life. She also had the joyous occasion of finding her long lost sister, who now went by the name of Ecips, who had also became a mage. Those who meet Wilem now would not suspect that this cheerful, vibrant person could ever have had such a horrible past, and that is just fine by Wilem! Xugosin Class: MageRace: Unknown I was born on Malkur, the second month of Twilight in the year 1,590 since the Godswar, and year 1,173 of the Empire. I was born of a loving home, riches, all you could want. Until that one day… the Hordes attacked my home, ravaged my mother, sister, and slit my father's throat in front of me. I watched him drown in his own blood, while those demented creatures cackled in pride. I was taken into captivity, and made a slave, dragging stones of tremendous weight over logs, to build outstanding forts. The Goblin SlaveMasters continued the pace of the slaves with the crack of their thick leathery whips. Many years as a kid, I grew up as a slave from the age of twenty, as the years went by, I was beaten, slashed, and punished for my attempts for a free life. For fifteen years I lived a life of harsh, and cruel torment. I could stand it no more! I knew it was times to make my well-earned departure. Years of planning, I came up with so many plans, but all of them had flaws, that would mean certain death if I were to attempt an escape then. A heavy sigh exhaled from my chest and a disappointment settled upon my heart. Until that day I knew that Pandora's smile shone upon me. A break in the clouds, and a lightning storm stirred amongst the blackened heavens, which covered the huge fortress. Though amazing of nature's beauty, it did not seem of nature at all. Then… BOOM! Yelling and screaming could be heard all over the camp. The prison cells awakened with life, and the seemingly lifeless bodies rose, and grabbed bars of the cell with curiosity. I stirred in my cell, looking every way I could, and then a silence broke… Then it happened… A horrible death cry came from a Goblin Shocktrooper, as he fell from the high walls of the fort, in front of me. The pitiful Goblin had arrows and scorched marks all over him, he reeked of burning flesh, which is a foul awful smell one never forgets. I looked into his eyes, and grinned with lust as I watched the pitiful Goblin's life drain out of him. Snapping out of my state of lust, I acted quickly. I aroused the slaves to take arms. The death of the 'trooper raised the moral of us tormented ones one-hundred fold, and all that was on our mind was… Freedom. We took the cloak of the fallen goblin, and others reached for his pike. We gathered the two and made our escape, by wrapping the cloak around the iron bars, and twisted with all our aroused strength to bend the bars just enough for a quick escape to the open. The slaves broke down the door, running over the Goblin guards, killing them as they trampled towards the exit. I peered outside, and saw the huge wooden-metal gates were burning and smashed to pieces. Amongst the fighting and crowd were different faces, some covered by heavy armor. Half-giants, Ogres, Elven, and Sprites banned together, to siege the fortress. The slaves also helped, throwing themselves in front of the strangers, to take the lethal blows the Goblins were intending to do on them. It was sickening…but the price of Freedom was at their fingertips, and would not escape them for a last time. As I looked around, to avoid the people and Goblins in combat, I saw an opportunity; so I began to run for the gate to make my escape. As I was about to leave this blasted hellhole, from no where, five Goblin-Wolfriders appear, pikes equipped and very angry. They began to advance through the door, and all I could do is sit there, backing up in a fear. I scooted across the ground, my hand brushing against a wood staff buried in the soil. I grasped it and stood my ground. I know I stood no chance against them, but I did not want to stand and be slain pointlessly, I would go down fighting, like I've been. My frail body, beaten, and starved of nutrients, made a stance, and shaking fear. My palms sweating, and my brow dripping of sweat. Two 'riders charge at full speed; pikes raised, and ready to impale me. I waited, as they charged, when I thought it was the best opportunity, I took a swing. As I hit the Wolfrider, I was sent back from a discharge of tremendous energy. I have never felt such power. A crackling could be heard amongst the air, as some stranger began to sing some sort of a magical song. She grinned, and continued to play her harp with passion. The 'riders turned and charged towards her. She did but smile at them with no sense of fear. The riders rode with rage, and dismounted from their charging wolves, pikes pointed towards the woman's chest. Then a figure flew in from the sky, and planted himself in front of her, hands raised, with frowned brows. The man in mystical robes screamed with rage, "Ions, energy, storm…discharge!" The air crackled, like burning coals. POP! POP! POP! CRACKLE! ringing in your ears, as lightning bolts discharged from the man's palms, striking the riders in mid-flight sending them back to their fellow riders, knocking them off their wolves, into the crowd of slaves waiting for them on the ground. I watched in amazement at the man's outstanding power. I got up, to thank the man, and I hear a howling. I turned quickly, and in slow motion saw this huge wolf, teeth bearing, leaped into the air, ready to pounce on me, and rip at my jugular. With a quick motion of a hand and quick words, "Thy flesh ignites with magical flames," the man once again saved me. The wolf's fur, and skin, bursts into flames, and a loud screeching sound came from the fried hound, as it fell on top of me. The flames quickly extinguish, but the corpse was still hot. I quickly pushed it off. I crawled over to the man, and stayed behind him for the remainder of the time. His lady friend began to tend to my wounds, and she had a relaxing look in her eyes, that help settle my nerves a bit. The man looked on as he saw his friends were in combat, flying off blasting those in trouble of being hit in the back. The siege lasted for two hours, and the remaining forces of Goblins were driven back into the cover of the forest. Many lay dead amongst the once proud Goblin Fortress, a few friends of the strangers, many of the Goblins, and the majority of the slaves. The strangers gathered 'round and checked each other of their condition. The strangers, gathered the remaining slaves, and gave them enough bread, cheese and water, and camped there for the night. The next day, the strangers began to make their trip back to their home city and beckoned the slaves to follow them back. We had nothing to return to, so we did so. A week's journey and most of the slaves were lost to poor health, or age. The strangers mourned for them, burying the fallen as they continued to travel. After a week's worth of traveling, the strangers finally reached their destination. They called it Nexus The City of All Races. As they said, it wasn't a lie, roaming along the streets, children of all races, played with each other. The strangers raised their arms, welcoming home again. The man and his lady friend showed me to their small home on the other side of the City, in the Boarding House. When we arrived, and went to their room, they opened the door, they weren't to proud of it, for it was small and cramped, but it was heavenly. It had a bed, something I had not slept in for the longest time. They offered me to rest up, and the man said he would come back for me. I did so, and slept for three days straight. After sleeping for the longest time, the man finally came back for me, and took me to a place to grab a bite to eat. I was starved, when we arrived, he asked for a buffet meal, and the best of the house. The owner did so, and I ate and drank to my heart's content. After eating, the man took me on a tour of the fair city of Nexus. He showed me around and showed me the many Guilds of recruiting of fair citizens, who chose and went to an island, called Falcion. He told me this place, called Falcion, is where people trained for many months, and are recruited into the Guilds we see here in Nexus. Though each individual trained for a specific guild they liked of their liking. After a while, when the trainers thought it was the Falcionite's time, the Falcionite would have to ask of any individual in Nexus for approval into the Guild of that individual. He went on about it, and showed me his Guild. A beautiful Ivory Tower shone with radiant magical light. He took me in, and showed me the place. I was amazed, and never seen something so beautiful. I stepped inside, and felt magical breezes sweep all over my body invigorating my senses. He showed me around, and taught me the essence of soulmagic being in every being, and how he could manipulate something called the Weave to do his desired command, like controlling the elements. After hearing his stories, I began to do research myself in the libraries of the city, about magicks. I spent most of my years, doing odd jobs in Nexus, but always kept my head in a book, always on a subject concerning magicks and its working. I learned many things about resistances, weaknesses, and strengths of a sorcerer. My passion grew for magicks, and I began to learn more and more. After so many years of learning how the Weave worked. I finally began to understand. My fascination of Black Magicks was my biggest thing. I read so much of the inner workings and how Astaroth came into possession of such spells as Mana-drain and Vampirism. The man, who saved me, noticed that I was venturing into dangerous territory, and stopped me one day, to follow him to a clearing in a meadow in the forest to the east of Nexus. He said, "I noticed you've been studying about soulmagic, and how the weave works, but your lust to learn of Black, and draconic magicks is dangerous if you do not have the proper training." "Well, you know of great knowledge, teach me about what you know," I replied. The man paced back and forth, pondering, then stopped to nod, "Alright, I will." We began to with the basic elements, Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. He told me to know of black magic, and possess it with greatness you must know and control the elements of Fire and Air, with ease. I listened to his teachings closely, but did not limit myself to just the Fire and Air elements, but immersed myself in other elements, just not as greatly. Thus began my training, for many years. That was twenty-seven years ago when I began, then finally my apprenticeship into the Island of Falcion at a prime age of sixty-two, where I could continue and learn more of this magic through life, as I help defend the fair city, called Nexus, City of All Races. Zany Class: MageRace: Sprite I have been asked by a few people about my background. Things like where I am from and why I am in Nexus. I have only recently been approached by a scholar from the libary asking for a written piece on my background answering those questions. So I have written a brief explanation of where I am from and how I got to be here. Provided this isn't a full explanation of my life. Just a brief of they key points that most people are interested in. The beginning, well as many could guess, I was born. My parents said I was the cutest little thing. As if we sprites arn't cute enough. Well anyways my parents are Acentrial and Lunis Rainbowleaf. My actual name is Zanifics Rainbowleaf. Everybody just called me Zany, cuter anyways. I lived in our village for nearly 30 years. Growing up, playing games, exploring the woods. Life was not all fun and games though for the village. There were a few threats that were very unfriendly to sprites nearby in and out of the forest. We of course learned how to protect ourselves. My own parents were quite skilled. The biggest problem was the goblins in the area. They would on occasion let loose their slaves to go on a rampage in the forest killing whatever they came accross. For the most part this wasn't a problem, they never came close to our village. They had help in that department though. It was that one fateful time they did stumble upon our trees and realized what they were that I will always remember. The slaves and goblins with them for the fun of it quickly starting burning things down. We did the only thing we could do. Leave and leave fast. I went with them of course. As we were flying between the trees were were ambushed by a couple troll steathslaves. I got separated from the group, I'll be honest I ran like a coward in the clearest direction. It would be years before I would see my parents again, but that is another story, one which happaned after I came to Nexus. After the ambush I hid for the rest of the day and the next went back to the remains of the village. It was burnt badly and nobody was around. After exploring I had no idea what to do. So I went exploring, for anybody. After about a week I ran into a human man. Told him my story and he basically took me to Nexus. Took a few weeks to travel over the Crystal Mountains. That is basically how I ended up here. I know its nothing too grand or out of the ordinary. Though most would consider me as a sprite very out of the ordinary. Where I come from most of us are like that. Fun loving yet deal with what needs to be done before it's too late. If anybody wants to know more they are free to ask me myself. Zenga Class: MageRace: Sprite Memtrok, a Reni Scribe, walked into the Ivory Tower, headquarters of the Nexus's Mage Guild. The Mage Guild had requested for a Reni Scribe to come. Memtrok got the call. Memtrok went up the stairs and walked to Room #11 and knocked on the door. A voice from inside the room said come in and Memtrok opened the door. Standing inside the room when Memtrok walked in was an elf wearing Mage Robes. Memtrok instantly reconized the elf, it was Zenga, a very powerful mage. Zenga told Memtrok to come in and take a seat in a chair that was about to fall apart from so much use. Zenga sat in another chair, which was in the same shape. Memtrok looked at Zenga. Zenga was one of the strongest mages he ever saw. Huge muscles could be seen bulging out of the baggy robe he wore. His arms were covered with scars, probibly from all of the battles he must have fought against the Goblins. His face had a very young look on it. And his eyes, Memtrok never saw anything like them. Glowing in a light blue color, Zenga could instantly make anyone's eyes look at his. Then Zenga said, "I am sorry the Guild called you so quickly. The Goblins are advancing again on the city and in great numbers. I wanted you to interview me so you can make my history. I want other people to know about my life in case this is my final battle." Memtrok nodded, to shocked to say anything. Zenga, personally asking me to interview him! Wait until the other scribes hear about this! "Z-Zenga, this is a great honor. Are you sure?" said Memtrok finally. "Yes, I am sure. I suggest you get a lot of paper to write this stuff down on. I have a lot of things to say." said Zenga. Memtrok got his bag and took out some paper and quills. Zenga got up while Memtrok was getting ready and got a drink that he bought from Trista's tavern. When he got back, Memtrok was ready to begin. "Ok, well where do I begin?" asked Zenga. "How about your early years?" said Memtrok. "I guess that is a good place to start." Zenga said, then he looked out of his window, overlooking the entire city. Memtrok noticed that the blue glow of his eyes seemed to flicker. Finally Zenga said, "Well my early years was very painful. I was born as the son of the King and Queen of Hanstroc, a elven kingdom well north of Elven City. Hanstroc had been in peace for 500 years. Even the oldest of the elders hadn't been alive during the last war. Even so, my parents made sure that the army was the best in the known land." Zenga again looked at his window and seemed to drift off out of reality. Memtrok waited patiently for him to continue. "I was the first son of my parents and was the heir to the throne. I was treated by the servants of my parents like a king, even better than one. My parents had been the rulers of the kingdom for 250 years, the most ever by a king and queen of our kingdom. But they were getting old and wanted me to be prepared in case I had to rule the kingdom at a young age." said Zenga. "My father said I was capable of becoming the king when I was 4 years old, meaning I could rule from that age on if something happened to my parents." Zenga said. Then Zenga paused and looked at the window again. Memtrok realized that Zenga was getting to a difficult part of his life story. Zenga took another drink and then started to talk again. "When I was 9, the Goblins invaded Hanstroc. The border outposts of the kingdom reported that the Goblins were headed in the direction of the capital, which was named Hanstroc too. That was the last word anybody ever heard from those outposts. My parents gave the order to have the people of the kingdom brought into the capital, for a final stand." said Zenga, with his voice getting weaker everytime he talked. "A month after the invasion began, the Goblins reached the walls of the capital. My father's army was the strongest known army in the world, but the Goblins were the first army in thousands of years to even give a challenge to my father's army, so it was going to be a very bloody battle. Just about everyone in the city was given weapons, even the young ones and the elders were given weapons. My father gave me an elven bow and a dagger." said Zenga, then he closed his eyes, his face in pain. Finally, after a long time, Zenga started to talk again. "My father's army stopped every charge the Goblins did for 2 months. Thousands of my father's men and the enemies died. My father's army lived up to it's reputation. But the Goblins didn't give up, plus they had reinforcements. My father sent Rock Birds to the neighboring kingdom's requesting aid. No one came. My father believed that the Goblins must of taken them out." then Zenga closed his eyes again and tears started to come out of them. "Then one day, the Goblins broke through the walls. My father's army was torn to pieces. Every person in my father's kingdom fought all day to try to drive the Goblins back. The Goblins managed to capture the entire city except the royal palace, where the remaining people of Hanstroc stood their ground. My father and mother decided to fight too, they would die instead of living instead of their people." Zenga stopped and tears continued to come from his eyes. "Right before my parents went into battle, my father gave me a device and said, 'This is a teleport device Zenga. Use it if the Goblins break into the palace. The device was made by a mage visiting this city on a trip years ago. The mage said that this device would send the user to a safe place in the event of it's use. I have kept this device safe for years, hoping I wouldn't need to use it. You must take a chance. If my kingdom falls, you will be the last survior, the last one who knows about the Goblins.' My father then got some papers from his pocket and said, 'Give these papers to the leader of the safe place you will go to, if the device works. They will talk about this kingdom and they will show what worked and didn't work against the goblins. Hopefully, these papers will give others a better chance to survive. Now I have to go. Good bye my son.' Then my father left after giving me a hug. My mother cried and kissed me forever, then sounds of the Goblins advancing were heared and she left." Zenga again stopped and closed his eyes then said, "The Goblins were held back for another day, the remaining people throwing back every attack by the Goblins. The next day, the Goblins attacked, but weren't stopped this time. Everyone in my father's kingdom died. While I watched from a window, I saw my father and mother fighting until they were covered up by the Goblins. Then I used the device." Zenga then said, "The device teleported me to a big ivory tower. I went inside, somehow being told by someone to go inside. I wondered around until I found an unlocked door and went inside of it. The room was full of scrolls and books. A desk was at the back of the room and an old man with robes on sat at it. He motioned me to come forward. So I did." Zenga then said, "The old man revealed to me that he was the mage that gave the teleport device to my father. He said that the gods of the land told him one night in his dreams to do it, so he did. He said now he understands why. The only reason, he said, that this would happen is because you have some role in saving the Nexus. I then asked what was the Nexus. He said that the Nexus was the city of all races and one of the only remaining cities not taken over by the Goblins. I was shocked that he thought I was one of the saviors of this city. He said that he will begin to train me the magicks of the land, to get me ready for the day I have to help save the Nexus. I agreed, having no thoughts other than to seek revenge against the Goblins." Zenga took a deep breath then said, "I trained for years, the old man continued to have me practice spells even though I already mastered them. One day, he said, I will thank him for all of this training. I continued to practice with him until I was 19 years old, when something happened that changed my life forever." Zenga said after a deep breath, " The Goblins mounted a huge attack on the city. The old man (I never did learn his name), ran to help stop the invasion. Then a huge flash of light came from the gates and the whole world went dark. Then a spirit appeared before me, it took a minute before I could recognize it. It was my master, the old man. The old man said that his time has come, I have to take his place in the world. He said that I will become a very powerful mage, even more powerful than him. He said goodbye and then left in a puff of smoke." "Now I am fighting the Goblins, using my magic and my personal charge to avenge my parents death and the fall of Hanstroc. Recently, I became a follower of hope, hoping to give hope to other victims and the fighters that keep the city safe for all that live in it." Zenga said. "Some of the adventuers in the city continue to say that I am going to become a very powerful mage, perhaps the most powerful mage in history. I don't believe I will be that powerful, although I have seen how powerful my magic has already become." said Zenga. "I am getting told by telepathy that the Goblins are attacking again, please excuse me. I have told everything that I want known." said Zenga, who then grabbed his weapons, backpack, and robes and left quickly. Zerlin Class: MageRace: Elf Born Thalion, Drau for Dauntless, Zerlin's father was a brilliant elven strategist, while his mother was a cleric for the band of elves. He grew up in a small village named Black Hill. The village had been named this because it sat at the base of a hill charred many times by the storm dragons that attacked years ago. His village was one at war with the neighboring bands of elves, and many battles did he watch while growing up in Black Hill. When he was 7, a party of elves who had been warring over Tilnar's acension with his own, attacked the tribe. Young Thalion watched the battle from a safe hiding spot in the roof of his father's house. The battle caused many causulties on both sides, but then Draugdae, the village's leader of hunts, attacked his father and killed him with one arrow through the neck. Thalion's mother unable to contain herself ran to his side, and even as she was attempting to ressurect him, another arrow hit it's mark and his mother fell dead at his father's side. After the battle, Thalion saw Draugdae embrace Eladamri, the lord of the light elves. Thalion was consumed with rage at the betrayal of Draugdae. This elf had been his teacher in the ways of the woods, and had been his father's friend. The rage burned in Thalion and he prayed. Prayed for an answer to why Draugdae did this, then prayed for an answer of how; how he would kill him. Thalion burned his parents' bodies as they were a symbol to him of friendship and joy. He would no longer feel joy, only the darkness that now plagued him. He roamed the forest when a wandering hermit, a human mage named Liam, found him and took him in. Thalion never spoke to the mage. Liam taught him many things and when he thought Thalion was ready, he sent him out into the world of the Nexus with a new name, Zerlin. Zerlin spoke no words, but Liam knew he had a burning hole inside him. Zerlin Rage would have his revenge. Zerlin Rage would overcome.Monks Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Ahtram Class: MonkRace: Orc A story you say, the story of my life. This will be interesting. Perhaps, I should begin in the beginning. I was born into a middle class family. My father an officer of law and my mother a local seamstress. I grew up like any young child. I went to school, performed my chores and played many games. When I was around the age of 12 my father began teaching me his trade, I was amazed at the work he did for just being one person. One fateful night a band of mercenaries came to our village seeking lodging and food. The local Inn took them in and they started to drink immediately. Often when people drink they become loud, rowdy and violent. This is exactly what happened and my father was sent to calm them down. Of course, I tagged along to observe. My father walked into the Inn and spoke with them. The Inn became quite, an eerie quite. Time seemed to stop in its place. I blinked and it was done. A mercenary backstabbed my father in through the throat. In blind rage I attacked the man, then blackness came. There was about thirty of us, shackled and chained to a wagon. We plodded along, being pulled by the wagons movement. I heard from nearby whispering men that our village had been pillaged and everyone enslaved. All able bodied people were shackled and chained, while everyone else was killed. This is the day I became a man, no longer was I a child. I was sold to a mage named Sityol who taught me to write, as I was to be his scribe. Sityol had many slaves; one I befriended was named Katereena. She was the handmaiden of Lady Sityol. Beauty is the only word that I could use to describe Katereena. Her and I hated being slaves, and plotted to escape to freedom. We came up with a simple plan. We would pour some sleeping potion for Sityol's laboratory into the evening dinner. While everyone slept, we would escape to freedom. Dinner came, and everyone slumbered as we walked out of the gates of Sityol's manor. Freedom, at last, freedom. We traveled all night until we collapsed, as I fell asleep I felt drawn to the south. I woke with the sun glistening in my eyes, while Katereena still slept Something was wrong though, she was white as a ghost and drenched in her own sweat. I picked her up, cradling her in my arms; I walked south searching for help. Hours passed, and Katereena's condition became worse. I began to panic, I ran as fast as I can south towards a town. My legs began to burn and my bones ached. I could not go any further. As I used my last ounce of strength to enter the gates of a small fishing village, I collapsed screaming, "Help Me!" I woke up in a bed that smelled like lavender. Getting out of bed I noticed my clothes had been changed. I regained my thoughts and blurted "Katereena!" "Calm down," replied an elderly voice. A man in white robes entered the rooms, with emerald blue eyes and gray hair. "Your friend is being aided as we speak," he continued as he took a seat in the corner, never taking his eyes off of me. "Is ... is ... is she going to live?" I asked taking my seat on the bed. "To be honest, we do not believe so, but, she was awake earlier and asked to speak with you," the old man replied. The old man motioned me to her room and I proceeded in, walking over to her bedside. She was so white, white as snow, and so sickly looking. I sat next her and slipped my hand into her grasp. I sat there while she slept, never letting go. In the morning she was dead. I did not know what to do with my life now. My life revolved around Katereena so much. I roamed around the town aimlessly, for awhile, just thinking. I eventually came to a tavern and ordered a drink. I sat there drinking some ale when I heard some young men talking about an island where people train to fight a Goblin Horde in a city called Nexus. I decided with nothing else to work towards that I should make a new life in this place called Falcion. Here I am now, on Falcion, training, living my new life as a Monk. I work towards Kuis'arden, a inner balance of myself. I hope to achieve this balance in the future, but not today, today I learn. Ailmar Class: MonkRace: Elf My name is Ailmar Larethian. I am a monk, serving under the Monastery in the city of Nexus. Ive dedicated my life in the search for Kuisarden since I was discovered on the shores of Rymek about four decades ago. I was discovered by some traveling monks and was taken in and nurtured into health at the Monastery in Nexus. I cant recall how long it took for me to recover my health, but during that time, the monks treated me with a kindness and sincerity that patterned the care I had received from my mother, Anariel. With my noble impression of them, I did not hesitate to take upon the life of a monk when Elistan, the guild master at the time, offered an invitation for me to join the Monastery. It has been 43 years since my initiation. I am now a respected monk of the Monastery and of Nexus. It was only days ago when the Ivory Tower had requested that a history of my life be submitted to them for archival records. At the time, I didnt feel too interested in telling my past, but I realized that I was a part of Nexus, and that leaving a piece of my past would seal my immortality, if not in the literal sense. On the 26th day of the month of Midnight in the year 1584, I was born on a cold, winter night on an island far away from either Nexus or Falcion. My father was a noble lord who watched over the island as his duty to the Elven King. My mother, Anariel, was a beautiful elven princess from a lineage that traced back to the beginning. I realized that I wasnt the only son when I saw from my newborn eyes a pair of clear white eyes in front of me. I didnt know what it was, but I realized that I wasnt alone. I realized that I had an older brother and his name was Kieron. As soon as I could walk on my own, we were inseparable. We would take long adventures out in the forest seeking invisible fiends and demons. I didnt like exploring the countryside, but Kieron never got bored of it, even if we had been there before. We mustve explored the whole countryside in just one month. One evening, we ran out after our dinner and ran towards the lake beside the oak tree. On our journey, we encountered a small ferocious black bear. At first, we didnt know what to do. Kieron had a wooden sword that he had been practicing with but we knew it wouldnt do much harm to the bear. We knew most bears were friendly, but this had an ominous glare to it. It swiftly lunged towards my older brother and swiped him across the chest with his heavy paw. I wasnt old enough to carry a weapon so I rushed at the bear with all my might. Surprisingly, the bear toppled backwards from the unexpected blow. I knew that I had not hurt it too bad and it would tear us apart even worse. I looked at Kieron, and saw that he was bleeding profusely. The bear had recovered his stance and slowly moved around us. We stood ready but we knew that we would not survive if we couldnt think of something. Suddenly, arrows flew swiftly into the bears head and chest. We looked behind us and saw archers from our castle with our father on his horse. Suddenly, Kieron collapsed and I grabbed him from falling. We were quickly taken back to the castle and to the healer. I was quite exhausted from the event and just lay slumped to the wall waiting for my brothers condition. After four hours, the healer came out and said that Kieron was going to be fine, other than a large scar on his chest. That night, our father decided to do something about us after the incident. He realized that living on the island, isolated from other elvish children that we were missing out on your childhood. Plus, at the mainland, we could learn the warrior arts or something else to defend ourselves. So, he decided to send us to the mainland within a months time. The thought somewhat scared me. I wasnt ready to leave my home, which I had lived for 20 years. But, I knew my fathers word was law. So, I stayed with my brother and comforted him while he recovered from his wound. A month flew by quickly and we found ourselves with our mother, Anariel, on a ship sailing towards the mainland. The skies were clear as we left the port and the weather seemed calm. We sailed for about two hours before it suddenly started raining. The rain started to pick up and started to come down so fast that visibility was reduced to about 2 feet. The winds at the time were also blowing like a fury. I dont know why, but at that moment, I felt the same feeling I felt when I had encountered that bear. I couldnt place it, but it was like the moment of fear, where you dont know whats going to happen. Suddenly, the ship rocked with such a force that I was thrown off the bridge and into the cold, rushing waters. I looked up and tried to stay afloat but could not see what was happening to the ship. As the waves crashed into me, my strength faltered and Id sought out some sort of flotation device. Luckily, I found a piece of barkwood that had supposedly been broken off from the ship. I held unto it with my life, not knowing what would happen to me. The storm kept up for days it seemed, and exhaustion took over me. When I woke up, I saw two people dressed in brown robes helping me up. I spoke to them in elvish, Where is my brother? My mother? They did not reply and just shook their heads. They started lifting me up and I could not resistdarkness. Arakis Class: MonksRace: Drow Arakis had been reading and writing since he was a little boy. So naturally, instead of hiring scribes, he wrote all of his letters, correspondence, books, etc. on his own. He was, after all, a monk, one of the most educated professions in the Nexus. On a typical day when he wasn't out protecting the city he loved, he could be found in the monestary, sitting at a table covered with papers, scrolls, and books, reading through all of the material slowly and carefully. He made it his duty to learn everything and anything in order to gain knowledge that he can use to save the city. However...this day he had a different task on his mind: it was time he wrote his history down. He wanted to start writing books and publish them so his fellow heroes can read them and be inspired by his stories. Arakis figured that the best way to get people to be interested in his stories is to write the real story about his life. So he set out to write his history...and it goes something like this... ====== I was born on Aalur, the seventh of the month of the Prairiefire, in the year 1,590 since the Godswar, and the year 1,173 of the empire. My mother died when I was very young from some disease or plague I believe. My father was a well-known and wealthy merchant. Part of his job was to travel to all of the great cities of the world. So wherever he went, I went, learning along the way the lessons required to be a merchant. One of these days when I was still very young, my father and I were walking in a forest towards what he said was the City of All Races, the Nexus. I was very excited, since I have heard about the great legends of the Nexus, that fought the Goblin Horde. We were ambushed by a Goblin patrol. My father, who once upon a time served for the Nexus army, wielded his sword and what magical devices he had and fought the Goblins. He yelled to me to hide in the woods. I watched most of the battle, as my father tried to keep me and him alive. Goblin after Goblin fell, some to his sword, some to his magical devices. But the alarm had been sounded and more Goblins arrived. In one last hopeless move, my father a device to momentarly blind the Goblins so he could make an escape. He yelled to me to meet him at the Nexus and he disappeared in the woods, chased by 20 or so Goblins. I ran as hard as I possibly could towards the Nexus. After hours of running, I collapsed on the ground and slept. I didn't awake for was must of been a day. When I awoke, hungry and thirsty, I set off once again for the Nexus. That day...I found my father's body, or what was left of it, nailed to a tree. His body was torn to pieces. I cried and cried, not knowing what to do. Finally, I decided to try to reach the Nexus. I reluctantly left my father's body and continued on my journey. Two days later, I was discovered by a group of Nexus heroes. After hearing my story, the group gave me food and water while several of them went to retrieve my father's body. When they returned, we held a funeral and buried his body outside the Western Gates. I was practically adopted by a monk at the monk's guild. Noticing that I was very smart, could read and write, and physically strong, the old monk began to train me for life as a monk. A year or so later, he died in another invasion and the rest of the guild pretty much adopted me. I practically grew up as a monk, although I was too young to begin my formal training. Finally on my 62 birthday, I was told it was time for me to begin my real training. I value life at all costs, but I will not hesitate to kill if it means to save the Nexus and my fellow heroes. This is my home now and I will not stop defending my city unless I am killed or the Goblins are driven off for good. ...to be continued... Arlis Class: MonksRace: Human I was born to a wealthy and noble family of Nexus on Malkur, the twenty-ninth of the month of Midnight, in the year 1,616 since the godswar, and year 1,199 of the Empire. I am thirty- eight years old as I write this. When I was a small boy I had nearly anything my heart desired. The best foods to eat, the best clothes, social standing (when I grew older) and servants at my every beck and call. My father promised me everything. He told me all that was his would one day be mine. This included quite a number of businesses, famrs and land, not to mention the people occupying some of it. Being as any son to a father I believed every word and began to grow up in his image. It wasn't until I was ten or eleven years old that I began to question my parents and the way we lived. I was with my mother walking through the busy market. She spent an entire morning buying whatever pleased her eye. We were near the Town Square when it happened. A dirty old man came to her, crawling on his knees with his head bowed and hands raised up, begging for money. He said something about how hungry he was. I wasn't walking next to my mother, but a little further back. I watched him, like any other man, and my heart was filled with compassion. I wanted to help him and above all else I wanted to see my mother help. She only ignored, passing him by and leaving him to the cobbles of the street. My mother called out to me to hurry along. I crouched next to him. I pressed several gold pieces into his hand, and at that moment I was caught in a gaze of pure green. It seemd that time itself stopped. Why does he suffer like this? Since that day I thought differently and questioned my life as it was. Both parents recognized my change, condemning it at first but soon they had to get used to it. I hated thte fact that some people were less fortunate then I. I hated seeing the homeless and refugees wandering the streets with nowhere to go and no place to sleep. Several times when my parents were away I brought some of these people into my house to let them eat or bathe. On one of these occasions the two men I brought in robbed the house. As soon as I shut the door a gag and left me to the mercy of my parents, which was hardly any. The fine silver was gone, my mother's jewls and several of my father's collectable swords. I tried to explain that if they had taken it they need it more then we. I screamed saying all that stuff did was collect dust and now they were atleast feeding two hungry men or more. By the time I was sixteen I couldn't take it anymore and devoted myself to the Monastery and ways of a Monk. Since then I've been on a journey for inner piece and enlightenment. One of the major lessons I've learned so far is that every one is looking for the same thing. Indeed, it is one shared by all sentient beings. The desire or inclination to be happy and to avoid suffering knows no boundaries. It is in our nature. As such, it needs no justification and is validated by the simple fact that we naturally and correctly want this. Arwyn Class: MonksRace: Half-Giant I was born a simple man. The son of two half-giants who had devoted their lives to clerical duties. We lived in a small village near the city of Taerival. I grew up happily enough playing with the other children of the village. I suppose ever since I was little you could call me kind hearted. Which often I was picked on for, also being short only nine feet for my race didn't help matters. But I took everything with good stride, helping all those that needed it. I couldn't stand to see anybody or anything in pain. It became quite evident I was very passionate in anything that interested me, diving head first into my interests. When I had matured I devoted my time to studying, learning all things that I could. This is where I learned of hand-to-hand combat. I approached my father telling him of my interest. At first he was skeptical, we lived in a peaceful village. He was a wise man though and well aware of the goblins pillaging in villages all across Altin. He thought this over for some time and finally agreed it would be a useful skill to learn, thus began my training. It was a long and slow process, for I was not well coordinated. I am patient though and after many years of practicing my training paid off. I was quicker and more agile; my blows against my practice dummy were on target more and more often. My father watched me at times and noticed how far I had come. He knew our village was well hidden and the goblins threat was a minimal concern to us. He pulled me aside one day and suggested that I travel to the island of Falcion to further my training and aid the city of Nexus in anyway I could. At first I was not too fond of this idea. Leaving everything I had ever known. My childhood playmates, my mother and father. I thought this over for many months and I finally agreed with my father. I packed the few possessions I owned and set out to find the isle. I traveled many days and many nights, stumbling down along the mountain pass. I then found myself in the woods I would later know as the Eldane, and eventually I found a path that I followed. I then found myself staring at the Eastern Gates of the city of Nexus. A guardsman opened the gates for me and I walked inside. I knew Nexus was the city of allied races, but I did not realize some of them would be so small. I had to watch my step all the way down Market Street. I quickly spotted a citizen and asked them how I was to get to the island of Falcion. She was a kind woman and she smiled as she spoke. "Well just head south to the southern gates lad, and then follow the beaten path to the sea town of Rymek, you can't miss the sloop that will take you there." I smiled politely to the woman and thanked her. I soon found myself wondering down that beaten path and soon came to the town of Rymek, it wasn't a large town and she was right I found the sloop without any problems. Once aboard a man asked me "What guild are you hoping to join?" I quickly answered, "I shall be a monk" Once we arrived I was apprenticed and began to further my training in hand to hand combat. Ba'roon Class: MonkRace: Human "I was born in the month of the Phoenix, to a small family in the village of Dilktar. I spent my first few years in carefree bliss, playing with the other children in the village. I thought it would last forever." "I was wrong." "In my sixth year, plague took our village. Only a few survived; my parents were not among them. Famine might have finished us off, were it not for the monks who came to aid us, until the nearest village could send someone. I and the others were given new homes among the village, with those who had no family of their own, being glad to take us in. Yet unlike those from my former village, I found that I was not content merely to settle into my new life, and hope for the best. I could not forget the face of the kindly monk who had brought us fresh food, when we were still too weak to fend for ourselves, and stayed with us for those few days. No--more than that--I wanted to be like him, and help others. Thus, I announced my intentions to my new 'parents'; that when I grew up, I was going to be a monk. They tried to dissuade me, saying that I was still distraught over the loss of my family, and when I was older, I would feel differently. But the next year, when a monk passed through on his way back from another village, and stayed the night, I still felt as strongly as I had then. So that night I said a farewell, and the next morning I asked the monk if I might accompany him. At first he said no, that it was a long journey and I should wait until I was older. But then, when he saw how adamant I was, he agreed that I could come with him, back to the Monestary." "We travelled for almost two weeks, for the Monestary was far away, in the forest just north of the River Vadcror. When we arrived, I was taken to the Master of the Monestary, a elderly man in a white robe. He told me that the Monastic life was not for all; he spoke of a solitary way, and said it was a path of great hardship. My faith was not shaken in the least; seeing this, he spoke no further, but instead, the monk I had come in with directed me to a small cell, where I was to spend my next ten years . . . but I get ahead of myself." "The Monestary had a well-maintained garden that was open to the sky, though walls surrounded it, to keep the animals from eating it all up. A pair of stout wooden doors provided entrance to the fields outside, and another archway led to the Monestary proper." "I was new to the Monestary, but I settled into my new life with the greatest of ease; there were classes to attend, and things to learn -oh, so many new, wondrous, things to learn! - I could go on forever about the time I had there . . . " "I learned my letters there, and this opened me to the knowledge contained in books. I was taught various mental techniques, among them how to focus my memory and memorize any event for perfect recall later; how to transcend the world physical, and enter the world spiritual; and through this, how to clear my mind of all thoughts, and meditate, becoming in tune with the universe around me. I was taught the rudiments of first aid, andself-defense." "I came to feel that seeking to attain understanding of the spiritual was a worthwhile goal; I felt that I could stay forever, and spend my time in contemplation of all the mysteries of the world. Oh, my desire to help was not forgotten; but there was so much to learn here, so much more to know!" "Alas, this also was not to last." "It was in my tenth year at the Monestary. I had found myself restless that evening, and could not sleep; so I had gone out to the garden to catch a breath of fresh air. I saw the old Master then; he was also out in the garden, and he had a worried look upon his face. I asked him, 'What dost bother thee, Master?' and he replied, 'I do not know . . . yet I feel a dread in my bones, as though something terrible were coming . . . why are you here, Ba'roon?'. I replied that I could not sleep, and had come out in the hopes that the garden might help me to relax. We might have continued this conversation further, save that we heard a noise outside, and he went to check upon it. I heard a sharp cry of pain from outside, and rushed out to see a horrible creature lowering my Master to the ground, a sword stuck through his side. I was unable to hold back a small cry of terror; the creature, which I later came to know as a Goblin, glanced up, yelled something in that guttaral tongue of its, and charged me. It did not take the time to draw its weapon from my Master's body, this alone probably saved me. I was able to knock it down easily, and then I heard the sound of footsteps. Glancing up, I saw a much larger group of Goblins approaching, attracted by the yelling. One of them in the rear was slowing down, his hands weaving in serpentine motions. There were five more of them, two like the one I had just faced, and the others looking far more formidable. I was distracted by a sharp pain in my foot; the Goblin on the ground had pulled out a dagger, and was stabbing me. I fell to the ground, as a ball of fire whizzed past my head and hit the wall in an explosion of flames. The passing heat singed my robe, and with a haste born of desparation, I hurled myself inside the doors, shutting and barring them behind me. I could hear shouting behind me, and I knew that I had only moments. My gaze darted to the large tree next to the far wall, which I had climbed up many a summer evening. Now, it seemed my most likely avenue of escape. I scampered up as quickly as I might, and dropped over the wall just as I heard the door being smashed down. Glancing around, I did not see any more of those foul monsters, though I could hear them clearly. I paused a moment in indecision, uncertain of whether I should try to sneak back inside and warn the others, or try to get away to Lagus, the nearest village. I heard voices right on the other side of the wall then, one snapping commands, and I could hear screaming from inside. That made up my mind, I was too late to do anything for my fellow monks, I had to warn the villages. I made a break for the treeline, running freely and not stopping until I was well within the trees. I stopped, slumping to the ground, my sides aching . . . I attempted to calm myself, and attain inner peace through meditation. When I was unable to do so, I bandaged my foot,and prepared to set off again. As I did so, I smelled smoke, and looking back the way I had come, I saw a sullen red glow from above the treetops. I knew with a sick certainty that the Monestary was burning. After another hour or so of running, tripping actually, through the forest, I sat down to meditate again. I was successfull, and the pain in my ankle faded away. The trip to Lagus would normally have taken three days. I made it in two, by hurrying through deer trails in the forest, and not stopping to rest as often as I should have." "I arrived in Lagus exhausted, and upon speaking to their elders, found that they already knew of the Goblins (I was then able to put a name to them) from those who had already passed this way, fleeing from the Hoarde. I was given a place to sleep for the night, and when I awoke, I looked around me to see people packing their last few belongings onto wagons, and some already moving towards the road. I was wondering what to do, when I saw a merchant struggling with a load; I helped him move it into the wagon, and in return he offered to let me ride with him a ways." "We joined up with a larger stream of refugees heading west, and I talked with some of the troubadors . . . they spoke of a city called Nexus, where a group of people were banding together to turn back the Goblin Hoardes, and ultimately defeat them. I was inspired by their bravery, and decided to go to them, to aid in any way I could . . . " "The bards gave me directions, and after much travel, I arrived at Nexus. Upon asking where I might help, I was told that I did not possess enough skill to fight the Goblins, but that if I wished to be taught how, the Dragons had an island called Falcion, where I could begin my training safely. I gladly accepted, and so it was that I came to Falcion, the city of apprentices." Bersola Class: MonksRace: Orc The tavern was a damp and smokey place and as Kildrim the story teller entered he saw many shadows lurking along the walls. He had seen many men and women that had earned glory and honor in combat, but not many of them had been sitting in such a filthy place. As he let his eyes sweep pass the men and women sitting, he saw an odd figure sitting close by the fire place. He walked close by the tall hooded man that was sitting beside a table . As he stood close to the robed figure one of the bar keepers threw a handful of twigs at the fire wich made it light up and for a second banish the shadows. At that moment Kildrim saw the face of the man wich was sitting down at the table. He saw an face that had not been scared in battle, but the scared mind of the figure was painfully showing. "Greetings," Killdrim said as the man noticed him. The man shock his head and spat at the ground. He drank deeply from his mead mug and sighed. Kildrim stared at the man and said: could I ask you a few questions? The man looked up again and said: do as thou wish but I let thee know that fears that you hide from are not to be found here. Kildrim did not understand much from what the man mumbled but he sat down next to him. Are you one of the known nexus heoroes ? he asked. I am no hero. Said the man with a proud voice. I do not seek fortune. All I seek is forgivness. Forgivness? Said Kildrim. Yes forgivnes said the man. I am a monk, a person seeking forgivnes for what he has done. Not all monks seek foregivness, but I must. Ok. Said kildrim that thougth that even if this man wasn't a hero atleast he could be pretty interesting to write about. The man frowned slightly and said: My name is Bersola and I was born on a little village in the south of Nexus. I was raised by my mother and father. I lived there with my sister Serenade and my two twin brothers Karan and Brokk . They were raised by my Fathers first wife. She had died seven years before and my father that had many wifes had settled with only one , my mother. We were all orcs in the village, and even so it was a peaceful and kind place. One day though, it changed. My half-uncle , my fathers first wifes brother, came to our house one day and asked If we could shelter him for a few months. My mother did not lik this idea but my father said yes. Soon after this my father was called out into battle by the village elder men. They were too hunt down a band of rampaging bandits. My uncle was the only man in the village who staid, claiming that we was weak from illness. After this things changed. He started beating me and my sister. Many times the beatings evolved into torture were he cut the skin in my arm and poured salt into the wounds. Although my sister and I was beaten he never touched my brothers Karan and Brokk, on the other hand he encouraged them to beat us. One night when I could not sleep I heard noises from the kitchen. I walked out, thinking that it was my uncle who was drunk again. But as I passed the kitchen I saw a horrific sight, one that changed my life forever. I saw my uncle beating my mother with what looked like the leg of a chair. But the fact that he was beating her was not the only horrilbe thing. He was reaping her as he was beating her. I was very quiet as I stepped inside the kitchen. Then I saw my mothers face. She was so badle beaten that she did not breath. My uncle had reaped her as she died and we had not noticed. I grabbed a knife from the table and I stabbed my uncle in the side of the stomach. The knife was very thin, and very pointy. He screamed once as I pulled out the knife and stabbed him again, on the other side. Then he screamed no more. I entered my sisters room to tell her that mother was dead. And then I saw Karan andr Brokk reaping my sister. This time the house was filled with screaming. As Karan and Brokk lay on the ground with bloos pouring over the floor I saw that my sister was badly hurt, she did not move and she was bleeding badly. I threw her over my shoulder and I carried her out of the house. As I got to the main road I saw a man sitting on a coach. I asked the man if he knew a perosn that could help my sister. And he said that he was skilled in the arts of healing people. He took me to his cottage in the forrest and he helped my sister survive. It took many months for my sister too become well. And I was sitting at her side the whole time. I thought many times about my future. And then the day when my sister woke up from her month long sleep. It turned out that she did not remember anything from the time before her sleep. I thanked the gods for that! I made up a story about how my mother died in fever and that father had been killed in combat against the goblin hordes. After that I saw began wondering about my and my dear sisters future, we had no place to go and no food to eat when we got there. The man that we lived with was a kind monk. He suggested that we would travel to. Falcion and try to become Apprentices there. My sister Serenade was a happy girl that wanted to earn glory in combat, me on the other side knew wich guild I would try to join. The monks. We travelled and soon we came to Falcion were we started out training. The hooded man sighed and waved for another ale. Kildrim had been listening closly and now he shook his head. But what about…… he began to say, but Bersola was not listening. He was staring into the fire, probaly seeing things other people could not. Kildrim shrugged and began to walk out of the tavern. David Class: MonkRace: Half Giant David's story begins in the peaceful island village of Elderberg, located a far distance from dry land, in the Sea of Tears. It was a quiet town for the most part; the majority of Elderburg's people were simple farmers. The town saw little trouble, all manners of races lived in relative accord. The only excitement the town ever had was a yearly visit from a traveling magic show. The show was composed of wizards from all over the realms, who performed an elaborate two-day show for the townsfolk. In customary appreciation, the town council issued payment of food and supplies, gold pieces and warm wishes to the wizard's next location. A young little mage named Qwe began to accompany the traveling show when David was also just a young lad. And though the two were different as night and day they became great friends and would have great fun in one another's company. When the traveling show was in town, David and Qwe would go off on adventures into the forest chasing and playing with all animals of the Island. David's father Andrew never approved of David's unruly behavior while around Qwe, but since his eldest son was usually an obedient child he allowed the horseplay with no argument. Andrew was a respected council member of Elderburg, known for his wisdom and power, visibly blessed by the Traenol. As a half-giant, he was naturally protective over his diminutive wife and young children. Andrew;s sons David and Thomas were good boys who were expected to be honorable to their family; especially David being the first born. Andrew had his boys farm by day and learn by night. Their lessons were taught to them through an ancient sacred Tome of Meditation. This Tome contained not only twenty generations of family history, but also the family's collection of wisdom and stories, which were meditations on the development of inner strength. Along with the Tome's teachings, it detailed elaborate fluid body movements that toned the body and focused the mind. This family heirloom was passed down to the eldest surviving son of Andrew's clan, Andrew's family being the only surviving members of that once numerous clan. David along with Thomas, Andrew and his mother Elizabeth lived together in happy harmony. Elizabeth had her family and her garden. The boys had their studies, chores and playmates, and Andrew had his work and meditations. They all had the pleasure of watching the traveling Magic show in which the young Qwe began to gain growing prominence, becoming one of the main attractions. At David's 11th year, the magic show came and entertained as they did every year. David was helping to lead food and supplies on to the wizard's boat when from the dock he saw the unmistakable markings of a goblin warship. (David's studies from his family's Tome told of the brutality of Goblins and detailed the horrors they had inflicted upon his clan many generations ago.) Sprinting to the town circle, David rang the alert bell and shouted for the townspeople to prepare for invasion by goblin forces. David ran to his home to find his mother and brother armed with kitchen knives for defense. Her voice trembling, Elizabeth spoke to David. "Go get your father, I couldn't rouse him!" David ran to his father's meditation chamber yelling, "Papa! Papa! Goblins are about to storm Elderburg, come quickly we must arm ourselves and prepare!" Andrew remained quiet; his eyes open and face expressionless breathing slowly. David pleaded, "Father hurry we must get ready!" Andrew's eyes stayed locked in a frozen gaze as he responded calmly, "I am getting ready." After a brief pause Andrew continued, "There has been a portion of our family's teaching I have withheld from you only because of your youth. The mind exercises and body movements which you have been taught through our family's sacred Tome allows us to defeat our enemies in the field of battle.” Goblin war drums began to echo through the streets signaling that the Goblins were approaching Elderburg’s beaches. "Father!" David said worriedly, "I don't know if I can." Andrew stood up quickly, wrapped himself in a thick robe and placed his family's Tome in a pocket. Bending down on a single knee Andrew looked squarely in his firstborn's eyes, "Don't worry my son, our hands shall be our weapons and our skin shall be our armor, let your inner strength manifest itself." David nodded and swallowed deeply with fear. A woman's scream pierced the cloud of focus Andrew had been enveloped in with his son. Alertly, Andrew stood erect at his full impressive height. The quick shuffle of goblin scout footsteps sounded outside of David's home. Andrew sprung for the door, revealing a scout whose evil grimace quickly fell from his face, turning pale in sight of the massive half-giant that stood before him. Andrew's hands leapt into a fluid fury, which gruesomely disembodied the scout. Andrew quickly turned to David and sa, "Lock the door behind me." David managed to nod in acknowledgement despite being in obvious shock to what carnage he had just witnessed. Andrew slammed the door closed and David sprinted to lock it shut. He did so and spun his back against the door, his chest heaving with quick breaths. David noticed his mother and young brother Thomas of only 5 years hidden behind the kitchen stove wielding sharp knives. David ran to the front window when he heard the loud steps of goblin warriors approaching. He looked on in horrific awe and amazement as his father ripped through an entire legion of warriors and soldiers, dismembering the foul beasts two at a time. His father threw warriors over several yards with a single hand. David saw large battlewizards casting fantastic spells on his father, which only seemed to increase his battle fury. Giant goblin warlords began to descend on his father, and with a single stroke of his hand, Andrew laid three consecutive beasts down. Energy crackled from his hands while delivering tremendous vital blows. But as the fighting continued, the goblins gained in number and many of the townsfolk began to drop. This farming village had had little practice in war. David's father finished off a warlord in front of his house's door, yelling "unlock the door and let me in!" David did as he was told and his father fell to the floor with a large battleblade stuck between his shoulders. "Father!" David shouted, falling to his knees while his mother came running with Thomas. Agonizingly turning over, Andrew pulled out his family's sacred Tome of Meditation and placed it in David's hands. Cringing, "Be strong for them." Andrew said while beholding his family. "No, no father. No!" David cried when suddenly a goblin warrior burst through the door. "No! I hate you!" Thomas yelled as he leapt in the air, sticking his kitchen knife in the warrior's arm. The goblin growled and bashed Thomas with his blunt weapon sending him to the floor out cold. "By the gods!" Elizabeth cried out as the warrior turned and eyed her body greedily. David breathed in heavily and forced the full power of his chi energy into a single hand and lunged at the warrior, fatally wounding him. Bent over with all of his energy spent, David never felt the blunt end of a warrior's barbed spear rap him on the back of his head. David woke many hours later, stinging and woozy in chains aboard a goblin war boat. Glancing around the ship, David noticed that the youth of Elderberg had been chained and gathered like cattle on board the ship. The youths with any size were shackled and placed by an oar to row while the younger children swung from a large metal cage above deck awaiting a more horrific fate. Large steaming pots stank of boiled flesh. "The younger the tastier!" one fat warrior belched as he stirred the unholy brew. A goblin spy noticed David angrily eyeing the pot and taunted, "oh yer the half-giant kid right?" rubbing his belly, "Don't worry boy, your little brother served us well." Hate welled up inside David. "Not as well as his frail mother served us!" laughed another spy from a distance. "I'll kill you all!" David shouted as he again slipped into unconsciousness after another jolt to the head. A day later David awoke in a pool of dried blood. "if you're alive, get to rowing" fat goblin taskmaster boomed. David sat up dizzily and began to manipulate an oar. After regaining his wits the realization of his lost family cause him to well up with sorrow. In mid row, his family's Tome slipped from his torn shirt pocket and he picked it up and deftly tucked it away. Andrew's spirit seemed to pull David to the boat's edge. David knew his father would be proud of him as he jumped, still shackled into the icy midnight waters of the Sea of Tears. Hands and feet bound, David swam in an unknown direction into an unknown future. After a full day at sea David had finally made it to dry land; he dragged his dehydrated body upon the shore and passed out instantly from utter exhaustion. The thin furry Renis bent over and gave a puzzled look to David and a surprised smile flashed across his face. "David! Gods be praised! I thought you had died! Look at you, let me magically invigorate you." From his prone position, David gazed up at the silhouetted figure in the midday sun. "Qwe…is that you?" Qwe answered, "of course it is numbskull, after I saw the attack I levitated across the great expanse of the Sea of Tears. I've found a beautiful city full of adventurers, just like you and me…open to all races." David stood and saw the great city from afar, "hat do they call it?" he asked. "It's called Nexus" Qwe responded, "but I'm thinking of calling it home." "Home?" David thought to himself, "yes a new home and a new beginning." Holding his family's sacred histories and teachings contained in the Tome of Meditation tight in his hands, David joined Qwe in the long walk towards a new life. Da'vige Class: MonksRace: Human I am Da'vige, a dedicated monk spending my days within the city of Nexus. This is where my story begins; with in the very wall that keeps me alive. It all starts with my first day in nexus, I was horribly lost and even worse, wondering why I even wanted to enter this seemingly miserable city. The only thing I could think about was returning to my safe village deep in the black marsh, where my family and friends still lived. Finally after wandering the streets for a few hours I decided to venture back to my home. The streets seemed empty as I walked to the gates, then suddenly I heard a loud bell sound (a sound that chilled my heart and soul). A villager ran though the streets screaming "the hordes are coming, Crag has gone mad, help my family please!" I was totally baffled by the words of the villager, I had heard of the hordes from my grandfather some years back before he died, but I have never really seen a goblin. So I got to thinking, "maybe I could be of assistance." I sat and pondered for a bit, finally after deciding that I wouldn't be of any help I set out to the gates once more. As I reached the gates there was a group of heroes talking of battle plans and strategies, I paid no attention and walked over to open the gate, as I did so a huge ogre barbarian yelled, "No fool, you open that gate it will be the end of us!" I jumped back startled by the words of the huge creature. As I looked around confused the barbarian began to say something about giants and goblins before he could finish, a razor sharp arrow sailed over the wall and pierced right through the barbarian's armor and killed him in a instant. My heart seemed to jump out of my mouth as I ran away to find some safety, as I ran into a tavern I heard the screams of people and the sounds of panicked villagers running through the streets. I looked around and realized that the tavern was empty, not even a bar tender was to be seen, so I went and sat at a hidden table in the corner. In the corner I could not hear any sounds what so ever, so I tried to think about what I was going to do and if I should go outside. My eyes felt heavy as I sat at the table and I closed them for a minute so I could regain my train of thought. I must have fallen asleep because when I woke I couldn't see a thing, a chill ran through my body as a realized that I was not in the safe corner of the tavern but I was leaned up against a wall of the town hall. I slowly stood up, my knees gave in and I feel to the ground. I sighed and tried once again to stand, after a minute or so I finally got to up on my feet. As I started to walk to the east a sudden surge of screams and yelling echoed in my ears, my knees began to weaken again. I began to run as fast as I could, frantically searching for a place to hide. After running for a while I came to an intricate footbridge, I quickly rushed across it and found myself before a great temple. My heart felt a rush of warmth as I walked through the archway leading into the temple, the beauty amazed me and felt a sense of love flow trough my body. The sounds of yelling and crying stopped as I walked to a pond in the middle of a large garden. I removed my sandals and dipped my sore feet into the refreshing water. I felt enlightened with thoughts of love and peace go through my mind. My worries melted away when a voice of great elegance began to speak to me from with in the pond, "Do not worry, I will be here with you" the voice said. I asked "who are you, where are you?" The voice replied "I am the of Goddess of Love, I am here with you as long as you believe." Startled at the fact that a deity was speaking to me and comforting me I asked "what is happening out there, why did I wake up at the town hall and not at the table?" The voice replied once again " The horde and cloud giants are attacking the city, I brought you to the town square because the tavern was being burnt down by goblin mutates." I then asked, " Has my village been attacked by the hordes?" I heard a sigh then she said "I am sorry to tell you but your family, friends, and even your female friend have been killed by goblin mutates" I broke down and cried for a good hour before I spoke to the again, I asked "will you be my , will you be my new family, can I become a follower of you?" She said "I will love you forever Da'vige, I brought you here to tell you to become a monk, go into training, find enlightenment, when you have done this I will take you into my family and care for you as if you were my child." While smiling I said " thank you , I will do as you wish." With those last words I stood up, put my sandals on and walked to the city of Falcion, where I would start my training as a monk and find my way to enlightenment. It's been a year since that has happened, I have become a monk, I have gone into training, I have achieved enlightenment, now I am preparing my self to join the church of love. I wait for Dilanis's decision should come from Lyrasel any month now. I stay on task and I wait for that great day when I am marked as a follower of Dilanis. My story starts within the walls of nexus hopefully my life ends in the service of Dilanis. Desdecardo Class: MonkRace: Unknown The youth sighed. Smoke rose from the charred buildings of his once-beautiful city. Where once birds had sung, only moans of mourning and pain cracked the stillness of yet another sunless day. Even the earth was gray, scarred with battle and death. Looming on the horizon stood a mountain, black as night. All around it, in testament to the upheaval of its birth, were cracks in the earth, abysmal chasms, and great gushing fountains of magma, which flowed copiously into a river that ringed the rocky peak. At its summit, barely discernible through a veil of mist, sat a palace, where lived the ruler - and cause - of this forsaken kingdom. Veins of black ran through its blood-red marble, coiling up and around a monolithic spire that culminated at a wickedly sharp point. It seemed to stab the very heart of Heaven. "Depressing, isn't it?" The youth started, and quickly spun around. "Oh, it's just you, Drusus." He let out a long breath. "You startled me." Drusus chuckled softly, gesturing at the window. "That sight is enough to put anyone on edge." He was a short man, and wide, though his girth in no way precluded his graceful, silent movement. His hair, matching almost exactly the drab brown of his robe, was cut in a bowl-like ring around his head, and two heavy-lidded, friendly green eyes studied the scene before him with dismay and, though buried deeply, fear. "Drusus, is there something wrong?" The portly monk snorted. "You mean other than THAT?" He flapped a hand at the landscape, as if trying, and failing, to dismiss it. Then his form seemed to collapse in upon itself. With a tear in his eye, he smiled ruefully. "You truly are wise for one of your years, Gaius. You're right, there's something I'm not telling you." Drusus took a deep breath. "The monastery's defenses are collapsing. I fear we will not last the night." * * * The whole monastery was still. A palpable hush pervaded the stone halls, the occasional stirrings of their uneasy defenders its only interruption. The air was charged with expectancy, awaiting the inevitable with such a longing dread that, when it came, it would seem almost a relief in comparison. BOOM! Gaius let out a breath he had not known he was holding as the courtyard below erupted into a flurry of activity. A mob of robed figures hurried to brace the gate, which, Thank the Light, for the present remained intact. BOOOOM! Soul-rending howls pierced the night and, despite themselves, the defenders hesitated as timbers groaned under the weight of renewed assault. CRACK! A hail of splinters exploded into the yard, throwing the monks back. Men scurried to regain their positions, even as the cloud cleared, revealing the crumpled forms of many who would not rise again. CREEAAK! Bolts and hinges snapped. Over the walls, a strange, abhorrent chant rose to a fevered pitch, and an unholy red glow suffused the gate, which seemed to warp convexly inward. Almost unconsciously, Gaius turned from the window. 'To hell with Drusus, I've got to do what I can to help,' he thought. The chant grew louder, and the stone corridors began to tremble with the thunder of daemonic voices. He broke into a run. As he rushed down the stairs, taking them two-by-two, an eery silence suddenly descended, and the clash of desperate fighting ensued. His fear receded, and his blood sang with the promise of battle. Gaius rounded a corner, into the courtyard, into chaos. Men screamed. They were being pushed back; they were dying. In the gate's stead, a wall of flame now filled the archway, from which a hoard of demons relentlessly poured. It seemed a portal to Hell. Impulsively, he leapt into the fray. * * * Moments stretched to hours as the battle raged on. Years of conditioning took over, all thoughts and fears forgotten, swept away. Gaius danced in and out, helping his comrades wherever he could. Another demon fell. Breathless, soaked in sweat and blood, he turned to face his next foe... and saw a large, heavily muscled creature bearing down on him. Their eyes locked, and the demon rushed forward, screaming a challenge. The attack came very quickly. The demon's sword was a blur, but so was Gaius, dodging only split-seconds before the deadly blade sliced the air. He was hard-pressed, and weary, but the demon grew impatient. It howled in frustration, lashing out with tremendous force. Gaius evaded, and stepped in. He delivered a stunning blow to the demon's chest, gratified by the sound of cracking ribs. Just as quickly, he stepped away. The demon shrieked in agony, then paused, eyes narrowing as it reassessed its puny adversary. The assault resumed, furious, though guarded. Attack flowed into attack, and Gaius tired quickly. Finally, the demon scored a glancing blow, throwing him off-balance. Abruptly its other claw shot out and closed around his neck. It held its sword aloft. Gaius muttered a silent prayer, awaiting the coup-de-grace, the deathblow... Suddenly, the demon's chest cavity exploded, showering him with its putrid innards. Its eyes opened wide, dimming, as it released him and collapsed in a heap. A familiar figure stood over the devastated corpse, arms crossed. "Gaius! I told you to remain in your room!" An iron grip seized him. He was dragged a safe distance from the fighting, and dropped unceremoniously against a monastery wall. Drusus leaned over his protege, inspecting his wounds. "You'll live. Most of that blood isn't yours." He knitted his brows. "But that demon almost did you in.. You should have obeyed me! Why, I have half a mind to kill you myself, after the scare you just - " A screeching demon ran towards them, brandishing its weapon. Drusus held up a finger. "Hold that thought." He spun around, and the demon was upon him. Its first slash bit only air. Drusus snorted. He darted in, and touched the creature. It erupted, a bloody mist and a sharpened scimitar its only legacy. He turned back to Gaius. "There isn't much time. You have to go. Now, there're food and provisions waiting - " "But - " "Dammit boy, let me finish! Our lines are breached; I don't have time for this!" Drusus paused, composed himself. "Now, all you'll need is waiting in the secret passage behind the chapel altar. Remember, push the bottom, center stone." His expression softened. "Gaius, I know you want to help, but you'll do far more good if you escape, and live. It's imperative that you survive, and yes..." He sighed. "Avenge us when the time comes. We've failed. Only one hope remains. Find the old king's wizard. He's the only one who has a chance of stopping them now." There were so many questions Gaius wanted to ask, but the words caught in his throat. He sobbed. "Drusus, I..." Drusus embraced his adopted son, comforting the youth and, at the same time, concealing his own welling tears. As with all such things, the moment all-too-quickly passed. The sinister demon chant began again. Drusus stepped back. "And now you must go... my son." He smiled sadly. "I'm so proud of you. Go. Do what we could not." A wail of tortured souls echoed through the yard, throbbing in the very marrow of Gaius' bones, and they both turned. A gigantic, robed demon came barreling through the flames, mounted atop what could only be described as a dragon. It rode through the defenders, leaving a wake of burnt and trampled corpses. "GO! There's not a moment to lose!" And with that, he was gone, sprinting away to face the demon wizard. Gaius stifled another sob, and started running. He didn't look back. * * * The traveler stood on a rise, overlooking the valley that once had been his home. He shook his head. Weeks had passed into months, and yet the smoke still rose. He shifted his gaze. He focused all his hatred, all his scorn, at the menacing black mountain. "I have no home because of you. I have no life because of you. Do you hear me? I WILL HAVE VENGEANCE! I swear it on my own blood." He grasped his dagger. Swiftly, savagely, he slashed his forearm. He kissed the dripping blade, then hurled it into the valley. "I will hunt you down. I am he who has no home. I am the nameless one. I am DESDECARDO, the disinherited, and I WILL return!" With that, he turned away, and began his journey... to the Great Sylvan Forest. * * * He came to a huge crater. The trees - leafless, lifeless husks for the past couple of miles - went right up to the edge, and he had almost fallen in. He smiled for the first time in months. This was his quarry's handiwork. He was on the right track. Slowly, cautiously, he eased down the crater's wall, his dexterity allowing him to choose his own pace, despite the dearth of hand- and foot-holds. Practicing his meditation techniques, he let his mind go blank. Before he knew it, he had reached the point at which the ground evened out. Imagining hosts of demon corpses, whistling a merry tune, he set off toward the center. Hours later, he arrived at his intended destination. A group of small boulders strewn around an overturned stone altar were all that greeted him, lying in the exact center of the crater. He fought off despair. He didn't know what he had expected, but surely, something more than this? He fell to his knees and prayed for guidance. His eyes snapped open. He felt... something. A presence. His gaze swept the rubble, and lighted upon a metallic object. He crept towards it slowly, suspiciously. Tentatively, he reached for the sword. Warm to the touch. Impulsively, he grabbed it. Images flashed through his mind. Rain. Wind. Lightning. Struggle. Pain. And then, serenity. Confidence. Competence. He abruptly stood, and leapt to the altar, a man possessed. With all his strength, and maybe something else as well, he righted the altar. Taking a deep breath, he drove the sword into its center, and the earth trembled. Suddenly, a bolt of pure blue light shot from the hilt of the sword, and a doorway opened, through which the thread unerringly flew. A trail of energy, leading the way. He approached the portal, at least, that was what he thought it was. It emitted a silvery light, enthralling him, drawing him closer. At last, he was poised on the edge, excitement and apprehension warring within him. The doorway flickered, as if in doubt. He glanced back at the strange sword, at the ribbon of energy urging him on. He chuckled. "Well, I guess I have no choice." He closed his eyes, and stepped through...... Into a whole new world. ********************************************************************** Desdecardo awoke suddenly, his heart pounding, and resolved to kill the next Archivist who approached him about his story. Dre Class: MonkRace: Dwarf One day, Dre was found laying in the forest by a monk from a Monastery nearby. He had serious injuries to both his head and body. The monk brought him to the Monastery and began treating his wounds. Once Dre woke up, he did not remember a single thing about what had happened. The monk who had found and treated him said the he could stay and begin training as a monk. And so he did. After a few years, Dre left the Monastery to find a city named Falcion. When he got there, he asked the Guardsman if he had come to the right place. The Guardsman nodded and smiled in reply. A couple of years of training in both fighting, meditating and healing others, Dre had earned the title of Immaculate within the Guild of the Monks. Here, his journey to Nexus began. Once in Nexus, he got to know many new people, and meet some that he already knew from his training in Falcion. Here, Dre has seen many things happen. He has seen both the goblins, the dragons and the giants attempting to crush the city, all failing to do so since the forces of Nexus wouldn't let this happen. People have asked Dre of his past, and to this he always replies, "I have no idea of where I come from, I do not know either of my parent's names, nor do I know if I have any brothers or sisters." Elistan Class: MonkRace: Human The nervous scribe stepped onto the monastery's ground and immediately felt calm and inner peace surround him. He inhaled deeply to smell the clean air so different from the sometimes-foul air in the city. He had never been to the monastery before. This would be the first time he interviewed a monk. The wind blew softly around his hair. He heard a slight rustle of leaves and turned to admire the many beautiful trees and flowers that surrounded him in the garden. The sound of bird song from the trees filled his ears. He smiled and felt much more relaxed as he stepped up to the entrance of the monastery. He had come to interview a promising monk who had shown much dedication in the work to free of the Nexus from the threat goblin hordes. He was one of the scribes who's mission was to record the history of all those who sought to banish the goblins from the lands. When he stepped inside he immediately noticed a difference from outside. Here the walls had no decorations of beauty but the feeling of calm strength was still there. There was almost no sound around him and he felt a bit embarrassed as his steps echoed in the corridors, disturbing the peace. He went in search for the monk and soon found him in one of the meditation chambers. He saw that the monk was deep in trance and settled down to wait. I was in deep meditation when the scribe entered the premises and had freed my soul from the bonds of the body I immediately felt his presence and purpose and followed him until he found my body. I decided he would get his interview. I opened my eyes. "You want an interview with me?" I asked. "Yes, yes I do. But how did you know?" he answered. "When your soul is traveling outside the body the world appears much clearer than it would otherwise. Emotions, purposes, all can be read as simple as a book if you know how." I said and smiled. "I see." he said with an expression that clearly said that he didn't. "But could you tell me of yourself, your history as you remember it?" he asked. "And also how it comes that you follow Pandora" he amended. I nodded. "My story is not one filled with glory as you may think but instead of pain and suffering, as you will come to understand. I come from a large island far away from these coasts where it is even fewer people than here, and much more sparsely populated. The climate is harsher and the family means everything. One depends heavily on each other and to betray ones trust is among the worst thing one can do. I lived in a small village by the coast. The village relied mostly on its fishing and some hunting for food. We had little farmland because we lived in rocky terrain. My childhood was an easy one though I had to help as much as I could with day to day work. The goblins had not yet arrived in full strength then so except from an occasional lone goblin or wild bear everything was peaceful. I was first trained as a warrior because of my great stamina and endurance, and I have to add, my lack of wit. (This is not meant as an insult to the fighter or barbarian classes). I was pretty easygoing these days and I mostly took the days as they came. I also was very found of ale and beer. When I was about 16 years old the pressure of the goblins suddenly increased. It was no longer safe to walk to far from the village when it was dark and we begun to keep watch during nighttime. After a time we began to live with the constant threat. I was put on guard on several occasions but nothing ever happened. After a while I too began to lessen my watchfulness. One night I brought some beer with me as company and I fell asleep." "The first thing I heard when I woke up was the screams of my friends as goblins poured into the village. I rushed up, hastily put on my helmet and grabbed my sword and shield. In the streets fighting erupted everywhere and women and children ran around in panic as goblins invaded their homes. I spotted a goblin grunt chasing a woman with her baby in her arms. I ran forward to fight the goblin but I was still groggy from the beer so I never saw the goblin that came from behind. Suddenly my head exploded with pain and everything went black. The goblins must have thought I was dead because I woke up again. I was the only one that did. Everywhere I looked was death and almost all buildings where burned to the ground. Then it went up for me what I had done. I had failed my village when it needed me the most and the shame was almost more than I could bear. The whole day I went around the village and buried as many as I could. At the end of the day I had made up my mind, my death would not help anyone. To die would be easy and I decided that my punishment would be to live. I swore to never again be drunk or anyway out of my senses and I looked around in the village to see what was left. I found a small boat that still could float and set sail. I wanted to be as far away from the burned village as I could. After many days I saw land. I must have had a stroke of luck because I soon saw a city in the distance. I sailed towards it and left my boat on the beach to rot a short distance from the city. The large city walls overwhelmed me at first. I had never seen a city before much less a large one as this. I had arrived to the city of Nexus." "At first I just wandered the streets and marveled that so many people could live together in such a small space but I soon become familiar with the layout of the city. I tried many different occupations but didn't find any that suited me. I was still in pain from my loss and after a few days when my money was gone I decided to seek solitude in the monastery. I was welcome there to rest and get something to eat and there I found a different style of living. I decided to try to get peace for my tormented soul and asked the monks if I could become one of them. They said that the life of a monk was a hard one but I could join them if I wished. The following weeks where full of exercises to cleanse my body and I had much practice in meditation. After about a month I was given my monk robe and I had become one of them. Time passed by and with it my inner peace and self-respect grew. I was also trained in the difficult art of hand-to-hand combat and soon became proficient at it. Though I was content at the monastery I also heard of the problems in the world outside and I decided to try and help with my limited knowledge as much as I could. By that time I had turned 18. At first my opponents where limited to thieves and criminals within the city-walls but after a time when I had found some friends we could travel outside the city to fight an occasional goblin spy and thereby disturbing their flow of information about the city and its defenses. After a year I had become an experienced fighter and often went alone outside the city to fight. It was during that time I had my first meeting with Pandora, the goddess of hope." "She came to me in a dream and explained to me how I could remedy my failure in my childhood and further help Nexus. I was overwhelmed by her presence and amazed that she would talk to me when I clearly was unworthy. I was to seek out new and inexperienced men and women who would like to fight the goblin menace and help them survive until they where fit to continue on their own. Many weeks did I spend on this and many a fighter and mage did I help until one day when I again hear the voice of the goddess. She spoke to me directly in my mind and commended me for my work, she said that if I wished I could become one of her followers and continue to serve her. My heart was filled with joy and I immediately accepted. I was given a new robe that shone with holy light and inspired hope in those nearby. It was the happiest day of my life, at last I had found a new purpose in life in service of my mistress. One whom I would gladly die for." "That is my story", I said. "Was there anything else you wanted to know?" I asked. "Yes it was very interesting but it is enough" said the scribe who had run out of paper. I nodded and went back to my meditation. The scribe went slowly out from the monastery trying hard to remember the end of the story as he walked towards the library. Exie Class: MonksRace: Drow I suppose it would make sense to start from the beginning when recounting one’s history to another. But then again, I have never been one for logical sequence. I have always found it better to start where you are and not where you were. Having said that, let me tell you a short tale of a young drow named Exicenturi M’al De’senseus, better know to most as Exie--me. I have studied within the monastery for three years now. I am quite pleased with the direction my path has turned since I initially arrived at Falcion. My life would be most different were it not for the intervention of Hope and happenstance. As it is now, I am seeking my personal balance while seeking to bring enlightenment to those around me. But as I said, if it were not for chance my life would be quite different. I am the third, and last, born in the House of De’senseus. My mother, the Matriarch of the House, sent me to Nexus to seek out my sister, Izra, and my brother, Danton. Mother was far more concerned with the whereabouts of Izra than with the welfare of my brother and myself, as she was to be the next Matriarch in the House. I was far to young to remember Izra, as she left home when I was but 17 years old. But I recall vividly Danton. He and I were trained to be Izra’s well-keepers. It was our charge to ensure that no evil befell her and to ensure that she would one day take her place at the head of the House. Izra, according to Danton, was a free spirit and left home to seek out her own path. Mother promptly sent Danton to follow her and to keep her safe until the day she would assume the leadership for which she was destined. Meanwhile, with my siblings gone, mother focused her attention on me. perhaps it would be more accurate to say she focused her attention on my training to serve in the House as a Keeper, a guard. Years passed slowly and there was precious little word from either of my siblings. Her years overtook her and Mother fell ill--deathly ill. I was sent to find Izra myself and to bring her to our home where she would take her place as Matriarch. As I searched Altin to find either of my siblings, their trail went cold at the City of All Races--Nexus. I searched diligently to locate either of them. I found Danton. More precisely, I found Danton’s grave marker. Upon seeking any that knew of Izra I was met by a Wizardress of great power named Starla. She assured me that she was a friend to Izra and that like Danton, she too was dead. I was tormented within at the thought of returning home with such news, for it was not uncommon for my race to kill the messenger that brought ill tidings. Instead, I stayed at Falcion and searched for the inner courage needed to fulfill my duty. A monk named Zonk happened by one day and noted my distraught appearance. He told me of balance, of inner peace, and of Kuis’arden. I was drawn to the idea and immediately sought to join the ranks of the monastery. From my training I have gained much peace and have since returned to my House and told of the news I had found. As I had assumed I was attacked and the family sought to end my life. My mother had pronounced prior to my arrival that should there be no rightful heir to the head of the House, then all of the House were to be destroyed. I barely escaped with my life and returned to Nexus to resume my training alongside my new family. I live by the tenets of Pandora, though I have not been marked by my Mistress. It is my desire that my actions will draw her attention to me rather than a personal plea to her emissary. I will seek my balance and peace and Hope to someday know the real equilibrium of Kuis’arden. Fao Class: MonkRace: Human Miua Astis founded the village where Fao grew up. He was a common villager whose village was destroyed and was forced to retreat into the wilderness for shelter. In the many years that went by in the wilderness Miua found that nature was a caring and supportive nurturer who took care of its inhabitants. He grew fond of being with animals and rejoicing with them for the love of life. He wrote many of his learnings down. As time would go by travelers would wonder by every so often. Miua would feed them and teach them his learnings if they were interested and some found them very interesting and wanted to know this life and be one and feel the love nature had to offer them. They were not very religious except for their love of Nature. As more time went by more people came and more people stayed. Which was about when Fao came along. Miua and one of his Brothers of Nature were in the woods looking for materials when they heard something. Something they had not heard in a long time. As they investigated they found a baby boy. He was wrapped in a giant leaf and laying on a flat stone in the middle of an opening in the forest. They knew nothing of leaf and its origin for none of them had never seen a leaf of that type. They also wondered what type of parent would just leave a child in the forest alone like this, for it could have been eaten or attacked by something. They looked around for a woman or parent of some sort for the child. No one was around. They thought it would be best to take the child back to the village and cloth and feed him. They knew something must be special with the young one. They named him Fao Astis. Fao meaning special one in their native tongue and Astis after the founder of their beloved leader. They loved the child as if he were their own. They saw him as a gift to them for there love and respect to nature. Time went on and Fao grew up. About the time Fao was six they had the village mostly constructed and all the villagers were healthy. Nature had just treated them very well and gave them everything they needed. Fao learned a lot about how everything worked everyday. He had to meditate and pray to nature with Miua and the rest of the villagers everyday. He felt like something was missing though. He saw how well nature treated them and how much it loved them and how it worked, or so he thought. He had ideas that he could not talk about cause he would be considered a threat. He had thoughts of there being greater forces. Things that were stronger and more knowledgeable then Nature. Nature would be like a by-product of these other powers. He felt like something had to make Nature and had to make life and all other aspects of their lives. He was right, but there was nothing he could do. He saw things to happen in the future and saw that if the villagers didn't do something that they all could be in for hard times. He was too afraid to say anything though. So he ignored them and went on as everyone else did. Years passed and the coldest winter hit that none of them could have ever expected. Fao was scared and remember all that he had thought about in the past. He wondered if it was time to tell them what he thought. Would they listen to him or just shun him and maybe outcast him for being a heretic or something. Fao knew they would never judge him that hard. They would discard his thoughts and tell him he is just young and when he grows up he will see what they do and all its importance. He also knew they were wrong, something inside of him assured him of that. He went to tell the villagers and Miua as they were meeting to discuss how to work the harvesting this winter and keep wood for fire and warmth and everything. Miua was going over how it would work and Fao stood up and tried to get permission to speak. Miua did not look interested in hearing what he had to say at the time cause he was frustrated about the weather and felt that nature was letting them down and that some of them might not make it through the winter. Fao had a sudden burst of courage and had to tell everyone. Fao stood up and demanded attention. Miua was shocked and demanded that Fao speak and say why he is being so disobedient. Fao told the villagers and Miua of his thoughts and that they were wrong and nature is not the biggest and most powerful being. Miua and the villagers were outraged at his thoughts. Fa'so worst feard almost seemed to be coming true. In his fear of being unloved and unwanted and outcast he ran to his place of rest and hid and cried until Miua finished the meeting and apologized for Fao and he came to Fao's room and tried to talk to him. Miua walked into the room and saw Fao crawled into the corner scared that Miua was going hurt him or something. Miua said to Fao, "why are you afraid. Have I ever hurt you? Have I ever not given you the full opportunity to explain yourself? I am sorry for how I acted and for how the villagers acted but your words were strong and not something to be joked with." Fao Looked up at Miua and wiped tears from his eyes, "I am sorry but I feel this way and I am not joking. I feel we are wrong and there is a greater force. Can you tell me who made the forest and the animals? Who made us? Who made me?" Miua Sighed and wished he had a rock solid answer for Fao but just told him that Nature gives us the gifts of Life and the forests and everything around us and that it is unquestionable and unanswerable about where it came from. Fao wasn't satisfied and told Miua of his inner feelings. Miua did not like what Fao had to say for it laid false to all that he had philosophized and all that he made their beliefs on. Fao raised his arm to wipe his eyes again and his sleeve fell down showing his forearm. Miua saw a mark on his arm that he had not seen before. It looked just like the leaf that Fao was wrapped in when he was a baby. Miua grabbed Fao's arm and asked where did that come from and Fao told him that it had appeared awhile back and he thought it would go away but it didn't and that it didn't bother him so he didn't want to tell anybody. Miua was puzzled. Miua started to wonder how special Fao was. He started to think back about how Fao came along and how smart and how well behaved and just how special Fao has been. Fao was scared when he saw how concerned Miua was. Fao asked Miua if he was ok and what is wrong. Miua looked at Fao and decided to tell him the story of where he came from and how they knew nothing about him. Fao wondered if maybe there was something inside of him telling him these truths. He thought he might be part of the truths, but he knew if he was something that special he would know more and understand more. He still felt like he had something he is meant to do and something that he needs to do. He wanted to know this very bad and it ate at him. Miua said, "maybe you know something we don't or maybe this is all a big accident. What ever it is we will move with caution and make decisions carefully. The times ahead are hard and will be very difficult." Fao agreed and Miua went to tell the villagers. Miua met with all the villagers again and told them about what is going on. Many of the villagers were angered and upset. They thought of how much time they had spent there peacefully and in tune with nature and now you are saying it is wrong. They were very confused and many of them not angered but just lost. Everything they knew they gave up once for this and now they are going to have to do it again. Enough Villagers were angered or lost enough to leave and try to survive the winter looking for new settlement. The others stayed not knowing whether they will stay when the weather gets better or not. Fao and Miua were growing closer together and despite all that was going on felt everything would be ok. Then one day out of the dead cold came an army of angry green creatures that attacked and killed most of the villagers that stayed behind and did not leave. Fao was not allowed to go out he stayed in a stronghold to stay safe. Many Villagers retreated into the stronghold for safety too. They were stuck inside for quite awhile. It seemed like the green men would never leave. Finally it seemed as if they had moved on. There were many dead villagers all over the place. Fao was shocked and felt an uneasy sense he hadn't felt before. He saw friends and fellow brothers of nature who he loved as much as fathers, brothers, uncles, and best friends just laying dead all over the place. Despite this hard tragic event Fao felt that hate would not solve it and he helped clean the place and give proper ceremonies to all the departed. While cleaning however he found whom he would consider the most important person in his life, Miua, lying on the ground. He played dead even though a goblin had removed a leg of his to eat. Fao had never felt so angry before in his life but knew that hate and anger would not fix what is wrong. Fao assisted Miua and tried to aid him and heal his wounds but they were just too great. Miua said in his last breaths to Fao, "The creatures that killed our brethren and myself were evil and possessed. They deserve death. However when many animals and other creatures of nature attack, it is because of instinct and they may feel threatened. They should not be killed unless it is for self-survival. Then you must use the entire creature you can to the best of its use and give it proper ceremonies and thank the creature for its sacrifice and aid. It is the honorable thing to do." Fao agreed to do this and when Miua faded away Fao gave him his respects and the village had a special ceremony for him. The village elders of their current situation told Fao on supplies and how the winter has made it next to impossible to get the supplies needed. Fao then volunteers to travel to find supplies and help. The villagers assumed since he is so young and in the best health out all the villagers that had been through such a tragedy that Fao was the best candidate to go. The villagers and Fao gathered some supplies and rations for his journey and he said his good byes and went to the grave of Miua and told him of what he is doing and that he will revenge his death someday. Fao started then on his journey. Fao walked through the forest for many days and saw many things he had never seen before. Anytime he came across something that seemed to be threatening to him he ran and would rather find help then die. Fao was rather untrained in fighting and self-defense. Fao being about twelve at the time noticed the animals and how they interacted and how they seem to stalk and fight for there food. After traveling for about two weeks time Fao ran out of supplies. He watched the animals more and more and wondered how they learned to hunt so well. Hunger started to set in and he was getting weaker and could not journey as far in a day as he used to, due to lack of rations. Every time he rested he saw the animals and how they hunted. Fao started to think of Miua and how said not to attack animals and other creatures of nature for they go on instinct and fear of dying to survive. Well Fao was hungry and has fear of dying so he decided to use animal instincts to survive. He waited patiently in a tree like a jaguar and waited for a deer or something wonder by. As he waiting for a while he finally saw a rather large reptile start to move its way slowly across the path. Fao was scared of it cause he had never seen such a creature and did not know what it was capable of, but he was hungry and was going to go on instinct to survive and to survive you must eat. So Fao pounced out of the tree landing on the Reptile's back and strikes at the top of the head of the reptile rendering it unconscious. Fao did not feel very good about it but he knew it would fill his stomach and ease his pain and rejuvenate his energies. Fao used rocks to sharpen sticks to hold the Retile over a fire to cook it. It was the first thing Fao had ever killed and the first time he had tried to cook something. The hide of the retile was very tough and took along time to start to cook and when it was done Fao was able to rip a piece off and start to consume the creature. It tasted rancid and smelt the same but it was food all the same. Fao took what little left he had and striped from the bones and placed it in his sack. He took the teeth form the creature and the bones and made utensils out of them. Fao started back on his journey. While walking further his stomach started to bother him and his head started to feel funny. He wondered if maybe the creature had been poisonous and he got afraid and started to look around for some different plants that Miua had shown him that can cure poisons but he could not find any. He tried to relax and keep faith and moved forward on his journey but he had lost his direction and his thoughts became clouded and he could not think or see straight. Fao feel to the ground and passed out. Fao came too awoke under a large tree and when he moved forward he saw an opening in the trees and went towards it he looked in the sky and saw huge reptiles flying overhead, now he knows them as Dragons. He was very afraid and started to run for shelter in a cave or someplace. He ran for what seem to be forever. He dodged small trees and rocks on the floor of the forest and saw all different types of animals just staring at him as he ran by them in a flash. He finally stopped at a large tree and tried to catch his breath. He stayed for a moment and then he heard something like flapping large leather sheets in the air. Fao turned to look behind the tree to see if anything was there and then he felt the ground rumble. He was very afraid and decided to run away. When he turned around and took off running. He ran into what seemed to be a large tree, he fell to the ground and when he looked up to see what he hit he saw a large White Dragon. Then he fainted and when he awoke he was at the gate to Falcion. Inside Falcion he has found much of what he has believed to see when he was a young child. He has also found more about the Gods he had thought of and has found a strong connection to the God called Aalynor, for he is the creator and giver of life and is the symbol of good. Goove Class: MonkRace: Dark Elf Born in the small dark-elf village of Alluvia to a poor carpenter, Goove didn't have much to look forward to, just a life of struggles; struggling to earn money, struggling to earn respect, struggling to live a live of his own. Only knowing one trade, he took a job as an apprentice under his father. If anyone has ever tried building something, they know what happens when something goes wrong. @#%@$!!! $#@%#!!! @#$@#$!!! On a bright, spring day, the town elder was in need of patchwork on his roof. Goove's father, Hubro, swamped already and in need of a rest sends Goove to work on the elder's roof. While working on the oaken roof, he smashes his thumb. "Mother @#$@!!! Stupid @#$#@%!!! God @#$%@!!!" Needless to say, this brought some attention. One of the onlookers of this vulgar tantrum happened to be the elder's adolescent daughter. "What do you think you're doing up there," she yelled at him. "You're disgracing this home! Come down here at once!" Goove, realizing he just might be in trouble, decides to do as she says. She beckons for Goove to follow her into the elder's home. Upon coming into the house, Goove notices some strange things. First of all, there was no sign of the elder's daughter; second, there was no elder. Upon further investigation, he noticed a candle's flame burning from within an adjacent room. As he drudges on, he notices the smell of fruit eminating from the room. As he opens the door, he witnesses the most beautiful sight that any dark-elf has ever seen. This young, beautiful female has disrobed to total nudity. Knowing that this spells trouble for anyone, Goove tries to escape. However, this young lady's spell apparently knew no bounds. Goove can not leave and is talked into the lady's bed. Goove inbal vith xuil LIL jalil. After a while, the elder's daughter became seen less and less outside her home. Goove wondered what had happened to this beautiful creature he had been with. One couldn't help but hear the rumors around town that she had been killed, and that she had been kidnapped, and that the elder had been abusing her. Goove could take no more and went to the elder's home. He was met with silence when entreating entrance. He took his liberty and went into the house. Upon entering he hears screaming coming from the young beauty's bedroom. He peeks in the door and sees the elder screaming mercilessly at his daughter. The main gist of his rantings were something like, "Who is it?! Who did this?! He will die!" It didn't take Goove long to find out what was going on here. The elder said, "The carpenter's son? What do you mean? Not Goove! Cinalus, get in here!" From the shadows, another dark-elf came into view. He said in his quiet, raspy voice, "Yes sir? What is your bidding?" "Search out the one they call Goove. He is the son of the town carpenter and he has stolen my daughter's maidenhood. He must pay for this. Go! Now! Goove must not live!" Upon hearing this Goove burst into the room, knocked out the elder, and said, "I love you, young maiden. We shall be together someday." He turns to say something to the assassin, but he is no longer there. "My dear, I must take my leave. But, I shall return someday to take you as my wife." "I will wait for you Goove. I love you." As Goove retreats from the house, he feels a tremendous heat from behind him. He turns around to view the elder's house consumed by flames. Goove breaks down into tears as he sees his hopes and dreams going up into flames with the house. As he peers towards the house, he sees the elder's assassin Cinalus emerging from the flames. The two stare at each other for what seems like an eternity. Finally breaking the stillness was a simple gesture, the finger across the throat. Goove knew now that he was a marked man. Driven mad by the death of his love, Goove wanders the land finally ending up working at a warehouse in Rymek. He was a hard worker, but he could never be happy in his life until he felt some closure on the subject of losing his love. It was a day just like any other when Goove heard some voices outside the warehouse. He walked outside to investigate. It was then that he saw the same dark-elf assassin that ruined his life. Cinalus and his horde charged Goove and before he knew it he was laying on his back staring up at Cinalus. The group was laughing as Cinalus playfully threw knives around Goove's throat. Cinalus in his same raspy voice said, "Well, enough fun for now. It's time to finish this weak pathetic fool." Just as he raised the knife above his head, he was met with a hand on his wrist. This wiry dark-elf says to Cinalus, "What seems to be your problem? Looks like you have a bit of an advantage over this young man. Why don't you just leave him alone?" Cinalus says, "And just who might you be Mr. Monk?" "My name is Kalindro. And I suggest you leave now." "Over my dead body. Why don't you make me leave?" Cinalus jerks free from Kaindro's grasp and tries to shove Kalindro, but is met with a right hook to the face. Seeing this, the rest of Cinalus' group takes off, but not Cinalus. "I dare you to try that one more time," says Cinalus to Kalindro. Kalindro responds, "I suggest you leave sir." Cinalus again attacks Kalindro only this time with one of his knives. Kalindro meets the charge with a sidestep and a flip. Overcome by his own surprising strength, Kalindro brings an elbow down to Cinalus' chest, but accidentally hits his throat, crushing his voice box. Kalindro says to Goove, "Come young man. We must leave before we are in trouble." Goove, still a little groggy, follows this man who has saved his life. Goove follows Kalindro into the monastery in Nexus. Here Kalindro says to Goove, "Are you okay, young man? You seemed to have taken quite a beating." Goove says, "That was an assassin that was sent to kill me, for having relations with the daughter of the elder of my hometown. His name is Cinalus. He burned the elder's house as I fled, killing the love of my life. And now, I will not rest until he is burning in Kyorl's furnace." "Goove, you must not hold a grudge. Please allow me to teach you in the ways of my guild. Your anger inside will subside, and you will learn to forgive. Here in this monastery, you shall study and soon, you will be unable to retain anger for anyone." Goove, very grateful to the creature who had just saved his life, said, "Yes sir, I shall. You are my savior and the gods have bestowed a second chance upon me and I shall use my life to help others who have not had the chance to turn their life around. Thank you, my mentor and savior. I shall follow you and the ways of your guild." And thus, the days of Goove's new life had begun. He now roams the realms, looking to help anyone in need of help, even at the expense of his own health. Goove keeps all kinds of devices that can help anyone in need and is always ready with a resist spell and a smile. Guld Class: MonkRace: Half Giant "Greetings", a scribe said. "I have been following you around the town lately, hoping to find you available for a conversation. It has been quite interesting to see some of your adventures, even only a few. You know, you remind me of someone...at least I can guess who. I was the one to document his story as well. Tell me about yourself....why are you here?" "I keep no secret of who I am and where I come from. Anyone who cares to ask me will get an answer. I spent my young years in training school, with three of my friends. It was a private school, led by a mage, who wished to teach his way of life and war to those able to understand it. I am not sure why he chose us, monks, perhaps of what he saw in his own stepson Muaddib, who was his first student. Ryn and Arshes were other two, and I came to school last, and now I am the only one left. Training was tough. Any sort of training...wishing to better oneself and grow wiser and stronger is a path not everyone can take. We had it even harder. Constant magical training...I failed at that, it seems, as I am about as bad a spellcaster as I can be, my master would not have liked it, constant physical training, running in the mountains and forests, growing endure. It seems the physical training was sort of a way to wash out those who he felt would not be able to complete his school. Those who made it were marked with the school tattoo...from that day on there was no turning back, they had their destiny prelaid for them. I did not mind much, I accepted it, and have worn it proudly ever since. Then came lessons in tactics. Master has been a known leader among citizens, and over the time has compiled a rather extensive collection of strategy guidelines. We were forced to memorize it, and simulate our own little wars to sharpen skills. Even if on paper, they were quite challenging. My master believed in open-field battling, and therefore I was not taught the art of stealthy wars. I have learned that skill at the monestary in Nexus...quite interesting art, I must add. I am not quite good at it, but I get by. Four of us that were left after masters death have left the school. It is now nothing but a ruin deep in the forest, hidden away from others by the vines we have camoflauged it with. We went through the library and equip- ment, picking out those items we would need. I chose only one thing, this notebook. I felt that none of textbooks were needed for me anymore, but rather I wanted some real life experiences with knowledge I know. So I took this book...it is like a diary, describing what went on where, when, and how it went. It also has information on common places in Nexus, and a little portion of it is dedicated to description of some of the most vicious creatures in the Realm. The fate of the other three brothers is not known to me clearly, but I know that they are all gone now. One died heartbroken and disillusioned, he lost his true way...others have never made it off the island of Falcion. Sad, but not surprising. I have found real life to be quite different...and much harder than what we have learned in school. But I found my way...even though people tend to disagree with me. Just recently I had quite a conversation with Anterio and Sulak...they did not share my views. But nevertheless, I keep on following my way, knowing that at the end enlightment awaits me. As for why am I here...I'm here to protect the good name of my master, and continue his work. Good men are hard to find nowdays, and hopefully one day I will be recognised as one, and start training my own apprentices as well. Hardship builds strength, and that is a good way." Kendrick Class: MonkRace: Dark Elf As a young child Ishnick was very rambunctious. His parents would just leave him by himself to go consult with the other elves. During this time period Ishnick would either meditate or practice fighting skills that he had seen in an earlier time period. His parents disapproved with fighting, but how else was he supposed to defend himself from the goblins passing by? Many times goblins would ride on wolves and steal his gold, until one day when the goblins stole his gold they threatened his entire races life. Ishnick knew that he would have to learn to defend himself so he traveled to Nexus. Upon arriving at Nexus Ishnick saw a man of mystery fighting little goblin spies that kept trying to sneak in. This man was quite strong and of great size. The spies stood no chance and as soon as the spies were dead the robed man set out at walking pace with his arms folded inside the sleeves of his robes. Even at the unknown warriors walking pace Ishnick had to run just to keep up. The warrior then entered a Monastery and Ishnick followed silently. The warrior turned around peered into the shadows and a rumbling voice echoed throughout the room "I knew you were following me and I was wondering, is there any particular reason?" Ishnick hearing this stumbled out of the shadows looking scared and asked in a squeaky voice "I was just wondering what art you studied and if I could possibly learn it also?" Then the warrior explained his name, which was Arwyn, and the art of being a monk. Ishnick drawn into the entire idea of being part of the Monastery. Arwyn then taught him the ways of the monk and Ishnick changed his name for the guild. He would now be known as Kendrick the Monk of Nexus. Kendrick walked home one night after a meditation and found his home burnt to the ground. He felt rage circulate his blood stream and as soon as he arrived he left at a galloping pace. He ran to Arwyn and Arwyn then noticing his rage explained to him the ways of the goblins and then sent him to Falcion Island to help harness his rage and learn what the Monastery stands for. Khurl Class: MonkRace: Troll A small human boy, no more than ten years old, walks up to a strange looking man with forest green skin. The man has a single, sharpened horn protruding from a head of glistening silver hair. The boy looks at the man strangely, and asks, "Where is your home?" The man looks back at the boy, holding back a scowl and forcing a smile. "Is it of your concern, boy?" The boy looks into the ground contritely. "I . . . was only curious . . ." The man sighs lightly. "I grew up in Dra'kanal." A confused look forms on the boy's face as he ponders the response for a moment. "Where's that?" The man replies, "It is far from here, child." The boy's confused look does not go away as he asks, somewhat meekly, "Then why are you so far from home?" A weary sigh falls upon the man's face. "I was kicked out." The child's eyes open wide, showing an air of disbelief. "Kicked out of your home? My mommy says that if I'm really, really bad then she'll kick me out of my home. Were you bad?" The man lets forth a deep, rumbling chuckle and the first semblance of a smile touches his face. "Some people think I was." The child nods, seemingly in understanding. "Do you think you were bad?" The man ceases his chuckling, and responds in a somber tone, "I don't know." Another confused look forms on the child's face as his eyebrows furrow in thought. "What did you do that was bad?" Continuing the somber tone, the man replies, "I had a disagreement with my family." Frowning, the boy asks, "A fight with your family? That's bad. What did you fight about?" The man sighs lightly as he speaks. "My family wanted to slay a city of ice faeries." "Faeries?" The boy furrows his eyebrows. "What're they?" A trace of a smile comes off the man's lips. "Have you seen a sprite?" The boy's eyes light up in delight. "Sprites? They're so cute and fun!" The smile on the man's face widens slightly. "Faeries are much like sprites. These ice faeries are pale blue, and live in the mountains." The boy's face nods vigorously, then frowns suddenly. "Did your family attack them?" "No, they did not." The boy smiles as he says, "Oh, that's good. How did you stop them?" The man hesitates. The boy frowns and begins to look toward the ground. "If you don't wanna tell . . ." The man cuts him off. "If you wish to know, I will tell you, child." The boy nodded. "I killed my family." An audible gasp comes from the boy's mouth as he stares at the man in shock. "You . . . killed . . .?" The man nods. "To stop them from killing the faeries?" The man shakes his head. The boy frowns. "Then why?" "Rage." The boy's frown becomes deeper. "You killed them just because you were mad?" The man nods. "A troll's blood burns as hot as coal. And every moment of my life is spent taming it." The boy looks carefully at the man. "You're a troll?" The man nods. "Aye." The boy's eyes focus on the man's head. "Why are you missing a horn?" The man touches his one, sharpened horn. "The horn I cut off is for my exile. The horn that I have left represents my hope that one day, I can return to my home." The boy smiles. "I hope you return one day too." The troll's face goes into a deep hearty smile for a precious moment before fading away. He looks up and peers at the horizon, where the twin suns are falling from the sky. He turns his head back at the boy, his long, silver hair swinging into his face. "It's getting late, child. Perhaps you should head home." The boy nods, and walks down Market Street as the troll's jet-black eyes gaze at the boy's back. As the boy fades from view, the troll walks to the Temple of Pandora and resumes his meditation. Killian Class: MonkRace: Unknown OK, a little story of my life as it has been.Now let's start where all histories start...with a beginning. I was born on Aalur, the sixteenth of the month of the Phoenix. When I was just born I was left to a monastery at the side of a big mountain. So I never got to know my mother and my father. When I was 2 years old the headman of the monks in that monastery started to train me to become a monk. We had long lessons about the history of the realms, the Gods, The war. We trained unarmed combat. My master said that combat is the last way out of everything, And if there is a way to get out without to fight, take it. When I was 18 years my master sent me out with a message to another monastery. It took me about 3 weeks to deliver it and to get back. When I got back the whole monastery was burnt down! All of my brothers was dead, except my master. He had sustained bad wounds and didn't have much time left. He told me that they had been attacked buy a pack of Goblins. I was of course furious, but my master calmed me down and told me that I was on my own now. He said that I was a good student and that he was pleased with me, but my training was far from completed. Then he died ... I buried all my fellow monks and packed a bag with food and a clean robe and set of to continue my training at some other place. I walked around in the world for 7 months or more, until I came to a monastery with a very old master. He found me when he was out on one of his daily walk and took me to the monastery and gave me food and a place to sleep. This place was not so big and there were only me, my master and 2 other monks in it. Here I continued my training and learned much of the life of other animals and living things. And how to respect them and not attack them, if not in self-defense. I stayed here for 20 years training and studying. Then one day the master came in to my room and said that I had learned all I could learn from him and told me that it was time for me to go out in the world and use my gained skills. So I packed my bag again and went out in the world. I walked around for a week and came to some water. I bought a small boat and started to row. When I had been rowing for a while a thick mist came over me, and I was lost on the sea. After a while a bumped in to some big rocks at a shore. I jumped out of my boat and looked around. I saw some walls or what it was a bit in on the island. I went towards the walls and came to a gate. Unfortunately it was closed. I knocked on the gate and a guardsmen came and opened it. -Hello, I said. Can you tell me where I am? - You have come to a city called Falcion. If you would like to stay here and train up you skills you are welcome. But if you ever break the rules of this place, you will be killed. - What rules I asked. The guardsman gave me a book and said: - Read this book before you decide if you want to stay here or go on. - OK, I said and took the book. I read the book and decided to stay, at least for a while. And that's where I am now ... a while is not to end yet, and won't be for a long time. Kolran Class: MonkRace: Orc Ok, I got a request from a scribe to write down my history. But since I am only 14 years old, I don't have that much to write about, but here it comes: I have no memories of my mother, nor father. I was raised by monks in a monastery pretty far from Nexus. I was told by the head of the monastery that I was found out in the woods by some roaming monks. When they first told me that I felt anger against my mother and father for abandoning me, but the monk's taught me that anger only leads to more anger. So, in my heart, I forgave my parents. The years moved on, and the monks taught me how life for a monk is, and I felt that this was my place in the world. Late one winter, when I was 12 year's old, a disaster struck our monastery, after a monk had gone completely mad. He took a torch and threw it into our master's bedroom, burning the poor man alive. After that, we all wanted that man dead. But one man, an old monk and an old friend of our dead master reminded us that revenge is not the way of monks. Forgiveness comes before revenge, he said. So life slowly moved on, with the old man as a new master of the monastery. When I reached the age of 13 my master wanted me to go out and see the world and to show people the way of monks. But before he could let me out in the crazy world, he taught me how to defend myself. I learned how to fight with my bare hands. And late one summer, early in the morning my master came to me, saying it was time for me to leave. So I took my old bag, hugged my master and walked of in the cold. I walked through the country, passing several villages, where I was warmly welcomed and I felt that this was a country I would like to live in. And one day, when snow was falling on me, I came to a big gate. I saw a guardsman up on the wall and asked him what city this was.- Nexus, the guard replied.- Oh, I said. May I enter this town?- Of course the guard said. I entered the city and saw a monk and asked after the way to the monastery. The monk motioned for me to follow him and so I did. I entered the monastery, and saw a half giant monk standing there. I asked what his name was.- Kroch , he said.- I am Kolran, a newly arrived monk.- Hello, the half giant said.- I would like to join the monks guild here in Nexus, I said.- I can not accept you just yet, Kolran. First you must train at our training island called Falcion.- Oh, and how can I find to this Falcion, I asked.- I'll show you, he said. I started to follow him, and we walked of. We walked on a well walked path, more like a road, until we came to a bridge. Kroch pointed at a cave and said:- Watch out here. At least at the night. Evil things come here during night.- Ok, I said We continued walking until we came to a village.- This is Rymek, Said Kroch We walked until we came to a sloop.- Board this and start your training.- Ok, I said and boarded the sloop. And that is how I ended up here. And I ain't done, not yet. Kolran Ko'wol Koovoon Class: MonkRace: Human Koovoon grew up in an average-sized cottage in the Crystal Mountains north of Nexus. He was born a midget, just like his parents. Without any civilization close to the cottage, there was no one to criticize the family for their size, enabling Koovoon to grow up in a peaceful environment. His parents, Margaret and Vincent Sabi, were both clerics, learning their powers from books they acquired on their journeys, and worshiped the Mistress Pandora. They planned to teach their child the ways of a cleric, but decided that Koovoon should choose his own profession. He ventured out into the mountains and often spent whole nights outside. At the age of 10, his parents started to notice a pact between him and the animals in the mountains. He seemed to be getting in touch with his surroundings, so they introduced him to the profession of a monk. After studying the guild for 8 years, he finally decided to venture into Falcion and start his life as a monk. That's where his journey started... Marcellus Class: MonkRace: Reni I was raised among mages, which made me unusual: I was the only person on the island who was not a mage, and that made me a novelty. Here was a reni for you: look at him, he's short, he's heavy, he has a reasonable amount of physical strength, and he can't cast magic to save his life. Suffice it to say that I was a novelty, and that I was a popular novelty. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself, though. I was, and assumably still am, as I have no direct proof that my parents are dead, the eldest son of seven born to Ignacius Caecilius and his wife Maravela. Ignacius, in turn, was the son of the great arcanochemist Hypolius Caecilius of the Tholmic University, before the War of the Races. Hypolius was descended in a right line from the Second Superior Minister of the Renis Conclave of 117, the renowned lord and bureaucrat Remius Caecilius. However, we need have little traffic with Remius; our concern is primarily with the actions of Hypolius at the time of the War of the Races. Hypolius, being an astute observer, saw the way the wind was blowing in the months before the full-blown beginning of the war. Realizing that his people, the pacifistic Renis, were more suited to scholarship than war, he feared that his race would be decimated or driven into extinction by any armed conflict between the races of the Realm. The Ba'hat Massacre, in which the Renis township of Ba'hat was ravaged by a clan of hostile ogres, resulting in the deaths of five thousands and a half of Renis, confirmed Hypolius' fears. Gathering together his family and several colleagues from the University, Hypolius secured the use of a merchant vessel, and set sail southwards into the Sea of Tears. The very next evening, though Hypolius and his comrades never learned of it, the offices of the Department of Arcanoscience at the University were burned, and the residences of the professors and their families were also set to the torch, taking the lives of all those inside. At least nine of the finest minds in the field of Arcane Magic were lost that night, and the department was functionally shattered. The vessel of Hypolius sailed for near fifteen-score days, before supplies began to run low, and they sought land. The land came in the form of an island, uninhabited, of about thirty thousand acres, one of the hundreds of small islands that are scattered throughout the width and breadth of the Sea of Tears. Hypolius' ship landed on this island, and the voyagers gave it the name Icaria. For the next several centuries, the Renis rebuilt their society, unconcerned with the affairs of the mainland, and resolved not to return. I was born on Icaria, the son, as I have said, of Ignacius, who was the son of Hypolius. I was different than anything they had seen before, a veritable freak of nature. I was, to be frank, large. This was shocking to the Renis society, as they were all about two and three-quarters to three meters tall, and built like rails. I was about two and a half meters, and was bulky, at least in comparison. I have seen, now having lived twelve winters on the mainland, that I am not really that largely built, but on an island of renis, I was massive. However, that would not have been noticed as much if I had had even the smallest scrap of aptitude for the magic arts. I did not. Whilst my peers were quickly gaining mastery of the lesser spells of attack and defense, I was still trying to master the spell to cure poisoning, which they all had been casting practically since infancy. I carried a lantern when it was dark, which caused everyone to laugh excessively; they all used that magical light which I at the time was too inept to cast. Let it be said in my defense that I was not stupid, by any stretch of the imagination. I was just not a mage; the only person who was not a mage among a population of thousands. It caused me near-immeasurable strife as I grew up to be the most inept student of magic that had ever been seen in my country. However, this ostracism and ridicule would not last as long as I thought, for circumstances transpired which threw me bodily from the isolated world of Icaria and across the sea. On the third of the Month of the Icedrake, in the one thousand, one hundred and second year of the Empire, the Master Scryer of the community announced that he had felt the presence of a hostile force, far away, but moving closer. Readiness was doubled, and lookouts were posted, scanning the interminable blue expanse of sea the clock round. Six tense days passed. On the ninth, the lookouts on the Lesser Southwestern Spur reported the sighting of several dark specks on the horizon. The lookouts estimated their position to be about three hundred leagues to the south of Icaria. Readiness was trebled, doors were locked and bolted, and citizens went about in groups of three or four. By the fifteenth, the specks were identifiable as ships, square- rigged, and of a hull configuration unknown to anyone on Icaria. It was by now certain that these ships were inbound to the island. The Master Scryer confirmed that they represented the force he had percieved twelve days earlier. The ships landed on the seventeenth. Their crews were heavily armed specimens of a creature I had never before seen the like of; I now suspect that they were trolls or ogres of a sort, massive and swarthy. In any case, the Scryer had not been mistaken about their intentions. The raiders shot down the diplomatic party sent to meet them, and proceeded to begin a search of the island for the rest of us. The Executive Council of Icaria chose to test the strength of these newcomers, and a regiment of the island's finest war mages were despatched to meet the raiding party. Our war party took ninety-five percent casualties; only one battlemage of the twenty returned to the Prime City, heavily wounded. He was recognized as the commander of the battlewizards, the Lord Archmage Markovis, and he cried out as he staggered bleeding into the city: "Run." We ran. Some ran towards the enemy, hoping to overcome them with numbers, and some ran away from the enemy, as Markovis had assumably meant. I would have been one of the former, but my plans were arrested when my father Ignacius put my youngest brother, Adalus, in my arms, gave me the charge of his second son, my brother whom I called, in unorthodox fashion, Norm, and ordered me to take my the family's skiff and flee. I complied, and set sail within half an hour. Looking over my shoulder, I saw fire and lightning flying from Icaria, and a thick haze of black smoke rising over the island. I sailed onwards. Winds were favorable, and on the eighth of the month of Prariefire, I saw dead ahead of my vessel the form of an island. A dense fog was rolling in, but I held the ship to her course. At about half past midnight, the skiff ran aground on the island, shattering itself against the rocks. I cursed myself and the fog, but thanked the Gods that my brothers and I had both survived the voyage and the wreck. It was my birthday, but it slipped my mind at the time. You may have guessed that the island was Falcion, and that the fog which caused the wreck of my ship was the same enchanted mist which still protects the island from its enemies. I still do not know what befell my father on Icaria, or any of the rest of my people, nor is it likely that I will ever find out. That island is lost to the world now, and I suspect that my grandfather Hypolius, though he is dead, would have been appreciative of that. ******************************************************************************* Marcellus' step spoke determination as he walked towards Trista's under the semi-darkness of an overcast sky. Threading his way through the morning crowds of Market Street, he turned off onto Pine at the first possible opportunity, his long legs covering yards at a stride and his face a mask of emotionless stone. Stepping through the double doors of the tavern, he looked around, still moving like a man obsessed. Trelaurn could be heard in the stockroom, a gentle clinking of bottles and glasses, and a tuneless singing of nonsense words. The bar-room was empty, and quiet hung in the air, almost tangible. With one swift movement, Marcellus opened the trapdoor to the wine cellar, and stepped down inside. The clock was striking two hours past sunrise; it was the seventeenth of Dawn. In the dimness of the altar room in the wine cellar, Marcellus finished his quick descent of the stairs, and dropped his gear at the foot of the staircase. "I need it not where I am going," he said quietly to himself, and strode purposefully into the center of the room. Standing in front of Trista's altar, the Overturned Winecask in the middle of the cellar, he stretched his arms wide; the flames of the candles wavered, and began to flicker and dance madly. "I have done evil," Marcellus said, his voice like the toll of a leaden bell. "I have been evil. I will be evil and defiled no more. May the grace of my lady Trista preserve me." His chi began to rise, as if in fury, radiating from his hands as if for an imminent Touch of Death, but the touch never came. The raw chi began to spread along his outstretched arms, arcing across his body like lightning. Marcellus' jaw locked, his face betraying no thought or emotion, his control holding, as the brilliance of his free-flowing life's energy lit the room with a silent explosion of whiteness. Flung into the air, Marcellus' body was hurled across the room by an unseen force, landing in a heap behind some stacked crates and casks. Lying on the floor without motion, his pulse coming only faintly and far apart, his eyes closed, Marcellus faded into the grey shadows behind the crates. The candles flickered, guttered, and went out. As if loaded with springs, Marcellus' eyes flicked open in the darkness, a motion which seemed oddly devoid of a snap or a pop to signify its occurence. Gradually fading in out of the darkness, familiar shapes began to take form: bottles, winecasks, a outlined square of light in the ceiling, shining thinly and yellowly through the blackness. Turning his head, with a protesting creak from his neck, Marcellus slowly looked about the room, recollecting, placing things. Slowly, and to nobody in particular, the words came out of his mouth, dry and hoarse: "I know this place...I know this place. Trista's...I'm back at Trista's." Looking about the altar chamber of Trista's Temple, the memories began coming back, first a slow trickle, then increasing to a cascading outpouring of thoughts, events, and people, and finally an uncertainty: "How long...and how far?" the question came, unbidden. The darkness afforded the monk no response, and the stream of ideas continued to flow unchecked, a lifetime of experience coming back to a returned traveller. Frowning slightly, Marcellus forced his joints to move again, grinding them out of a peculiar stiffness and back into motion. Each movement grating like stone on stone, he pushed himself to a stand, swaying unsteadily with disorientation and weakness. Straining, Marcellus began to crawl up the spiraling staircase towards the outlined square of light. Trelaurn whirled around startledly, dropping a pewter tankard with a crash, as a dust-covered, cobwebbed form veritably flopped out of the trap-door from the wine-cellar. "What's all this?" he inquired gruffly of it, moving cautiously a bit closer. Rolling the inert form over slightly, he fished around in the tattered shroud of cloth wrapped about it, and finally pulled out a small silver pocket flask. Eyes widening in surprise, Trelaurn took another look at the pile, and at the flask, the Seal of Trista shining on it above a row of small script letters...the mass of dust and cobwebs had discernible limbs, a torso, some sort of a head, even. Taking one more look at the flask and the inert body, Trelaurn cried out in utter shock as the circumstances clicked in his head: "Marc, lad! What's happened ta ye?" "We'd thought ye were lost, laddie," explained the gruff old bartender, as the cerulean-robed clerics of the Healing Hand glided about the pallet on which Marcellus lay. "Nobody had seen hide nor hair of ye for a month or more, and we were just about ta send fer..." "Trelaurn," Marcellus interrupted quickly, "what's the date?" "Why, the 30th of Torrents, 1546, to be sure, lad," the barkeep replied, puzzled. "Only a double-score of days, then...I had thought years, decades even...but it's only scarcely months..." "What are ye talkin' about, lad? An' why were ye down in the cellar, and all befouled with cobwebs and dust and rotted cloth, what's more, for a month and more?" "I was meditating, Trelaurn...at least, that's what I started by doing...then I wasn't so sure, really. The rest just sort of came to me...the idea just sprung into my head, of a sudden. And then...well, it was just right, and wrong, and there was a flash, I don't know. But it seemed like so long, and yet..." "Ah, but I've seen that meditatin' afore. The monks just kind of do their bit, and there they are, all fresh as new, and whatnot. Ye must've done a powerful lot of freshening-up in a treble fortnight, I'd say." "It didn't feel that short, or long, for that matter...I could almost swear I was down there for Trista only knows how long, seconds or centuries, and I couldn't remember a thing, until..." "If I hadn't seen ya but a month or so ago, me dear, I would also swear that ye had been gone hundreds of years. Just ta look at ye..." The thought hadn't occurred to Marcellus to look at himself, ever since he had blacked out after the grueling upward climb into the tavern, ever since he had been put into the care of the Healing Hand. Now looking at himself, the change in his aspect lent all credibility to Trelaurn's comment. His fur, once a dazzling sapphire blue, was faded to a neutral white, as was the silver of his hair and beard, which had grown to a startling length. He felt lighter, frailer; indeed, almost as if a strong light would shine right through him. How had this happened, and when had the time elapsed to cause such changes? "Well, I'll be damned, old fellow," said Marcellus in quiet amazement. "I look...and feel...hundreds of years older...but when..." Trelaurn's voice grew a little deeper, and more matter-of-fact: the voice of the experienced old bartender giving advice. "Now, laddie, as I'm sure I've told ye before, ye monks are takin' marvelous chances, what with philosophizin' and alignin' and whatever else ye do with the universe and all. Now, from what I gather from ye, ye've been doin' some powerful heavy thinkin', an' then ye had an accident of sorts. An', even if an old humble barkeep like me don't understand much o' these things, there ain't but only so much time in the present, an' mistakes with th' universe ain't no trifling matter." "And so," Marcellus started in, picking up the thread, "I must have had something happen down in that cellar, but I'll be dipped in molasses if I know what it was. Something happened to wear me out like this, while the rest of you spent a month or two wondering where I was, but the Divine Brothers themselves probably only know what exactly it was that happened, and I doubt if they'd be forthcoming. Not very good, perhaps, and maybe full of holes, but the explanation fits...not knowing exactly what happened, it's the best I'm likely to get." "I'd always said ye were a smart lad, Marc me dear," said the old barkeep with a grin, "and that if there were anythin' ta be figured, ye'd figure it somehow. Ye spin me poor old head, laddie, but ye make sense doin' it, or at least close enough for me. Now, the thing which strikes me as bein' important now is what ye were doin', wherever ye were, or how ye call it." Marcellus took a deep breath, and said to his old friend, "I think I've done it, old chap, I really think I have. This old head of mine is clear now, clearer than I ever thought it could be, and I feel...well, lighter of heart, than I did." "How do ye mean, me lad...ye were always a jolly chap, afore ye left...or whatever ye've done." "Except I was a killer...I had the blood of thousands on my hands and on my soul. I killed them, Trelaurn, I killed them for my own ambition and avarice." "Now, not so harshly with yerself. Ye done what ye had to do." "No, I did what I wanted, to try to live up to the standards I let others set for me. I was a guilty one, no doubt. But it's all made up, now, old chap, I'm cleansed of those crimes. But I've paid for it...paid for it dearly. Look at me...look at what I was, and look at who I am now." "Aye, lad, ye're lackin' a bit of the fortitude ye had afore, I must say. But, it were always the inside that mattered in the countin', an' yer inside is a fair sight better than it were, I can tell." "Thank you, old friend," Marcellus said, with a bit of a smile. "I needed to hear that, after all I've given up, that it was worth it after all." "I'm yer barkeep. That's my job, lad," said the old bartender gruffly as he started for the door of the Hand. "Ye get well, now, ye hear?" With a smile for his old friend, Marcellus watched Trelaurn trudge out the door and back towards Trista's. Closing his eyes, he slept for the first time in months. The sun shone warmly down on Nexus as Marcellus prepared to leave the custody of the Healing Hand; the cerulean-robed priests had finally determined to let him go on his way, after healing him back from the very edge of death. Marcellus' appearance was greatly improved from the day he had been admitted, but he yet retained the aspect and physique of a reni of several centuries age, which was decidedly odd, considering that the change took mere months to elapse. Leaning on a mahogany walking-stick, he motioned away the priests and started off, heading back to Trista's. Martax Class: MonkRace: Half Orc Grael looked up at the seemingly endless sea of gray clouds and sighed. It had been raining for days now and there was no end of it in sight. He and his companions were cold, tired, and in a foul mood. Traveling in these mountains was risky at the best of times, under the current conditions it was nearly suicidal. But, winter was fast approaching, and the travelers had far to go yet. "Perhaps some entertainment tonight would help the men." , he whispered to himself. They always enjoyed his "Life Songs", maybe he should sing one this evening. He was reluctant though, the magic always left him drained and weary, it was a very strong spell. Looking back at his men, he sighed again, "Looks like I am in for a long night.", he mumbled. * * * * The magic coursing through his veins, Grael scanned the landscape hundreds of leagues from their campsite, looking for the glow of life. Quickly scanning and discarding more than he could count. Finally he found a suitable one, the light strong and unwavering, bright amidst the surrounding darkness. He gently probed the light with his mind, picking up surface thoughts, emotions and strong memory paths. Swiftly Grael explored the paths, not intruding where he met resistance. He was not here to learn everything about this person, only enough to form a general story of his life, so that he might relay it to his companions. When he was finished, he released the magic, allowing the mana to flow away from him. As his vision returned to normal, he looked around him at his men and smiled, " I have an interesting one tonight my friends." " He is a half-orc named Martax, and this is his story. * * ** Where he came from and who his parents might have been is a mystery that he has never found the answer to. He was found as an infant by a kind young widow woman named, Leera. Her husband and infant son were both dead, taken by the fever which had struck the summer before. To her the child was surely a gift from the gods. Martax grew up quickly in that small cottage outside of Gevron village, and Leera taught him the value of kindness and generosity. But all the while, she kept him a secret from the villagers who already shunned her. The village folk believed her to be cursed, hated by the gods. All the proof was there; she had lost her only family to a sickness which had not struck any other family in the community. And they watched as her crops withered and died in the fields, another sign that the gods were unhappy with her, never mind that with her family dead there was not enough help for her to harvest it. So Leera kept him a secret, knowing that she would be hated and feared for raising such a monstrosity. Orcs were the enemies of her people, raiding and burning homes each year, demanding tribute in exchange for mercy. When Martax was nine summers old things changed. A new farmer settled in a field only a short distance from Leera's holdings, and made it known to her that he would have her for a wife. She refused, and continued to do so for nearly a year. Finally the man had heard it enough, and forced his way into her cottage, his intentions obvious. He attacked Leera, and threw her to the floor. Suddenly he heard a growl of rage and turned in time to see the young boy racing across the cottage, straight at him. He had just enough time to begin laughing before the boy crashed into him with amazing strength, and they both went smashing through the back wall of the dwelling. Martax got up off of the man, and looked down. A narrow board jutted up from the man's chest, just below his ribcage, and he was not moving. Hearing sobbing coming from the house he turned and went back through the hole in the wall. " It's okay, Momma. He won't hurt you no more." Leera buried the body that night and made Martax swear that he would never hurt another person again. " You are strong, son. And soon you will be stronger than most men, so must use care when dealing with other people, or this kind of thing will keep happening." Three more years passed in relative peace before tragedy struck again. The orcs returned and were unhappy with the tribute given to them by the settlement. They began burning homes, and killing everyone insight. Being on the edge of the village, Leera was able to escape into the woods with Martax, but not before she was struck by a stray arrow shot. She died several hours later, leaving Martax alone in the wilderness once again. * * * * Martax buried his mother the next day, a single tear running down his cheek. All he could remember were his mother's dying words. " Remember son, even when you think you have lost everything, there are people who have less. Those are the ones you should help." Martax wandered into the village later that day, carrying nothing but a loaf of bread and a carving knife that he had found next to a dead butcher. The settlement was a complete loss, buildings burnt to the ground, bodies lying where they had fallen. Looking around him, Martax made a vow to himself, " I shall never be a victim like this." Then he quickly added, " And neither shall those who I care for." * * * * Martax lived by himself for over a year wandering the land, avoiding contact with humans, surviving by eating the plants that Leera had shown him. But one cold winter day his life changed forever. It started with the howling. He had heard wolves many times and had learned how to avoid the roving packs in the forest, but these sounded different. Taunting, menacing. Against his better judgment he decided to check it out. Several minutes later he crested a rise, and looking below him he was stopped cold. There were six wolves below, and they were huge, much larger than any he had seen before, and in the center of them was an elderly man. The man appeared to be reaching for a travel pack that lay several yards off to his side. He was wounded, badly from what Martax could tell, but that was not what caught his attention most. Lying beside the old man were the bodies of three more wolves " Surely this old man had not defeated those beasts?" Martax knew he had to help but was not able to think of how to do it. Then he spotted a tree off to his right, it had been hit by lightning and was split nearly in two, one half hanging over the slope directly above the biggest grouping of wolves. Martax knew he was strong, Leera had always warned him about that, and he was much stronger now. " Time to see if I am strong enough." , he thought. He swiftly ran to the tree and, placing his back against the upright portion of it, began pushing with his feet. With an incredibly loud "crack!" the broken trunk snapped off and the immense tree careened down the slope. One of the wolves turned at the sound and managed to avoid the falling tree, two others were not so lucky. With a sickening crunch the tree landed on them, crushing them to the ground. Meanwhile, Martax had not sat idly and watched, he ran down the slope behind the falling tree and jumped onto the third wolf, brandishing his knife. The knife sunk deeply into the wolf's side before snapping off at the handle, and Martax was thrown from it's back as it yelped and jumped away. The wolves had seen enough, following the wounded leader they all ran off into the forest, disappearing quickly in the faint dusk light. Martax approached the old man carefully, watching for the wolves, should they decide to return. The old man turned his head towards Martax and he saw his face for the first time, his eyes were a milky white color. " You are blind?" , asked Martax. The old man cackled, " Well of course I am young one, and if you don't mind, could you hand me that pack over yonder?" Grabbing the pack, Martax moved to the man's side, " Here you go, " old one" . Are you alright?" The man began digging through the pack and soon produced a beautiful blue orb, shining brightly in the gloomy light. Suddenly the orb flashed brilliantly then faded to a dull gray, " Hmph, last charge." The old man tossed the orb over his shoulder then stood up and began walking off. " Well, are you coming or not?" , the man called over his shoulder. Scratching his head, Martax shrugged, then picked up the orb and quickly chased after the man. * * * * Grael looked around the fire at his men, all of them watching him intently. " Well, as it turns out, that old man was a monk, an ancient master who had founded his own monastery far out in the wildlands. He taught Martax many things, including a form of fighting that uses only bare hands and feet to inflict incredible damage. He taught him how to focus his inner power, his chi, and use it to produce magical effects. Though Martax's heritage makes it very difficult for him to concentrate properly. And, perhaps the most important thing he taught him, the one thing Martax carries with him to this very day, is this " Live life. Do not read about it, or hear about it. Live it. Life teaches us more than any book, or any story, but you must live it yourself." Smiling, Grael continued," A worthy lesson. His master died a few years after bringing Martax to the monastery, and Martax left shortly after that. He traveled for some time before hearing of a place in need of good warriors, willing to protect a city under siege. For him it seemed as if his entire life had led him to this moment, had prepared him for the day when he would be called to defend others. He immediately began searching for this besieged city, and eventually found it. He is there to this day, battling in defense of the innocent, helping those who have less than he does." " And this city? What city is it, Grael?" asked one of his men. Smiling sadly Grael looked at him, "Why it is the very city we search for. The city we were sent to in search of aid. It is Nexus." " That was a very touching story." Startled, Grael looked about in the darkness, trying to see who had spoken. Nothing. Nothing but trees and darkness. The voice spoke again, " Too bad it is the last you will ever hear." Then a shout, " Kill them!!" Muaddib Class: MonkRace: Human One day a group of adventurers was once again fighting goblins outside the East gates of City of Nexus. The battle was going well, several Firegiants and Warlords were already dead, when someone noticed some strange movements in the nearby bushes. Moments later, a young man, bleeding freely, crawled out of Eldane forest, trying to ask for help. One of the group's clerics used her special abilities to heal the stranger, who immediately engaged in battle against goblins with a fury never seen before. He did not use any weapons, just his bare hands, but the goblins were dropping dead one after another from his hits. After the battle was over, the adventurers looked at the stranger, wondering who he might be. He said that his name was Muaddib and asked them where he was. He was told that he was standing by the walls of Nexus, city of all Races. After Muaddib heard the name of the city he kneeled and prayed. "Thank you, My Love, for guiding me to the right place.", he said. The adventurers finished the battle, clearing the Processional way from goblin troops and proceeded back inside the city walls to rest and prepare for another battle. While sitting in Trista's tavern, the adventurers started talking to Muaddib, asking him about his past and where he came from. Muaddib sat back, rubbing his sore fists, and started his story: "I lived in a desert all my life. I was a member of a small tribe that lived in the desert. We were proud warriors, fearless in battle....we were..until those monsters came. They looked almost like those I saw you fighting. Just bigger. All my people were killed in that bloody battle. We did not even get a chance to come close enough to those things to fight them. What a bunch of afraid animals they were. And my wife, my beautiful wife..." His voice went down to whisper, tears coming down his face, as his hand was holding a small heart-shaped amulet, made of some metal, that looked like platinum. But seconds later he gained complete control over his feelings and continued: "Only me and my brother escaped. We did not know what to do, but we had heard old people in our tribe talking about some large city located far away west of our lands, so we decided to go west. For that we had to cross the desert which we lived in, but nobody had ever done it before. We walked across the desert for days, with no food or water. We were ready to give up, but we saw a water surface far away on the horizon. That was the most beautiful sight i have ever seen. As we came closer, we realized there was no way across, because the bridge over the river was destroyed. Green-blue waters were moving so fast, we did not know if we could get across as neither of us could swim. We had to go and find some small trees, break them down with our bare hands and make something like a boat. As we tried to cross the river, our boat started filling up with water and soon turned upside down. I tried to save my brother, but he went under water so fast, that i could not help him. I managed to drag myself out of the water and fell asleep right there, on the bank of the river. I woke up because I heard people talking nearby. I was in a small house, in bed. As soon as I was able to walk, I continued my trip to the city to the west, which, as I found out was called Nexus. I was warned that roads were taken over by some race called goblins, who did not let anyone through without killing them. So I walked across the plains until I saw forest to the north. I started walking towards it, but I had to cross the road, and that is when I was seen by goblins. I tried running away, and managed to dive into bushes before they could kill me. Then I heard some voices, and sounds of battle. That is when I found you. I dont know what to do. I have no place to go. I have nobody. What should I do?" The adventurers looked at each other. "You were good at fighting, but you have to learn our ways, ways of Nexus. If you want to stay here, you have to go to Falcion, small town on the island. All our young people live and train there. Once you are qualified to leave Falcion, you will come back to Nexus to live and fight with us." And so, next day a young man, named Muaddib, entered the gates of Falcion. As he walked the streets, he looked up and saw shadows of huge creatures, flying up high and heard the voice that said :" Welcome, Muaddib. Let Falcion be your home". Oradea Class: MonkRace: Half Elf "Now Krenna the Monks are a strange lot, strange, and quite interesting. When you go to the monastery, ask for Oradea, one of the monks will show you the way." The Master Scribe gave Krenna a scroll, an inkwell, and a quill. Krenna Headed off through the city, and eventually got to the monastery. Monks walked about, some spoke, but most were quiet. "um, pardon me, could you direct me to Oradea?" This to a monk who came up to her, and smiled. The monk said "Of course. Please, follow me." The monk lead Krenna to the garden in the monastery. A beautiful place, in and of itself, that almost took the young scribes breath away. The monk who had lead her, turned, and walked back the way he had come. Looking around, Krenna noticed two people, one sat atop a huge white boulder, with her eyes closed, and a look of peace on her face. The other, sat in-front of the boulder, with his back resting against it, with a similar expression on his face. The scribe recognized the second as Elistan, guildmaster of the monks. The scribe opened her mouth to speak, and Elistan said, without opening his eyes, or moving so much as a muscle "Yes, she is Oradea, and we have been expecting you." Krennas mouth nearly dropped open, but the Master Scribe had warned her. Elistan opened his eyes, and smiled. He stood up and tapped the woman on the leg. Oradea opened her eyes, and looked around curiously. She noticed the scribe standing, and smiled warmly. "Oradea? Hello, my name is Krenna, I am here to take down your history" she gestured to her scroll. Oradea smiled again, turned to Elistan, and moved her hands in a flurry of motion. Elistan turned to the Scribe and said "Oradea says that it is nice to meet you, and she would be happy to share her past with you." Krenna looked confusedly at Elistan, then to Oradea. "She is a deaf mute. She has taught me her sign-language. That was what she was doing when she moved her hands." "Ahhhhhh, I see. How does she know what I am saying?" Oradea pointed to her eyes, and then to Krennas lips. "Oh, you can read lips, I see. Well, shall we get started?" "My story starts on another land, far across the ocean, and with gnomes. When I was a baby, my parents abandoned me, for what reason, I do not know," Elistan translated for Oradea. "If not for a small band of traveling gnomes that found me, I would have died. They took me in. Some of them thought it a strange thing to take in a child, but one of the gnomes would hear none of it, and took me with her. Her name is Lillian. "When I was about 9, and had not said a word, a few of the gnomes were convinced that I was just plain stupid. I remember one time, one of those gnomes was arguing with Lillian, and he had placed some of his plans down. I went over to look at them, and added a few things. Just some minor little additions. He was furious, but after his initial tirade, he looked at the additions I had made, and tried them out. It made the thing work, though I still do not know what it was supposed to do. "This was when I started learning to read lips, and to write notes when I wanted to be understood. It was hard to learn so fast, but I managed. When I was about 12, I went off on my own, I know, young, but I wanted to get away, for some reason. I headed out onto the plains, with just a little bit of food and a waterskin. I had figured that I would be able to find some water, if I ran out, but those plains are quite desolate, not a desert, but close. "When I was near exhaustion, and out of food and water for a day past, an old man found me. He approached me slowly, and spoke a language that I had never seen before. He had a small leather shield with a pattern on it, and some feathers in his hair, I did not know what to make of him! He figured out that I could not understand him because I am deaf, and showed me where to find some water, and food. Quite easy if you know what to look for. "He took me to his tribe. They were an interesting people. He took me in, and taught me some gestures which I picked up fast. They were used by the hunters of the tribe when they needed to be quiet. We expanded on it, and created our own language of sorts. When we could communicate he told me a story that was very interesting. It turns out that the day he found me, he was visited by a spirit, and told to go out onto the plains, for what reason, he had no idea. Fandellon, the old man, is a Spirit Warrior, and it was not unknown for a spirit to come to him for some reason or another. If he had not found me when he did, I would have walked right into a clan war that was raging just a mile away from where he found me, so either I am very lucky, or the spirits are looking out for me . . .but that is another story. "After a few years, I was adopted into the tribe, and Fandellon trained me for years to be a Spirit Warrior. I know many things, but I am not as good as he, not by a long shot. Well, They became my people and I would have loved to stay there forever. "One day, though, I was struck by a need, I have no other way to communicate it, a need to go somewhere. When I approached Fandellon, he seemed to know. That was when he gave me this clasp I wear in my hair. He never told me what the rune on it means, and it was one I never learned. Well, I headed off toward a coastal town, and bought passage on a ship for some work. I could climb the netting faster than the sailors could, and it got more than one hot under the collar. I found my way to Rymek on that ship, and then to the Nexus, where I am now. I have a new master," Oradea smiled at Elistan, and continued signing "friends, and a home." Elistan smiled at Krenna and said "Well, that is her story. I hope it was not very confusing, for me talking for her that is." "Not at all, not at all. It was an interesting experience, to say the least. I will be heading off to the library now, so I can catalog this history scroll with the other ones of the adventurers, and residents of the Nexus. Thank you both for your time." Oradea smiled and signed again to Elistan. "She said that you are welcome, and thanks for taking her past down, even though it was a little dull." Krenna laughed. "No not dull, quite interesting in fact. I would like to talk to you about this other land some time in the future in fact." Oradea smiled again. Elistan said "Well, thank you for coming, can you find your way out, or would you like me to show you the way?" "Oh, I can manage, thank you." As Krenna turned to walk away, the two monks sat back down to meditate. Sage Class: MonksRace: Human I was born on Tilur, the seventeenth of the month of the Twilight, in the year 1,624 since the Godswar, and year 1,207 of the Empire. My name was Gwydion Wyndorf. My mother died in birth, and I never knew her. My father, on the other hand, hated me for this. When my mother Nancy Wyndorf died it drove my father to insanity, and hatred. He raised me well enough, but when I reached the age of five or so he could no longer take care of himself. So I did. I tended to him as best I could. Try as I might, he died eventually, two days after my seventh birthday. We had always lived as hermits. In a small hut in the forrest. I myself had never ventured more than ten miles away from it. I never felt the need to do so. The forrest was comforting and home to me, but after the death of my father I grew quite lonely. I had always noticed the odd sounds in the night, some of odd birds, some of tree branches moving in no wind and once an odd humming. I never pondered much of these sounds, because they had always been there, but one day I wished to investigate. I began to walk into the forrest along my normal path. All was normal until the forrest grew quiet. It was no normal thing. It was dead silence. No wind, bird calls or even the sound of leaves falling. I looked to my left, and I thought I saw something. I looked further down, and I saw a magnificent black bird. It’s feathers were jet black, and its flight was smooth and noiseless. I attempted to sneak up on it to get a better look, but it merely flew further into the forrest. After a bit more searching I found it again. Attempting to get closer failed, and it disappeared into the forrest once more. Again and again I found it, following it. Until I became quite lost. I knew the forrest well for I had lived in it all my life, but as I peered around nothing looked familiar. I attempted to back track, but as I did things seemed as if they changed. Trees and rocks seemed to be in different places than before. The forrest once again drew quiet. It was getting dark, and I grew fearful. I climbed a tree to see if I could spot a way out, but when I did I realized that I had gone quite further into the forrest than intended. I began to panic. I had never gone this far away from home in my life. I ran through the forrest looking for a way out. Then the bird appeared again. Angered and frustrated I yelled "What do you want from me?! Leading me into the forrest! Getting me lost! Are you trying to get me killed!!!!"” The bird merely disappeared flying into the darkness. A voice came from the trees "Ah so you’re the one I have been hearing for five years and smelling for two.” It startled me much and I ran into a tree in my fear. The voice chuckled. Another voice came from the trees "I say we kill him. Look at all the branches and twigs he’s snapped. He’s clearly trespassing."” Gathering my wits a bit more I realized running in the darkness was no use so I remained quiet. The voices began chattering to each other in some language that sounded remarkably like animals. "Kaetta did a good job in getting the poor boy lost. We should at least feed him." said the first voice. The second voice chuckled, and from the trees emerged two men, dressed in clothes of forrest colors. The first man carrying the black bird I had seen said in a calming voice "I am sorry about your father. We’ll take you back to a safe place, and get you some warm food. Any ways I am Falling-Rock and this here is my friend Wolf-Friend."” I was quite confused as to how these people knew of my father. "I am Gwy.."” I began, but was quickly cut off. “Gwydion Wyndorf. Yes we know” stated Wolf-Friend. I merely shrugged and before long I was walking with the two through the forrest. Falling-Rock was definitely the older of the two, and the nicer. We entered a clearing “So where are you taking me?” I asked, but there was only silence.“"Well?"” I asked again. I turned to look at the two, but they were gone. I stood alone in the middle of the clearing. I looked in all directions, nothing to be seen except trees, darkness and more darkness. Then as I was about to turn back to look for Falling-Rock and Wolf-Friend bird calls came from all directions within the trees. A camp fire began to burn violently from the north. Then another from the south. Then west, east until I was completely surrounded by the campfires. Amongst the light came many men, women and children dressed in forrest clothing. Amongst them I noticed Falling-Rock and Wolf-Friend. Then a very old man stepped forward, a crown of leaves and flowers resting upon his head. He turned to Falling-Rock looking quite angry. "Let me explain... He was lost in the woods, and his father just..."” The old man looked up and interrupted "You brought this boy into our village? Without counsel?"” Falling-Rock looked up "H-he was lost.."” The old man looked quite angry now peering at the bird on Falling-Rock's shoulder. “"Kaetta how dare you lead this boy to us!"” The bird chirped at the man. "He followed you?! You could of easily lost him! You lead him here!"” the man yelled “"Kill the boy immediately. We can not reveal our village to him. He must die." I began to shake in fear as the people surrounded me. A knife held high in a man’s hand. "Wait!"” yelled Falling-Rock. Everyone looked at him. "He is young and trainable. We could raise him as a druid."” At this the old man turned around eying me over. He began pondering. “"If we are to bring him up as a druid he must hold the name of one.” Everyone in the audience drew quiet. “Rise boy."” So I did. "Your birth name is Gwydion Wyndorf is it not?"” I nodded, to scared to speak. “"Your new name is Sage-Hunter you are to live as a druid. Or you could die. What is your choice?"” He eyed me. "L-live"” I stuttered. “"Very well. I am Redhawk the High Druid of these lands. If you are to dwell here all decisions of this village must be decided through our grand council."” I nodded not knowing what to say, and was led to a tree by Falling-Rock. "Well?"” I said as he pointed towards the tree. He chuckled “"Oh I forgot you don’t live like a druid."” He kicked aside a few weeds at the base of the tree, and pointed in. “"That’s where you’ll live from now on."” I gulped. "“Oh don’t worry. It’s nice once you get inside. I’ll be in that one."” He pointed to a tree. I nodded again climbing into the hole as he pushed the weed door closed. There was a candle burning, and as I looked around I noticed all the basic things needed for a cosey little house. There was a bed, and many herbs hanging from the ceiling. I blew out the candle and tried to sleep. Over the next seven years I was raised as a druid. Until I set off on my own. I reached the city of Talmet after many a month, and they directed me towards the City of all Races. From there I ventured to Falcion to begin training. I had always been taught to fight without the corruption of weapons so I trained as a monk and here I am today.” The scribe looked up "Eh. Thank you this will be posted at the library" and headed off. Shaan-mina Class: MonksRace: Human Seeking to protect their newborn child from the dangers of the world, Shaan-mina’s parents gave her to a monastery that only trained women. The order of flowers was a monastery in the wilderness. When she attained the age of 18 years, she would have to accomplish a quest for the monastery to earn the title that would grant her freedom from her monastery’s bonds. The title was identical for each monk as it represented its spiritual and physical training. The women had the option, when they accomplished that quest, to leave and return to the monastery at will. Free from their bonds, they would have to learn from themselves the way to enhance their skills and souls. It was Shaan-mina’s will to leave that place and search the world for many of her older friends that had already left the monastery to follow their own path. Strangely, from the two dozens of monks that left in the past four years, just two had returned to pay them a visit and share the wisdom from their tales. At the same time she feared to leave the safety of the order, she knew she would have to overcome it in order to learn new things about the life outside the walls. After days of meditation, something curious occured… while entranced, her body went numb and she strangely lost her perception of reality…She felt asleep, a deep sleep…like those we can’t say if it is really a dream or not… She was there, at the monastery, ready to depart to go after adventures. She roamed unspeakable dark lands until she arrived in a misty land, a valley of tall grass and icy winds. She entered the valley marching through the grass for hours until she found a cliff. As she looked down, white mists swirled with fury. A hundred of yards in front of her, laid the other side of cliff, where the grass had a heavenly green color and some small fragile flowers could be seen. Curiosity filled her wishes. She had to do it; she had to pick at least one flower. As she gathered all her inner-strength, she could already feel her body as light as dust being carried by the winds. She ran as fast as she could and jumped, but she only managed to leap a distance of fifty yards…she began to fall…an endless fall to the unknown. Terror gripped her mind, a nightmare so strong, tears started to fall down her cheeks. She couldn’t believe it would be the end of her life. Nothing could be seen in the mists that now engulfed her, a silent prayer came to her lips, born not of fear but from purity of soul and body. And the dream answered her prayers…She was snapped by the claws of a metallic dragon, flying upwards: a scaly giant creature, icy to the touch. It saved her life, landing safely on the side of the cliff she wanted to arrive. Inside her mind, she heard the roaring voice of the dragon: “Begone!”. Startled and confused, she decided it would be wise to obey the Dragon’s will. As she was leaving, a shadow darkened her vision suddenly, another dragon flew past her high in the sky. She turned to see where it was heading and she saw the previous dragon racing directly towards the new-comer, a terrible fight started. Scales flew through the air as claws and teeth sank into the chair of both dragons. She ran for hours then, terrified, crossing some woods. Then she arrived to a walled city, many guards standing armed near the gates…she kept the image of that city on her mind…a beautiful city that sheltered many persons of many races….Nexus. Her mind cleared and she woke with a violent shake. Shee looked around and touched the floor and her legs to make sure she wasn’t in a dream anymore. Something caught her attention while looking at the ground, she rubbed her eyes with her sleeves and her sight focused on a single flower placed there. The flower that grew around the temple, flowers of beauty, simplicity and surrounded by a mysterious glow. The same glow that many older sisters had in their left hands. A voice from the door just behind surprised her: “Shaan-Mina, would you join me for a walk?” As she turned to face the voice she saw the oldest of her sisters, a kind person and apparently fragile old woman, yet precise and deadly using her fighting technique, that woman with an astonishing clarity of mind was capable to talk about the many subjects that were part of the life and experience. “Yes sister, I would accept your invitation” as Shaan-Mina replied to her older sister, she picked the flower with her left hand and she moved to her side, beginning to walk with her into the garden of the monastery. “Shaan-Mina you meditated for a long time…” Ashamed, Shaan-Mina replied that while meditating, she felt asleep and had a dream. With a giggle the old woman began to share with her the wisdom gained over the years… “Mina, our spiritual training emphasizes the simultaneous development of mind and body as a path to understanding and enlightenment. Perfection lies in the ultimate control of control of own spirit – achieving harmony between mind and body. Meditation is a way to attune ourselves with reality and nature. Though dreams are a reality our minds are sometimes capable to understand, I would say that the dreams are the reality experienced by our very soul. Your “dream” Shaan-Mina, lasted for three full days…Three days that your soul lived in its own reality, a sign that you’ve found your chi. The chi for us is a way to control the inner-strenght gathered and empowered by our souls. Our souls and bodies are capable to harmonize themselves with nature and with that is born the chi. Mina, reality is like an apple divided in two halfs. One half where our mind and bodies are active and the other half where souls are also active. Chi binds the two halfs together. So there is no shame in dreaming as it is part of the reality of your soul. Now you will have to make your chi stronger and learn to use it….now go, have some meal.” As Shaan-mina understood the concepts of the explanation and left the company of her older sister, he spent another three months training extensively and meditating about the ways of the soul, nature and chi. Finally, the day came when she understood how to focus her chi and a silver brilliance appeared on her left hand. The flowers around the temple affected in some magical way the chi and the bodies of the monks at the monastery…a secret yet unsolved, but a power which the monks learned in their paths to control and use. Shaan-Mina received her title of Silver Lotus as the quest to be completed was exactly that one, finding the chi within herself. It was the same quest for everyone… Escorted by her elder sister, Shaan-Mina was guided to Falcion to continue her trainings by her own. As she saw her sister going away, a piece of her heart shed to pieces but she understood that it was her fate to search for the answers to the questions that filled her thoughts. In Falcion, she made some friends and tested many times her fighting skills. She learned that the city she once saw in a dream was close to Falcion and once she had finished her trainings on the island, she would manage to see that city for real. She joined the Monk’s Guild and trained hard, soon she was allowed to leave the training island. Then the day came when she arrived at the city as in her dream…She now has Nexus for her home. Word came to her that her temple was completely destroyed by unknown forces and she now seeks to protect this glorious city from possible harms, especially by trying to persuade the opponents to leave and if the diplomatic ways are not effective she would use her fighting skills to honor to teachings of her elder sister that always tried to follow the path of peace rather than choose violence. The philosophical doctrine teached at the monastery of the flowers valued life but valued also the order of nature. The sisters killed not only to defend themselves from eventual threats, but they also hunted down creautures of the wilderness to train their skills and use their hides, bones and eventally eat their chair. The fighting style of the order would be considered very exotic by common standarts but to those that lives on the jungle, they would seem inspired in the many creautures that roams these lands: Tigers, elephants and snakes. The fighting style developped by the monastery tried to copy the speed of the Tiger, the strenght of the Elephant and the precision of the snakes. Though these are the physical attributes that the monks of the order of the flowers tried to master: Speed-Strenght-Precision, Shaan-Mina seems far from their mastery and maybe even to reach that perfection as she seemingly have chosen different attributes to guide her in stress situations where the fighting is needed: The wits of the tiger, the stubborness of the elephant and the cold blood of the Snake. Yet as she always says: “Simple and kind words may be stronger than fists…” Tyris Class: MonkRace: Elf Ever since I can remember, we had no real home, my mother and I. We always fled from the goblins, concealing ourselves in the woods whenever they were near. We roamed constantly, never staying in one area for more than a month or so. She raised me well, as well as any roaming woman could, teaching me righteousness and all other virtues that construct a good person. A most well educated woman she was, as I've yet to meet anyone that could speak Drow, Sylvan, and the common tongue. She opted to teach me the common tongue only, as it was easier to learn, so she said. I was young when she taught me the arts that allowed her to move with unbelievable balance and grace, even for a Sylvan. It was a means of self-defence, and as I learned more and more, she taught me things that were the heart and soul of this graceful art. I learned the mind-calming and body-tingling ability of meditating. We'd spend hours upon hours meditating and harnessing chi. Half of my times awake, I'd be in a unifying state with the universe. I scarcely ate because of my ailment, but my meditation seemed to fill my stomach. During one of our meditation sessions, some goblin raiders attacked us and we had no choice but to fight. I rose to battle, fear in my heart. I easily eluded two raiders and struck down another. As I turned to glance at my mother, she was warding off a dozen or so of the vile creatures, easily evading their attacks, and felling them one by one. She battled so gracefully, moving so swiftly the raiders were unable to touch her. As more and more came, she seemed to move faster and faster. The raiders didn't approach me at all, they flocked to her, most of them angry that they had been struck down. They started to swarm her, but I could do nothing except stand in awe of the speed with which she moved and the knowledge of where to strike her enemies. They continued to strive to strike her, but more gracefully than the fairest seabird, she eluded them. Our foes became too much for her, but still I stood, petrified because of the pale blue aura that enveloped her. The odd, illuminating barrier warded the enemy's blows, and their weapons and fists could not penetrate it. She commanded me to flee, to flee and not worry of her. I could not leave her, my mother, my blood. I started toward the group of goblins, but she yelled, commanded me to leave, to save my life and not worry of her. The barrier wore off and she feinted, the goblins mutilating her body. Terror filled my being, and I ran as fast as my thin legs could carry me and I sought out the woods. I stayed in the woods for weeks, lamenting my mother's death and I wept constantly. I finally found the strength to wander, but my mind never strayed from her, never abandoning thoughts of her. I wandered for two years, evading the cursed creatures that took my mother's precious life. Finally stumbling upon the city walls of Nexus, I took refuge in the city. Rapidly I gained information about the city and I became curious of the monks guild, as it sounded very similar to my mother's teachings. I was advised to travel to Falcion if I wanted to be apprenticed. I obliged and travelled to the City of Apprentices. Entering the pavillion, I spoke with the representative of the Monastery and told him my story. He looked at me with curiosity and asked me if I'd do a session with him. I gladly accepted the invitation and after the session, he was greatly impressed and said I had the ability equal to one in their guild of the eighth tier. I agreed to join the Monastery, hoping to find some peace, and began my first days as a high ranked apprentice. Zonk Class: MonkRace: Half Giant All times and ages used in this document are related in human terms so everyone has the same reference of time. I (Zonk) was born into upper class society. My father was the mayor of our hometown mainly because we were the wealthiest people around. My mother was a loving and a devoted wife. The first eight years of my life were really great. Living life in a wealthy family can really distort you opinion of life and I was no exception. I thought everyone loved me for who I was. Later on I found out it was just because of my family's money. My parents truly loved me and overly protected me from the harsh realities of life until one fateful day when the wonderful life of eight years came crashing. A big mean greedy red dragon came and spoiled everything. It demanded a tribute every year or it would burn down the city. It gave my dad, the mayor, one month to raise the money. My dad knew we had enough money to pay this years tribute, but also knew that eventually the money would run out and we would be burned anyway. So he decided to send runners throughout the country to solicit mercenaries to come and slay the dragon. This seemed the most cost effective solution. Several days before the return of the dragon a tough looking group of mercenaries showed up and gave a good price to rid us of the dragon. They demanded payment up front because they said they needed to purchase equipment. Well, of course they did not spend the money on equipment. Instead they spent all their time partying and drinking. They turned very evil when drunk and went around raping the women and young girls and robbing the town of most of its wealth. When the dragon came they were too drunk to put up an effective fight and either died or ran away. The dragon was real mad about the whole situation and killed both my mother and father. It also burned down our house and destroyed all out possessions. The town would have nothing to do with me as a poor orphan. Most of the people spat upon me and called me bad names. They did this because they suffered at the hands of the bad men that my father hired. A reasonably nice cleric said it would be better for me if I left and went to an orphanage he had heard about. We set out in a cart and arrived there after a week's travel. A large abbot that looked at me strangely met us. He told the cleric that he would gladly take me in. Once he took me inside he locked the door and said that his word here was like the word of God and must be obeyed. He said that he has the ear of a god and if I didn't do what I was told, I would be killed. This scared me greatly. My father had warned me that gods at times might be very harsh. The next seven years of my life were a living hell. It turns out the abbot was an evil child abuser that had a demon he could summon. This demon was the god he referred to. Being children we didn't know the difference. He would have the demon watch and make scary noises while abusing us. One night seven years after being brought there I finally got up the nerve to escape. A boy I knew was killed by the demon because he was getting too old. I knew this fate was in store for me soon, so I just left. He said he would send the god/demon after us if we did, but I must have gotten lucky and avoided it. After wandering aimlessly for several weeks I happened upon a monastery of kindly monks. They didn't speak much but their action spoke loudly. They took me in and thereafter began my career as a monk. Self-reflection: Because of the way the towns people and the evil abbot treated me, I have a real phobia about close personal contact with people. I mistrust their outward emotions as covering some internal evil desire. I know this is not always the case, but irrational fear still drives me. Also because of years of fear and torment by the abbot's god/demon I truly have a phobia about gods and the speaking of their names. Zorak Class: MonkRace: Dwarf Jaccobe approaches Zorak with the task of recording his history. " May I bother you to document your life?". Zorak say " Ya but I too dumb to do it good". Jaccobe says " No problem, I can get Vesper to help us". Jaccobe then proceeds to record the following history with the aid of mind probing spells from Vesper. Zorak was born and raised in a small Dwarven village on the far northern coast. He led a normal life until the day a Goblin horde arrived. The Goblins slew all the adults in the village. Then they played a game with the children. The game entailed throwing them off a cliff into the rocky surf. The Goblin who threw the farthest was to be the winner. Zorak hit his head on a rock when he landed in the surf. This causes major brain damage and makes the next sequence of events foggy. Something or someone saved him as he was drowning. It may have been a dolphin or it may have been a mermaid. Whoever or whatever it was brought him to a small coastal village to be healed. This village had only a minor healer. His powers could only save Zorak's life and not really heal him entirely. This caused him to be a little messed up. First his head has a permanent dent in it. Second his mental capacity is diminished, leaving him quite stupid. Third his emotional growth has been stunted. He will forever act as a juvenile. Lastly he has a huge phobia to water. He will not drink it or bathe in it, causing a hygiene problem. The healer and the village where poor and couldn't really afford to take care of Zorak. So he was taken to Nexus and given a job in a brothel. Here he could work for his room and board. Zorak lived there for ten years. He was a hard worker and easily made friends with everyone there. There was only one small problem though, his hygiene. They made him stand out back in the alley whenever there wasn't any work to do. After spending a lot of time in the alley, Zorak picked up an unusual habit. He found a way of focusing his mind by staring into the sky. This allowed him to have an out of body sensation. While in this trance like state, Zorak would unconsciously catch flies and eat them. This weird trait lead to the next step in his life. One day Elistan, a monk of high repute, passed by the alley and noticed Zorak in his trance. His catching of flies showed a high dexterity, and his trance showed potential for meditation. Elistan convinced Zorak to come with him to the monastery to try out the lifestyle of a monk. Zorak found the monks to be peaceful and kind, so decided to stay. His combat skills rapidly blossomed. His magic skills where something else though. It took many long years of hard mental work to become even a poor spell caster. The lifestyle of a monk in the monastery was simple and peaceful. Zorak would have liked to stay there forever, but couldn't because of one small problem, his hygiene. After a couple years, Zorak learned the technique of meditation. As he became more skilled in it, he started to do it more often. He would sit in the Mediation Room for hours on end and stare out the window in a trance. The monks where very tolerant of this for a long time, but his smell was so bad that the younger monks began having problems meditating. So even though he kept the room remarkably clear of flies, the head trainer suggested that Zorak make his way in the world. So with a childish twinkle in his eye, and yesterdays dinner in his beard, Zorak went out to meet the world as a monk. So beware to all that would attack creatures he perceives as non-hostile, and beware anyone standing down wind. Paladins Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Acheron Class: PaladinRace: Dark Elf Dil pulls his hood up, muttering, as he scurries along Elgin Street, through the slums of Nexus, the City of Allied Races. The rain is light for the month of Torrents, billowing in soft waves on the western wind, but it still serves only to darken his already foul mood. He is a man of middle age, thin, and beginning to gray. His face is strong, an aquilline nose dominating what some might call aristocratic features. He has the bearing of a learned man, but not learned enough to curb his apparent arrogance. His gait is frantic, hurried, as if he wishes to punish the road with the pounding of his seldom-used sandals. Grimacing, Dil takes off his fogging spectacles, wiping them on the sleeve of his robe. Just then he slips, dropping the spectacles in a mud puddle. "Great! Just what I needed!" Dil smirks as he slowly, painfully, bends down to retrieve the muddied glasses. Squinting, he flails around blindly in the puddle, his muttered imprecations growing louder and more violent by the moment. "Excuse me, sir, might you spare a few marks for a poor and hungry soul to get a meal?" Dil spins around, startled, tripping his right foot over his left, and falling face first into the mud puddle. He curses. Finally, he looks up at the cause of his clumsiness. It is a young boy, dressed in rags, the grime of his apparent lifestyle slowly washing away in the afternoon drizzle. Dil shoots the boy a withering look. "And might you spare a few to clean a poor scribe's robe?" He gestures at his water-logged parchment, and his half-submerged quill. "Or, perhaps, to pay for new writing supplies?" Dil rolls his eyes. The boy shrugs. Dil shakes his head in exasperation. He rises to his knees, wiping himself off to little effect; all he accomplishes is to spread the stain. Dil sighs, and gathers his dirtied possessions. Slowly, he stands and turns, opening his mouth for one last biting remark. The boy is gone. Muttering, Dil sets off again. Opening the surprisingly well-oiled gate, Dil steps through, into the cemetary. Twilight approaches, and Dil unconsciously makes the sign against the Evil Eye -- a custom of his almost-forgotten, often denied origins - at the sight of the growing shadows in the forbidding yard. A gravedigger eyes him askance as he walks past. Dil looks down at his grimy robe. He snaps, "Don't even ask!" The gravedigger shrugs, and Dil continues on his way, winding around and between headstones, mausoleums, open graves and piles of dirt to his destination. The Cathedral of Twilight can only be described as an intimidating structure. Built entirely of the darkest violet marble, it looms over the graveyard -- indeed, over the entire southeastern corner of the City of Nexus - watching, waiting, commanding all who would approach to be wary. Two tall spires rise up into the sky, seeming to absorb the very light around them. Carved imps and gargoyles snarl, as if daring one to enter. The last rays of the sunset reflect from the onyx-set mithril roof, setting the whole building in an unnatural glow. Dil stops, looking in awe, until the sun sets, and darkness falls. Looking over his shoulder, Dil passes through the open doorway. The light from a thousand candles greets him, dancing on the black and crimson walls. He squints behind mud-smeared spectacles, looking around in wonder. Finally, he turns, and spots a dark figure kneeling before the altar to the south. Dil opens his mouth, as if to greet the stranger, but suddenly closes it, his attention riveted on the Altar of Twilight, beyond. It is exquisitely rendered. A mosaic so finely wrought, it seems the work of a master painter, and yet it shows with a brilliance beyond that dull medium. Gemstones form the image -- the finest ruby and obsidian, amethyst and diamond -- all of uniform hue and brightness. Every line is smooth, every shape seamless. The black gryphon rises on outstretched wings toward a large crimson moon. Stars wink in the gloom of a cloudless, violet sky. It is beautiful. It is ominous. "Greetings." Startled for the second time that day, Dil turns to see that the figure has approached him without his noticing. Standing before him is a drow male, tall for his race, and light of skin. A long mane of silver hair frames his elegant features - a long, straight nose, high cheekbones, an angular chin, and thin, gracefully curving eyebrows. He wears black leather boots and gloves, and a suit of gleaming black chainmail armor. Over his torso, and cinched at the waist by a black leather belt, is a tabard, bearing the very same symbol that appears on the Altar. Emerald green eyes regard Dil curiously, twinkling in the flickering candlelight. "Is there ought with which I may assist you?" Dil takes a breath, composing himself. "Yes. I wonder if you have a few moments to tell me your history. I have been assigned to record the story of a follower of Tilnar." The drow purses his lips, as if considering. He glances toward a darkened wall sconce, then slowly nods. "Very well. I shall aid you in this. However, I must warn you, there is much I shall not tell." Dil smiles, eager to get on with it, and get out. "I'm sure the library, and all of Nexus, will be the better for whatever information you can provide." Inwardly cursing the Elder of Scribes once again for this assignment, he readies his quill and parchment. The dark-elf arches an eyebrow at the muddy parchment, and clears his throat. "I am Acheron, a servant of Lord Tilnar." The quill moves along the page, recording this, and stops. A moment passes, then a minute. Dil looks up expectantly. Finally, he says, "Feel free to continue." Acheron smiles faintly, saying nothing. Rolling his eyes, Dil sighs. "Okay. How about this. I'll ask you questions, and you answer them." The drow's nod is almost imperceptible. "As you wish." Dil takes a deep breath, and shakes his head. "Okay. Let's start with the basics. Where were you born?" "In the Under Dark." The quill pauses again, waiting. Dil rolls his eyes. "Yes, okay. Where did you grow up?" "In the Under Dark." The scribe clenches and unclenches his jaw several times, restraining his growing frustration. "Yes, yes. Fine. Why did you leave?" Acheron considers, the ghost of a wry smile playing on his lips. "The Under Dark is an evil place." "Care to elaborate?" "Nay." Dil sighs, looking down at the sparse words on his page. Frowning, he says, "No elaboration, no explanation as to why you would betray your people, desert them, to join the enemy?" These last words are choked, angry. The scribe flinches as a gloved hand wraps around his wrist, grasping it with such strength that he drops his quill. Dil looks up, into eyes smoldering with emotional intensity. Acheron's voice is quiet but cold. "Allow me to disabuse you of your folly. I did not, do not, betray. The drow betrayed me, as they did my Lord. They are no longer my people, they are Kyorl's." Dil gasps, nodding vigorously, his anger dissolved. Acheron releases his hold. His voice is once again calm, almost bored. "Have you ought more to inquire?" Massaging his bruised wrist, Dil shakes his head. "No ... No. I guess not." He frowns, his anger slowly returning. He pulls a small purse from his robe. "I will pay you this, because I'm done with this assignment. The Elder of Scribes will not be pleased, but there's no way I'm staying to look for another story." Muttering, he gingerly hands the purse to Acheron. "Really, I guess it's true what they say about you people. Would it have been so hard just to play along? How can you be so callous?" Acheron raises an eyebrow, and gestures to the shadowed wall sconce behind him. A boy - the same street urchin, Dil realizes, who accosted him earlier - steps into the light. The drow paladin tosses the purse to the boy. Grinning impishly at Dil, the youth hastily bows, and scampers out into the night. Acheron nods grimly. "Have a care, scribe, of whom you call callous." With that, the drow turns on his heel, and once again kneels before the Altar of Twilight. "This audience is at an end." Dil shakes his head in disbelieve. Turning to leave, he hesitates as something by the Altar catches his eye. A mithril sculpture, a set of unbalanced scales. Unbidden, the words come to his lips. He whispers, "Tilnar, Lord of Justice, Vengeance, and Mercy." Hearing the scribe's departure, Acheron slowly traces the route of the scar on his chest, through tabard and chainmail. Looking at the Sigil on the great Altar, and smiling to himself, he bows his head, and resumes his prayer and meditation. Angus Class: ClericsRace: Human Ever since Angus could remember he had always been more concerned about others that he was about himself. He had grown up the third son of a blacksmith, a hard man set in his ways but with a certain degree of patience for his sons who were to carry on the family business. Every day since his 13th birthday his father would require him to spend at least half the day in the shop learning the tricks of the trade and he would have the rest of the day to spend in whatever way he wished. Three years later on a winter afternoon he was taking a walk just after his turn at the forge when he spied a lone man wrapped in rags and badly beaten struggling to make it into town. He immediately rushed to aid him as best he could, the stranger was near death and was mumbling about a package and an attack that had come from nowhere. Angus, fearing for the strangers life carried him to his home for immediate tending. Upon arriving at his home Angus and his mother began to undress the stranger to try to tend to his wounds and found that the stranger was covered in armor of a strange design and craftmanship, he was obviously a warrior or guard for someone of means. After a fortnight of constant care it was evident that the wounds the warrior had sustained were too deep he would not live much longer, fortunately he had fallen into a deep sleep as fever had ravaged his body. They buried him the next day. Angus's father went through the stranger's belongings that night looking for this "Package" the stranger had mentioned in his delerium but there was nothing to be found except a small bundle of papers nobody could read and a holy symbol from a long dead god. He directed Angus and his eldest brother Sean to go no more that two days into the woods to see if there was some sign of the struggle as the stranger could not have walked that far in the condition he was in. Angus and Sean went out the next morning hoping to make use of as much daylight as the winter provided. After many hours of struggling over drifts of snow being constantly amazed that the stranger was able to make it this far, they came upon the scene of slaughter. Bodies were everywhere at least 15 humans had met their gruesome end at the hands of what seemed to be trolls as some of the bodies were partially eaten and many were simply torn limb from limb. It was also obvious something deeper was wrong as trolls did not usually mass in such numbers to defeat such a large and well armed band. After the initial shock, Angus made a more startling discovery, the Trolls were looking for something as evidenced by the contents of every bag and sack were scattered around the clearing, trolls were not usually that intent on looting, they were looking for something. Angus and Sean returned telling their father of what they had seen. Their father, not knowing what else to do, told Angus to take the holy symbol and bunch of letters to the church the next day, to see if the priests could deceipher them. When Angus arrived he was taken to see the High Priest of the temple. The Priest could not read the letters, but from the description of the man's armor thought him to be a holy warrior of Pandora, whose temple could be found in the city of races, the Nexus. He suggested Angus take the bundle there, where there were people of many races who might be able to read the letters. After much argument with his father who did not want him to leave, Angus set out on his trip to the Nexus. It took him 6 months to get there. When he finally arrived he did not expect what he found. The city seemed to be under seige. Magical barriers at the gates, bodies of strange creatures and humans along the way. Twice Angus was nearly discovered by a band of goblins. He made it to the gates, and was just pondering how to get inside when an armored figure approached. The symbols on the armor appeared to be the same as those on the armor of the man he had found. When the armored man came nearer, Angus approached him to ask help. The paladin looked down at him with compassion, he introduced himself as Nigel, a follower of Pandora. Angus told him of his quest and Nigel guided Angus through the gates and to Pandora's temple. The priests of Pandora thanked Angus and took the holy symbol and bunch of letters from him. They looked in shock at the holy symbol, and asked him where he had found it. The priests payed careful attention as Angus related his tale. The priests told Angus that this holy symbol was of a Goblin God who had disappeared long ago, he was a particulary war-like god who had thought to assert the Goblins as the most powerful race on the planet, but he had failed. Over the course of several days the letters were interpreted. They were of various sources, obviously intercepted by the stranger Angus and his mother had helped. The letters indicated that the search for the lost temple of this god may soon be found, and that the staff which could ressurect the god was already in their hands. If this God was resurrected, it could mean a great shift in the balance of power, perhaps allowing the Goblins to breach the Nexus. Angus asked who the stranger he had found was, the priest said that they did not know, the man was not necessarily a recognised follower of Pandora, he could simply have been one who admired Pandora and worshipped her. Or the armor could simply have been stolen. The location of the lost temple was not found either. The priests then told Angus he should not attempt to return home. The roads had become much too dangerous of late. In appreciation for what he had done, Angus was offerred training as a holy warrior. They hoped he would accept, and when the time was right perhaps even petetion to follow Pandora. Angus accepted the offer, he rose quickly in stature, always remembering the lessons of his mother, and in time he did become a follower of Pandora. Through the years the temple was never found, the identity of the stranger unknown. Perhaps someday .... after all, there was always hope. Anterio Class: PaladinRace: Human Although I am no bard, I suppose I do have a story to tell. I was raised in an orphanage since just after my birth. I never knew my parents, nor knew of them. Instead I had the Sisters of Mercy to guide and teach me. Strict, but fair, the Sisters never seemed to run out of new chores that needed to be attended, or new sermons to preach. I must admit that to this day I cannot recall all the little things they used to say, but I know the message was received. "We are here to do what we can, while we can." As the years passed, I watched other children leave with new parents. I myself was never chosen, never even spoke with any who would consider me. If I was not so busy all the time, I suppose I would have gotten lonely... I had few friends. After watching a few leave, never to return, I found that keeping to myself and my work also prevented any painful attachments to my fellow orphans. Why make friends when they are only going to leave you just when you grow to depend on them? Although it was not the practice of the Sisters to name the orphans, after awhile they realized they simply could not call me "child" forever. One of them suggested calling me "the little ant" because I was always at task. Another suggested "restless" but it seems the original suggestion of Anterio was what stuck. It is as good a name as any, and better than some. It is no secret. Most people want to adopt young children. Older children are not as cute, generally more stubborn, and can talk enough to disagree. By the time I was 13, the Sisters told me that I was too old to stay any longer. So I was orphaned again. Left with no place to go and no place to stay, I found my home on a fishing ship. I worked for three years hauling fish and climbing rigging. I was the only one on board small enough to bail the bilge when we took on water, and the only one willing to climb the mast during storms to tie back the sails. It was dangerous work. I always knew that, but I also knew that it needed to be done. I would rather risk death in the Sea of Tears on the boom, than meet certain death for not trying. Never the less, I still found time to sit in the Crow's Nest. While there watching for pirates I had time to think about my lot in life. There are worse jobs than being a fisherman, but I knew there was more I could be doing. So I did. After a cold winter sail, we put in at Rymek to sell our catch. While wandering the docks, I met a man selling fares to Falcion Island. I had completed my contract on the vessel, Lani Kai, so the only thing keeping me in Rymek was lack of elsewhere to go. I bought passage to the Island of Apprentices and applied to join the Paladin Guild. I was quickly accepted and started on my training immediately. I was 16 years old. I was ready to begin again. And again. Asmira Class: PaladinRace: Human During her childhood years, Asmira lived in a small human settlement called Aldonica. She was a typical child around the age of 7, but as she grew older, her father's profession began to influence her and she spent less and less time out with the other children. To fill her time, she would help her father out in the church with all of the daily deacon work. She felt a bit of responsibility to act more mature than the other children, being the daughter of the deacon. Every day she became more and more pious. She managed to find a few moments every once in a while to spend time with the few people she kept contact with. The day to day pressures were overwhelming, but she managed to keep her head straight and never made it known the feeling of being overwhelmed. Her friends admired her for this and even many of the adults and most of the church leaders even gave her praise. One day, while Asmira was assisting her father as she always did, she heard screaming coming from outside the church. She ran outside hastily to see what was going on. To her surprise, were these odd, humanoid creatures wreaking havoc on the town. Houses were being pillaged and her ears were filled with screams of dying people. She called to her father and they went around to houses getting people to refuge within the church. After a rescuing a few people, she hurried to her friend Myra's house, only to find her lying on the floor in a bloody heap. Even though she was saddened, she could not waste any time, for others still needed to take refuge in the church. After gathering a couple dozen people, she took refuge in the church herself and locked the doors. Asmira wept for her friend Myra, and prayed that Myra's father, Relam, and brother, Krono, who were fighting off the horrid creatures, would be safe. Her father tried to calm the people asuring them safety within the church but they would not calm down from their hysteria. After a couple of hours Asmira opened the church doors only to see corpses sprawled out all over the ground both human and creature. After taking a dozen or so steps outside, she saw Krono and Aayla, another girl in the town, step through what seemed to be a yellow hole in the air, and they disappeared with the opening. In spite of the horrible ordeal, the townsfolk regrouped and decided to rebuild the town. Many mourned over their lost friends and family, and Asmira was terribly hurt by the death of Myra. Still she felt blessed that she had not lost any of her family members. People from the kingdom of Cigam came to help the people of Aldonica rebuild their ruined village, and the queen had a grand memorial built for Relam and his family as well as other memorials constructed for those slain. One evening, Asmira felt compelled to go outside to get some fresh air. She stood outside the church, and stared at the midnight sky. She thought about the terrible occurance and began to get teary-eyed, when she heard a violent wind blowing and the yellow opening that swallowed Krono and Aalya, opened just a few feet before her. Feeling scared, yet curious, she stepped into the opening and what seemed an instant later was in a wooded area. She looked around her and did not recognize anything. Soon she found a large wall and followed it until she came to a gate. Upon entering the city, she was baffled at many of the creatures she saw. Some were a tad smaller than humans, with almond shaped eyes and pointy ears, others were large and very ugly looking. She was surprised that these things were very pleasant and spoke the same tongue as she did. After many weeks finding out all she could about the new place she was in, and not knowing how she was going to get back home, Asmira decided to put her piousness and the bit of knowledge of weaponry she knew to use and began training as a paladin. Bandynhatari Class: PaladinRace: Human I am Bandynhatari Bokonallian of Rymek, and this is my story so far. My memories of childhood are very vague and disconnected. I remember images of myself sitting on grass outside my parents' house, while my mother, staring at the ocean, sat on a chair in front of the door. My father was a fisherman on a large fishing boat, and was away for long times at a stretch. He was away much of the time, but when he was home, he was the best father I could have asked for. I was a quiet child, as we were punished if we ever got in the way of the adults' work. But still, we had our ways of entertaining ourselves. All this changed one day, when I was swimming with some friends in the water. I was eight years old. A shark was circling us, and it attacked me. My voice hoarsened from my screams, and has remained rough to this day. Fortunately for me, a small fishers' rowboat was heading out at that time. They dragged me on board, but my arm was bleeding profusely. They say I was slashed down to the bone. I fainted on board that boat, and didn't wake up for a long time. When I finally did, I saw myself in a strange place I had never been before. It was the Tabernacle of the Healing Hand. My arm was wrapped in bandages, and a pungent odor was rising from it. Even after the ten years that it has been since this happened, my left arm is still much weaker than my right. Growing up in Rymek, we were told stories of the Goblin Hordes and the Heroes that fought them. As I came to be 18, most of my friends became fishermen and sailors themselves. But I remembered the stories of my childhood. I wanted to become a Hero as well. My parents gave me their blessing, and I left to Falcion to become a Hero. And here I am today, a Hero of Nexus. At this stage in my life, I look at who I am, and what I could have been had I become a fisherman, and I'm happy. I'm proud to be part of the defenders of the Allied Races. Until the Hordes are defeated, my work will not be done. But we must remember that there is still life outside the War. Everlasting peace must be our goal. Bragnash Class: PaladinRace: Orc I was left at a home for orphans right after my birth, so I can’t say anything about my parents. I was schooled in the principles of being a good man early in my life. I had many teachers in the in the different fields, but the one I spent the most time with was a very old man, named Delgor. He was my teacher in the history of Altin. I stayed up many late nights with him to read trough old scrolls and texts. He taught me about the deities, and their ethos. He read to me about old heroes, and about the great city of Nexus. He explained the Weave to me, and how to use it to aid other peoples. And this went on for many years, but the time didn’t seem so long, because I had so much fun every day I spend with Delgor. One night, the last night I spent with him, was the last night before I turned 14, he sat next to my bed and said that this lesson would be the most important lesson I would ever learn. And that was the lesson of mercy. He spoke for many hours about it before he blew out the candle and told me to sleep. When I woke up the next day, the day that was my 14th birthday, Delgor stood next to me with a large backpack, filled with my items. He told me to get dressed and after a quick breakfast we went outside and followed the shore to a sloop. "What is this, my friend?", I asked. This is the sloop to the training island of Falcion, he answered, and you are to board it, for I have learned you all I can, now it’s time for you to spread what you have learned, and discover things on your own. Many adventures lies ahead of you now, my son. I nodded slowly, and with my eyes filled with tears I hugged Delgor for a long time before I boarded the sloop. The rest is not history, so I can not write it down for you. Bragnash Shargul. Dean Class: PaladinRace: Unknown I was born in the village of Lethyr, and was the third born of Nar'Sek and Gailindin.. At the age of 20 a band of Goblin raiders. attacked Lethyr. I lay unable to do anything and cowered in fear under some bushes as I watched my father and brothers, and all the men of Lethyr being slowly tortured by the goblins. At the same time I watched as MY mother, along with other woman of the village, was repeatedly raped by Goblins. After several hour of this I was filled with hatred and anger. Finding a sword lying near me I lashed out at one of the Goblins as it passed by. He proved too strong for me and his sword found its mark on me, slashing my face through to my neck When the attack was over there was not a living soul left in Lethyr. I lay under the bushes for days, left for dead. To this day I do not know why I was not torn apart like the others. I was found by Glister the Half-Giant several days later.. For 15 years I was raised by Glister, and lived amongst Half-Giants.. Over time I developed a love for the Half-Giant people, and took them as my family.. For many years I held much anger and hatred for Goblins and the hoard in general.. I tend to at times allow this hatred and anger to get the best of me, a flaw that to this day is hard for me to break out of.. I am still to this day not truly aware of my true blood line. After awhile there came a Dark Elf named Darkblade. He spent some time with us in the village and seemed to have a great interest in me for some reason.. Then one day he approached me and told me that he would show me the way of the Paladin, when I questioned him he slapped me, knocking me to the floor. "That was your first lesson, never doubt me again." Thus began my training. For years he would tell me of Tilnar and the darkness, but he also told me that I would have to choose what God I would become a warrior for.. During my training I thought that I was meant to follow Tilnar. Why not? I was being trained by one of his Warriors, I was being taught about the dark side.. When my training was nearing its end Darkblade came to me and told me that Tilnar was calling him and he had to heed his call.. I was choked, and said I would go with him for I was a Warrior of Tilnar and I'd fight by his side.. Darkblade looked at me and I'll never forget his words, "I am going to a place you can not follow me to, it is time for you to choose your path.. Your training is done.. Now get out of my sight for I do not want to look on you again." He turned and walked away. I sat there for days wondering what I had done, I was once again lost, alone, and I made my way to Falcion the City of Apprentices. I took up my practices and honed my skills. When I felt I was skilled enough to join the heroes of Nexus I left Falcion. In my head I heard the sweetest of voices talking to me. "Dean look into your heart and what do you see." I staggered for the voice was powerful. Again it said "Dean look into your heart". I looked inside myself and all the pain came back to me. I fell to the ground and wept. I wept like a baby. I felt Hope filling my heart. Pandora had spoken to me. I was for the first time in many years free of hatred, and filled with Hope. It was at that moment I knew what Darkblade meant when he had told me that I would have to choose my path. Although I still have the Darkness of Tilnar in me, I carry Hope in my heart, Thus I have found my path and I walk it with pride. But what I do understand is that I was meant to be a Paladin, and I hold the oath of that Noble brotherhood above all else in my life, and I will remain true to that oath until my death.. And I will perform my duties with Hope in my heart and Pandora by my side.. Drae Class: PaladinRace: Unknown I was born in the village of Lethyr, and was the third born of Nar'Sek and Gailindin.. At the age of 20 a band of Goblin raiders. attacked Lethyr. Aye, my name be Drae. It been requested I write me story down, so here it be. I not be the best o' writers, so please bear wit me. I was born in Chalon, a large Dwarven community far to the west o' here. Like everywhere, we be havin hard times, though we managed to avoid detection from the Hoardes fer quite awhile. We lived underground, an we managed ta keep our entrance hidden. Behind our home, there was a small mountain valley, the only way in was through Chalon, and so the Hoardes never found it. There we grew enough crops, an raised enough animals ta feed us. When I was but a young lad, another Clan joined ours. They said the Hoardes had discovered them, an they fled from their home. We took them inta Chalon. Their leader, Ch'roth, he was somethin ta behold, an old dwarf wit a beard hangin way low, braided in the fashion of one who leads. Now our own leader, De'len, he started ta get sick, and when he died, Ch'roth took over. I must say, that while De'len was a great leader, we prospered much more under Ch'roth. He would take out parties ta hunt, an come back with much needed supplies, an tales of slaughtering Goblin patrols. He made sure most of us stayed in Chalon though, said we were surrounded by enemies, and that it was not safe ta leave. One day I was tending tha sheep when I heard a sound from above the likes I had never heard before. I looked up an saw a sight such as I thought I would never see, huge winged figures in the sky, fightin. They could only be Dragons, an I watched with awe as they fought. There was a lot of colored ones, blues, greens, and one huge red. I knew from me teachin's that the colored ones was bad, and ones with scales like the metals we mined, were good. Now, I could see that the ones up there, the silver hides, the mercury hides, they was outnumbered and losing. Tha sky lit up as fire, lightning, all manner of fury erupted from the Dragons throats. Them metalic ones, they fought somethin fierce, an I cheered as a big blue one fell outtta the sky, an cried when the last of the mercury ones fell. Then one of the silver ones fell, but I could see twas not dead, it had a broken wing, an was trying ta slow it's fall, but twas in bad shape. A blue dragon dove ta finish it off, but I cheered as a big Gold Dragon attacked the Blue, and turned it ta nothin but pieces. Then the big Red one an the Big Gold one started fightin, and none of 'em up there paid much attention to that falling Silver. I realized pretty quick that the Silver was headed straight taward me valley. I ran taward where it was fallin, and the earth flew up as it hit. Tha poor thing hit hard, and was breathin really raspy when I got there. I tried ta ask it what I could do ta help, an one of it's eyes opened a crack. I glanced up and could see there was now much more colored hides above than metal ones, though that big Gold an tha big Red were still goin' at it. When I looked back, I was amazed agin, that big silver dragon was changin in front o' me eyes, an shrunk right down an became a human! Though I gotta say, she looked in bad shape as a human too. Now me mother, a Priestess, had given me a gift before she died, said it could save me life one day, a little bottle, half full of this creme. So I took it out, an slathered it on the poor human in front o' me. It helped her some I think, some of the wounds closed up a little, but she was still in really bad shape, an passed out. I looked up again, and could see that the big Gold was the only one of the metalic ones left in the air, an the 5 or six colored ones was gangin up on him. I figured I better get this one ta safety, less they come lookin ta make sure she was dead. So I took her up to a small cave on the side of the hill, an put her in. I took some branches an covered up the side of the opening, and watched from inside. I cried again when that beautiful Gold Dragon was killed, incinerated, from a big belch of flame from the mouth of the big red one. Then the colored ones began flyin low over the country, a couple swept down the valley, an stopped where the silver had fallen, with all the crushed trees an Dragon ichor on the ground, twas pretty obvious she had fell there. Then I got the shock o me life, them Dragons, they flew around the valley a bit searchin, then they landed. An when they landed, they started ta shrink too, I figured they'd be turnin ta humans, same as the Silver, but no, they turned ta Dwarves! An that big Red one, he lands, an he turns ta a Dwarf, one I recognized well, Ch'roth! Our new leader, was really a Red Dragon! Them other Dwarves, I recognised them too, they was ones Ch'roth had brought with him, ones he always took out on his hunting parties. No wonder they had no trouble getting supplies. I was enraged, I wanted to run and scream ta me people, ta fight against these imposters who was leadin me people ta who knows where. I wanted justice for me people, I always had a strong sense of justice, and it was flaring now somethin big. Then I felt a hand on me shoulder, the woman, or dragon, had awakened, and had saw what I saw. She spoke to me, coughing blood at the same time. "You are not safe with your people any longer, he will kill you for what you may have seen." I looked at her and immediately jumped ta help her sit down, as she had started to fall. I did na have any idea where ta go, and told her so, and she looked at me agin, "Far to the east, there is a city that stands against the hoardes, there are some of your kind there, and I think you would fit in. Come nightfall, we will leave." I'll admit I did nae want ta be leavin', I wanted to confront Ch'roth, but I figured he had placed all his own people at the head of our guards, and pain me though it did, I agreed ta leave. When nightfall came, we went down into a clearing, I worried somethin big about this, the woman, who called herself Chalice, she didn't look ta be in shape to travel nowhere. She tole me ta put me arms around her neck and ta hang on wit all I had, which I did, an den she changed back inta her true form, expanding beneath me. I hung on somethin fierce, now sitting on the back of a Dragon as I was, and we sprang up inta the air. The flight was shaky though, I could tell she was havin troubles, and I thought ta meself fer a moment we would nae clear the tops o' them mountains surrounding the valley, such trouble as she seemed ta be havin climbing up. But she did it, though when we got to the other side, I could tell she was losin' height, an she faltered a few times, I nearly fell off her back. She was doin hardly more than gliding, tryin to get some distance from tha valley. I could see campfires up ahead, an she seemed to be making for em, but I could tell she would nae reach them at the rate she was going. As I feared, she told me ta hang on, an we landed, or more like crashed, right inta the ground, mebbe a couple miles away from tha fires. I was shook up, but not really hurt, I climbed down and went up by her head, her breathing was very erratic now, but that huge eye looked at me with compassion. She spoke, barely a whisper, "Go now, there is a group up ahead that can help you. May Aalynor guide your path." Her eye never closed, but I could see tha life leave it. I stood there for awhile and wept, and vowed justice for both her and my own brethren. Eventually, I made me way forward, and found a party of people at tha camp. They were from Nexus, and I told them me story, and that I needed ta get ta Nexus. They said they were on their way there as well, and offered ta let me come with em. One of em was a Cleric, I had but begun clerical training in me village, most of tha Priests had died of tha same disease which killed De'len, and lookin back on it, I wondered if twas really a coincidence. Tha human priest taught me of Lord Aalynor, and I knew me path lay that way, but not as a cleric. With my sense of justice and faith he told me, I would be better off seeking to train to be a Holy Warrior. When we got back to Nexus, I learned of Falcion, a training island run by Metallic Dragons, wit a Dwarf Warrior in charge o'training. I knew twas where I had ta go then, and went there and applied ta Kragesh ta begin me trainin. Now, wit the rank of Holy Warrior finally bestowed on me, I seek ta join Aalynor's Church, for I think it has always been my path. I still carry my sense of justice, and my pledge to free my people from the grasp of Ch'roth the Red. But I know I have a long way to go before that day comes... Darkblade Class: PaladinRace: Dark Elf Darkblade returned to his apartment at Kalim's as the sun began once more to light the sky. He passed through the common room, weariness rippling through him. As he did, a small man, balding, in white robes approached him, calling out his name. Darkblade's combat senses instantly dismissed the man as a threat, seeing his feeble limbs, and not sensing the aura of magic around him. Irritation crossed Darkblade's face, and he turned to face him with a slight snarl. "What do you want, scribe?" "I am with the Archives, and I have been sent to gain your story. We had an appointment several hours ago." Darkblade's mind began to think back, slowly bringing the memory of this appointment to the forefront through the heavy blanket of exhaustion. At that time, an archivist, as wormlike as this one, had approached him on his way to the Midnight Service at the Cathedral of Death. The only way to make the fool leave him alone was to agree to his stupid requests, or to slay him. Not wanting to be late at the service, and considering the man beneath the honor of a duel, he mumbled his agreement..... "I keep my own schedule, and my own council. It is mine to say when and where I am, and not yours, scribe." he challenged. "Indeed, Master Darkblade. I do not mean to scold, simply to have our interview." Darkblade studied the archivist carefully, examining the pathetic human who would dare interrupt him. His fear was obvious, but still he stood before him... The worm earned a degree of respect in Darkblade's eyes, who then directed the scribe to a corner table, deep in the shadows. "You wish my story, scribe, I shall give it to you. I was born, as are most of my people, in the dark undervillages below the surface of the world, deep within Tilnar's Vein. I was born into an intermediate noble house, one filled of ambition, and hate, as are most. I had a name then." The scribe began to look up, and Darkblade dismissed the unasked question with a wave. "My name no longer matters - it is gone. No interruptions, scribe. I return from killing historians, and may add one more to the count before I sleep this day." Seeing the reaction he desired, the color draining from the scribe's face, Darkblade waved to Kalim to bring them drinks. Two flaming glasses were placed upon the table, filled with thick violet liquid. The scribe eyed the drink strangely, while Darkblade raised the flaming glass to his lips and drank. "A delicacy of my people, though it is becoming rarer and rarer in Nexus. Do not extinguish the flame, lest the drink become poisonous. It will not burn you.... much." "Nearly from birth was I trained. Cathechisms first, describing the evil and tyranny of the surface elves, and of their pathetic allies, such as yourself, human. I was shown the Dark Light of Tilnar, Lord of Darkness and Death. I was taught to hate, and I was taught to destroy. I chose to train in sharp swords, thinking to the tales of the greatest Darkelven heroes weilding magical blades, blessed by Tilnar. I was 6 when given my first weapon, when I was sent off to train. At age 9 they began to integrate our training with that of the magi and priests, to make sure that we would protect them in combat. We were to obey their commands without question. I suffered many beatings to reinforce that lesson." "I knew myself different from the others during this time. While I dwelled in Darkness, I would not strike down my enemies from behind during tests, though they did not extend a similar courtesy. I would not toady up to those in higher social positions in an attempt to gain favor. In fact, once, I was nearly expelled, as I killed a mage from a lower House who was giving me suicidal orders. I stood before a Council, proud, ready to die for what I had done, knowing it was the right thing. Fortunately, my family intervened, it's influence greater than that of the late mage. I was publically scarred for the act, but I was not killed. Cathechisms meant more to me, to the point that there was talking of removing me from the Warrior's Hall, and making me a priest. However, my family wanted a warrior, and so, a warrior I became. However, I kept in contact with people at the church. We were 500 pupils when I began my classes. 8 years later, when we had mastered our weapons, only 43 of us graduated. Through the years, some students would vanish as their Houses were destroyed, more were killed in training. The tests we had were somewhat lethal. It is our way of weeding out the weak." "I returned to my home, with my scars and my swords. As a noble dark elf, I was now able to use the name of my House as my own. I was now an adult among my people, and a commander of the troops of my House. Noble sons, after all, are not so expendible as to treat them as common footsoldiers. However, as we skirmished and raided other houses, it wasn't long before conflicts came. I carried honor, and carried that honor as more important than my life itself, and far more important than the good of my House. The conflicts were minor at first, when the plan called on me to strike down an opposing noble, I would not ambush them, instead, I would call upon them for fair combat. The ego of dark elves allowed this to work, with little problem, however, my reputation grew as this continued. Opponents would attempt to flee, or raise an alarm when I challenged them. I would kill them anyway, having given them the chance to draw their weapons, and having orders to follow..." "My House punished me, beatings mostly, administered by elder siblings. My mother even beat me once, with a darksilver mace, for I was not learning the lesson. The last punishment I received was a public scarring, by my mother, in front of all the assembled trash that swore allegiance to my house. To compound my dishonor, my family did not even administer the punishment. I was scarred by one of the darkelven footsoldiers under my command. I still feel the rage burning within me when I think of that - how my family allowed a commoner to inflict such a punishment on me. I was dishonored that day, in a way you could never understand, human. I cursed my family, and prayed to Tilnar. My wounds healed, magically, and no scars were formed. My family took it as an omen from Tilnar that I had repented." "Then it came, the day. My family was ambushing to destroy a greater House. To absorb its assets and take its place. My family's faith that the last punishment had taught me my lesson, combined with my skill at single combat, I was to decapitate their forces, by killing all of the Noble Sons and Daughters who came out to lead their army. I snuck into the compound, waiting. I found a target, and lept down to engage them in battle. I melted from the shadows, standing close to my target, and issued a formal challenge. The coward was a mage, and she shouted an alarm even as he teleported away. The battle was furious, and four of my siblings died that night. We were repelled. Our compound was attacked several times over the next weeks, each time we turned back the opposition, eager to strike at us, weakened as we were. The sixth attack was from the House that we had struck, trying to seek revenge upon us. We captured their eldest daughter, that same cowardly mage, and she was interrogated to learn why our attack failed. I was walking through the battlefield, looking for survivors that could be healed, or corpses that could be looted. The truth came to light. My eldest brother and eldest sister approached me in the carnage, to comfront me." "I denied nothing. 'What I did was right in the eyes of Tilnar, and Tilnar will protect me.' I said. As the usual in darkelven society, that was the extent of my trial, as my eldest sister said 'Then He shall protect you in His realm.' As she did, she drew her darksilver rapier, and my brother began to chant. I stood, ready to accept my judgement, and my death, knowing that I died with honor. My sister waited for the spell to be cast, and seemed quite shocked that I simply stood proudly before them. The spell was cast, an iceblade, from what I saw next. A corpse rose to stand between my brother and I, taking the iceblade spell meant to kill me. My brother was an archmage, and had the spell aimed to pierce my brain and skull. The newly-raised zombie's head was pierced in 4 places before disintegrating completely, as a deadly blade formed within it's skull. My sister called an alarm, as she closed in with her blade. Though she had seen more battles than I, she followed a more standard darkelven tactic of attacking from advantage, while I was accustomed to a fair fight. Every time my brother attempted to intercede magically, another corpse would rise to stop him, until, finally, two corpses rose and pinned him to the ground. My sister was a skilled warrior, her attacks were quite effective in opening wounds. However, her defensive skills were lacking. My blade struck home, and as she fell, the zombies released my brother. Rather than face me, as I seemed to have a strange magic, he teleported himself away. I banadaged my sister's wounds, as the rest of the family came to join into the fray. Against their magical might and numbers, I was sure to die, except all the dead rose to hinder them. A voice in my mind, one I am very familiar with, bade me to leave, and so I did. As I did, my mother shouted out the ritual words of exile, disowning me from my House, stealing my name." "No place for me in darkelven society, I left, to the surface. The goblins, having faced heavy losses trying to take the vein from us sent only expendible kobold forces into the area. They were nothing to me, not able to stop me, and too cowardly to attack in number. I made my way to Nexus, guided by an unseen hand. I was in the city less than a night before visiting the Cathedral of the Dead. As I did, a shadowy form bade me to follow him, up the stairs into the Vampire's Fang... And so I did. A demon there smiled as I entered a dark room, and drove his long claws into me. There was no blood, despite the claw stuck into my head, and I felt my memories and feelings joining together, showing me the path my life had followed.... I had become a Paladin of Tilnar. As the realization struck me, the demon pulled his claws from my mind... I began to collapse into unconsciousness, and the demon said only one word... 'Darkblade'..." "So here I am, scribe. Devoted to Tilnar, and to myself. You asked, now you know. I will not repeat myself." With that, Darkblade stood, turned on his heel, and left, as his cloak hid his face from the sunlight streaking into the room. The scribe sat, puzzled, and looked to his sheet of vellum, somehow full of the Dark Paladin's tale, even though he spoke too fast to keep up with.... E'omer Class: PaladinRace: Ogre "Well you can call me an accident." E'omer said to the Lord as they road on horseback to Trista's tavern. They galloped swiftly towards it with only the sound of wind breaking through their ears. The two armored figures dismounted and crept towards the tavern. Once inside the lord removed his helm and placed it on a stool. "Now that we are in the Lady of Wine's shrine please give me your name and a short overview of your life." said the Lord. I replied, "My name is E'omer and my last name has not been revealed to me yet. My story begins with my mother...so here it goes: Well in the quiet mountains surrounding the northern part of the City of Heroes, Nexus, roamed my mother. She was an ogre, but the only features that made her resemble any other average sized race was her height. She was very short and out of shape. Don't get me wrong she wasn't fat she was just not muscular. To call on her for help would be a very bold yet ignorant move. She was not too reliable and to call on her meant you were quite desperate and would soon suffer, as great misfortune would fall upon you. My mother was well known throughout the village as village "whore". She had no husband, but slept with almost every man that would come there. One day she realized she was pregnant and fled the village to a small cave very far away. By the time she arrived at the cave she was almost due to give birth. There in the cave were tiny bones of ogre children scattered about. During the period before my birth, my mother collected tools that would be used for the procedure. The birth was done correctly and my mother set me down and covered me with a blanket. Free of a major load, my mother set out towards the village in hopes that I would die and she'd never be discovered, but little did she know of the miracle that would save my life." "How did thou knoweth of the birth details?" interrupted the Lord. "That is further in my story." I replied and the Lord said, "Proceed." "In my earliest memories I remember being accepted into a wandering group of missionaries who said that they had stumbled upon me on a return trip to Nexus. They said they were burying the remains of the other bodies and found me set on a rock crying. We stayed there for approximately two weeks and then marched onward towards Nexus. Quite a few years later we were still wandering the trail. But now there were many other inhabitants including: trolls and orcs. Although there were few of these beasts in number, I was one of the biggest people there and had to take care of them. I received many scars from our trip, but it was worth it because we arrived safely at the city of Nexus. Upon arriving I was safely taken to the cemetery where their god's church is located. There I learned of my mother's location. I immediately felt obliged to go there and the missionaries agreed with me. We set out a few days later with great haste. We traveled many leagues a day and on the eighth day we arrived at the valley. Upon entering the village my mother knew exactly who I was surprisingly. She charged me with a short acute dagger. I grabbed her wrists and held her back. She was growling, but tears were gently trickling from her eyes. She kept chanting, "Go away!! Leave me alone!" I replied, "You left me alone for this long and now I want to know why." After a few long drawn out minutes of silence she agreed to tell me her story. We followed her to her house and she made dinner for us and we discussed the matters over dinner. She said, "I was not able to carry a child in this village without a husband. I could not afford to support you even now." Those were the main phrases that "mattered". She said, "You should leave before the chief sees you." She quickly pointed us to the door and said our goodbyes. Suddenly a thunderstorm struck and huge tidal waves washed the mountain cracks. I was washed away with the sudden wave and stranded all alone elsewhere. I killed many animals for food as I wandered the trail aimlessly until an armored figure, you, showed up, clothed me, and escorted me here to the tavern." "So that's it, eh?" said the Lord as I nodded. "Well that seems like a pretty impressive tale there. Here." The Lord hands me a purse full of gold. "Go stay at the inn. At dawn we shall discuss future placement on a training isle." Korin Class: PaladinRace: Human "Come on!" yelled Jim, "The bartenders starting another one of those Nexus Hero stories!" A crowd soon fills the bar, drinks are bought, deals are made and then as the crowd quietens down, a tall, wiry, elven man enters upon the stage. Dressed in simple clothing, brown leggings a small cotton shirt, and holding a gleaming lute, The bard began his tale... Twas the night of the 17th of Chrysalis, that the hero of this tale was brought about. Named Korin, no last name was known for his parents were dead and he lived with his foster family, who were a close freind of his real parents before they were killed. But that part comes later. He had many freinds and was rather popular among the people and had one friend in particular, named Keswick. Keswick was a half-elf and Korin human, but still they got along splendidly. Of course they would bicker back and forth occasionly but they were still friends to the end. They played together, dreamed about wealth together (as both families weren't very wealthy at all) and were the best of friends. Then came the day where news was brought, from a messenger of Nexus, news of the approaching goblin hordes. Korin knew from the look of the man he was a ranger and saw the look on Keswick's face too. Keswick had long awaited being able to do battle and, with the permission of his parents, accompanied the ranger back to Nexus, leaving poor Korin without his best freind. But all was not lost for our friend you see. The very next day as Korin was out in the orchard picking apples for his family chores a light was seen in the sky, shining down next to him in a patch of grass. Korin leaped down from his perch in the tree and went over to investigate. Upon reaching the spot to his utmost suprise, the light suddenly vanished. After a careful inspection he found a small piece of parchment, bearing shining golden letters. The note was a message from who knows where, but the message was this... Dear Korin, Twould be my greiat desire for youTo join your frend Keswick at thetraining Island of FalcionI belive your help would be of greatassistance. Sincerely,AA As it goes Korin stayed with his family for another week, upon which, to his surprise, his friend Keswick had been sent home. Keswick, who seemed to favor a ranger's status, had been sent home in search of some master whose name he could not reveal. Upon hearing this and remebering the note, he ventured off to Falcion... But alas, tis not the end of the lads story, no no! Upon reaching Falcion after many weeks of rigorous training, Korin was allowed passage to Nexus, where he could help turn back the goblin hordes. After a short while he recived a letter from his home requesting he return immediatley. Korin rushed back only to find famine, plague, and death. His foster mother breathed out her last words giving him a special small amulet. After her death the amulet began to glow with a bright radiance, and a magical message was sung in his head. Dear son, Your mother and I, your real mother and I, have sent you this message as to inform you of something vital This amulet is the last thing you have of our memory and may only be played once, so listen and listen well. Twas we were slain be the hordes, they threw you into hiding and shipped you off to our friends, who must now have given this amulet to you. They were to raise you, and I hope they did well. Korin Evitain, you must continue the family legacy, and help those who may also be slain by the hordes. After finishing the message, Korin started off back towards Nexus and Falcion, with a solemn vow to avenge his parents... "Bravo! Bravo!" yelled the men"That was the best yet!""Keep up the drinks!" In the back, after paying his tab, a dark armored figure leaves the tavern, the bard takes his final vows and winks at the figure who bows and then and quick as he was seen, departs. Mordakie Class: PaladinRace: Half-Elf Hi, I'm Mordakie; you might want to get to know me better before I start writing. Lets see.. where to start ... why not the beginning ... I never knew my father much, I don't want to anyway. My father left me, my Mother and my older sister Meg to pursue other opportunities. He left about 2 seasons after I was born, leaving my family to fend for ourselves on our small farm. We didn't care, we lived on, and we were happy with each other. As I grew older, my love for life grew as well. Even though we had very little, we cherished what we had. My mother had deep green eyes, along with my sister, while I had gotten my blue eyes from my father. My eyes seem to be a constant reminder of my father, and that I am his child no matter what he did. My mother's hair was a golden color, tied up in a bun with only a few strands lose that dangled down the side of her head. I always thought my mother seemed young with her hair like this, even if she was much older than me. My sister had deep black hair; it was neatly combed and just passed her shoulders in length. I always thought she had beautiful hair, she would spend hours at a time just combing it. My sister always seemed to be happy while she combed her hair. One day while I was tending the fields my sister ran up to me gleaming from happiness. As it turns out she had been asked to marry and she was overjoyed to have a husband! I was very happy and supportive of her, but my joy turned to sorrow when I learned that they would be traveling the world together. Then, sooner then I hoped, that day came. I smiled and waved wishing her luck, but inside I wanted her to stay. Then it was just me and my mother, on a small farm. Yes, we were happy, but I missed my sister. It had been maybe a year past my sister leaving. A small group of travelers came by our small plot, they claimed that there we fleeing from the Goblins hordes. The were travel weary, and hungry. We gave them food and a night's rest, then they set out again fearing the goblins cometh. But no goblins came, and we were relieved. But then, something terrible happened. My mother had become bedridden with a strange illness, one that robbed her of her youthful sprit. And there, in her bed with me by her side, she died. Then came a seen that shall always be implanted in my mind, I was hoeing my tiny plot of land; it was quiet, too quiet. I looked up and a little distance away I saw the golden suns set, shining brilliantly. And there, standing solitary was my mother's freshly dug grave. It had a single flower sitting on it, and that sight there was too much for me. I dropped my hoe right there and headed for the house, packing some supplies I immediately left, not looking back. there was nothing left for me on our small farm, I had to get away. Maybe I could find Meg, I thought to myself as I walked down the path. I wandered for almost a full year, living off the land and takeing in all the sites I could until I ended up in Nexus. And here I am today ... writing in you, maybe I'll go find my small farm one day. Just to see what has become of it. Maybe see if that old hoe is still there, or see my mother. Yes, I still hope to find my sister Meg someday, even if I don't like how I find her. Yes, my father might be out there somewhere too, and I have thought about looking for him too. Finally, yes I have that image of my mother's grave still in my mind. I use it as a message to my self: "Life is short, make sure to enjoy it" Nethra Class: PaladinRace: Half Elf In darkness I was born. In darkness I spent my childhood. Mother was a pleasure-slave of a monster I took to be a daemon, named Teslek Varvool. She gave birth to dozens children before me. Each was taken from her at birth and trained as Teslek's elite officer corps. As my time drew near, however, unbeknownst to all, I was second of a twin birth. My twin was taken. They left her then, and alone, in the darkness, she gave birth to me, without a cry, or a whimper. She cast spells of silence and invisibility on me that I not be discovered. Mother's elven beauty got her kidnapped and brought her a life of eternal suffering without even the grim hope of escape through death's doorway, for he had cursed her with eternal youth. She was fed nothing but blood, which might have been some part of the process that made her ageless. Mother was mad, and beyond mad long before I was born. Throughout my youth I knew only her and her tormenters. When her milk ran out, I too lived on blood as well as there was nothing else. Teslek is a shape-shifter. His favorite game was to appear before Mother as a handsome prince, swearing to free her. Then, in the midst of their coupling, he became a hideous monster, savoring her helpless terror. Often, during such times, unable to help, too sickened to watch, I sneaked out as he entered her cell, and explored his stronghold. In all those years, I never once saw a window, and there were just two doors. I found other slavegirls beyond counting though, from every race. During our private moments, Mother often looked at me with demented glee. I never understood its meaning till I approached my full adult size and she confided in me that she wanted me to kill her. I knew nothing of right or wrong or law or crime, but she was the only person I knew. She was my whole world. I could not imagine doing what she asked. I wrestled with her horrible hope. Knowing what I did of her life, I could not refuse her. She lay down upon the floor before me, trembling, so slender and fragile, arms behind her back, cruelly belted to each-other across her tiny, corsetted waist. She smiled at me then, imploring me. I had no weapon. So I dropped my entire weight onto a single knee to her throat. I shall never forget that gruesome sound, or the feel of her soft throat being crushed. The crazed light never left her eyes, even when her soul fled her body. I prayed that she find peace at last, though it be in Tilnar's realm. When next her cell was opened, I sprinted out, never glancing back, into a portal I knew of. I had no idea where it would take me. It brought me here, to this Nexus. I had no concept of the outside world. I had never seen the sun, or stars, the blue sky, or a tree. These wonders astounded me, and there were people. I learned of freedom and trust and friendship. I became a paladin hoping that some day I might bring justice to my father. I met Dragonslayer. From him I learned to smile, to laugh, what a song was, of kindness and of love. I fell hopelessly in love with him, and I believed that he loved me. We were engaged and I wore his ring with pride. But a day came when I was shocked to learn that his love was no longer mine, but belonged to another, and my heart was torn from my chest and burnt to cinders. It took me months to learn how to smile once more. I do not know if I can ever love, or trust again. I no longer trust even my own judgement. If I could be so wrong about him, how can I be certain of anything or anyone? But I still have hope, and freedom, and the glory of the sunset, and the midnight sky, and loyalty to My Lord Erisar whom I follow and serve as faithfully as I am able. Until today, I believed Teslek to be a true daemon. That I myself was half-daemon. But My Lord Erisar has told me otherwise. Teslek though evil beyond my understanding is merely a mortal, and I am not half-daemon as I had always thought, just half-elf. Nigel Class: PaladinRace: Human Nigel was born into a family of warriors. His father had risen to the rank of Lt. Colonel in the Branston War. His oldest brothers and sisters already served in various local armies and mercenary groups. He as certain to follow in the family mold. Nigel was not unlike most of his family, as he relished the pursuit of arms, fighting, tactics, and warfare. He spent countless hours of his early years studying old campaigns and practicing with various weapons. From a very early age he had been inspired by a local friar, whom he talked to often about honor and duty. All warriors know the importance of honor and duty to King or Lord. This friar, however, was talking about honor for life and duty to one's Deity. His discussions with the friar did not begin to show their impact on him until his first campaign. He was serving in the army of a local lord. He regiment had just captured a large farming community, but the forces of the lord could not hope to hold the gain. The decision was made to burn the crops and farms, and to withdraw to a more strongly held position. Watching the faces of the farmers as their livelihood went up in flames, the words of the friar came back to him. These people were being deprived of their very hope for survival. Nigel ordered his men to stop the burning. Nigel was soon in a heated debate with his commanding officer. The argument nearly turned bloody, as Nigel was well liked by the troops for his fighting skills and generous nature. Soldiers follow orders though, and Nigel had broken that rule. The farms were saved, but Nigel was expelled from the army in shame. As his family could not house a shamed warrior, Nigel went to the friar and found refuge there. He did all manner of work at the small abbey the friar ran. During this time the friar taught him the history and nature of the deities. He also completed the training of an acolyte, learning to heal, pray, and how to use the force of light to turn the undead. When he had learned all the friar had to teach he decided to set out on his own to find out more about the one deity who intrigued him the most: Pandora the Mistress of Hope. His travels took him far and wide, eventually ending in the city of Nexus. Once there he found the path his life would take from then on and became a Paladin. One of the first people he met was Rika, a mage and follower of Pandora. Rika was kind, teaching him spells and showing him around the city. He soon advanced to the status of Warder defending the peoples of Nexus. During this time he made many friends and helped many less fortunate than himself. He helped close the gambling den and prepare others for a secret move against goblin HQ, by finding and giving away the necessary equipment for the mission. Upon advancing to Holy Warrior he sought the attention of Pandora herself to pledge himself to her cause in an official fashion. The great lady of Hope smiled on Nigel and made him a follower. Now Nigel continues his quest to make sure the people of Nexus do not lose hope in these times of troubles. Lending an ear, a shoulder, having a spare weapon or shield, and healing and blessing whenever needed. Noranne Class: PaladinRace: Human Gawain enters a bedroom with bucket and rag in hand, and spots an openned letter on his daughter's desk. Naturally curious he reads: The Library of Nexus humbly requestsa detailed personal account of yourhistory and experiences before reachingthe City of Nexus proper. Pleasecontact a Master Scribe for furtherdetails.-Junior Scribe, Krenna Gawain chuckles softly, "Oh, she'd never..."Gawain considers the letter for a moment, then sits at the desk, putting pen to paper. Until she was about eight, Nora lived on a small farm with myself and her mother. My name's Gawain, I'm her father if you hadn't guessed. We raised goats, chickens, and our land was productive enough to feed us all, livestock included. There was no shortage of work, but we were knit tight like a winter scarf, so we didn't pay it much mind. One spring morning I heard Nora bustling about in her room, preparing to set to her chores, I rolled over to wake my wife and found her ill with fever. I did my best to keep her nourished and break her from the fever, but our little farmlet was two days' ride from the nearest healer, and she passed that afternoon despite my efforts. I can still remember it...the sun was bright and there was a slight breeze... Excuse my digression, thereafter the house was sorrow-filled and we struggled to keep the farm afloat. With only two of us, it just couldn't be done and the loss of Nora's mother weighed on us heavily. I decided to sell the farm and move to the village. We had enough money from the sale to keep us clothed and fed until we reached the coastal village, I don't think it even had a name. Occasionally a merchant vessel would dock when weather or a shortage of supplies would force them to land. We waited about 9 days before a large fishing crew pulled in with a spring storm on their heels. I managed to book passage for us to Rymek. When the ship put in, I settled with the captain and we stepped into a sea of people the likes of which I'd never seen, I can only imagine how my little girl felt as she stood among them. I held her hand in mine and sought out the local inn. The keeper proved a fine chap and was willing to let us work for room and board. I served as an assistant cook while Nora eventually found her place as a serving girl. For six years we made our lives the High Seas Inn and Tavern, my little girl sprouted up quickly, at twelve she was taller than most of the other waitresses twice her age. She had her mother's angelic face too, which caused me some consternation as the patrons' eyes tended to linger more than I liked. I decided to contact the Drillmaster of Falcion, and perhaps secure her a spot amongst the trainees. After a week or so his response came and I rushed to tell Nora the good news. After the day's work I took her aside. "Nora, I want more for you than this. I don't want this tavern to be your life twenty years from now, saddled with debts and children." She looked at me, and I was mildly surprised to find us eye to eye, "Daddy...," smiling she said, "I'm sure I'll meet someone, why there's this merchant Reginald, he said-" "Noranne. Listen for a moment, you're fourteen now, your whole life is before you. There's much more to do and see than is in this tavern." I paused a moment, gathering my thoughts. "I've written Kragesh, the Drillmaster of Falcion. He's agreed to take you as an apprentice, if you're willing to work hard." I could see resistance building in her eyes. She started, "But Dad, I-" "Nora, this is a tremendous opportunity for you. You're no stranger to hard work. Why not put that effort into something beneficial? Your mother and I knew you were meant for something special. She'd want you to at least try. You can always return, if it doesn't work out." Perhaps she saw what it meant to me, or heard the urgency in my voice, whatever it was, she relented. She kissed me on the cheek and smiled. "Alright Dad, I'll go. For you and momma...I may even have an idea for a profession." I can still feel the dumb grin spreading over my face from that moment, I hugged her close. Somehow I knew her mother would be as proud of her as I was. Pottsdam Class: PaladinRace: Unknown I was born in the city of Ornovia, located miles west from Nexus. Ornovia was a prosperous city and the center of trade in the land. Unemployment was low and most citizens enjoyed their lives. I remember the city being extremely well-defended, with tall city walls, guard towers, and a huge army of knights and guards. The majority of Ornovia's population consisted of humans although a small fraction of dwarves and elves lived in this city. My father was a warrior of the Chaos Knights, a travelling band of assassins and mercenaries. He was known as Ulrich Doomface, and was one of the highest ranking members of this clan. During the majority of my youth, Ulrich was away from home, questing in far away lands. He was sometimes away for years. Each time coming home from travelling and fighting, he would bring enough cash a peasant would earn in a life time. At times, my father would wish that he could settle down and live his remaining years with his family. My mother, named Tanara, was wed to Ulrich at the age of 18. She gave birth to Gegel, my older brother, three years later. Five more years past and she gave birth to me. I was named Pottsdam, after a great orcish hero. Ulrich believed that Gegel was to lead the next generation of Chaos Knights and started to train him in the ways of combat. Years past, and my father had become extremely proud of Gegel. I felt he was neglecting me. While my brother was usually training with Ulrich, I was helping Tanara with household chores, and studying books about weapons, siege and war. I had an interest in these sort of things. War became reality when I reached the age of seven. Ornovia was a peaceful city until hundreds of goblins settled in the Dreadwood Forest, near our magnificent city at that time. This news struck our city with fear. New weapons and armor were forged and the knights of our land were preparing for battle. The Chaos Knights were called to assist in defending our city. The goblins had been preparing for war also. More of their kind from other lands joined the masses in Dreadwood. They armed themselves with their axes, halberds and other crudely constructed weapons. Marching towards our city, their terrible warsongs could be heard throughout the land. The noble knights and guards of Ornovia stood in wait, blocking the way to the south gates of our city. It was the largest battle our knights had ever faced. We had problems with the goblins before, but not this kind. The goblins had us outnumbered, but we had them outclassed. They had either been killed or fled back to Dreadwood. Fortunately, my father survived the battle and my family was overjoyed to see him back alive. Many citizens of Ornovia travelled to other cities, including Nexus, where they would be safer. The goblins had been defeated, but many of them remained in Dreadwood. Many clerics and priests arrived at our city to heal those wounded and injured by the goblin battle. My uncle, who I had never heard of until then, was among them. He unpacked his possessions at our house to stay for a month. He would teach me some basic healing spells and chants, which I became very good at. I certainly impressed my parents, with my new-found ability. My uncle suggested that I should become recruited into the paladin's guild. I had heard of paladins from my father. They were group of warriors who valued honor, truth and justice. I pondered at the thought of me becoming one like them, and agreed to it. I was at the age of 10, and it was not until then I held my first sword. I attended training classes with other students. 6 years later, I had mastered the use of most weapons and became an official member of the paladin's guild, but I was not a true knight yet. It was also the time for the second goblin battle, one which we were not prepared for. The goblins had snuck past the city walls, hooting and holloring, setting fire to any building they saw. The city's guards charged into battle, protecting the citizens from the wicked creatures. Goblins were everywhere. My mother rushed to lock our house's doors and windows while I quickly scampered into our cellar to retrive my crossbow until I heard a thud, followed by my mother's scream. I panicked. The goblins had broke into our home. Rushing out the cellar door, I found a trio of them standing before my mother's corpse. With feelings of hate, anger and rage, I grabbed a dagger sitting on a table, and charged at one of the goblins. It took a few moments for them to realize what was happening and I managed to thrust the dagger into one of the goblin's eyes. Blood trickled down it's face and it fell dead. I had realized the danger I had put myself into as the goblins cornered me, stroking their blood-stained axes. I closed my eyes, wishing for a quick and painless death, until I heard the hissing flight of steel-tipped arrows. I opened my eyes and discovered that 5 guardsmen wielding longbows standing before a few goblin corpses had saved me from either imprisonment or death. While the battle was still beginning, one of the guards took me to the castle to be equipped for combat. I was outfitted with a full set of plate armor and given a sword. I was to follow the guards around the city as the battle raged on and do exactly as I was told. I could not think about anything other than my mother's death, and charged at almost any goblin I saw. It was as if my actions were being controlled by my anger. Hours past and the the last goblin had been slain. About a fourth of the city was in ruins. I stood before the burnt remnants of my home and thought of my mother. I nearly burst into tears until a knight wearing battered armor approached me. I stood silent. He took off his helm and I instantly recognized him as the leader of the paladin's guild. He drew his sword and motioned for me to kneel. "You have been brave in battle, boy.", the leader said. He gently tapped me on the shoulder with his sword. That is the day I became a true knight and was one of the proudest days of my life. I had kept the sword given to me by one of the guards, and named it Goblin's Bane, since I had heard of many great heroes naming their trusty weapons from my father. He had not returned from adventuring with his fellow clan members, yet, and my brother Gegel was with him. That night, I was dressed in simple robes and taken to the church of Aalynor, where I spent the night in prayer and received a blessing from the high priest. This was custom for all newly-made knights. Two years past and my father and brother came back to our city, only to find that their home was burned down years ago and my mother slain. We lived in the castle then. Ulrich was extremely pleased to hear the news of me being knighted. I had learned that Gegel had joined the Chaos Knights, and it was now my turn to go on an outing and prove my worth of the clan, and so I did. Ulrich and I left the castle and met some of his fellow clan members at the crossroads south of our city to assist in a mission that was given to the Chaos Knights by the king of another land. We were to scout a goblin camp and bring back information to this king. We spent weeks travelling, and on the way my father would tell me about Novind, and how he fell in the godswar. The magic-users of the Chaos Knights travelling with us would also teach me of Novind's magic, how to call upon his powers. Scouting the goblin territory was a simple yet dangerous task, although all members came back in one piece, except one who's thumb was cut off by one of the goblin commanders in combat. We were paid handsomely by the king, in silver and gold. It was time now to return to Ornovia and build a new home for ourselves. When we arrived, I had heard of Novind's return to the Nexus. I was excited to hear this news, and set off to this city. My father tried to convince me to stay and join his clan, but I refused. Ornovia was a peaceful city once again, and I harbored an unusual urge for battle and adventure. I had known goblins were still active in the area around Nexus, so I hoped to aid in the fight against the horrible beasts. When I had arrived at Nexus, I saw many new faces I did not recognize. I had thoughts about turning back to Ornovia, where I could live with my family...but two especially kind souls, Lothar the dark-elf thief and an acolyte named Ungaboo, helped me in my first few days in the Nexus. In time, I rose to the ranks of warder, then holy warrior, given to me by my respective guild. At this time, I had decided to become a follower of Novind, for I was closely tied to chaos and I wished to align myself with his ethos further. Successfully completing his follower's test, I became one of his. Now, I am a lord of honor, and the goblins have started to attack Nexus once again. I only hope I can provide some aid to the city when it's help is most needed. Richard Class: PaladinRace: Human My fathers name was Jyrin Almasy, he was a strong Fighter and a noble warrior. He was born in the frosty Crystal Mountains. He grew up there as a child with very few friends. The only person he knew was my mother Garnet Wildy. She was an elegant Cleric that knew no fear. They spent their childhood years training as a duo and eventually decided to go to Nexus. They eventually became a close couple and I was born. They decided to call me Richard for that was my grandfathers name. My father taught me how to fight in melee combat. While my mother taught me most of the healing spells that I needed to know. At the age of 14 they bid me farewell at the Falcion sloop. With only a bit of armor, a shield, and my favorite knife I started a new life. With my fighting skills and spell casting skill I became a Paladin. I met one person that I could call a true friend, Kuja. He was a thief so I couldn't trust him as much as I could trust a goblin. Yet their was a close bond. We were always getting into trouble. We would sneak into Doca's tavern late at night and pull a little scam. I would always order an Elvish Few Wine and spill it all over the counter. Kuja would crawl under the counter and pick his pocket and steal a few pints of ale. By the time Doc and I had finished cleaning the mess Kuja had snuck completely out of the store and would hide in the training pavilion. One day a mage named Vivi caught on to our scam. He notified a guard and since I had not stolen Kuja was arrested for a short time. Those were days that couldn't last for me. I was almost becoming a thief. That was the end of our twisted little friendship. Our twisted little scam and gave me a great wake up call. I had realized how bad I was and I was almost a thief myself. I had dishonored the Almasy name. It was time that I train, and train hard. With the past behind me I grew in tier and eventually made it to Nexus. The first thing I did when I step foot on my homeland was visit my mother and father. When I arrived my father and was kneeled down by a marble cross. I rushed over to him to great him. When I gave him a big hug and he didn't smile back I got very worried. "What is it father?"�� I asked. All he did was brush off the dust from the headpiece. He began to speak. I could see the hurt inside him a he mumbled the word. D....r....a....g...o....n...s. He said that one word with such a hellish yet retained rage that it sent shivers down my back. He explained to me that he left to go farm like he did every day. When he returned he found one slain Dragon that led up their scorched little cottage. My mother got one of the hideous beasts but there must have been more to overpower her. When he was done talking he gave me a few things for me to cherish for ever. His darkleather backpack, his Dragonslayer, and Black Pearl Bracers. My father said, "With these you can get our families honor back son. Take care and train hard. I'll be here farming till the end of time. Come visit anytime, but don't come back unless you're carrying a dragon's skull." I now quest to restore my mother's pride and the Almasy name by hunting down the one dragon that could have killed my mother. Saphrel Class: PaladinRace: Half-Giant Saphrel looks at the large piece of fine parchment with a satisfied look on his ebony face. The parchment, colored faint blue, has four distinct images painted on it. In the first image, a large group of man-children is gathered on some rocky ground against a background of majestic mountains. The boys wield sticks and spar with each other as part of training for battle. A towering man watches over his students as they refine their art of killing. One of the boys is significantly smaller and is colored much darker than the others. The second image is of the dark-skinned man, now fully grown, hiking up a snowy mountain. Large flakes of snow fall from the sky, where the shadowy visage of a wolf, teeth bared in preparation for battle, appears in the background like a guardian spirit. The third image is one of a wolf, mouth bloody, licking a knife voraciously. The knife has nothing on it; no meat, no blood, nothing. He cuts himself with each carnivorous lick and swallows his own blood hungrily. The large man kneels in the snow, near the preoccupied wolf, head bowed, as if in prayer. The final image is of the giant, dreadlocks swinging freely in the thick mountain wind, walking toward the horizon. In place of the twin suns, a pair of golden hearts sit at the edge of the horizon, shining brightly as the suns would. Underneath the four painted images, several lines of glyphs are written in imaculate penmanship, a subtitle in the Giant's primative written language. Saphrel takes out a sharp knife and cuts the parchment into a large, rectangular piece. He places a carved wooden rod along the short edge, and nails the wood onto the parchment with small, brass nails. He rolls the parchment on the wooden rod, takes the rolled-up scroll, and walks out of his bearskin tent. As he walks, he places the parchment inside a piece of fine cloth. He stops at a large bearskin tent whose hide is heavily decorated with runes and pictures. He clears the snow near the entrance to the tent, and places his scroll by the entrance. He then walks back to his tent, straps a bag to his large back, and walks out. As he walks down a snowy path, he looks to the descending suns; the suns are in the shape of hearts. Above the falling suns, a beautiful face appears. The face seems to look into Saphrel's eyes from deep, azure eyes, smiling reassuringly. Trillen Class: PaladinRace: Not Known Greetings fellow adventurers! It's a pleasure to meet you all, and now, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Trillen , an Orc from the west of Nexus. I come from a very well-respected family back in my village. Both my mother and father are highly honored brave warriors, and they each carry within them, a valorous and revered line of lineage. My grandparents, may their souls rest in peace, were also outstanding warriors with many commendations and medals. To be succinct, I come from a family that's made up of soldiers, and nothing but soldiers...except for my grand-mother from my father's side. My grandfather, or my father's father, like I mentioned before, was a great warrior. At an earlier age, he was often wooed by fellow female orcs for his exceptional adeptness at the arts of battle and his unusually handsome appearance. However, my grandfather never seemed to like the idea of having any of these warrior comrades who treated battle as a pleasure as a soul-mate. Thus, he kindly refused their generous offer. Then one day, my grand-father met my soon-to-be grandfather. As a matter of fact, their acquaintance was truly coincidental and, fortunately for me, they found love at first sight. Anyway, it was one day many years ago. After a long and strenuous hunting trip, my grandfather was heading home. Suddenly, before he could respond, he was confronted and attacked by as many as a dozen or more Astral Messengers because they mistook him for someone else! My grandfather dodged, parried, circled, and bashed. He fought as hard as he could and eventually, due to his unmatchable skills and years of experience, he was able to kill them all. However, my grandfather himself was also fatally wounded. According to himself, which was told to me by my father, he was going to bleed to death if it weren't for my grandmother's arrival, who is a HalfOrc priest. Just so it happened, my grandmother was going to the city of Nexus to run some errands that day. Luckily for my grandfather, she found him just in time to heal and mend his wounds, and of course, to save him from the realm of Tilnar. What happened afterward I couldn't say, but you should be able to figure it out. Anyway, as I was growing up, my parents were constantly away, either on hunting trips or to act as diplomats to different tribes making peace or other necessary businesses. Therefore, the task of bringing me up was almost entirely left to my HalfOrc grandmother, who loves me VERY MUCH by the way. Throughout my years of growing up, I soon learned many aspects of being a warrior due to my parents' adamant determination of making me into a fine warrior to continue to bring honor and respect to the family. Yet at the same time, I also learned numerous things about being a priest. As I grew emotionally closer and closer to my grandmother, I soon felt that working as a servant for the deities was my pr-echosen destiny. That, I shall and must follow. On the day of my 10th birthday, my parents decided to enroll me into the training camp for young, future warriors of the tribe, and eventually, would have me joining the warrior guild. Oh, how I cried and fretted! I whined, pleaded, and weeped. But alas, to no avail. My parents seemed callous and were being recalcitrant on the matter. As despair overwhelmed me, my grand mother intervened and asked my parents for a compromise. My father, who is a very good son, had no choice but agreed to what my grandmother offered. My grandmother felt that although it was important for me to carry on the duty as a warrior for the family, it was equally important for me to be able to do what I had wanted -- to serve the deities and aid the needy, like a priest. Therefore, my grandmother felt that by enrolling me into the guild of the Paladins would suit me perfectly. For as a paladin, the skills of both a warrior and a priest are learned and used, rendering me a chance of both inheriting the family values and fulfilling my dream. Without further objections from my parents, I soon became a paladin a few years later.... Violet Class: PaladinRace: Not Known Recently a scribe approached me while I was cleaning my blade near the square of Nexus. He asked for my time and told me he wrote the histories of the heroes of Nexus and placed them in the library. Flattered that he consider me a hero of our fair city I was only too happy to tell him what has happened in my life up to now. I told him that as long as he didn't mind my cleaning my weapons as we talked I was more than willing to tell him my life events thus far. He didn't mind and sat down opening a tome and pulling out a quill and a small bottle of ink. Thus I began my story...... I was born the child of two mighty warriors of Fenwick's army Grosevner and Carra Carilsn. They had taken a leave and in such time I was concieved and ultimately born. Not wanting to abandon the army they thought of what to do with me. Surely war and travels was not appropriate for a newborn child. Luck have it they knew a lovely elven couple that for some reason had not been able to bear children thus far. They approached the two and asked them if they would consider adopting me and raising me. They assured Tshir and Saphil Hedda that they would keep in touch, after all I was there child and they loved me dearly. The couple accepted and made no qualms that I would know who my parents were. A few months later after my mother had recovered they decided it was time to leave. A few days before their departure they both had the exact dream, though I think it varies a bit. They dreamed that I had grown up and had become a mighty warrior of faith for Lord Erisar. In this dream I defended villagers and other allies, as I stood before them the symbol or Erisar appeared behind me and smoke swirled about my body. They took this dream as a sign from Lord Erisar himself as they were both followers and before leaving they burned the symbol of Erisar upon my right shoulder so I would never forget who I am and what I was destined to become. Time past and I grew into a healthy child, recieving letters from my parents as often as they could write. When I was little my adoptive parents would read them to me, and as I grew I soaked up the all the knowledge that I could, I was an eager student and not satisified with the school in the village. My adoptive parents being well off financially finally hired a tutor of great standing to teach me and I was content. When I was ten I received a sword from my parents and a mentor was hired to teach me proper fighting techniques. I am a quick learner and I excelled in my studies of mind, faith, and combat. Life went on happily enough. When I was not buried in my studies I played with the other children of the village. One might think it was a bit weird being I was the only human child, but we never thought twice of it for I am small of frame and you would easily mistake me for an elf. I grew close to one fighter in paticular, his name was Alderis but about four years ago he left the village in search of a wife. I missed him dearly but focused on my studies, playing with my other friends. When I turned seventeen my parents wrote saying I was old enough now to further my training and put it to good use. I was instructed to travel to the city of Nexus and inquire about the island of Falcion. I was given strict orders to seek out the Lady Nethra or the Lord Anterio for they were great paladins and my parents wanted to make sure I would be instructed throughly. I did as my parents instructed kissing my adoptive parents goodbye and I was on my way to Nexus. Vragdish Class: PaladinRace: Orc Vragdish sat alone in shrine of Erisar, enjoying one of the few quiet moments of his day. He had spent many hours here, reading, thinking, or simply avoiding the crowds of Town Square. A slight smile graced his lips as he realized just a few years ago moments such as this wouldn't be important to him. He pulled out the small Orcish totem he had gotten from his adopted father, Fignus the war-chief, so long ago. As he rubbed the rough skin of his thumb over the smooth ivory the memories of his past came flooding in... Five years earlier, far to the west of Nexus, Vragdish stood in a massive line of battle-hardened troops. For months, scrimmages between the Goblins and Orcish guards had become more and more frequent. He gripped the rusted halberd tightly as a rush of emotions came over him. Excitement, rage, anger, and although he would never admit to such, an equal amount of fear filled Vragdish. The battlefield the stood out before the Orcish guard. Still littered with the dead of previous battles, they stood as silent monuments to Orcish passion in battle and Goblin thirst for conquest. The warriors were collectively known as the Grel'tarn, or bloodied fists. They had been in battles sweeping up and down the continent against the horde. The Goblins war drummers began their rhythmic pounding as the Goblin line lurched forward. Warriors, soldiers, and grunts made up the main line of the Goblins, assorted forces stood behind them ready to strike down any who fled in fear. Deep in the ranks of the Orcish line a low howl began, it traveled as wildfire up and down the line, till it became a single unison noise. Primal in its nature, it would best described as Orcish passion personified into a form. As the sound reached its peak in pitch it acted as a signal to the warriors. The Orcish line began a slow march across the field. Gone were the mages and clerics from this battle, this was to be a battle of force versus force; the strongest would stand in the end. Both lines picked up speed from a slow pace to a march, finally to a full sprint as they closed in on each other. Two walls of warriors hammered into each other with the force of tidal waves. A young Goblin who was running on more excitement than knowledge of battle charged Vragdish with his short sword raised over his head. That was the last mistake the Goblin would ever make as Vragdish thrust out his halberd, and with a powerful blow pierced directly into his stomach. Horror came over the face of the Goblin as he stumbled to the ground and let out an attempt at a scream but came more as a wheeze. Chaos and confusion took over as for hours the Goblins and Orcs cut each other down. Until, at long last the Goblins wavered, a few turned and ran, which caused a few more and on till it was a full rout. The Orcs gave chase as the fleeing Goblins slammed into their line of secondary forces. A single Goblin mage who had stood in the secondary line attempted to stand strong against the four Orcs whom Vragdish was following. The mage unleashed an arc of lightning at the first Orc, ripping him to pieces. The remaining Orcs quickly overcame the mage, striking him to the ground. As the battle came to a close Vragdish surveyed the field of battle. More bodies had been added to the growing memorial. The younger Orcs were picking useful armor and weapons from the dead and the veterans were barking out orders. The thought occurred to Vragdish this would surely not be the last battle to take place on this blood red field. Vragdish took a seat on the hill that had served as the Goblin center of command. He dropped his weapons to the ground in near exhaustion and drew in a deep breath. Glorious. That was the only thought that crossed his mind. He peered out at the array of colors the made up the setting sun. As he peered across the horizon, at the very end of his vision he could make out a swirl of black clouds moving toward the camp. Years later Vragdish would curse that day; his stupidity had left him naīve to what was coming. He did not realize that would be the last victory of his clan. The constant squabbling of the leadership had grown to a boiling point. He did nothing to stop what was coming. Soon after open in-fighting broke out, the young warriors challenged the veterans for control. The Goblins spies took notice and soon they attacked, without a leader that had the total backing of the clan, the camp was quickly overrun, few survived. The survivors took to the mountains, trekking through the blizzards and fighting off the creatures that dwelled there. Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, as they pressed on - attempting to locate the town of Nexus, far to the east. The Clan broke into parts and scattered, vowing to reform when possible. Constantly harried by the Goblins, they made slow progress, their numbers dwindling by the day. Till they had fallen from their prime of over seven hundred, to just thirteen remaining in the group Vragdish traveled with. Several said they should surrender to the Goblins, ask quarter, perhaps work as battleslaves. Vragdish objected to such, calling them cowards, saying they brought shame to the honorable name of the Grel'tarn. Deciding his group had forsaken the ways of the past Vragdish set out on his own. What felt like weeks stretched out as Vragdish stumbled forward. He lost all sense of direction in the snow-covered mountains. All he saw was a blanket of white; his infra-vision offered no help to find his way. Till with weary eyes he came upon Nexus. As he slowly walked through the west gate, soldiers hustling past him, the voice of his old war-chief Fignus came as a whisper that echoed in his mind "Your fate lies here my son, return the old ways to your people, and live with the honor of Erisar" The resounding crack of an arc of lightning overhead in the evening sky brought Vragdish back to the present day. He stood slowly, a few pops of his back reminded him of a few particularly hard blows he had received earlier that morn. As he walked out he caught his reflection on a pane of glass, the many scars that covered his exposed skin, each a story of his time here in Nexus. A slight grin came across his face as he gripped the hilt of his orcish battleblade, and set out in search of battle. Zexa Class: PaladinRace: Not Known Jaernol strolled casually into Trista's Tavern and glanced around. His appointment wasn't for a while, but he wanted to get a table and drink a few ales. He grimmaced as he saw Zexa seated already. "Oh well," he thought, "Atleast I don't have the task of interviewing one of those scary barbarians or thieves" "I have nice handwriting ... so can I just use your quill and do this for you?" the dark elf volunteered, grinning. Jaernol's one vice was laziness, and even though there was something rather suspicious with Zexa's winning smile, he gave in. "Be my guest." Zexa waited for the half-elf scribe to set up his items, then grabbed a quill and dipped it in an inkwell. She began to write frantically, not even pausing to look up. Jaernol couriously looked at her parchment and read aloud, "After I became sole ruler of the lands out west, I came to Nexus, seeking a challenge..." Jaernol arched his eyebrows at Zexa. "Excuse me, but I find this hard to believe... Forgive my incredulity, but you must admit, this is rather farfetched." "Well, I just wanted to embellish the story a little, make it interesting", Zexa countered. Jaernol sighed and took the quill from Zexa. "Perhaps you should just tell me what you want known, and I'll write your story?" Zexa nodded ruefully and Jaernol began to write... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Zerilexa! Pay attention!" the stranger said, while backhanding the young dark-elf across her right cheek. "The one who gave birth to you has given you to me, so I repeat, who is your mistress?" The child blinked as her mother walked away and then turned to her inquisitor. "Matron Gristalk Phaedros, of the House Phaedros, mistress, and those who are priestesses in her house." "Good. You are now of the house of Phaedros, so I will change your name given to you before. Zexa is what you answer to now, drowling." Zexa bowed her head and thought of the exchange. She was young, but she knew that she was sold for a very meager amount of gold. She didn't understand why, though. "Zexa! Pay attention!" her trainer said, while bringing a whip hard across her side. "You are such a fool, did you not just see the exchange between H'trevin and Firyr? Firyr was disarmed by doing that exact same move!" Zexa looked down at her bleeding side long enough for her sparring partner, a rather too eager male, to close in and slam the pommel of his shortsword into her jaw. As Zexa was sprawled across the floor of the training area, she could think of only one thing, "Why?" "Zexa! Pay attention!", the priestess slammed her mithril rod into Zexa's stomach. "It is the Daemon Kyorl who watches Lord Tilnar's hells, not Paelina! You are such a fool! How do you expect to learn spells of faith when you know nothing of our Lord?" As many of the other female acolytes were snickering, Zexa was doubled over in pain, thinking, "Why?" Zexa walked down the long corridor to her matron's audience chamber. She lowered her head when she passed fully trained priestesses, showing her respect. Each one that passed did not bother to hide her contempt of the young drow. She entered the chamber, and reported in. Matron Gristalk glanced at Zexa. "Your project has arrived, Jerisst. If you ask me, that whore you bought Zexa from got the better deal. Tell your acolyte what we have discussed and get her out of here." Priestess Jerisst bowed respectfully to her matron and turned to Zexa. "When I bought you, it was in the expectation that you would be of use. So far you have proven to be ineffectual in combat, and rather stupid in scholastics. You are now warned. If you do not improve, you will live with the kobolds and shovel rothe manure like the rest of them. You think being a slave is bad now? At least we treat you with the respect accorded to each female drow. We will not hesitate to make you a common slave, however. Dismissed." Zexa bowed again, and hurried out. Finally, she was begining to understand why. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jaernol paused and showed Zexa what he had written so far. "How is this?" he asked. "Good so far," Zexa grinned. "Eh, hey, wait a minute. You make it sound like I am terrible at fighting and that I have some sort of learning disability. Can't you change that?" "Well, I am going off of what you are telling me. Fine, I'll go back and change it later," Jaernol said. The scribe had every intention of keeping his word, it's just that it would be so much extra work... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Priestess Jerisst summoned Zexa. "It has been noted that there is marked improvement in your studies and training. You may have the two week sabbatical that all the other students are taking. Do not let this lull you into thinking you can stop trying. Now go away." She waved her hand dismissively at the young dark-elf. Zexa left with a stoic visage, but inwardly she was beaming. Matron Gristalk's placed confidence in Jerisst relied totally on how well Zexa did while attending the academy. Zexa thought this all along, but this conversation finally confirmed it as fact. During her small vacation, Zexa walked along the streets, curious what everything looked like outside of her home. She had been stuck in her training for at least nine years, and she was sure that some things have changed since she last saw them. Strolling along, she came across a very familiar looking building, and her heart nearly stopped. It was her first home. "House of Pleasure, " she read aloud. Zexa puzzled over this thought a minute, until understanding reached her. Zexa was rather sheltered, but she had been exposed enough to know what went on in that mansion. She took a deep breath, and walked in. "Ah, mistress, how can I be of service to you?" a male in a grey uniform said as she entered. Zexa almost forgot that the clothes she wore were screaming 'Phaedros', a name that meant power and money. "At the moment, I am merely looking. I shall call you when I see something that catches my eye." "Yes, mistress. Also, please note, that if you have a fancy for something new, we have females that will be willing to accommodate you also." Zexa struggled to hide a blush at that last comment, and waved the servant away, even though something indeed had caught her eye. It was her mother. She cautiously walked over to her mother, and waited to be noticed. It took her mother half a second to recognize her daughter, and maybe even less than that time to form a plan to use her. "Zerilexa! Now of the house of Phaedros! Come here and speak to me." Her mother was standing near a very young female wearing a black collar around her neck. The resemblence between them was unmistakable. Zexa had a sister. The small drow peered at Zexa, as if sizing her up. Her gaze gave Zexa a chill down her spine. "You should know that my name is Zexa. You gave me away, so the name you gave me is no longer the correct one. " "Gave you away? No, I had no choice but to sell you, child. Otherwise ..." Zexa's mother remained silent for a few moments, and her face looked sad. Drow can be terrific actors if it suits their needs. "You are in a better place than if you were to stay here." Her sister nodded almost imperceptably, then grasped at the collar around her neck, as if tryng to fight a great source of pain. "What does Phaedros want with me?" Zexa asked, "There are other places to get slaves and such. Why me? They didn't have to waste time trying to train me as if I were actually born to them." "You were not told, then?" She blinked. Perhaps she didn't have to try to guile Zexa anymore; it would be so much easier to blackmail her with the truth... "I have spent countless hours wondering why they bother taking care of me. I know I am nothing in that family, yet..." "Your sire is the eldest son of Matron Gristalk's mother. He is an archmage that was discovered to be plotting against his own sister. As a male, he could never be the head of the house. However, if Gristalk were to die, the struggle among her daughters for the new matron would be ample distraction for him to seize a sizable portion of the Phaedros wealth and magic. You, little one, were to be a preventative measure. They did not disclose to me the information on how...but I do know that it has to do with being his descendant." Zexa's mother leaned in closer, grinning. "Your worth to them would drop greatly if they were to discover something. I know for a fact that you are not his only daughter." Zexa looked over at the younger drow. Dark elves weren't known for their fertility, but it was perfectly plausible for a female to give birth to two children within a five year span, even if the father is the same. Zexa narrowed her eyes slightly, preparing for the worst. If the Phaedros learned of this, it would most certainly mean bad news. She had to prevent this, and maybe her mother would keep the secret, for a price. "Well, then, perhaps they shouldn't discover it?" Zexa said, tentatively. Why was she going to play this game? It was obvious her mother knew about her troubles with training, so how did she have that information? Zexa was way too young for this, not even two decades old. "Child, I could not agree with you more. I will make sure it is not known. That is, if you can aquire a few items for me..." Zexa managed to steal the things her mother asked of her from her House. Everytime she would deliver the loot, her mother would demand more. It was odd how the magical devices were described perfectly, and how her mother knew exactly where it would be. The stresses of having to steal for her own mother and trying to not get caught betraying her own house were weighing heavily on Zexa. During her short stays at the House of Pleasure, she got to watch her sister with her best friend. Though she never really talked to Kyona, she quickly grew fond of her sibling. Zexa admired her, in fact. As long as she could remember, Zexa spent her life feeling sorry for herself, and waiting to be told what to do. Kyona was the total opposite. Zexa lived in a wealthy house and was treated almost like nobility by the lesser servants. Kyona lived here with a collar around her neck, learning how to ignore pain. How could she continue like that? Why did she seem content where she was? Zexa was baffled by her observations of Kyona. Everyday, she would watch her sister, letting her thoughts wash over her, pounding her mind, until finally...SNAP ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Eh, Jaernol, I didn't go crazy. I don't like that word choice, can't you pick something else?", Zexa blurted. Grumbling, the half-elf crossed out 'SNAP'. Then, with a malicious grin, he inked in "CRUNCH'. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Give me a drink, my mouth is dry," Zexa said. "Yes, mistress. Water is ..." the grey uniformed servant began. "No, not that, I want to try something else, " she interrupted. "I'll try wine, or firewater, or even a dwarven ale. Give me something with a kick." The servant bowed as he left, returning shortly with Zexa's first glass of wine. She drank its contents in one breath and demanded another. As soon as the servant left, Zexa's unaccustomed body started to feel the affects of alcohol. The world didn't begin to spin around her, but she did perceive everything was changing. She felt a great burden lifted from her shoulders, and she was able to think clearly for the first time ever. Zexa understood now that her depression wasn't from her circumstances, but from herself. If she wanted to be happy, all she had to do was ... be happy. How could something so simple have escaped her all this time? She was searching for joy all this time, and never found it because she thought it had to be found. The irony wasn't lost on her, so another first happened; she giggled. But it wasn't a crazy person's giggle, because Zexa isn't crazy. Nope, certainly not crazy, that Zexa... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Jaernol, are you mocking me? I said I wasn't crazy, but you don't have to keep repeating it like that." "Frankly, I was expecting you to say something along the lines of 'Oh, thank you, Jaernol, for trying to dispel those nasty rumors about my sanity...'" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Zexa was never taught anything about the arts of stealth, so it was only a matter of time before the clumsy oaf got caught. Priestess Jerisst didn't have her killed like she would have done to anyone else. Instead, she was thrown in a dungeon cell. They obviously wanted to keep Zexa alive. "Wow," Zexa called out in her now characteristic perma-giddy voice. "My cell is unlocked, who would believe the luck? This is the kind of thing that happens only in the bard's tales." She let out a really high pitched giggle. A male drow who overheard Zexa talking to herself came to investigate. He looked up at the prisoner, thinking she was crazy, though we all know she is NOT crazy. "Look, it's not locked, see?" Zexa pointed out. The warden bent down to look into the crack between the door and the jamb, when Zexa's hand shot out and grabbed the male by his long hair. She slammed his head twice against the bars of her cell, dazing him. She reached into his leathers and pulled out the keyring and unlocked the door. "Told you it was unlocked," she quipped, while dragging his body into her former cell. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Okay, Jaernol, first off, what the heck is perma-giddy?" Zexa demanded. "Well, how else would you describe your really high pitched goofy, yet lazy sounding voice? You know, if you'd just let me do my job and stop interrupting me, I can get this over with and I can go home." "Geez, it seems the more we continue, the more irate you get. It's quite obvious from reading this story too." "Your story is taking too long, so of course I'm irate. Today is Dilur, isn't there some law against working on Dilur?" "Oh, well, it's basically finished. I escape, wander around, get to Nexus, discover this wonderful tavern we are sitting in, and of course Trista. I live happily ever after. Put that somewhere in the story." Jaernol nodded, hastily scribbled something down, then packed up his belongings and left. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After her escape from her prison, it was obvious that staying with the Phaedros House was out of the question. Her mother could offer her nothing, nor could anyone else. She decided to leave forever and discover more about the realms and most of all, herself. Zurox Class: PaladinRace: Human The rain continued to splatter on the muddy grounds. The boy laid there, motionless, cold and hungry. He could not move a limb, for even the slightest effort to do so seemed to drain away his very lifeforce. The boy closed his eyes, and let images of the past flood his mind, distracting him from the pain and suffering that had shrouded his existence... ...Cabaria was a wonderful place. Capital of the Great Weltlisch Empire, she was the largest city of her time. She held riches envied by the oldest of dragons, and dwarves marvelled at her mighty fortificat- ions. For centuries, she stood strong and proud, her power was unparalleled. It was said, perhaps only the fabled 'City of Brass' could rival her splendour. In this great city lived a nobleman. He was a Duke, and married late did he. Only in his fifties did his wife, who was twenty years his junior, bear him a son. The child was named Zurox, meaning 'Prince of Winter', for it was on a splendid winter night he was born. The child brought instant joy to his parents, for the prime worry of the aging Duke was to die without an heir. In Cabarian traditions, to be heirless is a fate worse than the fires of the Nine Hells. The child grew up to be a fine boy, taught in the best of everything, in the finest traditions of knighthood. The old Duke was a revered member of the Circle of Knights, and the son aspired to be like his father. The boy excelled in the study of warfare, and showed talents in the magical arts. The old Duke gleamed in pride, and waited in eager anticipation the day when the boy would become a man, and he could pass on his title. Then came the Goblin Wars. The threat of this dark force did not dawn on the proud Cabarians until the day the great city was besieged by an army of goblins, one hundred thousand strong - some said more. A long and bloody battle ensued, killing Cabarians by the hundreds and goblins by the thousands. It seemed at one time, Cabaria could actually hold, and the Great Weltlisch Empire would be safe! But Cabaria was doomed to fall, and with it the Empire. And it took more than goblins to bring about that destruction. In the third year of the war, Emperor Andrew the Wise of Weltlischen passed away, all too suddenly, leaving behind him a state of chaos. Dark rumours abound of treachery within the palace, but no one could ascertain. The palace was thrown into turmoil, as royals fought each other for the throne. The old Duke was one of the many unfortunates who fell to political manoeuvrings, and framed he was for treason. The trial was short and the sentence harsh: The Duke of Cabaria and his entire clan were to be executed. Confronted with this inevitable fate, the old Duke made a desperate decision. Through the use of magical devices, he secretly contacted the most influential of Cabaria's Thieves' Guilds, and made a deal. For the price of his crown and sceptre, they would smuggle his only son and heir out of Cabaria and death's hand. Tears rolled down the boy's cheeks as he recalled his father's parting words, when he was ushered unto the tiny wagon that night: "Take my son to the city of Nexus, many miles west of here. It is the one place that still stands strong against the goblins." Turning to the sobbing child, he said, "Take care, son. Do not return until the day you have mustered enough power and wealth to undo the wrongs done to our family. And never forget - your honour is your life." With that, the tiny horsewagon swiftly departed the great city of Cabaria. * * * En-route to Nexus, the boy discovered the dark nature of humankind. One quiet night found him restless, and he awoke for a stroll through the woods. That was when he overheard one of his escorts say, "Hey! How many gold pieces do yer think he'll fetch?" Another replied, "Geez, I'll say no less than a hundred...maybe more, if the Galley- master's pleased." Amidst the hushed snickering that followed, young Zurox realised his escorts' betrayal. They were going to sell him to some slave-trader for a hundred miserable gold pieces! Infuriated, the boy drew his dagger and slew the two men. For the first time in his life, the boy had shed blood onto the soils of the land. Before dawn could reveal what he had done the night before, the boy fled. Due west he went, paranoid that the rest of his 'escorts' would catch up with him. The journey had taken its toll on him, for when the boy eventually reached the city of Nexus, he was hardly distinguishable from a common beggar, and he received treatment as such... Hungry, tired and bruised all over, the boy struggled to survive day after day, living from hand to mouth. Despite his hardships, he would never sell his dagger, for he was prepared that should one day the thieves arrive to enslave him, it would be his own hands that drove that dagger through his heart. It was this grim sense of honour that kept him alive, and it shall be his death, should the need be. * * * "Perhaps," the boy thought to himself as he laid in the rain, shivering with cold, "death is not such a frightful thing." Then he grimaced at the thought of leaving the world of mortal men, only to be banished to the Nine Hells. For he was dishonoured, and there was no place for one such as he in the gardens of the Gods. The boy felt true fear then, the fear of living in eternal torment, the fear of hopelessness. Then a light shone from the skies, it was warm, pure of white. A soft, unseen hand carassed his hair. The light nursed his wounds, filled his hunger, soothed his heart, and gave him hope. Slowly, the boy got to his feet. A golden path appeared before him, and he walked on instinctively. Step by step, he strided boldly towards the other end. When he finally reached it, the light, the hand and the path faded into nothingness. What stood before him was a huge temple built of massive stones, its gates wide open. Through the gates he went, curious and cautious was he, his hand reached for the hilt of his pitiful dagger. It was a structure of the finest construction. Some sort of citadel, the boy concluded. All along the hallway he met no one, and the boy groped on in near darkness. Suddenly he stopped, and listened intently. Was that singing? In this forsaken place? What a lovely song, he thought to himself. Serene it was, like the sylvan woods. The boy decided to follow the source of the singing. The hallway came to a bend, and he walked on. At the end of the corridor was a pair of oaken doors, slightly ajar. Light shone on the boy's face as he tried to peer into the room beyond. He saw but one elderly man, deep was he in his prayers, soothing was his voice. "Come in, my son," the priest spoke, "have no fear." The boy startled for a second, then boldly stepped into the prayer chamber. "What be thy name, my good child?" "I am Zurox. I come from Cabaria, east of here." The boy stated flatly, then pointed to the direction of the rising moon. "And how old would you be, young Zurox?" The priest continued, without looking up. "I was born twelve winters ago." With a silent murmur, the priest concluded his prayers to the Gods and stood up. Turning around, he stared long and hard into the boy's dark eyes. Then with a gentle smile, he took the boy's hand into his own. "Follow me, child. Your sufferings are over. Henceforth, you shall devote your life to the glory of the Light. Remember this day, my son, for it is holy indeed." Nodding slightly, the boy followed the priest back down the dark hallway. As slowly as he walked, the priest spoke, "And what about your aspirations, my young Zurox? What do you wish to achieve?" The boy pondered, then looked up at the priest. "I want to be powerful, dear sir. Powerful enough to restore my family to nobility; to seek justice for all who are wronged." "Well-spoken, my young Zurox." The priest stopped in his tracks, turned to the boy beside him, and smiled. "And of that, I'm sure you'll be." The boy smiled back. Rangers Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Aragon Class: RangerRace: Human Aragon entered this world in a realm of much prosperity and peace. He was the youngest in a family of five. His two older brothers, Karan and Maldai, were very outspoken and entered the army of the kingdom. Aragon, being many years younger than his brothers, spent most of his time hunting and exploring the forests around his home. During certain holidays and festivals Aragon’s brothers would return home with exotic items and tales from far off lands. Aragon always rejoiced in listening to his brothers’ adventures and experiences, knowing that one day he too would join the ranks of the royal army. But alas, his brothers would always have to go back to their duties as soldiers, leaving Aragon to his lonely wanderings through the forests. Over the years Aragon became quite knowledgeable of the woodland ways. He could track even the stealthiest of beasts and remain hidden and motionless for hours upon end knowing that the steeds he hunted were keenly alert to danger. One day when Aragon was following a particularly swift and stealthy steed, he happened across a hidden valley that very unfamiliar to him. Bound by his curiousity, he entered and explored the valley. Aragon saw a plume of dark smoke coming from within the valley, and quickly ran towards its source. What he discovered was a horrific sight. There was a smoldering cottage surrounded by scorched earth and strange blackened corpses were strewn about. Aragon cautiously entered the remains of the cottage. As he entered he saw a badly battered and wounded old man lay dying on the floor. The man looked into Aragon’s eyes, and Aragon saw in his mind the struggle that occurred only a few short hours before. The old man then vainly spoke Go, run, return home, for the Goblin Hoards have come’. Those words were the last the dying old man would speak. Aragon, terrified by the images of the battle in his mind, swiftly ran in the direction of his home. When he neared home, he discovered that he was too late, his village lay in shambles. He ran to his house and discovered his parents slaughtered. Great sorrow and anger swept over Aragon. In another room he heard the sound of a struggle. Aragon bolted into the room to see his brothers, Karan and Maldai, fighting a huge green beast he knew must be a goblin. The goblin slew Karan in one deadly blow and then chanted something in an ugly and crude language as fire engulfed his other brother Maldai. Aragon, frozen by fright hid amongst the shadows, while the goblin, content with his slaughter, left. Aragon rushed over to Maldai who was mortally wounded and gasping for air. Maldai simply said ‘Avenge us brother’ then died. Aragon consumed by fear and disbelief, fled to the forest until the hordes had completed their plunder of his kingdom. But fear passed and revenge stirred in Aragon’s heart. Revenge he would have. He followed the goblin horde across many lands hunting the unlucky goblin that strayed from his group, until one day Aragon followed the horde to a city by the name of Nexus, where he discovered others with the same hatred for the vile beasts. Aragon knew that he had found the place where he would exact his revenge upon the goblins. Azguard Class: RangerRace: Human Azguard walks quickly along the beach trying to find his favourite thinking spot. He spies it up ahead and gracefully sprints the rest of the distance. Sitting on a log located near the splashing waves, he sets his wolf skin pack down and begins to rummage through it. With a satisfied grin, he pulls out a book titled "Azguard's Journal" and quickly flips to the first page and begins to reads the first entry... Dear Azguard's Journal, Happy Birthday Azguard, I start this journal on the day of your 15th birthday in memory of that fateful day that I found you, in that basket on the beach outside my cabin. You have been the joy of my life, and I wish to retell your life up until this point, and hope that you will go on writing in this journal and many others until the end of your days. And thus begins the tale of Azguard, my little tracker. On Malkur, the twenty-ninth of the month of Blossoms, a beautiful day it was, I was strolling along the beach outside my cabin, trying to find some sandworts to cure a deer of a strange disease. I went out deeper into the water, hoping to find more, but instead, I found a broken and tattered basket lying crushed against a submerged stump. I approached it cautiously, but was delighted to hear the sounds of a crying baby. "Bless my pointed ears, it's a baby!" I said. You looked up at me and giggled, and started playing with my magic pendant as if it were a toy. I looked deep into your silver eyes and decided then and there that you were sent to me by Pandora, for it was my hope always to have a child to raise, and here you were. I took you under my wing, and raised you in my secluded cabin. You were a smart child, and very gifted with the animals. We would go out on walks when you were younger and they would come to you like I had never seen before. My only regret is that you never met any other humans, or elves for that matter. You knew only me and the forest. Well, Happy birthday, and remember how special you are. Day 1: Wow, my first journal, I don't know how to express my excitement. It was only last year that Gregorwyn taught me to read and write. Now I have a journal to talk to. Today is the first day of spring, and it is time to start preparing the garden. We went on one of our usual walks through the woods, Gregorwyn has been teaching me all about the healing arts, and how to use my environment to help me survive. He says that soon I will be ready for him to teach me some magic. ...Azguard sighs and flips ahead a few pages... Day 52: It's the day of mid-summer today, the garden is growing even more fruitful than last year, and we have been good in our hunting and trapping. We found a mutilated dear in the woods today, Gregorwyn knelt beside, gripping his staff tightly and tried to cast a spell on the deer, "detraumatize" he called it. It didn't help, the dear was too far gone. More and more we have been finding this sort of thing deep in the woods, Gregorwyn fears that a great evil grows nearer, but he assures me that we are safe. He has begun to teach me how to heal as well. I used some mouldy bread to help a wounded rabbit, and even cast an invigorating spell on a bear who had fallen down from a tree. No more time now, Gregorwyn signals a storm is coming and we must go inside. Day 53: I have been too busy to write to you in a while, it is now end of summer and we prepare for fall. Our crops were good, and I have learned much this summer. Gregorwyn promises he will teach me more during the winter. ...Azguard chokes on a few tears and shuffles ahead a few pages... Day 178: It's my birthday again! After a long winter of learning and exploring, spring has come again and we begin anew! Many strange things occurred during the winter. We found mutilated animals corpses all over, a raft went by one day in the water. It was terrible, the people on the raft had many arrows stuck in them, and they were bleeding all over. Gregorwyn was able to save one of them, but he passed away late one night. We found strange tracks in the snow, and some nights, strange noises could be heard far off in the distance. I am glad that spring has come to wash away the dread from the winter. I am sixteen now and Gregorwyn has promised to teach me to track and scout like a true woodsman. He may even teach me more of his powerful magic. Day 179: I write to you in the most saddest of circumstances. It is the month of the Phoenix and our crops grow well, Gregorwyn sent me to scout down the river to practice. I scouted all day and made camp that night. The next day I set out again making great time when I came upon a section of the forest that had been completely cut down. My jaw dropped and a tear rolled down my cheek. The entire forest had been cut down for as far as my human eyes could see. I could see grotesque creatures cutting down trees and carrying them away on horse-drawn carts. I quickly ran my way back to the cabin as fast as I could and reported to Gregorwyn what I saw. With great dismay, he set off himself that night and told me to look after the cabin while he was gone. It has been two days since he left and he has not returned. ...Azguard closes the book on his hand and wipes the tears from his eyes. This was always the most painful part of the journal, but he must keep his promise... (inked in blood)Day 182: The most terrible events have transpired since I last wrote you. On the day that Gregorwyn arrived, having teleported himself back through the weave, we were attacked in the night. Gregorwyn foresaw this and had prepared defences all day, with the aid of some of our close animal friends. We built a barricade around the cabin, and set many traps in the woods. In a a large oak tree near the beach, I built a perch hidden up high in the foliage. Gregorwyn, using great magic beyond my comprehension, created a hole and a wooden tower atop our little cabin. Many of our animal friends stuck around, Chesko the bear, Elenwell and her pack of wolves, and Wooshow the great owl. The night came fast, we were having our supper when off in the distance a drum could be heard, and the scratchy noise of many people scrambling through dense bush became louder and louder. Wooshow the owl flew back and we could see in his eyes that we were severely outnumbered. I grabbed my long-bow and darted to my perch. Gregorwyn headed to his wooden tower and began to prepare spells and spell components. Elenwell and her pack set off to intercept the enemy and kill as many as they could. I sat in that tree for many hours, waiting for the inevitable. Just as I grew relaxed and began to drift off into sleep, a flaming arrow came crashing out of the bush and struck our cabin. 20 more came flying out, many hitting the earth, some hitting the barricade. The barricade was soon engulfed in flames, and deeper in the woods, a battering ram could be seen. Gregorwyn had reinforced the barricade with magic, it was very unlikely that they would break it. I spoke too soon it would seem, for out no where, a fire giant came strolling up, followed by 20 or so goblins. He gave one look to the cabin, then back to the barricade. He raised his foot and kicked a giant hole in the barricade. Gregorwyn grumbled and reached for his staff. I could see him begin to chant the words to a spell. The hair on my neck rose and the air was filled with electricity. From Gregorwyn's staff leapt a bolt of lightning, and then another striking the giant first in the chest and then the waist. He died quickly and tumbled over, filling the great hole it had created. I was relieved at first, for the goblins had no way around this massive corpse. I let out a sigh of relief and set an arrow to the string. I let arrow after arrow fly, striking down many goblins. The horde grew larger, I estimated there were about one hundred now. Gregorwyn was casting furious spells striking down goblin after goblin, sometimes two or three at once. The goblins were striking the barricade with their ram furiously, when suddenly from amidst their horde, came a goblin dressed in arcane robes. I quickly identified him as a goblin wizard. He levitated the body of the giant out of the hole, and the goblins began to flood in. Many were killed by our local traps, and Chesko the bear struck down at least 20 before she fled to the wild. Gregorwyn was busy waging a massive magic war with the goblin wizards. and I was busy trying to keep the goblins from coming up my tree. There were 10 arrows or so that had almost hit me and were now stuck in the trunk behind me. The battle raged on for longer than I can remember, the sun came up, and I could see there was no shortage of enemies deeper in the woods. Gregorwyn was growing tired, and the goblins had almost breached the cabin. Many dead goblins littered the forest around our cabin, and I had run out of arrows an hour or so ago. I was fighting hand to hand, and some offensive magic, but I was no match for an entire horde of goblins. Then it happened. I can sill feel the pain and emotion of the whole thing. The sky grew dark, and Gregorwyn let out a sigh and reached for his spell book. I fell scared to the hard wood of my perch and began to tremble. My hair went white and I could no longer think. The great black dragon dove low and blasted our cabin with the fury of its breath. The cabin exploded into a million shards of wood and stone, fortunately, Gregorwyn had already teleported himself to my perch and was casting an emboldening spell on me. I felt the effects right away. I sprung to my feet and drew my blade. Gregorwyn shook his head and told me telepathically to run for my life, he would catch up soon, "Never forget what has happened here, and remember me always" he told me. I didn't have time to think, reacting instantly to his words I grabbed my pack and darted down the tree, heading into the woods in the opposite direction of the advancing attack. The cabin was surrounded but I managed to sneak my way past the scouts and lookouts at this end of the woods. I ran and ran for many days, and finally came upon a road that I had never seen before, and here I am now, travelling on this road north, where ever it may lead. Day 183: I have come upon a great city. From what I remember from Gregorwyn's teachings, this is Nexus, the city of all Races. I was apprehensive at first about entering, but I saw many people entering and leaving, and even some who looked almost as lost as me. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was nothing like Gregorwyn had ever told me. Buildings everywhere, and people, lots of people, some elves like Gregorwyn, some human like me, and some I didn't recognize. Big ones, small ones, I couldn't believe. I made my way to the town hall, and asked some people for help. I told them in brief what had happened to me, and it was not long before they started asking me questions about myself and my skills. A kind fellow calling himself a member of the rangers guild said I should look there for help. I sleep outside the city tonight, but tomorrow I will go to this ranger's guild and see what they can do to help me. Day 184: I am on a sloop now heading to this apprenticeship island. This is the only time today that I have found time to write down the day's events. First off I went to the rangers guild, they accepted me after a brief interview, and gave me some gear and set me off to train on this island. I am looking forward to my training, and after having heard what Nexus is up against, I am even more excited about helping them rid themselves of those evil goblins and everything else that plagues them, as it plagues me. ...Azguard looks down at his Ranger's Signet ring and smiles. He slowly closes the cover of his journal. Leaning back and pondering the mysteries of life, he decides to share this with the rest of the noble heroes of Nexus and decides to write out his history in a new book. Keeping to his promise to never forget his guardian and mentor, and hoping to one day set out in search of Gregorwyn, who has yet to contact him. Azguard sets the book gently back in its place in his pack, and replaces the back on his back. He sets off at a slower pace back to town and to continue on with his life. Caerdh Class: RangerRace: Half Elf [ This, the topmost of a sheaf of parchments, is written in compact black script ] Twenty-third Dawn, One hundred and thirty-second of the Empire. Attention: Principal Archivist, Library of Nexus Respecting: Next of Kin Notification Sir: An excerpt transcribed from a recent patrol report is enclosed. Omissions are in accordance with official procedure. Please file to facilitate next of kin notification. Regards, Fsad Uyth Records ClerkNorthern Operations [ Beneath the signature is the sigil of the regular army of Nexus ] [ In red ink, across the bottom of the page is written in a flowing hand: ] Caerdh -- Ranger. Open file. Meneluin -- Unknown. Open file; cf. Caerdh. ********** [ A seal in its top right corner declares the second parchment "Cleared". Again written in black ink, the text is fraught with gaps. It reads: ] led the patrol to a clearing in the northern foothills of the range, roughly leagues to the north and leagues to the west of the City. Within the clearing stood a small hut, the remains of a burnt-out cottage, and a small cairn. Ruined hides were strewn about the hut amid splintered timbers. The claimed to have no knowledge of the ruin or the piled stones. Task completed, the company bedded down for the night. During the following morn's preparations for the return trek, a faint inscription was spied upon a stone before the cairn. This led to the discovery of a piece of tightly rolled animal hide within a chink in the monument. Upon the skin was writ a message in Elvish. The hand was angular and the pigment had begun to smear in places. By my instruction a transcript was made and the hide returned to the crevice. Said transcript is appended to this report. The journey south was begun thereafter. Sightings during the return included By my hand, Ixen Vrelma Patrol Leader,Eleventh SurveyNorthern Operations SCRIBE'S NOTE: Not a true copy ********** [ The final pages of the document have been penned in the same rounded script as the previous one. They read: ] SCRIBE'S NOTE: A true copy, transcribed from the Elvish translation. Meneluin, To this I set my hand in order that, should reason or conscience at last hold sway over thee, thou wilt know of the horrors visited upon our kinfolk -- and thy hand in them. Mark well that which I now write hither and learnest, fully, the dire consequences of thy vainglorious follies in the South... Thy departure didst open wounds which were not to mend. Surely twas plain as thou didst stand there, at the sward's edge, with thine arm aloft. Stood there, smugly beaming, whilst Mother's eyes filled as she trembled. Her firstborn and best-loved. Never again would they be fully dry nor she fully whole. With the first snows there came for her a dire urgency. Nigh unbroken was her vigil there before the shrine as the days darkened. Slumped and motionless, would she beseech He by Whose Grace thou wert first delivered to spare thee once more. When she could be led away, she passed desperate hours hunched over the table before the hearth, weeping as she turned the cards and anxious to descry what she could of thee. When to weariness she would at last succumb, her slumber was fitful and troubled. And even those nights when she would wake, keening and shaken, naught would she speak of the swevens which haunted her. And so twas that she grew ever more gaunt and forlorn. By the fifth turn of the moon after thou hadst cast thy duties aside, warm winds were descending from the heights. Ere long, the passes were open once more. Twas clear that it should be I to make the trek to Talmet for she would now take food only at Father's behest. And so twas that I set off southward with the best of the past season's pelts at my back. Each night, my last waking thought was of what might befall her should my return be deemed overdue and I made what haste I might through the muddy highlands. When at last the trail fell before me and I came upon the trees of the village, scant time did I squander during the barter. Twas then to the gaming house, the inn, and the tavern, for she had bade me to return bearing naught if not word of thee. Thy pretensions were, for once, a boon as a serving woman recollected thy passage months previous. Ere nightfall, I was upon the trail once more. The return journey was swift. No rain had fallen since the eve ere mine arrival in Talmet and the ascent was more readily trodden. I had met mine objectives in the village and would see home two days in advance of expectation. My spirits had begun to lift somewhat. And then, not a league distant from the cabin, I spied it. A familiar snare, left untended. Some time before, a fox had met his end within and now lay rotting, half-consumed. Further along was found the entangled carcass of a hare, maggot-ridden and foul. The blood coursed chill in my veins. As I rushed toward the clearing I could see the chimney, blackened and bereft rising before a heap of charred timbers. I drew up at the limit of the wood as the breeze turned to meet me. That which it bore could not be mistaken. I glanced feverishly about, a roar rising in mine ears. And found him. He lay just without the threshold, his nightshirt tattered and stained. His head, severed... lay a pace beyond. He had been defiled by wolves -- and he was alone. I delved until I was as dark as one of the Vein, but she was not to be found amidst the ruin. Along the leeward side, there lay tracks. Two sets, mayhap three, well shod and one heavily laden. Each led back to the curing shed, which yet stood. Most of the frames within had been hewn apart and removed. At the base of the linden there behind, a pyre had been raised. Within its cold embers lay blackened remains, a shackle of iron, and her stone. Behold the ruination which thou hast brought upon our home. Thou that wouldst recast remembrance as prophecy! He that claimed boon was birthright! That put his selfish pursuits above all else! Grieve now for those that are forever lost to thee! To thee, indeed, to us! How dear the price, brother? He spoke of the folly of thine ambition, but thou didst hear him not. Her heart was rent by the prospect of thy leaving, but it mattered not. And, hence, naught now remains. These are the tidings that I shall bear unto thee. I, bereft and a caird of thine own making... So shall I, as Caerdh, make myself known in the South. Twould behoove thee to pray that thy knowledge of what hath passed hither is gleaned from this missive rather than our next meeting. ********** Cath Class: RangerRace: Half-Elf Cath awakens in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. Wiping his brow, Cath looked out towards the graying skies. Quickly he readied himself for the day, grabbing his pack before making his way down the branch to face the early morning. He headed through the Courtyard of Hope and up a set of long winding stairs to the peak on top of the rocky outcropping. Sitting down at the edge, overlooking the sea of tears, Cath marveled at the rising suns as they began to peak over the horizon, creating a glistening cascade of orange and red hues over the sparkling sea. Sighing slightly, Cath reached into his pack and withdrew a traveler's journal. "The same nightmare...over and over again." He mumbles to himself as he takes up his quill and starts to write down what he remembered from the dream... ::------------------------:: A hazy form of shadows fade in, then out to darkness again. The picture fades back in more clearly and the scene of a man and woman walk slowly along side a cart. A young child sits happily at the head of the cart as it makes its way down a cobble stone road. The man has a head of shaggy brown hair with bangs falling over his eyebrows, fair skin and of strong build, with deep blue eyes set in a firm but kindly face. The woman is a vision of beauty - long pointed ears tipped through her silky golden hair which tumbled down her sides, bouncing lightly with each step - her skin a creamy white, with forest green eyes. The boy has spiky light brown hair poking out in all directions, a round face with two slightly pointed ears, his eyes bright sky-blue. All seemed tranquil with this happy family - but alas, nothing is ever as tranquil as it seems. As the cart draws near the dark alley, three men sprint from the shadows, dressed in dark hooded cloaks, their faces hidden by the shadows of their hoods. A look of surprise quickly turns to one of horror as the three men unsheath their weapons, muttering some kind of chant as they start to draw closer to the terrified family. The man looks to them with pleading eyes, pulling different trinkets from the cart offering it to the approaching men...but they did not stop. "Celia, run away!" The man yells to the elven women. The man's pleading stopped when the sound of a shrill scream disturbed the air. "Drayral, help!" Celia screams. Drayral turned to see another cultist donned in the same dark cloak but with a strange symbol sewn on the front. The figure held Celia by her hair, an ornamented dagger at her throat. With a crooked smile, the figure holding Celia spoke as Drayral listened, a growing expression of fear on his face. "Drayral is it?" the figure said teasingly, "Well Drayral, you are about to become part of a greater cause. Consider yourselves lucky!" Drayral's expression turns to one of rage as he yells at the figure restraining Celia. The figure looks over to one of the dark cloaked men and say's, "Brother Bariaeth, if you could?" The one called Bariaeth starts a different chant and faces Drayral. Thrusting his hand forward as if trying to push Drayral, Drayral's movements freeze as he was reaching for his sword. The dark figure turns to the other two and orders, "Brother Aeth, Brother Driodef, if you would be so kind to hold him in place." The two cloaked men, Aeth and Driodef were upon Drayral instantly, restraining his arms behind him. Driodef brought his face close to the Drayral's ear. Drayrol suddenly tries to force himself free but to no avail. The dark figure grins sinisterly, "Very good Brothers, hold him tight! Brother Ara'tainth, we need to work quickly." Bariaeth hissed. The one called Ara'tainth began chanting that ominous chant...Celia's eyes wide with fear, tears rolling down her cheeks as she looks into the Drayral's eyes, her eyes seemed to say goodbye. What happens next seems to last forever...each agonizing moment, each twisted sound, each morbid movement slowed down to a trickle. When the final word was uttered, Ara'tainth slid the dagger across the Celia's throat, blood instantly spraying like a dark mist from her as the ornamented dagger moved away from her neck. She falls forward in front of Drayral, twisting and gasping as she struggles to find sanctuary on the ground, leaving a trail of bright red blood. As Celia reaches Drayral's feet, Ara'tainth moved upon her again, turning her on her back. Smiling at Drayral, Ara'tainth started the chant again, a final gasp was heard through a moment of tensed silence as the ornamented dagger plunges deep into Celia's breast. Time seemed to return to normal then, Drayral stopped his continually lashing against his restrainers, his strength finally waning away. Ara'tainth plucks the bloody, ornamented dagger from the Celia's chest and walks slowly towards Drayral who was brought down to the street, chanting the same thing over and over again. Always chanting in the same drone tone. Ara'tainth moved forward, a smug smile on his face. Drayral's eyes moved to Celia's bloody body, tears rolling down his cheek. Ara'tainth steps over Drayral, raising the bloodstained dagger above his chest. As the dagger fell everything seems to slow to a dull tempo again, as if time itself was agonizing the moment. The dagger drawing ever so near, Drayral turns his head to see the boy looking on in wide eyed terror, his eyes swelling with tears as a look of dread covers his face. Drayral screams out as the dagger finally plunges into its mark causing his voice to become nothing more then a raspy whisper as a trickle of blood trails down his cheek. Reality returns, the cloak figures mumble to one another and turn to leave when Aeth notices the boy still sitting in a state of disbelief on the cart. The boy looks around in a form of panic as Aeth and Driodef stand in front of the cart while Bariaeth and Ara'tainth approach from behind. "Make sure he does not try to run, Brothers!" Ara'tainth snarls. He climbs up on the cart, Ara'tainth brandishing the crimson ornamented dagger, he smiles and says, "Come boy, join your family in the greater cause!" As Ara'tainth stands poised over the boy, lifting the dagger high in the air, an arrow that seemed to come from the shadows themselves fly straight through the Ara'tainth's throat. Bariaeth rushes to Aeth and Driodef's side, brandishing thier weapons again, looking around for the source of the arrow. A man in a dark green hooded robe prowls up over the side of the cart in one swift movement. He bent his head close to the boy's ear, then scooped him up in his arms, and leaps from the cart in one quick bound. Everything fades to a blur . . . then to blackness. That dream has been haunting me over and over again. Ever since I could remember as a child. I was thinking it may have been a sign of something I may have to do later in my life - the cloaked figure alone is what drove me to follow in the footsteps of the rangers when I was of age to go under their guidance and leave the orphanage. I wanted to protect others - like that figure did so boldly in my dreams, I wanted to live that kind of life. The dream's effects have loosened its grasp over me, but I still think they play some kind of part in the dream that now follows it. It had just started but a few months ago. The images are all a blur and covered in darkness...but one vision is clear - the dark glowing eyes of a monstrous demon. I try to struggle but my body will not answer. Before I wake, the only thing I hear is the scream of a young girl... ::------------------------:: Cath looked up, his ears twitching as he heard footsteps running up behind him. He looked over to see a beautiful girl; a bright red bow holding her black hair in a ponytail ran towards him. "Sorry Cath, I slept just a little bit too long this morning." She said, gasping for breath. "There will always be another rising of the suns, don't worry." He told her, with a bright smile on his face, looking up as the suns crested over the Sea of Tears. Dade Class: RangerRace: Hobbit Dade's life began in the hobbit town of Wineshire. He was an active and happy person until one day... The town of Wineshire was under siege by the goblins. Dade's Grandfather and a few other brave men had an army that was dedicated to stop the goblins. They came back barely with their lives, some not even returning at all. Word rang out that Dade's beloved Grandfather was killed. Dade and his family did not want to believe, until they found his body impaled on a large stake in the middle of the town. Dade and his father were outraged at this, so they set out, with a few other men, to seek revenge. The lot of them were taken down quickly, but Dade and his father fought valiantly. Until the goblins fell back. They thought they had scared the goblins, but they were wrong. A very large goblin, bigger than the rest, came straight up to the two. Dade's father engaged in combat with this large goblin, knowing he had killed his father, Dade's grandfather, seeing how he was wearing his grandfathers trademark tunic. They fought for what seemed like an eternity, until the goblin made a lethal blow. Dade's father, Darian, slumped to the ground. Dade was over come by tears, and flew to his father's side. His father told him "Go back to-t...the town.. warn the others... free the tow *cough* town. Tell your mother good-bye..."He then became limp in Dade's arms. Dade ran back to the town, enraged at his Father's death. He warned as many as possible, and then got his Mother and brother, and began to flee the town. They were confronted by 3 goblins, the Large one, and two of his closest men. The 2 guards held Dade, back, forcing him to watch the horrific scenes. The large goblin grabbed his younger brother's throat and squeezed until his body became limp... He then grabbed Dade's mother, kissed her, which made Dade furious, then he cut her head off, and tossed it at Dade's feet. Dade broke free and killed the guards in a rage of fury, and sadness. He rushed at the large goblin, the leader, and they brawled, Dade cut off a few of the goblins fingers, and broke his nose, the goblin ran away, fearing for his life. Dade ran from his town, blinded by rage and fury. He wandered for a long time, sometimes confronted by some Assasins of the goblins, but he quickly killed them. He wandered until he reached the town of Falcion, where he trained. He ventured to Nexus, and adopted it as his new home where he now dwells, with a troubled brow... Daneka Class: RangerRace: Human Daneka Branere walked through the woods to the north of the cottage where her parents lived. She had wanted to go with her father, but he still would not allow her to come on the long journey into the city. He claimed a girl of ten was too young to make the trip yet, but someday she would come along. Her father, Erid, was a trapper, and often made the trip into Nexus to sell his furs. It would take him three days to go there, and another three to get back, checking and resetting his traps on the way. And so her mother, Marene, had sent her out berry picking to get her out of the house. Not that Daneka minded, she loved to walk in the woods. She had a bad habit of wandering farther from home than she was allowed, and her mother would scold her again and again. However, when she stayed inside she would just pout and flick pebbles about on the floor with her fingers until her mother gave in and pointed to the door. It was a beautiful day, so of course Daneka went further than she was supposed to, wondering if she would push it and try to hide when her mother came looking for her again. Oh how she hated when Daneka did that! Daneka giggled to herself, and spent the day picking and eating berries, and wandering entirely further than even she had intended to go. Soon she realized it was getting dark, and she was not entirely sure of where she was. She started to worry a little, but picked the direction she thought was right and began to make her way. When she reached a the side of a cliff she had never seen before, she knew she was lost. It was almost dark. Daneka was raised in the woods though, and did not panic. Instead, she did what her father had taught her, and tried to find a place to settle down for the night. Trying to find her way home in the dark would only get her more lost. In the morning she could find a way to the top of the cliff and probably see something familiar enough to get home. She'd done this once before. While her mother had been angry when she arrived home, her father had quietly held her mother back, calming her, and reminding her that Daneka had done the right thing. She collected enough wood for a fire while she still had enough light. She was just getting it going when she heard rustling in the trees nearby. A man stepped forth into the firelight. He was oddly dressed, wearing bits and pieces of attire which didn't seem to match. An elven cloak, hunter's boots, and pants which were like someone from the city might wear. They were thin and not made for walking the forest. Still, whenever she had been with her father on an overnight trip, he would always share his fire with travelers. Daneka thought it would only be right to do the same. She smiled up at the stranger, "Hello, did you want to sit and warm yourself? Sorry, but all I have to offer to eat are berries." The man walked up to the fire, smiling, his face was odd in the light, his skin was a bit pale, and Daneka wondered if he was sick. The man spoke, "I would if you do not mind. Are you alone out here?" Daneka blushed a little, not wanting to admit she was lost, "Yes, I'm used to the woods, I'm just out for a trip for the night. Are you hungry?" she asked, offering the bucket of berries. The man stood over her, "Oh yes, I am indeed, but not for berries." and as he grinned she could see a pair of pointed fangs, and her whole body screamed danger at her. She stumbled back, trying to move away from him, but he advanced on her. The fear overcame her, she grabbed a burning stick from the fire, holding it in front of her at the man. "WHAT ARE YOU?!?" she screamed. The man smiled, "What indeed, I think you know what I am. I am eternal! I am beyond life, and you.... you are what I need right now." He lunged at her as he finished speaking. Daneka screamed again, thrusting the burning end of the branch into the man's face. It seemed to hurt him a little, and she ran, bolting to the cliff, trying to find somewhere to hide. She knew he was following her, but she ran because her life depended on it. The light from the fire was fading rapidly, but she spied an opening in the cliffs, and ran toward it. It was only a small opening, but she squeezed into it, trying to hide. She could hear the man coming, calling out, "Oh come back little one, it will only last a moment, and then you will feel no more pain." She tried to push farther in the tight opening, and as she did so, something gave way in the rocks. She fell into a cavern. Unable to see, she blindly made her way inside. She then realized he... it... had heard the rocks fall, and was coming after her. How he got through that small opening she did not know, but she knew he was coming. Farther and farther into the cliff she went. There were tunnels going this way and that. She just kept going by feel, trying to keep moving away from the thing following her. Then she was confronted by her worst fear. She had arrived at a dead end. She huddled in a corner, behind a small outcropping, trying not to cry too loudly lest he would hear her. From time to time she heard the echoes of his footsteps coming closer, and she would hold her breath. He would then move in another direction. Now and again he would yell out, "It's only a matter of time! I will find you! And now I will make it painful!" When he yelled loudly, the sound would reverberate through the cavern. Twice, some rocks fell from the ceiling as the sounds echoed loudly through the caves. Then he found her hiding spot. She was whimpering in the darkness, unable to help herself. He spoke, his voice cutting her like a knife, "So there you are, at last. He lifted his head and cried out, "Now you will suffer!" As he did so, the echoes again reverberated through the narrow tunnels, and rocks began to fall. A roar hit her ears as a tunnel collapsed, and the resulting vibrations resulted in more damage. The man turned, "No!" he roared, as the cavern was filled with the noise of collapsing rock. Somehow, the portion of the cavern in which they were located survived the collapse. Daneka was left alone as the man disappeared, crying openly now in the corner. Oh why had she not listened to her mother? Then it returned, standing over her, "You bitch! It will take me a year to get out of here now! Simple death is no longer good enough for you! You will suffer for this! Oh how you will suffer!" It reached down grabbing Daneka by the arms, lifting her from the floor. She tried to struggle and kick, but it was strong, oh so strong. One of it's hands grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. She screamed one last time as she felt it's fangs sink into her throat, then she mercifully fell unconscious. ..... Inarin called the group forward, "I think I've picked up the trail again. It leads off to the northwest." Talynin nodded. Inarin was one of the best trackers available in Talmet. If anyone could track this demon, it was he. Talynin said, "Let's get going then. Best speed you can Inarin, we want to find this thing before nightfall." Talynin looked behind him at the rest of the group. Quite a fighting force the elders had assembled to fight this creature he thought. Still, it all depended on Inarin to find it first. The Elves moved onward, and Talynin again mentally reviewed what he knew about the mission. Elves were dying, and for once it wasn't the Goblins responsible. What was taking his people was draining their blood, and the telltale marks on their throats gave away it's nature, a vampire. Talynin spoke as the elves marched, "We may not find this thing before dusk. If night falls, we keep moving. The last attack it killed 12 of our people. We stop it from killing again, no matter what." Talynin grew silent again, thinking. Twelve elves, but not just that, ten were Elven Guards, some of the elite guards which patrol the area around Talmet, and two were Paladins who were joining them. And yet, Inarin had examined the area and proclaimed that there was only one enemy. Just one. Talynin stopped in mid-thought as Inarin reappeared and returned to the group. Inarin said, "Just ahead, looks like a hole in the ground, but it leads somewhere." Talynin nodded, looking at the sun, already half set. Talynin said, "Alright then, ready yourselves quickly!" Tirion began casting a few spells, blessing himself and Olysia, the Mage. Then aiding Olysia and Daelin in protecting the group against poison and disease. With no further time, Inarin led them to the entrance. Inarin disappeared inside while the others waited. Presently a voice spoke in the minds of the Elves as Inarin reported, "Hmmm, it's more than one we are dealing with. There is an empty cavern at first, but there is a hidden passage beyond. I'm inside, looking at 6 sleeping vampires." Talynin said softly, "OK, let's get this done. Get your stakes and hammers ready, and lets take them out as they sleep. Dusk is almost upon us." With that the group headed inside. Each took a position over a sleeping vampire, positioning their stakes. At a signal from Talynin, they struck simultaneously, and five vampires died. Olysia had positioned his stake a little badly though, and only grazed the heart. The vampire screamed and jumped to it's feet, knocking Olysia to the ground. The others drew their swords and the vampire was quickly defeated. Talynin looked around, this was a little too easy. "Inarin, is there anything beyond this?" Inarin moved about the underground cave, stopping behind a small stone. "Here." he said. Talynin came over to look at a hole in the ground, hidden behind the stone. "Go, Inarin. Find out what's in there." Inarin nodded and disappeared into the hole. Presently he reported back, "Ah! Got another one in here. A bit odd though, it's strapped down. Also, there are signs another one was sleeping here, but it's gone. Let me see if I can figure out where it went." There was silence for a moment, then Inarin spoke again in their minds, "A small tunnel in the ceiling, leading up." Talynin swore, and as he turned to the others to decide what to do, the Vampire dropped among them from above. It landed behind Olysia, ripping into his back. "You've killed my children!" it roared, "For that you will pay!" The Elven battle group sprang into action, drawing their blades and approaching the beast as it casually flung the body of Olysia against a wall. Tirion began to summon the magics of Aalynor to turn the vampire as the rest fought it. The thing was strong! It tore into the Elves, ignoring the damage the Elves were inflicting upon it as if it were nothing. When Tirion finished his recitation the vampire only hissed and charged at him, taking advantage of Tirion's weakness to tear his windpipe from his throat. Tirion dropped. Daelin approached him, but Tirion was beyond aid. Talynin struck a vicious blow to the beast, and it turned to face him. Daelin took to healing the elves as they fought, but the beast was so fast! A strike took down Talean. Talynin was injured, the beast about to finish him. Suddenly Inarin appeared as if from nowhere behind the beast, striking a strong blow and distracting the beast long enough for Daelin to heal Talynin, even as Talynin circled the beast to draw it away from Inarin again, keeping it confused. Daelin was expending his magic quickly. While the beast was obviously feeling the damage now, once Daelin's healing magics were exhausted the battle would almost certainly be lost. The wounds on the vampire were regenerating as it fought, almost as quickly as the Elves were damaging it. Daelin looked again to Tirion, laying dead on the ground, then back to the others. He had made his decision. When he could no longer cast renewal, and finally, exhausted cast the last detraumatize he could, he began reciting a prayer to Tilnar, focusing his energies. Talynin realized what he was doing, and yelled for him to stop. However, he could not take his attention from the beast before him. Instead, he parried the claws of the vampire and whirled, focusing all his strength into the attack. Talynin's sword bit true and deep, but still the beast laughed! Still, it did not fall! As the beast moved to strike Talynin, Daelin finished his recitation. A bolt of white energy, pure as sunlight, shot from his Holy Symbol and struck the vampire. It screamed, "NO! I am ETERNAL! I cannot die!" The light emcompassed the vampire, burning it. Finally, the creature was consumed by the holy fire, falling to ashes on the ground. Daelin collapsed, completely exhausted. Talynin took a look around. There was nothing to be done for Talean or Tirion. The others were taking out cremes and potions, and healing their wounds. By the Gods, what manner of Vampire was this? He had fought many in his time, but none with close to the strength of this one. Talynin walked over to Daelin, "That was foolish, you could have gotten yourself killed." Daelin looked up weakly and nodded, "I had nothing else left, I had to try." Talynin nodded, clasping Daelin on the shoulder, "And you did well. Rest up now. Inarin, show me where this last one is and we will finish this and go home." Inarin led Talynin into the smaller cavern. Talynin readied his stake and hammer. The last vampire lay on a stone slab, sleeping. A young human girl. She couldn't be more than fifteen or sixteen he thought. Her hair was long, wild and dirty. Odd that she was strapped down though. Talynin readied the stake over the vampires heart, and swung down with his hammer. He suddenly stopped his swing, the hammer just shy of striking the stake. Inarin watched, sword at the ready, confused as to why Talynin had stopped. Talynin said, "The stake moved slightly. She's breathing, I think she's alive." Inarin looked at the girl, her skin was very pale, like a vampire, "She has bite marks on her neck, she's definately been bitten." Talynin said, "Go get some Holy Water. Inarin left and came back with Daelin. Daelin took some Holy Water and poured it slowly on the girls hand. "Nothing happened, it didn't burn. She's alive, not undead." Talynin nodded, "Lets get her back then, who knows how long she's been here." As they untied the girl, her eyes popped open, and she screamed. They tried to restrain her, but she was clawing, kicking, biting at them. The fury of the girl was incredible, they were unable to restrain her without harming her. Finally Inarin had to strike her with the flat of his blade, rendering her unconscious. Talynin sighed, "OK, she's human, best to take her into Nexus and see if they can do anything for her there. At least they may be able to find her family." ........... Andrion sailed to Falcion. He looked back at the girl, sedated and tied up in the rear. A guard sat on either side of her. It was so sad they had to do that, but every time she was fully awake, she tried to escape. She was a danger to herself, it was for her own protection. The transport docked in Falcion. They proceeded up to the city, and straight to the Hand there. The Master Healer came out to meet Andrion, shaking his hand. Nathen spoke, "So, this is her?" Andrion nodded, "We just don't know what to do. You've had a lot of experience, and we've tried everything we can think of. As near as we can piece together, she was used by this vampire for years to feed on. It's driven her completely insane I'm afraid. She goes crazy when she's fully awake. She got away several times. Every time she took off straight for the woods, and we've had to call in the Rangers to find her each time. Nathen nodded, looking the girl over. He ran his fingers over the marks on her neck, frowning. "These neck wounds are still open sores, why didn't you heal them?" Andrion sighed and sat down, "We did. Mend wounds won't affect them, detraum either. Renewal helps a little, and heal will close them up completely, still leaving the scars though. However, the next day they are always open again. It doesn't seem to harm her, but it's an oddity. This vampire they found her with was very powerful. The Elves say it could be one that's been in that area for hundreds of years, popping up from time to time, and going into hiding when it is hunted too much. Of course, there's no way to know. It's possible that a vampire that old and powerful could have abilities or methods that younger ones would not have." Nathen was looking her over, "Probably fifteen or sixteen years old. No luck finding her family?" Andrion shook his head, "None at all. No one knows who she is or where she is from." Nathen stood, "Well, there is something we can try. I've had the opportunity to work on healing research down here, with the aid of the metallics in some cases. There may be a way to heal her troubled mind. It's not guaranteed, but it is worth a try." Nathen called for some acolytes to take the girl away. Nathan spoke to Andrion, "It may be some time. I will call for you when I have some news." Two weeks later, Andrion returned to Falcion to meet with Nathen. Nathen again shook his hand and offered him a seat. "It was a difficult process, but I think we have succeeded. I need to cast one final spell, and hopefully we will have some results. There was a lot of trauma, more than I would have thought possible for her to bear, but this final spell will show what the final result will be. Come, let us finish." Nathen led Andrion into the inner halls, to a small room where the girl waited, lying asleep on a table. Nathen took out several bottles, and laid them next to the girl on the table. He opened one and lifted the girls head. She awoke, wide eyed, and Nathen encouraged her to accept the contents of the bottle. She drank it fully. Nathen then stepped back and began casting his spell. It was a powerful spell, Andrion could tell that. It took Nathen nearly a half an hour to complete, and at the end he sat down wearily next to the girl. After some time, she shuddered and her eyes opened. She looked at everyone present, and sat up. "Where am I?" The girl began crying, "Where's my mommy?" Nathen looked at Andrion, and the two tried to comfort the girl. She balked at first, and then finally embraced Nathen and wept. When she finally calmed down, and looked up, Nathen asked, "What is your name child?" She glanced around the room, "Daneka. Daneka Branere. Who are you?" Nathen smiled, "I am Nathen, a healer here in Falcion. This is Andrion, a healer from Nexus." At the word Nexus, Daneka's face lit up. "Nexus? Oh, my father goes to Nexus! Can you find him please? His name is Erid, he comes into Nexus to trade his furs." Nathen looked at Andrion who shrugged helplessly and spoke, "I do not know of him, but we will try to find him. Where does he live?" Daneka wiped her tears, "We live in the Eldane, daddy took three days to walk there, but I don't know the way." Nathan frowned, "So far out? How do you avoid the goblins?" Daneka looked confused, "Goblins? Why would they bother us? Daddy comes to Nexus a lot, I'm sure you can find him." Nathen frowned again, "This is very odd," he thought. Then he asked, "Daneka, do you know what year it is?" "Oh yes!" Daneka said brightly, "458 War's End. My mother taught me all about things like that." Nathen stopped still, and Andrion gasped. Andrion said, "But Daneka, it's..." but stopped as Nathen held up his hand. Nathen said, "Very good, what's the last thing you remember?" Daneka was about to speak, then frowned, "I was berry picking, but got lost. I built a fire, and I think someone came up to join me. But it gets real hazy then, was it you who joined me?" Nathen shook his head, "No, neither of us. If you will excuse us for a moment Daneka, I need to speak to Andrion, all right?" Andrion and Nathen left, and Andrion proclaimed, "458 War's End?!? Not possible! That's over a thousand years ago! She's a young girl!" Nathen said, "Young, and old. I understand now why the healing took so long and was so difficult, and I think this vampire was older than even the Elves believe. She's over 1200 years old. Yet listen to her, she speaks as a child younger than she even appears." Nathen sighed, "We have much more work to do Andrion. We still cannot heal her wounds on her neck, always they open up again. Imagine this poor child, fed on by this vampire for over a thousand years! Somehow it kept her alive, and kept her young. Physically she's probably aged no more than five or six years. Mentally, she is a girl of nine or ten again. We had to suppress her memories. They will return to a point, but slowly, more manageably. We will aid her to accept these memories as they come, and teach her slowly of what has happened to her. Her family has been dead for a long time. We can't just blurt that out to her, it could drive her back over the edge. Let us work with her, healing her now will be a long process." Andrion nodded, "I still find it so hard to believe. I'll call off the search for her family. You know, when she was young, before all this... If I remember my history, that was after the war of the races, when they were just rejoining again. It was a much more peaceful time. She has a lot of catching up to do. She's living in a different world now." Nathen nodded, "Remember, she is more mature physically than mentally. The mind of a child has an enormous learning capacity. It has the ability to adapt. I have hopes that she will recover from this. I will keep you informed." The process was very difficult for Daneka, over time some of the memories returned. With the patience and help of the clerics of Falcion, she slowly learned what had happened to her. After two years, Nathen again called for Andrion. Andrion arrived once more in Nathen's office, Daneka was already there, and ran to Andrion and embraced him happily. Nathen smiled, "Daneka has done very well Andrion. I think she is ready to leave, and so does she." Daneka nodded happily, "I think so, I've been looking around the island, and I know what I want to do." Daneka laughed, "When I found the Rangers training, I just sat and watched all day. It's what I know, I grew up in the forest, and I'd just love to join them." Andrion smiled, through the past two years he had visited Daneka often, helping as he could with her recovery. He was happy to see that she had finally learned to laugh again. Nathen said, "When the Rangers found out that the girl who had eluded them so many times in the forest wanted to join up, they were thrilled with the idea. Daneka, you can go on now, you know where to go, they are waiting for you there to begin." Daneka stood up, looking back and forth to Nathan and Andrion, "Thank-you both so much for all you have done." She hugged them both, then stood back and said, "Whoops! I forgot! I'm not supposed to do that anymore!" Nathen laughed and pointed to the door, "Go on, can't be late on your first day!" Daneka smiled and ran out the door, heading off to begin her training as a Ranger. Andrion turned back to Nathen, his tone more serious now. "Her skin is still pale, and I see the wounds still haven't healed." Nathen sighed and shook his head, "No, we ran every test we know of and more. She isn't a vampire, she had to learn to eat solid food again, but she does. She's a living breathing girl, she's aging naturally again. We can't keep her and test her forever, we have to let her go. We'll keep an eye on her of course, but for now we have no way to know if there will be any long term effects which may come out of her experience or not. I hope not, she deserves a chance to finish her life, as normally as possible." Andrion nodded, "Well, time will tell." Elstrom Class: RangerRace: Unknown My life began on a windy day in the city of Crys, far south beyond the Sea of Tears. My mother's name was Ryna; she was a cleric and scientist. My father was Dracar, and he dealt in...shadowy business ventures. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and join the "family business," but I was more like my mother. She worked for the Information Preservation Society, a coalition of learned men and women dedicated to preserving knowledge in the light of the war. She was a field botanist, collecting samples of new plant life and such. Going with her on her expeditions, I learned the lore of the forest. Arkani, the old Pathfinder that lived near Crys, took me in and refined my skills, and eventually I became a Scout. I remember my graduation from apprenticeship well. Mother cried. Father said, "Els, I'm disappointed in your career choice." He flashed a roguish grin, "But I'm still proud of you, son." Arkani presented me with a fine bow, and a quiver of finest tanned leather that I still have today. He also gave me a much more special gift: a magic Magma Bolt. "Elstrom," he said, "I want you to take it. I found it long ago in the lair of a Dragon. Men died there. Good men..." His eyes took a distant look of pain, as though he were living it again. Then his gaze returned. "Never have I seen its like. Use it wisely. Use it for right." I didn't know how soon I would obey. I was on a fungus hunt with Mother in a part of the wood I had never been. She saw a sample high on an oak, and asked that since I was a Scout now, if I would go and get it. I shimmied up, sample bag in hand, and just as I reached to get it, her scream rent the air into a million pieces. I looked down just in time to see a horrible beast spring from the bush. It was on my mother faster than I knew what happened. The sheer force of its pounce knocked her back five feet. I think I must have yelled out in confusion and protest, but the thing was so bloodlusted, it saw only its prey. I watched in horror as its head arced back, a shower of blood glittering in the speckled light of the forest floor. Anger and confusion crystallized into determination. I lit from my perch as soft as a cat, as I got my first good look at the beast. It was shorter than a man, with two powerful legs with knees turned backwards, built for leaps. It had a tail like a wolf, and dun brown fur over its entire body. It walked half doubled, and had two long arms with horrible claws red with my mother's blood. I would have thought it a werewolf until I saw its head: it was a rat's, but in proportion to its body, with two fangs piercing up from the lower lip like an orc's. Its gaze shot back to a bush behind it, and everything came together. There I saw a poorly hidden Goblin Alchemist, obviously trying out his newest mutation. I reached back to the thin side quiver of purest silver, snapped it open, and withdrew my Magma Bolt. Its fletchings were of deepest crimson, and the heartwood shaft glowed a speckled red, like a dying ember. The beast walked towards its master, with a bouncing motion almost a bird's. I fit my shaft to the string. It was almost hot to the touch. The Alchemist fed something to the creature. A bead of acid sweat rolled into my eye. Arkani's words echoed, Use it wisely! I waited. Waited. The beast took a step in front of its master. NOW! The bolt flew straight and true. It sparked and, with a flash, transformed into a streak of blinding white. With an unearthly shriek, the beast fell, and its creator behind it. Quite dead. I turned back to my mother, but I knew it was hopeless. She laid there, her eyes locked wide with fear and agony, blood streaming from what was left of her throat. I covered her with my cloak and returned home. My father was waiting there with some of the others. "Ryna's dead, isn't she?" Arkani said. I could only nod. "We all felt your anguish as surely as if you sent it to us," said Maryni, a cleric and colleague of my mother's. I hadn't noticed, but my father was crying. He regained his composure to say, "Your mother spoke of a place called Nexus, beyond the sea. She said the healers there can claim the dead back from Tilnar's realm. You must go, my son." On the day of my departure, my father gave me a bag of money. "I know what you think of my profession," he said, "but take it." He also introduced me to someone I'll never forget: Dystara, a blind prophetess. "Young one," she said, "Today you are a man. Go out into the world. I see you standing among great men, with the fate of millions resting with you. Remember, young hero, follow always the path of light, if you aspire to grasp what destiny has made for you." The journey was many days to the port of Karmek, and weeks from there to Rymek. There I learned of the Hoarde's siege and the valor of the adventurers in Nexus. When I reached that city's great gate, I made straight for the Tabernacle of the Healing Hand. Two days and nights they wove their magic. Then, as the sun broke the horizon, a form coalesced. At first, my joy was so overwhelming, I ran to embrace her. I stopped short as I noticed a subtle change. She seemed older, not in body but in spirit. For an instant I feared it was not Ryna. My fear polymorphed into anger at the Healers for their trickery. Then, as quick as it set on, it was over, for I saw my mother's compassionate smile, and I knew it was her. She was weak, though, and pining for her Dracar. She took the first ship home. She tried to convince me to stay, but I think she understood as well as I did. I was a Ranger. My place was there, shoulder to shoulder with the world's greatest heroes, protecting some little kid's mom from the twisted genius of a Goblin Alchemist; protecting the whole world from darkness. I understood what Dystara had meant. I had the power to make a difference. My place was in Nexus. Still is. Felicity Class: RangerRace: Human Felicity Kaye sighed continedly, laying on the beach next to her fiance. It was the first day of spring and the suns were shining brightly, making it a perfect day to try out the new bikini Calvin had aquired through his trade of "quick fingers'. It were days like this that made her forget her past, and think of the beautiful life she would be having with Calvin, her fiance. He was a thief she had met when she was an aprentice to the island and he had instantly captured her heart. As she looked up from laying on her stomach at the roaring ocean her hair slid to her right side, revealing a 4 inch long scar, with some burn scars surrounding it on the back of her left shoulder blade. The scar was barely visible but Calvin's keen eye caught it quickly. He had noticed it a time before in one of their intimate moments but had forgotten it. Calvin ran his index finger down the length of the scar asking with a bit of mocking "Where did you get this scar?" Felicity automatically tensed as his finger ran the length of her scar, asking "What scar?". Hoping he had noticed something else. "This scar on your back silly" he replied as he leaned down to kiss it gently. Felicity sighed and rolled over. She knew this day would come, she just didn't want it to be this day of all days, her perfect day. "I guess it's about time you learned of my past" she said reluctantly. Calvin looked up at his pretty bride to be and smiled, saying "Well I have been wondering if you just appeared at the fountain that day." He grinned then added "please tell me". "Well I was the first born to my father and mother. Zarith and McKenzie Kaye. " She paused then continued. "My father was set in the "old ways" she muttered. "He believes that the first born of every family should be male, to carry on the family name and traditions. So when I was born he couldn't hide his shame and disapointment. He wanted to drown me. Only my mother's pleading and begging saved my life." Calvin tensed up, smirking at the very thought of never meeting Felicity. Felicity looked at him and leaned over to kiss his cheek saying playfully "I'm here so no worries" then her tone went back to remembering. "My gender was the reason of my punishment. My sister Julene was born not even a year after me, making my father ecstatic. His thinking was the second born was to be a girl. So Julene was pampered and I was criticized. Julene was the princess, I was the terror. I didn't detest my sister though, I knew and understood it wasn't her fault, I loved her and continue to love her very much." Felicity stopped looking back into the past, and layed her head into Calvins lap. He sighed and said "please continue". Felicity took a breath and went on. "Ever since I can remember, which was probably from the age of four or so, I was beaten. In my father's words it was to "toughen me up, since I should be a male". Calvin smirked at this, his rage growing at the thought of anyone touching his love like that. "When we got older it was evident that boys were finding me very attractive in our neighborhood. My father was outraged at this, he thought Julene should be getting all the attention, but my sister was very shy and underdeveloped for her age. Although she is a very beautiful young woman now, she hadn't bloomed yet when we were thirteen and twelve. The beatings became worse, Father forbiddening me to see any boys, because it wasn't proper since I was suppose to be one. I came to resent him for him beating me, swearing that when I got older I would come back and show him a thing or too. I became very rebellous, but kept it within reason knowing that I would be beat if I was uppity or anything unproper. I was beaten on a daily basis, toughening me up". Felicity paused thinking of the next thing she was going to say, she could feel Calvin nearly shaking from the anger he was feeling. She hugged him and said "are you sure you want me to continue?" He nodded holding her tight, running her finger along her scar. Felicity took a breath and continued. "This went on for a while, I avoided the boys and played alone and with Julene, playing in the woods near our house, climbing trees and swinging about became a favorite pastime, protecting Julene from the woodland creatures since she was so quiet and feminine. We even had a swimming hole. On my fourteenth birthday this boy named Jemkise who helped my father around the house with chores took me back in the back yard. He told me I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. I beamed with pride. I had never had praise given to me, and here he was covering me with it. He then leaned in kissing me softly. My father caught us and jerked me away, slapping me across the cheek, calling me a tramp. He then took me to this stump and made me lay across it. He then took out this old horse whip and began beating me with it. Lashing out his disappointment onto my back. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream in pain or cry. I lay there silently taking my beating as I had become use to, although this was the worst one I had ever received. Then he looked at a huge slash he had put into my left shoulder and took a stick from the fire and pressed it to and around the wound, saying "you'll remember this beating won't you?". Felicity stopped her entire body was covered in sweat and she was shivering, the memory of her family life vivid in her mind once again. Calvin say there shaking with rage saying quietly "If he ever sets foot in our home, I'll kill him." Felicity finished her story saying "I ran away from home that night. I wondered around for a while, I found that my good looks and athletic body got me a lot of sympathy and people could be very kind, though I was still wary of boys. I ran into a girl from my home a few months later, she told me of Nexus, the city of heroes. She told me I could be anything I wanted there, and I would never have to worry of being beaten again. That's how I ended up here, choosing the class of Ranger since I loved the woods so much as a child, it was a noble profession." Felicity sat up looking at her fiance. Calvin stared back at her, looking at her beautiful shimmering emerald green eyes, her long blond hair flowing down her back, and a few strands framing her stunning face. "How can anyone do something like that to somebody so beautiful" he whispered. Felicity blushed, still not used to praise from a man. Calvin took her into his arms saying "I will never touch you like that, nor will anybody else, or they will answer to me and this" he pulled out a magic flint dagger. Felicity smiled and said "well now you know my history" Calvin smiled holding her in his arms once again, thanking the Gods for bringing her to him, she smiled, a huge wieght lifted from her shoulders. Cath Class: RangerRace: Half-Elf Deep within the Eldane woods, a sobbing woman scurries hastily through the woods, along with a small group of women and children behind her. Once deep enough, she pauses to rest, and collapses on the forest floor. Looking back towards what used to be a small, peaceful village, she sees only billowing clouds of smoke, and the cry of death. Hearing a distinct, sharp cry, she winces, knowing her husband is now dead. Standing, and gathering her courage and resolve, she begins to trudge deeper into the forest, but stops with a halt. Directly in front of her, stands a small group of warriors, each bare from the waste up save for camouflage paint and countless weapons of all types. The leader said nothing, but simple raised a hand, and made a fist, as his warriors surrounded the women and children, searching them from head to toe for anything of value. When they got to the woman carrying the bundle, they looked inside, and seized it, bringing it to the leader. He looked in, and with a nod, unwrapped the small child, stuck it in a sling around his arm, and darted into the woods, followed by his brigade of hunters. And thus, Feril's real life began. Raised by hunters, Feril was stolen at birth from his mother, who was fleeing from a city under siege. This life was far away from him, and is only known to him because that is what he has been told. Now Feril stands as the newest recruit from a select group of hunters for a small tribe of wild elves, deep within the Eldane woods. At the adolescent age of 65, Feril was sent out, and given a task to return a man, and a warrior. Sent away from yet another village, not out of spite, but out of tradition, Feril was forced to learn the ways of nature on his own, learning from the animals he stalked. From the snake, he learned the power of surprise and stealth. From the Cheetah, he learned to harness his speed, greatly enhancing it for a time to wound his prey, so he can then take it at leisure. These were only a few of the things he was forced to learn on his journey, but none would prepare him for what the fates had in store for him. While stalking a young deer, Feril noticed he was being watched, no, followed. Tensing, he deftly climbed up into a nearby tree without a sound. Looking down, he noticed a few woodsmen, one a dark-elf, the other three light elves. Confused and caught off guard by the sight of a dark elf with light elves, his foot slipped ever so slightly, dropping a leaf down to the floor. This, unfortunately, was just enough to get the woodsmen's attention. Before Feril knew what was happening, he was surrounded, and somehow, on the floor, and could not move, as if held by a magic. Cursing himself for not being attentive, he noticed a figure in a deep hood step out from the shadows, but yet, he was tall for a mage, and covered in a thin fur. Figuring he hit is head, he looked around, noticing people of shapes and sizes that he has only heard about in stories. Getting thrown to his feet, one of the men threw test punch at his face. Feril deftly blocked this, and the man grinned. "This boy has some good reflexes, perhaps he is a member of the house." Said one man "Nay, see the look in his eyes, he has the killing instincts of an animal, he is a warrior, no doubt," Said a large troll in a heavy suit of armor, horns protruding from his helmet. "Fools, do you not see the flicker in his eye? It is the sign of magical ability, he is being trained in the tower." Said the hooded figure. "He was too easily caught to be trained in any guild," said the dark-elf. "Y-yes, I'm not in any of these guilds you speak of," Said Feril, a bit flustered still, "I was just hunting a deer, nothing more." "Well then you should come with us, we will get you assigned to a guild," Said one of them, as they begun to bicker among themselves under what guild he would be trained. "Why not let him go free, and let him decide?" Said a voice from the woods. The group quickly twirled around to see a man in simple brown and green garb, with a gleaming long sword in one hand, and a simple throwing axe in the other. The man stepped out slowly, into the middle of the group. "It's their own choice, you know, they can chose what they want to train as once on the isle." Said the man, and began to take Feril aside from the group, without paying any attention to the rest of the group. The man handed him a small map, and patted him on the back. Feril smiled a rare smile, and thanked the man for the advice, and trotted off into the woods, searching for this place where he could become a better hunter, a better warrior, and a better man.v Florian Class: RangerRace: Elf Florian was born in a medium-sized elvin city, to Theorai, his Father, an elvin Monk and Raethia, his Mother, an elvin Ranger. His parents were well-known in the city for their explorations of the surrounding lands - his father having a penchant for studying the land's flora and fauna, and his mother for her unmatched knowledge of the surronding geography. His father, it was said, could actually talk with some of the creatures of the woods...and there were rumors, that he had begun to learn the language of the trees. Throughout the years of his early life, his parents sowed in him the seeds of both of their callings - a fascination with paths and secret places from his mother, and a deep and abiding curiosity and respect for all living creatures from his father. His early life was uneventful, until a day when his parents returned to their home seriously injured, ashen faced, with a strange creature in tow. It was late at night and Florian was shocked to see his parents in such a state, Florian found it difficult to focus on the creature they had brought home...it seemed to him a blurry ball of light that would rapidly take on different physical characteristics...a wing would suddenly appear...only to be replaced by a talon, or an eye, or a beak. It hovered in the air above his father's shoulder, seemingly teeming with inner activity. His parents sent him to his room while they talked in hushed tones of their terrible discovery. Unfortuantely, they had taught Florian too well...he snuck from his room and hid nearby, consumed with curioisty. "This is not worth our lives, Thoerai; as fascinating as it is, we have Florian to consider." Theorai nodded, casting mend spells on both of them. "Yes, I agree, but what if the portals oepn in both directions? And who knows where they lead? It could be such a serious threat to the city...to our whole world...how can we leave it unexplored? The glowing creature began making mumbling sounds, shifting shape even more rapidly than before. Theoriai fixed it with a curious stare. "And what of this?", he asked, indicating the strange being. 'You have been there a hundred times at least...as have I, neither of us have seen the portal until this...er...being...led us there. I doubt we could find it again without help from this creature. This creature is not from our lands...that much I can tell clearly...why did it lead us there?" Raethia nodded. "I agree. But we should never have entered the first portal unprepared as we did. We must bring a cleric and a warrior at least, if we return. The creature within nearly killed both of us in the hallway. We were unwise to let our curiosity get the better of us." "What -were- those things!? Abominations! I pray we never see their like outside the portals, a single one nearly anhillated us in seconds!" Theoriai shuddered. "I tremble at the thought of what havoc even a small group of them could wreak in the lands." 'Let us hope it never comes to that." Theorai nodded. "I will take this creature...if it will come...to Praedil...perhaps he can assist me in my attempts to communicate with it." The I shall return and we will rest from this wretched day..." Florian snuck back to his room, filled with questions...and fear...for he had never seen his parents in a state such as this before. ***** "Father, what happened to you and mother last night?" Theorai cocked his eyebrow at Florian. "Well, son, you know that we try to hold nothing back from you...but this is larger than just us...you must discuss it with no one, understood? "Of course, Father, my word is my bond." 'As it should always be." Theorai smiled. 'In our travels, your mother and I came upon the strange creature you saw last night. And it lead us to a magical portal...which we could not see without it's presence. We were curious, and we entered the portal, and were immediately attacked by a terrible creature of great power. We were nearly killed. We were able to drive it off, but not destroy it. After that, your mother scouted a bit and showed to me some other creatures there. They were unlike anything I have ever seen, or heard tell of. Terrifying, draped in the scent of rapacious evil." 'I am glad you made it home alive, Father." Florian hugged his father, and held him close. "As am I, but we may have to return. There are riddles there whose answers may reveal a hidden fate for our city." 'I do not want you to go, Father, can you not send others in your stead?" 'We would, but the creature will lead only your mother and I to the place...it will lead us if others follow...but not without us present. Even Calnion's magic does not reveal the portal..Only in the creature's presence can we see it. But we are planning amongst ourselves. We will not be unprepared the next time we venture in. Do not worry, Son...we shall be wary." A strange apprehension gripped Florian, and he held tightly to his father. ***** Six months passed. Florian did not ask again about the strange portal, and try though he might, he could not forget it. Nor apparently could his parents. Florian would often note them returning late into the night, and he would sneak out to listen...but they spoke only with their minds, and thus he could not hear. A few days later, he discovered a freshly penned manuscript, clearly in his father's hand, but in a code he could not break. One night his parents returned home badly injured again. Florian's mother was weeping, and her face bloody...behind her, Theorai, stumbled through the door, soaked in blood. "Soriel...I cannnot belive he is gone!" weeping wracked his mother's body as she began to cast healing magic upon herself and Theoria. Florian's throat closed tightly at the horrible news. Soriel was one of the city's most powerful healers, if the creatures had taken him in battle, they were far more powerful than Florian had imagined. 'We will mourn him later...for now...we must hurry." Theorai began removing his blood-drenched robes, revealing viscious gashes and magical burns. He cringed with every movement. "That was a war party...a scouting party, yes...but clearly they prepare for war." Raethia composed herself somewhat, concentrating on casting a healing spell. "Yes, we must wake the council I am afraid. We must go immediately." "Florian...go to Thenna's house...await word from us there...take your shortbow and sword...and gear for a week in the forest...obey her instructions explicitly, understood? We will send to you if need be...but do not distract us with telepathy." 'Yes, Mother." Florian moved from the shadows of the room, embarrassed at having been discovered. He ran to embrace his mother, tears welling up in him. She held him silently for a moment. "You are a good son, Florian, and we both love you very much...but we must hurry...prepare your things." Florian, nodded quickly preparing his weapons and pack, then followed his parents out the door, into the deepness of night...all the blacker now for the mysterious enemy it concealed. ***** Florian found his best friend Gariae awaiting him with wide eyes when he arrived at Thenna's house. Thenna was preparing packs of food and medicine. Thenna greeted Florian warmly, hugging him. "Do not worry, young ones, the elders will take care of the threat to the city." Thenna smiled reassuringly. "You two run off to Gariae's room for a bit...stay in the house, though." Gariea, a young ranger-in-training was Florian's only friend who had already chosen his path. His weapons and maps lay upon his bed. Florian unlimbered his own, which seemed impoverished next to those of his friend. "What do you know of the enemy, Florian...hopefully more than I do...I know next to nothing...other than being able to tell that Mother's smile hides intense worry, and something I have never seen in her...fear." Florian nodded. "Yes, I know that the things are powerful...I am certain that my parents were well prepared and accompanied when they encountered a scouting party tonight. Soriel is dead..." Florian felt his face grow hot with tears, as Gariea shock registered in his now ashen face. "Soriel? that cannot be! Surely you have misunderstood!" Gariea shook his head in disbelief. "Would that I had...had you seen the shape my parents arrived in, you would believe...they were both near death. Soriel would never have allowed them to come to such harm had he been alive." Gariea was stunned. Florian could clearly see that he was fighting back tears, and that he was shocked speechless by the terrifying news. ***** Two tense hours later...the sky lit with suddenly horrible greenish flash, and the earth trembled with a deafening roar. Thenna rushed into the room, prepared for hunting. 'Get your things, hurry." Her face was a mask of poorly hidden fear, but the authority in her voice woke the two to action. Florian and Gariea snapped out of their shock and gathered their packs and weapons quickly. They followed Thenna, then, again, into the dark streets, moving stealthily and quickly toward a part of the city they were unfamiliar with. The city was filled with sounds of battle coming from the direction of the gates. An ugly glow festered there amid shouts a death cries, and a dark shape the size of a building appeared now and then, spewing magic and fire down upon the earth. Lit by the lightning of its own power briefly...Florian recognized the thing from stories...and his heart sank within his breast. "Florian! Come...now!" Thenna rushed back to grab him. "Thenna..." Tears rose again in Florian's throat as he felt despair grip him with an unbreakable talon. "Is that..." he shook his head. Thenna grabbed him, yanking him along the road. 'Yes...it is a Dragon..." ***** An hour later, as they hid in a basement storage room among many families, Saynwyrn, the Head of the council and leader of the city spoke to all in their minds. "The gates have fallen and the city is razed, retreat now to the forest...those who are able...we will..." That was the last they heard from him. Thenna grabbed Florian and Gariae and led them quickly up the stairs. As they entered the street, Florian saw the enitre town afire. They hid then, sneaking when possible past the looming shapes of dread warriors, wrapped in shadow and elvin blood. Their faces masks of fury and murderous glee. Finally they neared the rear exit of the city. Florian saw his parents waiting there, with the strange creature in tow. He ran shouting, leaping from the shadows and running to their embrace. 'We must away as quickly as possible. Use all stealth and may the gods guide our feet." The small party went to the gate...and onto the path into the nearby woods. As they snuck through the woods, Raethia scouting ahead, Thoerai spoke in thier minds: "Those who survive the city will not last in the woods, the creatures can smell us...they will hunt us down. The being with us now has lead us to another portal...it tells us that we might find safety there, and it seems our best chance...so we shall go through, and hope for a chance to survive." The small group was running now, picking up speed to distance themselves from the city, when they heard the mindshout of Raethia: 'Ambush!' But it came too late...they slipped from the copse into the small clearing where the portal stood nearby. Theorai lept to his wife's side as they stood before a group of six of the creatures, and attacked the three warriors already upon her. Raethia hasted, dealing a lethal blow to one of them as another, three times her size, smashed her with a club. It was then that Florian saw the mage preparing his deadly attack, and he quickly knocked an arrow to his bow, taking careful aim from where he knealt near the portal...but he was late. The mage let fly with a horrible icy blade that felled Thoerai instantly, just as Florian found his mark, and put an arrow in the mage. "Father!" Florian screamed, dropping his bow and leaping, sword drawn toward the melee. But Thenna grabbed him, pulling him backwards. It was then that the mage turned to him, red fire in its eyes...seeking the source of the arrow...and it ripped the arrow free of its massive chest as though it were a toothpick, and let forth a mind-shattering laugh as it prepared another spell. From the strange being that led them, hovering near his mother, a white bolt of lightning shot forth...anhillating the mage...just as one of the warriors spit Raethia upon his spear...and Florian was yanked backwards and fairly thrown by Thenna...into the portal. ***** Florian found himself suddenly in broad daylight in a barren field, the portal gone, alone. He scouted the area for days...praying for the arrival of his Mother, mourning his father...and missing his friends. The field was like no place he had ever seen...confusing every attempt to escape it. Finally, by leaving a trail of items, he found it's exit. He could find no evidence of the portal. His frantic sends to his compnaions went unanswered. After a week of waiting, he left along a path which led to a road. Soon he found the gates of a city, and a guardsmen. 'Who are you, young one? You should not be outside the gates!" Florian was confused, for he had never seen a creature such as this guard. It was elf-like, somewhat, but not an elf...it's eyes and ears were different, and it seemed primitve. Florian drew back, frightened. But the guard quickly pushed him through the gates, and into the city of Nexus, and Florian found that he could not go back out. It took Florian some time to adjust...the city was filled with races of beings that he had never seen...nor even heard tell of. Soon though, he began to make friends...a barbarian named Gryphon began to teach him the ways of war, and Lumina the ways of healing. He chose his path as that of the rangers, like his mother, and hoped desperately that someday he might find a way to contact her, if she still lived, and hoped further, in the deepest part of his heart...to avenge the death of his father and the destruction of their city. Kieron Class: RangerRace: Elf I am Kieron Larethian. It has been many moons since I have thought about my past, for it is one filled with harsh memories. I was the first born of a minor lord who ruled an island in the name of an Elven King. I do not care to divulge their names for reasons I will explain later. My mother, Anariel, was a princess with a lineage belonging to the first noble elves to come into existence. From an early age, I was groomed in the arts of swordplay and politics, since I was the heir to my father's lands. I enjoyed the many lessons on both swordplay and politics, since both activities are essentially the battle of the wits. The idea of outmaneuvering an opponent using nothing but sheer intelligence was fascinating. Early on in my childhood, I loved to take breaks from the duties of nobility. Although I didn't mind training, it was nice not to have someone scolding me all the time. During my free time, I would roam around the countryside. I got lost often, but somehow managed to make it back home by dusk. On one trip, I stumbled upon a hidden grove deep in the middle of a forest. As I entered the grove, I was just amazed by its perfection and harmony to nature and excited by the raw magical energy trapped in this area. Although untrained in the magical arts, I felt my skin tingle as I slowly walked around in the grove. As I continued to wander aimlessly in the grove, a voice from behind said ... "Greetings ... you have arrived at last." My training as a swordsman came into play and I instinctively went into a defensive crouch. As I turned around, I saw nothing but a shimmering blue light. Frightened by its presence, I turned to run, but could do nothing as the light reached out and touched me. I was expecting some sharp pain at that moment, but felt nothing but ... something hard to describe. It was like it touched at all my emotions at once. I could feel hate and love, fury and calm. All I can say is that it was an amazing experience. But just as abruptly as this encounter had begun, it had ended. After regaining my senses, I saw an old man standing before me. I looked up at him ... and then realized that I had stood up and ran away in fear. The reason I ran was because I saw his eyes. They were inhuman ... they were completely silver ... I managed to come home before the sun had set, so I was not asked where I had been. However, I think that mother realized that I had encountered something. She did not ask me what had happened, but I noticed the concern in her eyes. I loved my mother dearly and I did not want her worrying too much over me. Besides ... she was pregnant. A few days later, my mother gave birth to a baby brother. Ailmar was an interesting child. He rarely cried or complained about anything. Since he was the second born, he did not have an intensive training program in swordsmanship and politics like I had. He usually enjoyed reading about dragons and long lost tales. I saw that he was getting thin, so I dragged him a lot of my trips to the countryside. I knew he hated it, but I was doing it for his benefit. I never took Ailmar to that grove. After that encounter, I tended to avoid going anywhere near that area. I was so frightened that day that even the thought of entering that grove would scare me. I had nightmares about it. Ailmar must've realized that something was wrong when we wandered close to that area, but he would say nothing, as usual. During one outing, I had brought my wooden sword. I loved carrying it around and swinging at imaginary monsters. I'll admit that sometimes, I used my brother as the enemy. He would run off and yell at me to stop hitting him. This is one of the few memories of my past. We were roaming the hills when we ran into a bear. We had dealt with bears before and knew what to do if we ever encountered one, but this one was different. It was huge ... perhaps half again the size of a regular bear. Despite its size, the thing that frightened me was its eyes ... it was blood red and knew that there was no chance of running for it. It made its move against us, going against my little brother. I screamed in rage and struck at the beast with my sword, but all it did was grab its attention. I did not care that my strike was ineffective ... I just wanted to save my brother. I turned to me and took a vicious swipe across my chest, ripping my shirt and large amount of flesh with it. It tossed me back a good amount of yards and I started to lose consciousness, but I realized that it would kill Ailmar. I started to stand up, only to see that my little brother had somehow stunned the bear. The bear recovered quickly and charged at us, but then a hail of arrows hit it, killing it instantly. All I remember next was falling towards the ground and losing consciousness. I woke up a day later. My mother had been worried sick and told me that what happened after the bear was killed. I looked at my chest and saw the nasty scar that remained after the brutal attack. I was lucky to be alive. Later that evening, my father decided to send us away. He told us that he wanted us to live in a different community and learn how the other races behave. He also wanted us to improve our skills in combat by sending us to a better training facility. I was anxious to leave, for I was extremely bored with the island we were living on; I had explored every nuance of this place. My mother decided to come with us to Falcion to ensure our safety. She was an expert archer and dedicated follower of Pandora. I felt safe knowing that we were in good hands. The skies were clear as we left the port and the weather seemed calm. We sailed for about two hours before it suddenly started raining. The rain started to pick up and started to come down so fast that visibility was reduced to about 2 feet. The winds at the time were also blowing like a fury. Suddenly, the ship rocked with such a force that Ailmar was thrown off the bridge. I cried in alarm to tell my mother, but then the ship began to break apart. Mother pulled me to safety as she grabbed a large piece of wood that was a part of the ship's mast. A few days later, we were picked up by a few fishermen who recognized my mother and rescued us from the ocean. They took us back to port and left to return home. We both cried for hours about losing Ailmar. We both loved him so much ... we did not know what to think. Instead of acquiring an escort, we decided to cut across the forest to go home. On the way home, we ran into an armed escort. At the head of this escort was my father. My mother and I were relieved to see him and we quickly approached him. The escort went into a defensive circle around us as mother proceeded to tell them what happened. Then I'll never forget what happened next. Father says, "Don't you understand yet, you whore? All of you were supposed to die." We stood there in shock. Then he ordered his men to kill us. This was easier said then done. They charged in, but mother cleanly killed 8 of them on the first pass ... 5 with a few well-placed shots and 3 using excellent swordsmanship. As she was just finishing off her next opponent, I saw my father charging at me. I could only stand there in shock … my father is going to kill me. Right before my father could impale me on his lance, mother threw me aside. She could not avoid the blow that was meant for me, and she screamed in agony as it pierced her chest. I screamed. I screamed and felt nothing but anger and hate flowing through me. Without realizing what was happening, I reached for my mother's bow, created a magical arrow using the bow's magic, and launched it for my father. Father saw it coming, but he could do nothing as the arrow whistled into his eye, killing him immediately. Then I had turned and ran deep into the forest with a strange combination of anger, hate, fear, and sadness rushing through my body. I ran and ran until I had lost sight of the remaining guards when they attempted to pursue me. All of a sudden, I had burst into the magical grove that I had not entered in years. I was not afraid ... I had just lost my mother and brother at the hands of my father and had no time to worry about this place. I collapsed on the ground and cried. "Stand up ... do not be afraid." I looked up at the voice and saw that it was the shimmering blue light. I had gone through too much to think about being afraid. The blue light came toward me and enveloped me. Once again, the strange combinations of differing emotions poured from the recesses of my mind to surge through my body. I did not know what to make of it. Then blackness overcame me. I woke up to find that I was completely alone. Looking around to make sure I was safe, I grabbed my mother's bow and went to look for a stream to drink from. As I reached a small brook, I saw a reflection of myself. I fell down in shock ... my eyes had become completely silver. I did not know what to think ... my eyes had become just like that old man I saw years ago ... who and what was he? A million questions raced through my mind, but I knew that I would never figure them out on my own. I then decided that only the people of the famed city of Nexus could possibly determine what had happened to me. I had discovered that the Elven King wanted to eliminate my mother Anariel's bloodline. He promised my father that he would be given more land if he saw to eliminating us. I could not believe my ears. Has the elven race sunken so low to stoop to murder, bribery, and deceit to obtain power? I did not know what to think, but I knew I would never return to this island. I managed to sneak aboard a ship heading to Falcion. When I arrived, I began my apprenticeship. I did know what guild to join, but I found that ranger's guild was the most appealing. It would allow me to combine my sword arm with my wit. I was also impressed with the guildmaster at that time ... Seoman the Wilderness Vanguard. To my utter delight, I had found that my brother had survived the shipwreck and had managed to reach Falcion. Once we reunited, we trained together as hard as we can. I also heard that Elven king had been dethroned by a small group of revolutionaries. I only had wished that I could've been a part of that group. My past is filled with nothing but bitter memories ... but that's where they belong. In the past. Larkin Class: RangerRace: Half Elf "I'll never know the truth about where I came from. As a child I was raised by a man named Charles Celio. I've always assumed he was my father. I also do not know who my mother was, and do not think I will ever find that out. My assumption is that I am the product of a rape, and somehow came to live with Charles. I have no surname, as I have no real family that I know of. "I was raised in the small community of Tilban, a human community consisting of farmers and thieves. It soon became apparent that my father was nothing more than a bandit and as much as he helped the village survive, he was evil to the core. He raised me in an image new to that town, that of the assassin. Hoping that one day I would be capable of bringing money to Tilban. The town was one of two things he loved and would do anything for them. "I have forgotten to mention Charles' son. I claim him as my half-brother and wish that he did the same for me. Xiosis, my brother, is thing my father cared the most for. I always respected Xiosis too. He was the only person that was nice to me as a child. In fact, he was the only person I meet in the town till just before I left. I'll explain later. "Charles trained me as well as he could in the arts of silent murder. His main teaching methods were fear and pain. Also he kept me separated from other people, convincing me that no one but him would leave me alive. Every time I mentioned my brother when he said that, I was struck hard across the face, and then kicked repeatedly. Don't think that he wasn't an inventive man, he had several ways to harm me. "So I grew up a creature of the shadows. Never trusting anyone but Charles and Xiosis, and fearing contact with both of them. My training went well and I became quite proficient at sneaking around and in using daggers. I learned to love my exercises, simply being active and moving around was the only thing to bring me pleasure. Back then, I had never killed and always wondered whose blood would be the first my knife tasted. My soul had become dark and tainted. I had no choice, I knew nothing else. "At this point I must tell you more about my brother. Xiosis was a year or two older than me, and a much better person. He grew to be smart and wise, but wasn't incredibly powerful physically. The people of Tilban held a high opinion of him, he was popular and revered by all. However, he never gained the strength to stand up to his father. He never did anything more then be nice to me. It wasn't the best he could do, but it was something. "Speaking of what he did for all of us, he kept the household alive. I heard Charles say that his wife had died when Xiosis was young, before I was born. My father may have been the one to earn money, but my brother was the only good cook around. After he was old enough to take over the kitchen and cleaning up the rest of the house I began to wonder how our father had managed to keep us all alive. "I'm rambling again." Larkin coughs slightly. "To continue, my brother would take care of me when our father left on "business". By this point I had not learned to cook at all, not even how to start a fire. Xiosis taught me several things about keeping a house in running order, and he was the first person to tell me a joke. It came to pass that my father beat me severely one day. I told him one of the jokes Xiosis taught me. When I refused to tell him who I'd been talking to, he thrashed me. "The next day, Charles left on a raid. For the first time I realized how reliant I was on my brother. I couldn't even stand for two days and he took care of me during that time. He even took the liberty of introducing some of the other villagers to me. It was the village elder that surprised me, I suddenly learned that he did not even know I existed and would have gladly welcomed me to Tilban. Learning that my father had lied to me was like a physical blow. When I explained how our father had lied to me about the village, Xiosis revealed that Charles beat him too. It disgusts me that a man would beat his own son. "I began to think at this point. My life has been a waste, mislead by a man of evil. I had to leave myself, but I did not wish to let Xiosis continue a tortured existence. Eventually, I decided to put my training to good use. It was shortly before Charles returned that I actually recovered from my injuries. He made it back to town, but he was not alive for long. When I saw him with the rest of the bandits from Tilban I could not resist my bloodlust. I broke the cardinal rule that he taught me - never be seen. All of his friends saw me thrust the knife into his body over and over again. I had never felt rage that like again. For the first time there was blood on my hands, and I reveled in it. "I woke up in a bound tightly in the cellar of a barn. The ropes cutting off the circulation in my hands and feet. I didn't remember getting there. I didn't remember anything after I killed my father. It was two of the bandits that came to get me, they didn't untie my feet, they carried me. Of all things I didn't expect was to be brought before the elder to face judgement for my actions. No words exited my mouth while I was in there. I could not bring myself to speak. Soon I was sentenced to death. It was no great concern to me at the time, I would have liked to live out my life, but saving Xiosis was more important to me. "In the end, he saved me though. Even though I did not speak for myself, he spoke for me, after I was given a death sentence. He was right when he said that I should recieve their pity, for I was truly miserable then. My brother was an eloquent speaker and swayed the hearts of many, but not the elder. In the end I was banished from Tilban. "To top that off, Xiosis was forced to remain. Nothing hurt me more than seeing him turn his back on me. "I wandered for at least a year, and eventually came upon Nexus. I don't remember how, but I decided to train as a ranger. The year or so in the wilderness had gotten me accustomed to being there. I guess that's why I am what I am. "For a year I so I trained in Nexus and Falcion, and became a decent ranger. During that time, my mind ruined itself. Somehow, I made myself believe that it was my brother that had killed my father. I had forgotten all the kindness Xiosis showed me. My memories became flip-flopped, my father was loving and caring, and my brother the devil that killed him and turned the town against me. So I returned to Tilban. "I am no longer sure of what happened when I returned to my old home. There was a fire that destroyed the village. Not many survived, if any. Xiosis died by my hand. At least, that is what I believe happened. Since I returned to Nexus, I have forced myself to recover my memories. Now I am at peace with myself, living in the city of all races. Loial Class: RangerRace: Reni There he sat listening as the dragon, once so unpleasant, explained this morsel of knowledge to Raien. This Renis though interested in this dragons knowledge let his mind wander. He remembered when he first approached this cave knowing full well it could leave him a pile of ash for the slightest misstep. He wondered if he would have not been alive had he not held his quarterstaff so demandingly and spoke with a charisma that could only have belonged to a Renis in search of knowledge. He had been one of the few Renis who dared go out in search of knowledge, knowing the grave danger in the world. He however had taken his oath to the God Arskols memory very seriously, "...always in search of knowledge...uphold the light...." His mind wandered to his son, his precious son, Loial. He was becoming such a fine young man. Raien had watched his son take the oath before he had to leave in search of this dragon. He looked forward to seeing his son again soon. Three more months with this dragon and this quest would be complete. "THUMP THUMP" He looked up just in time to see the dragon fall to the ground, its green blood soaking the ground. He grabbed his quarterstaff and prepared to fight it, whatever it was. He walked to the opening of the cave and peered out cautiously, not making a sound. As he stepped in to the sunlight darkness blacker than night flew towards him. He rolled out of the way just in time. It hit the cave where he had just stood and erupted into a massive ball of black fire. Before he could even stand up another ball of blackness flew towards him. He used his quarterstaff planted into the ground to flip over it and land facing the direction from whence it came. As he swung to strike whatever was throwing this powerful magic he realized he was too late, he had just enough time to flatten to the ground, only being hit by the bottom of this dark thing. Searing heat followed by a cold unlike the worst winters he had known ate at his soul. He screamed in agony. As he lay there waiting for the thing to pounce he saw a human cloaked in shimmering white robes cast a ball of blinding whiteness at something behind him. He followed its path just in time to see a great eruption of sparks and flame followed by, silence. This was how the man had told it to Loial and his mother. Loial had repeated his fathers last words, "Follow the light, Know the light, uphold the light...remember..." His dad had taught Loial the staff at a very young age. He had mastered it quickly. Loial had always been curious and chased knowledge. Now he would carry the knowledge his father had searched for to the city of Nexus. Loial had heard it told in many a childrens tale, the goblin hoards being stopped by this great cities defenses. He looked forward to seeing this city and passing his fathers knowledge on to the generations to come. While in the forest he came across a very beautiful acolyte, Kerowyn. He spent several months learning her Way. His was the Way of Knowledge, while hers seemed to be the Way of Hope and Healing. He spent many nights at the campfire laughing with her before he remembered why he was out in that forest, Nexus, his father, the knowledge. Sadly he kissed her farewell and began to head off towards the great city. "Remember me always..." Those words rang in his head lead him to make an oath, an oath to remember, remember her, remember his father, remember all who followed the light. He walked several more months often forced to use his staff to defend himself. Though the staff seemed part of him, the killing he was forced to do wasnt. Tired, ready to give up and sleep in the trees he saw her, the city of Nexus. He stumbled into the gates heading towards what appeared to be the center. He laid on the ground ready to sleep anywhere, but heard "Hello, you must be new here." Naranek was his name, guiding him in the ways of this city he smiled at Loial. He had finally made it, his father, the knowledge, everything would be fine. He just needed a little nap, just a little one. Lucillia Class: RangerRace: Elf Born on Ruvur, the twenty-second of the month of Midnight, in the year one thousand five-hundred seventy six since the Godswar, and year one thousand one-hundred fifty nine of the Empire. This Sylvan elf never knew her real parents, and doesn't remember her real name. She spent the first ten years of her life growing up in an orphanage in the city of Tholm. On the second of the month of Twilight, she was adopted into the R'arakin family, a noble house of Tholm and given the name Lucillia R'arakin. She lived there for about ten human years, in relative peace. In time however, she grew restless with city life and disgusted with the attitudes of her family members. One night Lucillia packed some food, a few other essientials, preparing to leave. Before leaving she left a letter in her room saying 'goodbye'. Lucillia left the city of Tholm, and headed into the wilderness. She lived alone, except for the company of wild animals. She survived from foraging, and hunting first with crude spears. In time she improved her ability to make weapons, and hunting became easier. Many years past before Lucillia wandered near Nexus, the city of all races. She lived in the Eldane, collecting pelts from her kills to sell to leather makers. On one of her trips she learns of a place at which she can refine her skills, and enter a guild. Lucillia heads to the island of Falcion, there she begins her training in the Ranger's guild. Lucilla excelled in her training, and quickly graduated from her apprenticeship. She returned to living near Nexus, using her talents in the guild to help those in need. Within two years, she left the city to explore north of the Crystal mountains. Spending four years wandering the wilderness. Until one day she returned to the city of all races... Lyr Class: RangerRace: Human Lyr was born a son of peasants, a fifth child and the only boy among five. His parents, Eshla and Gundil, were plain folk, with no ambitions or dreams of their own. They were honest, practical, and worked hard the small patch of the land by the ramshackle house. They minded their own business and taught the children to be just like them. Lyr's arrival was much rejoiced, for they now had a boy in the family, who may grow strong and aid his father Gundil. Lyr's mother, Eshla, however, saw in the newborn babe something other than a life of a peasant. She didn't quite know what it was, but the baby's light-colored hair and slender built, unlike the swarthy complexion and the stocky statuture of herself or of Gundil, made her fancy that he might be a romantic: perhaps a bard. Eshla, uncharacteristic of her realistic self, told Gundil that she wanted to name the baby Lyric, for he will grow up to be a bard. Gundil was dumbfounded. What put that ridiculous idea in his wife's head? Besides, this is the only boy they have. Granted, the girls are growing up strong and resourceful, and the eldest, Juonia, at the age of eleven, was already a full-fledged farmhand. But that didn't mean anything; they might all marry in a few years and leave. "We were blessed by the gods to finally have a boy, and you want him to become a bard?" he yelled at his wife. Eshla was resolute. "I don't particularly want him to become a bard, my dear husband. I just think he will be one." They argued for three days, and Gundil finally compromised. After all, he loved his wife and she did have good instincts. "All right," he said, "I don't think he will be a bard. And I don't want a peasant running around with a name like Lyric. But if it makes you feel better, we'll name him something like that; we'll name him Lyr." It turned out Eshla was wrong. Lyr didn't have the gift of music. However, he certainly was not cut out to be a farmer. Much to Gundil's dismay, Lyr was terrible at farming and hated it. He was curious, adventurous, and restless. Often, overwhelmed by his four vivacious sisters, Lyr would slip out of the house and wander off into the woods and spend much time there, learning and observing. He loved the woods and solitude he found there. As a boy, he fashioned a crude bow on his own and practiced his shooting. When Gundil would get angry at Lyr, his sister Juonia would defend him, pointing out that he did help out the family by bringing rabbits he shot and mushrooms he found in the woods for supper. Gundil and Eshla were not ignorant of the goblin invasions, but they figured there was nothing they could do. They accepted many things as fate, and this was one of those things. They had never seen a goblin, and they didn't care to. Lyr was different. He had seen tracks of them in the woods and had heard gruesome stories from the travelers he came across. More and more, he felt he wanted to find his role in this unfolding history. By the time he was 16, the young man's sense of adventure and curiosity was irrepressible. One night, he confided to Juonia his wishes to leave the family and join the forces to oppose the goblin hordes. Juonia, now 27 and stronger than their aging father, gave him a hug. "Dear brother, go follow your path. Mother and I often talked about how different you are from the rest of us. Did you know she thought you would be a bard?" She laughed. "I will stay with our parents, and keep the family safe. These are perilous days. I am worried that the goblins may take over ... that is why I never married to have children. I fear for our future." Juonia looked into Lyr's eyes. "Most of us can only fend for ourselves. You may be one of the few that can achieve something greater. You were always good with the bow, and you know the ways of the woods. I'm sure the defenders can use those skills. I will miss you, Lyr, and do hope you will come back safely." Lyr saw his sister fighting back her tears, and squeezed her in his arms, so that she wouldn't see his eyes moistening. Juonia was surprised and pleased at the strength, realizing her brother was no longer a boy. He would be all right, she thought to herself. Next morning before dawn, Lyr left to Rymek to catch the sloop to Falcion. He was soon to find out how little he knew, both about himself and the world, and to wish he could believe in himself as unwaveringly as his sister did..... Matias Class: RangerRace: Unknown Half a century ago the Forest of Eldane saw the arrival of a new life. The name Matias was given to this child by his parents Kerstain and Stephan. He was born in a simple home far away from the disturbances of the busy world. His father, Stephan, was a highly trained woodsman. Some even called him a master. He really had no job, he mainly scavenged the woods for what essentials he and his family needed. His mind was only governed by a couple of simple beliefs. The first was that his main purpose in life was to care for his family and make sure that his child would grow up to be skilled in the ways of the woods. His second belief was that killing creatures for unnecessary reasons was a sin. The woods were to be shared by all of its inhabitants. His mother, Kerstain, was a simple woman. She really did do much in providing the family with any rations from the forest, but it was at home where she provided for the family. She took care of all the cooking and cleaning while Stephan was away. She started the raising of Matias while her husband was out providing for his family. She thought that it was important for any child to learn respect of elders, so she put him hard at work around the home. Matias really didn't see much of the forest past his family's general living area, but he knew that one day he would experience it all. At the age of 10, Stephan came home from a long adventure with a gift for his son. A simple amber bow and a quiver of arrows was waiting for him outside on the porch. Stephan told Matias that he was old enough now to start his training in becoming a man of the woods; a ranger. Matias and his father spent the next 3 weeks working on his skills with his new bow and arrows. It took that long for him to learn and master the basics. The next thing that his father taught him was how to handle himself in the woods. "There are four things that a ranger must learn in order to become a master of the woods," his father said. Matias sat there waiting for his father to tell him what they were, but his father had vanished. He ran around the house looking for his father, but couldn't find him. Matias then decided to venture down a path deeper in the woods. He had never been this far away from home before, but he figured that he could protect himself from any harm with his new bow. Faster than he could realize it, Matias was lost. He yelled for his father, but there was no reply. All of a sudden a Tiger jumped out from behind a bush and began attacking him. Matias drew his bow and fired at the Tiger. His weapon had no effect against this beast. Out of nowhere, Stephan jumped out of the woods and began fighting the Tiger. Matias had never seen his father move that fast ever before, and it didn't take long for him to kill the tiger. After his father killed the tiger, he walked up to his son and asked, "What have you learned?" Matias replied that to wander in the woods looking for someone is not that good of an idea. He added that one has to be able to hide and sneak around without creatures spotting you. His father then stated that this is something that you will have to master as have I. As they walked back towards their home, Matias asked his father how he moved so quickly. His father remarked that this was another skill of a ranger called Haste. His father added, "You will learn it in time as did I." Though Matias was filled with questions, he asked his father one more. "But how did you find me father?" Stephan replied, "Once again this is something that you will learn to master..it is called tracking. A good ranger will be able to find anyone or anything by looking for its tracks." When the two of them reached home, they were stopped in their tracks by the view of Goblins attacking their house. Stephan pushed Matias into the woods and told him to stay where he was until it was all over. Being so curious and impressed with his father's fighting skills, Matias crept up closer to the house, where he could see all that was happening. By the time he got a clear view of the house, there were no goblins in sight. He walked into the clearing where his house once stood and began searching for his parents. He finally found the two of them ripped to shreds and tossed into the creek that flowed behind his house. Matias stood there in shock. He didn't know what to do. After standing at his parents remains for 5 minutes crying, he heard the grunts of goblins approaching. Matias ran into his house and took all that he could find and ran into the woods. He didn't remember what his father had told him about hiding and sneaking until he ran into a raccoon. Though this was no tiger, Matias had never killed anything before. He clumsily ran about shooting countless arrows at this creature until its death. With only a few scrapes and bruises, he picked up the left over carcass and remembered what his father once told him.."Never kill an animal without using it for your survival or education." It was here where Matias sat for days and pondered. He began practicing the things that his father had once taught him, but found it hard to concentrate. Day by day went by and Matias started to accept the death of his family, but a hatred for the Goblins started to grow inside him fast. By the time Matias was 18 years old, he had become quite a good hunter and woodsman. A feeling started to grow inside him, one he had never felt and without a thought he looked up in the sky and shouted to the heavens, "I am finally a Ranger!" This was to be the turning point in his life. Though he hadn't had contact with any other people in 8 years, he began making his way towards a city that he had once heard of.The Nexus. He arrived at a large gate which was guarded heavily. He hid in the woods and sneaked by the guards, and into the city. Little did he know it, but this was to be his final destination. With his long dirty-blonde hair and pale clothing, he began to walk the streets of the Nexus until he reached the center of town. It was here that he fainted at the feet of many citizens. He awoke by a beautiful fountain and a lot of worried people around him. Matias did not know how to accept their hospitality. He stood up and ran away. For days he sat atop the town hall while watching and listening to everything. He finally built up the nerve to go speak with the people below. After days of speaking with people, Matias began to feel at home. He voiced his anger at the Goblin Hoard and found comfort in the fact that there were others with just as much hatred as he. Realizing that the adventurers of this city were much more skilled than he, Matias began training his skills everywhere possible. It wasn't long after that when Matias was able to begin his quest in destroying the Goblin Hoard. Norbak Class: RangerRace: Elf I have come to realize that through studying the past, and linking it with the present, we can better learn how to positively influence the future. I shall thus pen my history, in the hope that someday a lesson might be learned from it, and be used to spread The Brothers' light throughout the world. It is important for the reader to know that the setting of my childhood is drastically different than the part of Altin upon which Nexus is situated. It is a warm, humid land, with a mixture of forest and jungle life. It is populated by humans, all kinds of elves, and dwarves. The species coexist in relative peace, with no wars having occurred for many years. A metal known as bluesilver is used as currency. Most remarkable, however, are the religious beliefs of the peoples. The gods have not been actively worshiped since the Godswar. The people held the belief that the deities had been mutually exterminated during their war. The continent exists without any form of faith magic. No resurrections are able to revive the dead, and no heal spells can repair the injured. I was born and raised in a wooden mansion, built around a great oak tree. It has three levels of rooms, which were all finely decorated with the greatest items a craftsman could produce. My parents, both very successful merchants, owned a trade business, and gained high sums of profit each year. Not only were they skilled at their work, but they also enjoyed it greatly. They also kept plenty of time to spend with their three children, to teach us the ways of the trade. My elder brother, Elrisian, took quite well to business. By the time he was sixty, still an adolescent elf, he played an active role in their business. My younger sister, Lisasimi also showed ability when keeping books, and occasionally assisted Elrisian. I was also quite adept at the tasks in which they trained me, but I did not find contentment in completing them. I did not tell this to my parents however, because I did not want to offend them by suggesting I would not enjoy their trade. On my fifty-eighth birthday, my parents gave me an expensive decorated accounting book, and a large sum of bluesilver. By then I was sure that I did not want to be a businessman, but I was sure it was too late to tell my parents. That night I left a lengthy note on their desk, and I left home for the first time ever. I ran the first few miles, and then walked for most of the night along the forest path. A few hours before dawn I climbed a good sized tree, and slept among the branches until dawn. After I awoke, I walked for a few more hours, and then found a small human town in a clearing. I bought some trail food there, and a short sword for protection. I had never before wielded a weapon, but I thought that it would be safer if I had one. I again took to the trail, and walked until midday, when I sighted a wagon behind me, escorted by a human and an elf dressed in clothing that marked them as employees of my parents. I moved behind a brush beside the road, and waited. While they were passing me, I heard them talking about "Finding the boy", and "Getting the reward". My parents must have alerted everyone to my disappearance, and now people would be looking for me. From that point on I began traveling in the forest, parallel to but out of sight from the road. I frequently saw people that appeared to be looking for me, and my trip became dangerous. I dared not travel into a city, so I was forced to continue on my own. That night, I had a meal of the food I had purchased, and fell fast asleep. I awoke to the feel of wind across my face, and when I looked up there was a grizzly bear looking standing over me. I froze completely, never having faced a wild animal before. I looked about franticly with my eyes, and they finally rested on my sword, just two feet away from my right arm. As I considered my predicament the bear began to growl, so I was forced to act. In one swift motion I grabbed the sword and brought it up into the bears side. It let out a tremendous howl, and fell onto its side, dead. Though I had not spent much of my life in the wilderness, I had enough common sense to know that I would need the bear to survive. I contemplated how I would be able to eat it for a few minutes, and then I began to skin it. The smell was absolutely horrible, and my shirt was permanently stained from the blood. I am not sure how, but I mostly separated the good meat from the other organs, and left it on the ground. I gathered some wood for a fire, and lit it with a piece of flint. I stuck a fair sized chunk on a stick, and stuck it into the fire. After a minute the stick burnt through, and the meat fell into the flame. A second attempt yielded the same result, but on the third I was able to cook the meat well enough without the stick falling apart. I left it in the fire for about ten minutes, and then pulled it out. I burnt my hands trying to grab the meat off the stick, waited a short while, and tried again. I ripped into the meat with my teeth, but it was very tough, and burnt on the outside. I grudgingly ate it, and vowed to do a better job the next time. When I was finishing off that chunk of bear, I heard twigs snapping in the direction of the road. I quickly dropped the rest of the meal, and climbed a tree. Two humans stepped into my campsite, and quickly scanned the area. From their conversation I judged they had seen the smoke from my fire from the road, and knew of the reward my parents were offering for me. They also spoke of hiring trackers to use, because they had found my trail. As soon as the men left, I hopped down from the tree, and ran as far as I could. While running, I considered what would happen next. The trackers would certainly be able to find my trail, so I would have to be much more careful. I slowly moved closer to the road, and when I was sure no one was nearby, I crossed it. I hoped it would make it more difficult for those following me. Eventually I grew tired, a few hours after dusk. I slept in another tree, sword in one hand. Over a period of three months I continued my journey northward, becoming more skilled in the ways of the wilderness. I was able to proficiently avoid the trackers, and hide my trail from them. I could hunt very well, and could best any forest animal. There were also less and less people searching for me, both because of the time I had been gone and the distance I was away from home. Eventually I came to the coast, and arrived in a port town. I was able to find work cooking at an expensive inn, and spent a few months working there. One morning two humans arrived in the inn, and I actually recognized them as the men who had found my campsite half a year earlier. I listened to their conversation for long enough to determine that they had tracked me all the way here, and were still after the reward. I left the building, and went to the docks. A man had come in the tavern earlier, and mentioned that he was selling a personal boat. I was tired of running from my parents, so I found him again and bought it. He told me that it was a very fine boat, built from the rare goodwood trees. It was magically enchanted to better hold together under the stress of the high seas, and it had the intelligence to almost sail itself. I gave the man my entire small fortune, and immediately set sail. I went northward, with no real destination in mind. The first month or so of sailing was perfect. I enjoyed the sea air, and I heartily ate the food I had stocked the boat with. After two months were up, however, I ran out of food. I was very thankful when I remembered, then, that the boat was constructed of Goodwood. It splinters your mouth and throat, but goodwood is actually a nutritious wood, and sustained me for the rest of my journey. After about another month of calm seas, I encountered my first hurricane. I lost consciousness early into the storm; I believe it was when a loose rope smacked into the back of my head, with the full force of the storm window behind it. When I awoke, I was lying in a bed, on stable ground. I looked up to see a fishwife tending to my head. She politely informed me that I was in Rymek, just a few miles south of Nexus. I had no clue what this meant, but spent some time learning about the locale I had landed in. I also learned the date, and it happened to be my birthday. It had been exactly a year before that day that I ran away from my home. I learned that many adventurers and travelers to this area came to join one of the city's guilds, so I did as well. I took a short boat trip to Falcion, the City of Apprenticeship, and became a member of the Ranger's Guild. It was not until then that I realized how much I missed my family, and that it would likely be impossible to ever see them again. With this I rest my pen, in the hope that someday one might learn a lesson from my writing. Norbak Slisiath Lucrenian Vanion Class: RangerRace: Elf Vanion’s small inquisitive green eyes peered out of his cloth wrappings, which were nestled tightly in his mother’s arms, at the beautiful world that he was to begin his life within. Even as a newborn child his eyes were always the one feature that held peoples' gaze. Born to a loving mother and father of pure Elven blood, Vanion flourished as he grew. Vanion’s home at birth, high above the ground in a large Elven treetop village, quickly became his playground. His need to explore took over as he aged. He often found himself hopelessly lost, among strangers who carried him back to his place of origin time and time again. Vanion’s father was a seasoned woodsman with an intense passion for the forest and everything within it. It was from him that Vanion learnt of the world below him, the forest floor. Many an hour was spent by Vanion looking over the weapons used by his father in times of war, almost all of Elven make. His father overlooked with a troubled gaze, he knew for a fact that one day he would have to train his beautiful son in the use of weapons of warfare, as the threat of goblin invasion was a very real one. One day on a trip through the Eldane forest Vanion’s father picked up two sticks of equal length, handing one to his growing son. They regularly sparred for hours, Vanion slowly gaining skill. Vanion was versed in the use of the Elven Longbow, with which he showed an incredible amount of understanding. He possessed the ability to judge distance with accuracy, even on the move. Timing his shots well under pressure. From his mother Vanion was taught the language of the Elves. It was she that instilled her son’s sense of right and wrong. She held her child fast to the things dear to him. Vanion showed a lot of promise mentally and physically. Gaining a solid grasp in the ways of magic and forest lore. He possessed an uncanny ability to hide and sneak about undetected at will, which he often used to his advantage. He was recruited into an Eldane scouting party at an early age to make full use of his skills. It was there he learnt of the harsh outside world his parents had tried so hard to prepare him for. Three seasons passed as a scout and Vanion was doing well for himself. Working in the woods, moving campsite every few days. Spending his time ever watchful and alert with the rest of his unit. However one winter morning things changed. Vanion had awoken early one morning to a chill. Getting up carefully as to not wake his companions he travelled down a small bank towards a nearby stream. Crouching on the balls of his feet he splashed the cool water over his face, his weary body refusing to awaken. A cold gust of wind blew down the valley; Vanion’s already cold body shivered fiercely, his senses snapping back to attention. A low growl sounded from the bank, directly behind the Elf. Vanion flinched, and flashed his head over his shoulder as a large dark form crashed towards him. Vanion's hand shot to his empty scabbard, realising now his mistake as his blade sat one hundred paces up the back towards his encampment. The Elf yelled a frightened call to his comrades as the hostile form struck down on Vanion. Catching him on the shoulder and spinning him one full rotation as he tumbled to the ground. The dark form stepped into the moonlight, tendrils of breath creeping from his nose and mouth. The monster moved forwards again, swinging in a full arc at the smaller Elf, in an attempt to crush him. Vanion raised his arms to shield his head, trying in vain to cushion the blow any way he could. The form toppled forwards landing heavily on Vanion, two bloody arrows protruding from its back. Shouts erupted around the campsite as dozens of crazed Orcish barbarians broke their cover in the nearby bushes. Blood gushed from an obviously broken shoulder as Vanion rose quickly to his feet, running in aid of his friends. Screams of pain echoed through the valley as Vanion's eyes darted about in search of a weapon, his gaze resting upon a sheathed longsword hanging a few feet away from a rotten tree branch. A large axe whistled past his head as he ducked and rolled in the direction of his newfound weapon, hitting his broken shoulder square on the cold hard ground. Vanion regained his footing, ignoring the state of his shoulder and pulled the blade from the tree with his strong hand. Turning to meet his foe head on. The charging Orc engaged, his mouth foaming with wild untamed rage. Vanion feinted, the beast not bothering to adjust his shot, embedding his axe into an old tree. The opening presented itself and was exploited, Vanion's turning blade removing the Orc's body of the burden of its head. Blood covered everything, Vanion's frightened eyes absorbing all. Scarring his memory as he stood prone in a state of shock, his friends falling to these painless monsters. They didn’t stand a chance. A shrill high-pitched voice broke Vanion's trance, "... Flee!! Flee!! ..." screamed a dishevelled young elven man as he dropped his weapon and ran in pure terror from the battlefield. Vanion turned tail and ran into the woods blindly. His party had been slaughtered. This young Elven man ran for days towards his home, replaying the events of that terrible morning in his head, over and over again, until he finally arrived mid-afternoon at the once beautiful town where he was born. Nothing moved. An eerie silence had covered the land. Vanion darted from building to building, searching for someone, anyone. In a state of panic he finally reached the house that had been his own. His shaking hands reached up and slowly pushed the door open, petrified of what he might find inside. The house, like every other was deserted. There we no signs of any form of struggle, but everything was gone. A wooden window shutter banged noisily against its frame as a strong wind blew about the trees. Vanion's weak form moved slowly to the window, his eyes brimming with tears. A piece of paper blew wildly about the window frame, and as Vanion closed the window this small piece of paper flipped over in the air. Revealing writing, almost all of which was indistinguishable. Something about a place named "Nexus". The city of all races which lay to the south of his home. Vanion folded and collapsed to the ground in an exhausted heap. He had nowhere else to go. Except this strange place called Nexus, where he might find his family. Zindra Class: RangerRace: Half Giant Me wokes up one morning when me still small, not could remembers nothing, not even name. Me wander round long time, forests, maked small club from tree branch for weapon. Me hids from big aminals so them not eats me. One day, me find nice place call Nexus...was peoples here, them was kind to me. Pretty Goldmoon lady teach me how do curtsy. Me ates more foods learn how use weapons start get stronger, but still no gotsed memory. Was fraid maybe had family someplace what maybe need me, but me not was there...not knowed who..not knowed where. Me spokes on peoples in Nexus...try fix what them call amnesia...them not could do it. When dark time comed to Nexus, big God war with Void, me runned away, goed to nother far place. Me was real surprise find twin sister there. Her look just like me! Me surprise lots more founds out her gotsed amnesia too! Me not big lots smart, but even me know us both gots amnesia not could be right thing. Us hear story say if got amnesia hits head maybe amnesia go way. Us tooks off helmets, tooks turns bash each-other on head. Sister, her name Howl...ams real strong!!! Us gots knocked out few times, scramble us brains, but memories comed back! Us remember long time ago us wokes up in village in house of parents. Then, later in day, us see strange, green cloud outside village, even us parents not knowed what cloud was. Then cloud comed into village. When us breathe green cloud, us all gots paralyzed...not could moves. Papa, him were strongest what me ever see. Me watch him tear up whole maple tree once with bare hands, but him not could fights green cloud. Then, bad gobblin priestess name Drizzlegore comed in village. Cloud not bother her...her done lots big laughing on us...all lie on ground. Me watch helpless, them gobblins puts big chains on us parents, took all grown-ups away....me not know where. Them already had lots lots grown-ups in chains and lots kids from nother villages where them wents first. Drizzlegore laugh real hard tell us them kids was gonna be gobblin food for long time. Her said them had nuff food..not need us kids. Say us not big-strong nuff for be slaves, them not needs us for food...so them done nother thing on us. Her putsed bad-bad sickness in us, call insidius, make us what her call carriers. Her say us gonna kill thousands her emenies. Say when us gets oldre, try have childrens, do sex/blush, us gonna infest lots people and insidius gonna spread through whatever place us find like death-fire. Then, her brokes us memory somehow, so us not know what happen. Us not know that if us do sex then us kill all ones what us loves. Except Howl & me us not done no sex yet....us am virgins. Me tell Thelia about bad Drizzlegore, about insidius sickness. Her done some kind magic tests on me. Thelia say her think maybe is curse...not sickness. Her say is maybe chance can fix me one day. That was first time me had small little bit hope. Hope am much more bester thing to keeps inside heart than only live on hate. Now, me got dreams about Drizzlegore. Me got two kind dreams. In first dream, me get real STRONG! Then, me go hunting for bad Drizzlegore with lots-lots friends from Nexus. After us kill all Drizzlegore gobblins, me rip out all Drizzlegore arms and legs. Them me put live rat inside Drizzlegore mouth, sow up lips. Then her not cast no more bad spells. Her die real slow death after that. But in nother dream, Drizzlegore know us coming. Her done planned for us come for more than twelve years....Her got thousands traps, and whole army what surrounds us, crush us from all sides. Lucky ones just die...Rest of us get captured alive when them use green cloud thing. Them puts us in big steal cage...us have to watch pieces be torn off us friends. Then them force us all captives eat stew make out of us friends...And all whole time us have to listen on Drizzlegore laughing on us.Thieves Most of these histories were taken first hand while the Hero still lived. Doubtless all are long dead by now. Aierio Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf On the Aalur, the sixteenth of the month of Chrysalis, in the year 1,587 since the Godswar, and year 1,170 of the Empire in a small town in the Crystal Mountains, Aierio was born. He wasn't born into a family of wealth or prosperity, just a simple farmer and his wife. Now the crop that year had been good, and it was looking like his family might be able to have enough food for the winter, but his family was not so lucky. One late night a band of alchemists wandered into their town, and set it ablaze. Aierio's father was slain trying to defend Aierio and his mother. When they left my mother wept for days, and.. To Aierio's disbelief committed suicide She was found hanging from a tree outside their house. With the town in ashes, corpses lying everywhere Aierio left, and went south towards the Sea of Tears. He went through many hardships on his journey, with only a flask of water which was emptied on the second day and a small black dagger hidden in a sheath at his ankle. Killing to stay alive, already showing signs of a skilled hunter inhis younger years. Eating rabbits, foxes, and other small rodents. When he was nearing the end of his journey Aierio found some tasty looking berries, that in the end he found out were extremely poisonous. So he trudged the last few miles poisoned and exhausted . After what seemed to be weeks, he finally arrived in Rymek. He stumbled a few steps, and finally collapsed near the tavern. A few days later he woke up in a small cot next to a fire. Across the room from him was an old lady, who had obviously helped him and treated the poison. He left that very day, paying the lady 1,000 gold marks all he had. He went to the shipyard to find work. After a few days of searching Aierio had found a captain named William who would let him work on his ship, netting fish. Now Aierio had been raised on a farm his whole life, so this was a big change for him. But as he found out he would be doing more than just fishing. On the first day out to sea Aierio got sea-sick again and again. They had started netting the fish when they got far enough out, Aierio having no experience at doing this made himself look foolish and this angered the captain. He said to Aierio, "I give you one more chance boy! Or I'll throw you off the ship myself, no one makes my ship and crew look like fools!" And he stormed away. So Aierio eventually got athehang of this, except that he had formed many grudges on the ship with his fellow peers. Aierio had ripped some of them off at the poker game held nightly. So one day while he was napping they placed some jewels in his pack, and later that night when the angry captain came by, guess who got caught with the captain's loot? The captain was going to execute Aierio himself, but he'd rather see him starve on the streets of Falcion or so he thought. So on a stop in Falcion he was stripped of any valuables and thrown onto the dock after getting beaten. Aierio, near death practically crawled his way to the Healing Hand in Falcion. There they bandaged his cuts, and fixed him up and sent him on his way. Aierio found his way to the weapon store and bought a small knife. As he looked at his knife, he thought to himself, "I shall steal to earn my keep, and I will avenge my parents death!" Aylia Class: ThiefRace: Half-Elf Kyria opened her mouth to scream as she felt the hands of her assailant cover her mouth but thought better of it as she felt cold steel of his dagger against her neck. From the smell of his breath she instantly recognised her assailant, the human soldier that seemed to have been watching her all night in the tavern. Forcefully she was pulled into the alley, overpowered by the warrior's strength. "No!", came her very muffled cry. Her face smarted as she felt his mailed fist connect. "Silence, bitch!", he hissed, pushing her to the ground. Effortlessly the dagger sliced through her dress, tearing it to rags. "No!", she whimpered, tears streaming from her eyes as he raped her. With another back-hand she lost consciousness. * * * Kyria never spoke of that night, fearful of what her husband, Sythlis' reaction would be. Whilst he was away doing business in another village, many days travel from their own, she had been frequenting the tavern, against his wishes. It was not that she disobeyed his instructions often but this night she had felt particularly lonely, Sythlis having been gone for a couple of weeks and felt like she needed the company of others. Two years later, Aylia was born. Few suspected that this child was not that of Sythlis for there was little about her appearance indicative of human heritage. Her early years were spent in this village growing up with all the other elven children. It was not until she reached the age of twelve that people began to seriously suspect she was not his. Some had wondered about the possibility, with Sythlis away as much as he was but few would even dare to say anything with the influence he held. It was one fateful autumn day that her life was about to dramatically change. A group of the children from the village had been out gathering berries in the forest and as dusk fell she became lost without the night vision of the true elves. Eventually she was found, huddled under a tree, drenched by the sudden storm. Brought home to face her father the truth that she was not a true elf wasdiscovered. Suspecting infidelity Kyria and Aylia were thrown out of the family house and forced to leave the village. After many days travelling they came across a seemingly abandoned cottage. There they lived for a number of years, Kyria working in taverns when she could but the pay was little. With her mother working as many hours she could just to get barely enough gold for food, Aylia came across a group of rogues that picked on unwary merchants. Recognising her potential, as a perfect decoy she was invited to join with them. She learnedmuch from them. One day, she came back to the cottage to find it a blaze and her mother lying dead, covered in blood. Not seeing any purpose in remaining she headed for Nexus. Calvin Class: ThiefRace: Human The morning light slowly crept across the wooden floor till it reached Calvin's young face. His eyes shot open and he slipped out of his bottom bunk bed and grabbed his pants. After putting them up he stood on his mattress and peered at the young girl on the top bunk. She mumbled as the morning light struck her face and turned over, pulling the sheets over her shoulder. Calvin crawled up on top of the top bunk and moved inches from the little girls face, then screamed, "Wake up Jessie!!" The little girl's eyes opened at she covered her ear with one hand and whacked Calvin with her pillow in her other hand. Calvin laughed and hopped down from the bunk. "Hurry and get up, its time for breakfast." And he strolled out of the room. Jessie, obviously mad, yelled and threw a pillow at Calvin, but missed and hit the wall. Calvin quietly crept down the hall to his older sisters Cassie's room. He reached the closed door and lightly turned the handle and peered inside. The bed where Cassie should have been sleeping was empty and freshly made. He opened the door wider to see that his sister had woken up before him and was combing her hair in front of a mirror. He quietly muttered to himself for not having the enjoyment of scaring both his sisters that morning, and closed the door soundlessly. He shrugged to himself and continued down the hall to have breakfast. As he walked closer to the living room he began to hear some soft sobbing from the kitchen. He quietly walked into the kitchen to see him mother sitting in a chair sobbing into her hands. He rushed over and kneeled next to his mother, "Mom! What's wrong?" His mother looked up from her hands and into Calvin's eyes, "Your Father has deserted us. He left in the middle of the night without my notice. When I woke up this morning there was a note on the table." She knuckled at her eyes and handed Calvin a note with several tearstains on it. Calvin read it quickly and his eyes widened. Jessie and Cassie walked in, saw their mother and rushed to her side like Calvin did. "Mom! What's wrong? Why are you crying?" asked Cassie. Calvin passed her the note left by their father, and Cassie's eyes too widened. "Why would Dad leave us Mom?" Calvin's mother shook her head and buried her face in her hands again. That morning the family ate breakfast in utter silence. Several years past and Calvin took on the responsibilities that his Father had left behind. He became the household handyman and helped fix Jessie's toys, and saw less of his friends for he had a new mountain of work to do each day. When he turned 15, his older sister Cassie decided to leave and get married to a boyfriend whom the family had never met. After Cassie left it only made the mountain of work for Calvin larger. For one year Calvin was stuck at home working and his little sister Jessie, struggled to help him and his many chores. When he turned 16 he decided that Jessie and his Mother would be fine on their own and set out to find his older sister Cassie and hopefully his Father. He knew there was a city nearby and figured that would be the best place to look at the time. As he approached the gates of Nexus a guardsman called from the battlements, "Are you in a guild of this city!?" Calvin, obviously confused, called back, "Guild? What do you mean guild?" The guardsman laughed and hollered back, "You must be in a guild to enter this city! Go to the island of Falcion south of here! Find yourself a guild to get in and -then- I'll let you in!" Calvin scratched his head and turned south and began to walk, soon he came to a boat with several other people he had never met aboard, all headed to the island of Falcion. He hopped aboard and the boat headed for the shores of the island. Dearg Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf Ah childhood, what a time it was, it set me on the path that made me what I am today. It is safe to say I didn't have the best childhood, my mother used to beat me constantly and I was treated more like a slave then a child. I was constantly doing tasks about the house and in the field; the slightest imperfection in my work would bring punishment. I knew nothing back then, I was not allowed to see or play with other children so I could not comprehend how bad I had it, and I just figured this was the way things were. And so went my early childhood, always laboring over some task while dealing with all the verbal and physical abuse my mother could dish out. We lived in a small town and as the years went by I began to realize that I was not like my mother or the others that I glimpsed within the field or around town. The biggest difference was that unlike the others I had these two really long teeth sticking out of my mouth. Once and only once I asked my mother about these differences and in return got a fair beating, though I thought I saw tears forming in her eyes. It wasn't long after this that I was to leave the town. On rare occasions caravans would pass through our towns with merchants and traders of all sorts of goods. It was on one such occasion that I noticed my mother speaking with one of the traders and pointing to the fields in my direction. It wasn't long before I discovered what they spoke about because when they finished speaking I saw the trader hand a pouch to my mother and walk my way. When he reached me he simply said "Come with me child, you are mine now." I just stood there and looked at him, and then down the field to where my mother had been standing though now she was walking back into her house. When I didn't move the man grabbed my arm and dragged me over to his wagon. He told me to climb in the back and when I did not do this I received a solid strike across the face that sent me flying to the ground. He pulled me up and shoved my toward the wagon, again telling me to climb into the back. This time I did as I was told. Life traveling with this trader on his routes wasn't much different then living with my mother, I still worked constantly and was quickly punished for anything that was not done correctly or fast enough. One thing was for sure this trader could hit much harder then my mother. When we entered towns and villages I was not allowed out of the wagon unless it was for loading and unloading things or other tasks. For a long time I followed the rule of not leaving the wagon within these areas, but as time past I began to slip away whenever I saw the chance. In the beginning I wouldn't stray very far at all for fear of being caught, but the more times I snuck out the further I would go. Soon I became quite able at sneaking around without being seen along with entering and leaving places as I wished without anyone knowing I was there. With these newfound skills, I was able to watch other people and see how they lived. In particular I used to watch the children within these towns. I watched them as they laughed. I watched them as they played. I watched them as they ran happily to their parents and were greeted with a smile and a hug. All these things I saw and more and within myself I felt a great sense of pain. For a long time I traveled with this trader, going from town to town. All the work that I did allowed me to grow in strength and though they were in no way enjoyed, the beatings that I had received from as far back as I could remember had helped to strengthen my reserve and allow me to bare with pain. At all our stops after I had unloaded the merchandise carried, I would sneak off to explore the area, "borrow" a few things that were not guarded well and watch the people. In one town I took a knife out of a sheath that a passerby had strapped to his belt and disappeared back into the crowd long before he realized it was gone. I strapped the knife to my leg, the raggedy pants I had concealing it from sight, and I figured it would come in handy one day. That day was not too far off. My talents of moving about unseen grew and grew and before long I had become quite stealthy. Everywhere we went I came across children playing happily amongst themselves and living in good and caring families. The sorrow and pain I had once felt upon seeing this eventually turned into anger and resentment. Why did these kids lead such good lives? Get shown so much love? I did not see them get beaten for mistakes they made. I saw them do so many things I had never been allowed to do. The anger and resentment within me grew, but what could I do about it. We had entered another town, I went through the routine of unloading everything and setting things up in the market area then heading "back" to the wagon. When I knew it was safe I snuck off to have a look around. I knew it would happen someday, there really was no way around it, and it seemed that the gods deemed this to be the day. After having my look around I made my way back to the wagon to wait until I was called to load everything back up. Upon my arrival I saw him, the trader leaning against the wagon that was already loaded, the fear that gripped my mind was near overwhelming. I stood there staring, not having the slightest clue as to what it is I should do. I tried to think, tried to formulate some sort of feasible lie to tell, and then he saw me. He shouted at me to get over there and I did, I ran right over to him fearing what was to come. He started yelling at me, saying how there had been some problem in the market and he decided to leave, he had sent for me only to find that I was not where I was supposed to be. I had never seen him this angry before and I felt myself shaking. He demanded I tell him what I had been doing. I couldn't think, started to stutter something out but before I could even finish the first word his hand was coming down at my face. I'll tell you right now I took the beating of a life time, even when I was down on the ground bleeding it didn't stop he just kept kicking me and kicking me until I lost consciousness. Later that night I was woken up; I was in the back of the wagon my whole body aching and covered with my dried blood. We had stopped for the night and I was to take care of the animals and cook him dinner, I wasn't going to be allowed to eat that night. I could barely move but I did as I was told. I sat there and watched him as he ate, trying to take only shallow breaths because my ribs had taken a few solid hits. When he was through, I cleaned everything up and got ready for bed. I just laid there staring up into the dark of the night for hours, my mind going over all that I had been through and comparing it to all that I had seen. I was tired of being the one people looked down on, the one people used and the one that always took the blame and the beating. Finally I had had enough. My hand reached down to where I strapped the knife to my leg and pulled it free. I sat up slowly and looked over to the trader who slept soundly. As quiet as the night breeze I crept over to where he lay and crouched over him. I put the knife down to his throat as I looked at his face. For a second I thought that I could just leave in the night and he would never find me, I mean I had never killed anyone before. But where could I have gone? I was not as though I had much of anything to my name. So it was decided. I pressed down on the blade a pulled it quickly across his throat. He snapped awake gasping for air that he could no longer take in and I jumped away from him to watch his pitiful attempt at holding onto life. I dug a shallow grave and buried his body before lying down and having the best night sleep I had had my whole life. The next day I took the wagon and all the trader had with me to the next town and sold off everything I could making myself a fair sum of coin. What I could not sell I left. I bought myself some new cloths along with traveling supplies, grabbed a horse from the wagon I left outside the town and headed on my way. I stopped in at all the different villages and towns I passed and treated myself to nice rooms and large meals. The money I had made off selling the traders things soon disappeared and I was left on the road with nothing. I had to take care of myself somehow and I had a great distrust for people, so what did I do? I used the skills I had acquired; my speed and my ability to move around unseen and unheard, I used these skills to "borrow" things that I needed or wanted off travelers during the night. But sometimes it just wasn't convenient to wait till night to sneak into a campsite and so I became your average road thief preying on small traveling parties. This was not very easy though as even the small groups could put up a fight and at times it was more then I could handle. Now you need to understand that a thief who has a reputation as one who will back down will not make himself any money at all. And so I set about to make a reputation for myself, so the people I came across would fear me as though I was death itself. I painted my face white and darkened the area around my eyes to make them appear sunken. I then went about sharpening my tusks so they ended in fine tips. I started with small groups of travelers, those in groups of 3 or 4. I would use the terrain to my advantage, hiding in areas that would allow me to sneak up to and suddenly appear within the group. I would kill all but one, and the one that lived never knew it was my wish that he did. I would stab him, but not so deep as to kill him and I would leave him for dead and let him escape back to town to tell his story. As stories spread I began attacking wagons, I would lie in wait and slip in below the wagon holding on until it was in an area that was wide open with no places for anyone to hide. I would then make my presence known, those who brought up the back would see me leaving my hiding place but they were the first to die and so to everyone else it was as though I appeared from thin air. As usual I would let one or two people live and the stories grew larger. Some had dubbed me as being a demon of sorts. Now, small groups or large caravans posed no problem to me. I would appear in front of them and they would hand over anything I wanted. Once I happened upon a family, husband, wife and their young daughter, they obviously knew of me as I could see the fear in the eyes of the parents. The man offered me everything they had to let him go, even offered me his child as he pulled her from her mother. It was then that I decided to put an end to my time as the demon thief. I walked up to the child and gently stroked her cheek as I looked up at the father. I rose slowly to stand in front of him and made sure I understood him correctly, I had. Before he even knew what was happening I had my dagger drawn and as I pulled the child towards me to shield her eyes I stabbed the dagger into the man's throat. The man dropped to ground and the girl pulled away from me to gaze upon her dead father, tears formed in her eyes and she started to cry. I crouched down next to her and stared right into her eyes. I told her not to cry for her father, not to ever cry for him because he was not worth her tears. I gave to the mother a pouch of gold coins; it would allow her to take of herself and her child quite well. Perhaps I had overreacted at what the man had done, but what was one other death on my hands. I started to travel far from where I was known, where I had a reputation on the roads. I would still rob people; sometimes take more from them then their gold but for the most part I was just wandering with no sense of purpose until I arrived at a particularly familiar town. I had not been in this place for years and yet it looked [ More ]the same as it had when I was but a young child working in the fields. I made my way amongst the houses in search of a particular one. I kept to the shadows so as to not let any know of my presence, though not a one would ever remember me. It did not take me long to find what I was looking for, but it wasn't time to make my presence known and so I waited for night to fall. It was a beautiful night, there was no moon in the sky and so the stars shown all the brighter. A gentle breeze whispered to those who lay in their beds, comforting them and helping them sleep. But it was not to be a peaceful night for everyone, no not for everyone. I crept into the house and made my way into the back room where I knew she would be. She slept comfortably and I walked over to the bed and crouched down by her side. I watched her for a moment and then rose and drew my dagger. I leaned over her with my dagger in hand and whispered "Hello there mother... Your time is at an end..." I took a deep breath then. "Can you smell it mother... the scent of death is in the air... it is a smell I have become quite familiar with... Come now mother awaken and see the one who will send you to your death..." I let the dagger slide across her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood and bringing her out of her peaceful slumber. Her eyes become fixed upon my face and I clamped my hand over her mouth as she opened it to scream. I smiled down at her, she had no idea who I was and I believe even without the paint that I wore as a mask she would have never known. "Hello again mother," I said in a hushed voice, "Have you missed me much?" Her eyes widened with recognition and I could feel her fear increase. "I have come to say goodbye to you mother and put this all behind me." With that I brought my dagger up and then plunged it into her heart. I held her down until she gave in to death and then I turned around and never looked back. I continued to wander the land, never having a set destination, always alone. With my lack of appearances, all tales of a supposed demon thief seemed to wither away. I guess it was only a matter of time and enough traveling before I happened upon the city of nexus. I had never really dedicated myself to a cause before, other then taking what wasn't mine and to be honest I was bored and I thought some fun could be had around the place. I could still practice my trade of theft and death while working to help a few people, it was an interesting idea, and one I felt like trying. I found my way to the island of Falcion where I spent most of my time alone, which was the way I wanted it. I was able to do a lot of thinking in-between my training and eventually came to terms with many of the things that had plagued me for so long. After spending some time on the island I made my way over to Nexus to continue my training. I still spend most of my time alone in the shadows, still wear my mask of paint, but am no longer who I once was. Delban Class: ThiefRace: Elf Delban U'galda, born on Aalur, the twenty-fifth of the month of Wildfire, in the year 1,586 since the Godswar, and year 1,169 of the Empire. Abandoned as a child by his mother, Delban was left at the church of Aalynor. He quickly learned the ways of the streets, and became quite adept at dodging the guards when he need to "acquire" a meal. One rainy and overcast day Delban was being chased by a group of guards who were sent by a rich noble to retrieve a coin purse that Delban had "borrowed". Delban ran as fast as he could and quickly scaled a wall to the rooftops of Nexus. The guards chased after him from rooftop to rooftop, until suddenly, Delban tripped on a box, and fell off the building. Hurt and bleeding on the road, Delban felt the life draining from his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimmer of a shadow moving in an alley. The shadow emerged and Delban was shocked to see that this shadow was no shadow at all, it was a man. The man knelt beside Delban and whispered a few words into his ear..."I am here to help". The man dragged Delban down the dark alley and placed him behind some wooden crates. The guards were getting closer, and the man had little time left to help Delban. He pulled out some kind of a bluish orb and held it against Delban's Body, there was a flash of blue light and Delban was healed of his wounds. "Wait here, I'll take care of the guards" the man told Delban. The man got up and went out into the road and met up with the guards. He spoke a few words to them, and they darted off down an opposite alley. The man returned to Delban's side and checked to see if he had missed any wounds in his previous evaluation of Delban. "Why were they after you?" the man asked. "I stole a noble's coinpurse, they weren't happy about that" Delban replied. "I see, you know, you don't have to live like this. There is a place I know where you can be taught how to be a proper thief, and make an honest living". Delban's eyes opened wide and he lifted his head towards the man's face. "There is an Island, south of here called Falcion. It is our last remaining haven, it is where we train our apprentices. I could help you get there". Delban was very excited about this news. This apprenticeship could mean a new life for him, a better life, one where he could help out his city, and become something more than a filthy purse robber. "Take me there, I wish to learn how to be like you.". The man smiled, and reached into his pocket and retrieved a few gold marks, and then gave them to Delban. He then moved his long black cloak aside to reveal a shimmering sword, and another smaller dagger. He took the dagger and gave it to Delban. "Take what I have given you and head south to the village of Rymek, from there you can find transport to the Island. I will sponsor you on the council and have you approved for training." The man got up and began to walk stealthily down the alley, but before Delban had realized it, the man had slipped into the shadows. Delban picked himself up off the ground and headed for the southern Gate of Nexus. He headed south, to Rymek, and from there, as the man said, got transport to the Island of Falcion. Delban never saw or heard from the mysterious man again. Durrin Class: ThiefRace: Human A young human man sat in a dark corner of the Muddy Muskrat tavern in Falcion. Dressed in a black trenchcoat with shirt, shoes, and pants of the same color. He sat at the gloomiest table in the tavern, sipping on what looked like the remains of a zombie, and the drink also had a disgusting odor to go along with its frightful appearance. At that moment, an older man of about 40 years walked into the tavern. He was wearing the clothes of a scholar, which seemed to be the case, as he looked uncomfortable being in such a place. He cautiously walked up to the barkeep and echanged a few words with him. Giving a short bow he then turned and began to walk over to the man sitting at the dingy table. The man sitting at the table seemed not to notice the scholar, but as he got within a few steps, the man kicked the chair from the other side of the table, glanced up and said "Table's full." The scholar ignored him and continued to the table. "Begging your pardon sir," said the scholar, "but I have been sent to collect the history of one Durrin Durista, might that be you sir?" The man at the table looked up and replied, "You gain a few tiers and suddenly people want to know about you," he paused for a second then said to the scholar, "go on sit down." The scholar pulled the chair that Durrin had kicked back to the table and sat down. "First, sir," began the scholar, "what is that you're drinking?" Durrin chuckled then said with a grin, "To tell the truth, I don't really know. But let's get to the point, you came here for my history, here it is." Durrin took a deep breath and another sip from his flask, then began, "Well I was born... a long time ago, in Nexus. To the parents Durax and Devonia. As a child I would sit in my father's shop, he was a weaponsmith you see, I would watch him make the weapons and sell them to his customers. From watching the sales I became quite good with counting money and doing simple math. As i got a bit older, my father let me work as a clerk in his shop. But even with this important job, I couldn't help watching my farther making his weapons. He must have noticed because one day he decided to show me how it was done, he then had me give it a try. I actually made an okay sword," Durrin paused for a moment to take a sip from his flask, then continued, "to practice with anyways, I don't know anyone crazy enough to take that thing into battle. Well a few more years passed and my father had to close down his shop due to lack of customers. I now had to find a new job, and something to do with my free time. As for the job part, i found one as a messenger for those that thought the mail was too slow. In my free time, I would sit in town square and listen to stories of the defenders of Nexus. After hearing many of these stories I decided I too wanted to become a defender, So i packed up my bags and headed to Falcion where i found my way into the thieves' guild. From there i just trained, trained, trained and here I am now." Durrin stood up from his seat, taking a swig of his drink. The scholar looked down to make one last note, and when he looked back up, Durrin was gone. Elayna Class: ThiefRace: Elf *Wanders into Kalim's tavern stopping to smile and exchange words with Kalim and pass a few gold coins for a Hot Chocolate with Whipped Cream. Searching the crowd of distratced faces Elayna's eyes fall on the scribe sitting quietly in the cornor. Moving slowly over to the table, stopping at most all of the tables between to gives smiles and quick hugs to friends. Sitting down smiling brightly at the cleric, he returns her smile with a friendly nod.* Elayna: So it seems they tell me I should place a few words in your care for the future citizens of Nexus. Scribe: Yes.. we do like to keep a record of all those who fight to keep our city safe and where they have ventured from. So that lost cities and villages will be remembered and perhaps old friends or neighbours will find a clue to their lost ones. Elayna: Well I was born and raised in Nexus by my parents who also were from this city. They were members of the old Assassins guild and so I followed in their footsteps until we joined the thieves guild many many years ago. They unfortunatly were killed while trying to hunt down a band of raiders who were robbing the local merchants. Scribe: I see you have brought your daughter along, she must be a large part of your life now. Elayna's face brightens with a warm smile as she glances at her daughter chattering away with Kalim. Elayna: Of course, how could she not be? I thought it would be more difficult when we returned after 10 years away, as many knew she was the daughter of Astaroth. Those who did not know found out quickly when he kidnapped her, but I have found nothing but love and support from my sisters and the citizens of Nexus. As he has now been killed it has become even less of a worry that she will be come to some harm because of her father. Scribe: You spoke of your sisters, do you wish to say something for the record about them? Elayna: My sisters are the most amazing group of women. We began the sisterhood to offer friendship and support to women who came to Nexus and had no family. It has grown to be a family for all of us, we remember all who have been lost and welcome anyone who seems to need us. I love all of them a tremendous amount. Only second to my devotion to Pandora, and my dedication to my daughter. The scribe begins to ask another question as Elayna raises her hand smiling. Elayna: please, if anyone wishes to know me, I will happily speak wo them and share anything and everything I can. To have my entire life written down to appear so simple as a pile of words on a page, I cannot bear to think of that. I do hope that this will help to appease any passing curiosities to my past, anyone with a true interest is welcome to seek me out. I am always willing to enjoy a Hot Chocolate and sit by a fire to chat. Thank you scribe, for your time and effort. Elayna stands, smiling and bowing to the scribe as she moves to gather her daughter and is snagged into another conversation at another table. Entrahti Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf Entrahti rose from his plush bed, stretching away the weariness as his amber eyes slipped from the infrared spectrum, the dim faerie-fire illuminating the room with a soft, dull glow. A glance back to his bed revealed the slender, sleeping form of a serving girl, her ebony skin glistening in the humid air of the underdark. With a look of resignation, Entrahti's nimble fingers darted to his head, pulling back his alabaster hair and slipping a darkleather cord around it, securing the ponytail in place. He pulled the silken sash of his robe around his waist, drawing it closed, just as a soft rap at the door drew his attention. He swiveled to face the house weaponmaster, clad exclusively in the full battle regalia of House Zoquar, twin adamantite blades hanging limply in darkleather sheaths, worn thin from centuries of being carried by the same proud owner. "Vendui, jabbuk Entrahti" the weaponmaster spoke, bowing low, just as a scowl crept across his face as he noticed Entrahti's robed form. "You have heard the summons from matron Sabrae?" the weaponmaster signalled in the silent hand code of the drow. Entrahti looked at the weaponmaster curiously, following his line of sight to the nude form of the serving girl. Entrahti smirked slightly at the weaponmaster, and he nodded, pulling a gleaming darksilver medallion from beneath his robe. The star sapphire in the middle of the medallion was glowing a deep crimson to match the hue of the weaponmaster's own House Emblem. With a brief nod, Entrahti signalled to the weaponmaster to wait outside, stepping lightly across the soft tigerskin rug to a massive, ornately carved teak cabinet, warded with many runes and glyphs. Speaking a gentle command word, Entrahti allowed a slow smile to creep across his features as the doors swung open, revealing a suit of darkelven chainmail, crafted by true masters of the forge. Disrobing, he began to dress in the armor that was his birthright. Moments laters Entrahti slipped from the room, tapping the weaponmaster on his shoulder just as the click from the closing door could be heard. The weaponmaster's normally stoic demeanor was replaced by a faint look of surprise, his eyes appraising Entrahti and his armor. "Shall we?" was all Entrahti could say, his amber eyes betraying no amount of emotion. The weaponmaster gave a grim nod to Entrahti, and with a shake of his head began to stroll effortlessly down the intricate spiral tunnel to the chambers of matron Sabrae Zoquar. When Entrahti finally stepped from that chamber, a casual observer would have noted the slackness in his face, the apparent loss of color to his ebon form, and a slight unsteadiness as he walked back to his own chambers. Gathering his things, his mind went to the words of his mother of a short time ago. "Qu'ellar Zoquar zhah thalack" she spoke in halting phrases, then pointed to Entrahti "dos phuul alurl wund lil veldrin" she said with a hint of pride in her tone. With a sweep of her hand, the candles in the grand chamber were extinguished, the blood red lines leading to the altar the only things visible. Entrahti's eyes returned to the infared spectrum as his mother continued "Ragar z'ress dosstan wund rivvin ust, lueth darthiir drada" With a sneer she glared at Entrahti, "z'hin wus ssussun" she spat, "lueth z'hin velkryn" "Go to the town of Falcion" she said, her voice taking on the honey scented draw of greed. "Do not return without having learned the ways of those who battle the horde in the eternal war". You have one century to complete your mission Entrahti, failure means your death." With a casual flick of her wrist she dismissed Entrahti, turning her attentions to a stocky drow male, Entrahti's younger brother. Turning on his heel, Entrahti left the chambers in shock. Sighing, Entrahti stepped from the sloop, tossing a not-unheavy bag of coin to the captain as they docked along a beach outside Falcion, city of apprenticeship. Looking down at himself, he could not help but curse his mother for refusing to allow him adequate equipment. Only some flimsy cloth armor and a stiletto as dull as a jelly knife were in his possession. After the prices the sloopmaster charged, Entrahti was unsure whether his remaining coin would even afford lodgings of note. Slipping past the guards at the gate with practiced ease and stealth, he padded lightly down the streets, his amber eyes narrowed to slits as he observed darthiir, rivvil as well as many of the other races mingling freely amongst the area around the Fountain of Dreams. With a final curse upon his mother for her commands, he sneered, stepping from the shadows into the blinding sun of the night above to begin his training in Falcion, to begin the life amongst the light. Eri Class: ThiefRace: Ogre Eri was born. This much people remember. On such a beautiful day that they hid her from the suns, so that she would not shame them with her face. On such a beautiful day she broke her mother's heart, without a word, without a sound. On such a beautiful day her family taught her how best to protect the family honor from the shame of her existence. On such a beautiful day she learned to hide herself, so that the beautiful day would not be marred by her ugliness. People pretend to forget whose child she is. It is a favor for old friends. People pretend to forget she has a family. People pretend to forget she exists. People pretend to be pretending. No-one is happy to see Eri. Just looking at Eri makes people sad, or sometimes mad. Eri makes life easy for them. Eri is not seen often. When Eri is seen, she is easily ignored. Sometimes people see and talk to Eri, but don't quite realize it, and they forget completely. Sometimes Eri takes things, or moves things, but no-one notices. No-one sees Eri. They are happier that way. Eri moves through the back-corners of the world, seeing but not seen. She hears the lies in their truths. She sees the crime in their virtue. Eri learns that she is not the only thing that is ugly. She is not the only thing that is hidden. Eri swallows their secrets. She hears much and much until she is all filled up with the ugliness of the world. She cannot open her mouth for fear something monstrous will spill out, pouring endlessly into the open, revealed at last. She is sick with secrets, but she cannot let them go. Eri never went away. She had been gone so long by the time she left, that people forgot that she wasn't really gone. So the day when she was, was really a day like all the others. When nothing had changed. It was a beautiful day. Ghas Class: ThiefRace: Ogre Ghas was born the of the month of Midnight, in the year 1,638 since the Godswar, and the year 1,211 of the empire to a family of an ogrish clan known as the Nogr'tus, a semi nomadic tribe that wandered the wastelands to the far north. The Norg'tus were greatly feared as their customs were fierce and their warriors very skilled. It was tradition that the male ogres as soon as they could stand on their own two legs would be given a blade which they would use as a toy. Many of the young died because of this. Phyiscal training, starvation and hard labour were used to strengthen these young. Blood and pain were not made stranger to them, fights were encouraged amongst the children. They were taught by words of elders. Most often a tribal shaman who shared stories of the exploits of their fiercest warriors. These warriors were very different then that of their tribal counterparts as they used cunning and fierce strikes along with guerilla tactics to subdue their enemies. Speed, endurance and the ability to remain silent were abilities held in high regard and Ghas showed a great deal of potential and it was noted by his elders. ***** "Ghas, you know Nogr'tus code of battle. You will be warrior if you show strong and have success in test" the words echoed through the head of Ghas (who was now 8 years old) as the tribal chief, the mightiest of the warriors proclaimed this honour upon his head. He would enter a ritual to become one of the elite warriors in the tribe. This ritual was not a common occurance and many of those who successfully passed all parts of this challenge were often to become the chiefs and leaders of the clan. This first part of the test, Ghas was to wander into "The wastelands" and was to gather two hands separated from the arm at the wrist. These were to be the hands of other ogres and also the hands of enemies of the clan. The hand would have to be of a warrior. These ogres were not necessarily to be defeated by Ghas himself but the hand itself had to be fresh from a corpse recently slain. Given meat from his mother, cooked and dried, with a large waterskin, Ghas wandered into the warzone that is now known as "The Wastes". A large gathering of goblins had encamped there and many chieftans had gathered around to bring death to this group of warriors. Ghas watched for several days and saw the goblins crushed only to witness the ogrish clans turn upon each other and shed the blood of their own kind. The battle continued. One morning a large cry was heard from the two camps as two mighty ogrish champions garbed in battle-armor came forth wearing bright colours and wielding massive serrated blades. 10 other warriors followed them to the centre of the field and witnessed a most impressive battle. The two champions went ahead of the groups and they were taken immediately by the rage. They fought for what seemed to be many many hours untill one of them fell and a large cheer came from the side of the triumphant ogre. The other party looked upon their fallen champion with shame and promptly crushed his skull and insulted the corpse with their spit as they walked away. When the two parties had departed, Ghas ran batting away the carrion and removed the hand of the fallen warrior. He then wandered many days out in the wastelands and found no prospect to complete his training so he returned to his village secretly and lured his mother out into the bush where he brutally murdered her taking her hand. To remember her by he took her skull and it was bleached and remains still at his side. This was acceptable to him because of his upbringing. He knew no better. He took the hand to the village shaman and by use of scrying magic the truth was made known to all. Ghas ran from home as he had failed his test and many of the men from the tribe threatened his life as their favorite whore was killed. At the age of 10 he wandered the streets of Nexus and was eventually found by a group of rogues who lived along the Tothese highway. They were excited at the prospect of raising an ogre with such brutal habits. He then was used as a servant and taught minor tricks with a blade. He was also used in raids on merchant caravans. This is where he found a beautiful painting that he keeps in his room at the castle Zerak. The caravan raiders were then thwarted by Nexus heroes, in a swift brutal battle. Ghas was 12 years old and was taken by the heroes and they expressed a desire to recruit him to become one of their protectors. Having nowhere to go and a desire for combat he decided to follow along hiding his brutal ways. He later found his home amongst several warriors of what is now the clan Zerak. Iannis Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf A figure stirred in the shadows of a ruin. Smell of fresh blood wafted in the air as the figure shifted its position, accompanied by a suppressed groan. The pained sound, however, was drowned in the usual noise of the evening activities just a stone's throw away. The figure slowly crawled out, on her hands and knees, (it was unmistakably a female, from the body shape) from under the rubble of what looked like remains of an old building. The starlight revealed a dark visage topped with gleaming darksilver hair. A drow. She made her way to another spot, slightly further from the source of the noises, slumped from the effort and panted heavily. She touched the her lower back, brought it around to take a look, grimaced at the sight of the ample blood on it. "Well, this time I really done it...." she said out loud, almost amused. "Right in my kidney. This'll teach me to try to steal from a ...." Her words faded into another painful groan. She closed her eyes and listened to the muffled sound of hideous laughters coming from a building a few paces away. "Curse the damned Goblins... " She slipped into troubled sleep, half wondering if she will ever awake again. ************ The drow opened her eyes with a start, then squinted at the candlelight. Instantly reaching for a jagged dagger she always kept on her side, she felt some cotton tunic, thin and soft from many a wash. In alarm bordering panic, she sprang up into a crouching position, frantically looking around. An innocuous, cozy room, lit by a single candle, met her eyes. Still wary but at least perceiving no immediate threat, she relaxed a little, then realized that she was no longer in pain. Carefully feeling her back, she confirmed that the wound was gone. "Huh..." She stepped down, barefoot, onto the dirt floor from the elevated straw mat she found herself on. Moving about the room in sinewy silence, she quickly found her boots by a small door and her clothes in a wicker basket. As she reached for them, the door opened and a small wrinkled woman stepped in with some bundle in her arm. The old human smiled at the drow, who sprang back and took an offensive stance. "Ah you awoke. Good, good. I knew Pandora would help you, but it's still good to see that you are all well now. Now relax, girl. You have nothing to be afraid of from this old body, and you know that." Completely nonplussed by the wary and hostile air of the drow, the old woman shuffled her way to a crate that served as a table and emptied the content of the bundle onto it. "I brought some food for you. I'm sure you are hungry." At the mention of the food, the drow suddenly realized that she was ravenously hungry. Slowly, she dissolved her combat stance and approached the crate. The old woman smiled. "Good, I knew it. Oh.. by the way... I am Lendari. What is your name, dear girl?" The drow snorted. "I don't have a name. What do you need one for, anyway?" Lendari unwrapped some crusty bread. "Oh, everyone has a name. Or needs one, if she doesn't. I'm sure you have one?" The drow shrugged and searched her memory, wondering why she's even obliging. "I guess. Iannis, is my name. I think." Honestly, she wasn't sure. No one wanted to know her name, let alone called her by one, for many moons. "Ahh well, Iannis girl, have some bread. I'll find some wine." The bread was fresh, and the wine wasn't sour, which was more than Iannis had for a long time. A full stomach loosened her tongue. "So... you brought me here and fixed me up?" She eyed the frail old human dubiously. Lendari chuckled. "Aye. Weak as I might be, with Pandora's help and a little magick, I can do a lot on my own." Iannis gave her a skeptical look. "If you say so. Gods never did a damn thing for me. I don't think they ever care or even know I exist." The old human chuckled again, which irritated Iannis. "That's because you don't care or think they exist." Iannis shrugged and took another swig of the wine. "Where are we?" she asked. Lendari did not answer, and instead responded with a question. "Do you know that this place used to be a splendid city?" She continued as fond memory lit her eyes up. "I was but a little girl... the glorious port city of Bandenar... the gateway on the Northern Sea, the streets were filled with peoples from near and afar, beautiful things in store windows..." Her tone turned somber. "Then the Goblins came. They killed half the city and took the rest of us for slaves..." Lendari fell silent. Iannis searched her own memory. Digging through the recent memory of slinking in the shadows and stealing items from the Goblin barracks and food bin, she awoke a long forgotten days of childhood, miserable, always scared, starving, scavenging for food every day. But at least she was free. Now, why was she here? For as long as she can remember she had been here. She must have had parents. Who were they? "Care for more wine, dear?" Lendari's voice broke her musing. Iannis shook her head. "I guess I'll be going soon. Thanks for saving me, though I don't know why you'd do something like that." Lendari peered into the drow's face with a surprisingly forceful stare. "Go where? Back to skulking and hiding and running? Back to forever living like a sewer rat?" Iannis' cheeks turned slightly darker as anger flashed in her eyes. "A sewer rat? who are you to judge me? Just because you patched me up you think you can talk to me like that? I live as I want to. I don't need anyone, and I fare just fine." Lendari did not flinch. "Oh, as you want to, eh? How about those boots with holes on the sole? And the dirty ripped shirt you were wearing? And always looking over your shoulder to see if those Goblins would come and get you. Is that how you like living?" Iannis fumed silently. What the old human said was true. She wasn't much better off than the sewer rats. Lendari leaned in and laid her wrinkled hand on Iannis' clenched fist. "I have escaped my shackles ten winters ago by pure fortune. I have been hiding here, always hoping to be truly free of the evil Goblins. But I am too old. I can't travel far enough to be free and safe. I will surely be either found and killed trying, or perish to the wild animals in the forest. I have Hoped and prayed every day since the Goblins came, that one day we defeat them, and restore Bandenar to what it was. I have come to understand that this is all by design. I escaped the shackles and yet I am stayed here for a reason. It is for people like you, Iannis girl." Iannis looked at the old woman and asked, "You mean to get me out of here to go... where?" Lendari's eyes gleamed in conviction. "Nexus, dear girl. The City of All Races. It is far to the south from here. I hear they still stand free, and fight to defeat the Goblins. You are young and strong. When I found you, you were so badly injured that you should have been dead. But you not only lived, but recovered marvelously even considering Hope's grace. You can make it down to Nexus. Train with them and help us be free once more." Iannis shrugged. "You're crazy. Anyone with half a brain knows the Goblins can't be done away with. There're just too many of them." Lendari shook her head. "That thought is what keeps them there. Go to Nexus, girl. You will see." The drow snickered. "How do you know? You've never seen it. All this could be a fairy tale." Lendari smiled mildly. "You believe only what you see? Then why do you believe the Goblins can't be defeated? You haven't seen anyone try." Before Iannis could retort, the woman added, "Besides, I -have- seen it. Pandora showed me a vision, and I know it to be true in my heart." Iannis looked at the frail old woman with more pity than anything else. Poor addled thing, hanging on to unreal dreams, she thought. But Lendari's words had some strange power. Her thought took a turn. Maybe I'll go see what this Nexus place is like. Can't be worse than here. As if she has read Iannis' mind, Lendari said, "Even if you don't believe me, what have you to lose by traveling there? I will help you travel safely. It's a long way, but Pandora tells my heart you will get there." The old woman slowly got up and lifted a flat stone by the door to reveal a hole in the ground. Bending down, she retrieved a crude hunting knife and a leather backpack, obviously of a Goblin origin that has been mended carefully after it was discarded for its wear and tear. She picked up Iannis' boots and clothes and returned to the crate. "I was going to mend your clothes but I had no thread. You had nothing else on you." She handed Iannis her clothes and the hunting knife and packed some bread into the backpack. Iannis tried to protest that she wasn't so crazy as to travel for days just because this old woman said so. But the words somehow stuck in her throat as she watched the old woman pack for a journey matter-of- factly. She put on the dirty pair of pants and the beat up boots. Her old shirt was unwearable, bloodied and ripped too badly. Lendari reached under the straw mat and pulled out some wolfskin, large enough to wrap around one's body. She handed the backpack, full with whatever food and herbs she could spare, and the wolfskin to Iannis and nodded. "Nexus awaits you." As if hypnotized, Iannis took the backpack and wrapped the wolfskin around her shoulders. Lendari produced a faintly glowing stone from the fold of her patched skirt and held it up in front of Iannis' face. The light pulsated weakly in a slow rhythm. She took Iannis' hand and put the stone in the palm, folding Iannis' fingers around it. It was warm to touch. "This stone will guide and protect you. Pandora sends me one whenever I meet someone she knows deserve it. The light will flicker faster when you face the right way toward her temple in Nexus. The light will glow stronger as you near Nexus. Do not doubt, or it will fail you." Iannis looked at the stone in her hand. The light had grown fainter than when the stone was in Lendari's hand. She shrugged. "I trust my nose more." Lendari smiled and said almost to herself, "you'll see... you'll see." Lendari ushered Iannis out the small door into the darkness before the dawn and closed the door behind her. Iannis looked around and recognized it to be the western edge of the old ruin. Glancing back, she saw nothing but some rubble where she knew the door to be. Lendari smiled at her bewilderment. "I have a little magick." She winked. "Now, travel south into the woods. Better get there before the suns show their faces." Iannis nodded unassuredly, and took a few steps forward. She looked down at the strange stone pulsating like flickering wings of a bat. When she looked up from the stone, she was alone. The old woman was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging slightly, Iannis started on her way south, still wondering why she is even doing this. "It can't hurt." She thought to herself. "Maybe I'll have a few gold pieces in my pocket and a nice meal, and..." Her steps became lighter as she melted away into the shadows of the forest. Julene Class: ThiefRace: Human A young man with blonde hair and blue eyes came up to me not long ago and asked of my past. He was very kind looking so I decided to share my history with him. We found a quiet little table at the back of the tavern in Falcion and he offered me a seat. I smiled and began my story.......... I was born into a happy home from my point of view, though my sister's view is a bit different, though I cannot blame her. I had a mother, father and an older sister. I loved being the baby of the family. My father gave me whatever my heart desired, though I did not let this go to my head. I am a very modest person. My sister tended to be rambuncious and quite wild. Many times I would hear her getting beaten, though I thought it was because she had been naughty. I grew to love my family very much I was very happy there and had no ambitions of ever leaving home. I was underdeveloped for my age and quite shy, as I still am. Felicity and I grew up together, I had one other friend, McKenzie De'murs. We would often play in the woods. Our favorite pastime was probably hide n seek. I was an excellent hider, though Felicity was great at tracking she would always find me. This is how my childhood was spent until I was 15 years of age. One night my sister ran away from home. I was never told why until I came to this island. I grew very anxious wondering why my sister had left without even saying goodbye. I knew she was tough and could handle herself, but I still worried about her. Finally my curiousity could contain me at home no more. I packed a few things, told my mother and father goodbye and I ventured out in search of my sister. I wasn't on the road long when I happened upon a city called Nexus. This place was new and wonderful too me. I heard my sister had traveled here not long before and a ranger had showed her the way to Falcion to begin her training. Eager to see my sister again, I quickly thought over the noble professions of the city of Nexus and chose thief, because of my great sneaking and hiding skills. I was quickly sent to the small island of Falcion to begin my training. At first I was very scared and wondered if I had made the right choice. I was very shy and many of the men were very bold with their flattery. ............... When I finished my story I looked up at this young man. His eyes were very pretty and I couldn't help but notice how attractive I had found him. I asked him his name and he replied "Mordakie Lee Willows" He began courting me and now I am very happy to announce a year later that we are wed and are expecting our first child in the month of Dawn.Julene Marie Willows Komorek Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf I was born not in the shallows of the Hal'oath like most drows, but up top with the surfacers. My mother a proud dark-elf with flowing white-hair that glinted a silvery shine when a source of light shone on it, was exiled for her thoughts of peace with the surfacers. She had strange dreams that we should live in peace with them, and these talks of peace as she tried to show her light, her own people cast her out along with her thoughts, while still with me in her belly. They said that they took mercy upon her, because she was carrying a child, so did not kill her instantly, but left her to die. But my mother, a woman of quick wit, knew a few things of survival. She made shelter out of sticks and dried falling leaves, and dug a hole in the ground as a storage compartment and gathered berries and all sorts of edible things she could find and placed them within. Our new home was sturdy and could survive the harsh elements, oh she thought. One night, as she gathered wood to make a small fire, the air became cold, and dead. Fog began to cover the earth like a white blanket; my mother began to make a fire, using a rock and broken hilt of a sword still holding some of the broken darksilver blade. She struck the blade against the rock over some sticks and dried grass, and ignited it. She started to feed the fire, but as she did, she began to notice and listen over the crackling of the fire for disturbing sounds. In the distance, faint sounds of ... metal clashing ... mother curious about the sound, wondered if it was a battle close by. My mother picked herself up off the ground and approached the noises with curiosity and caution. My mother came upon a ledge, and the clashing had reached its peak, and was harsh on the ears. Peeking over she found a city belonging to surfacers; our brothers and sisters, the elven and their tiny yet happy town ... well, not happy at that moment. Scanning the area, she glimpsed that it was a small band of goblins commencing the onslaught. She saw a heavily built man swinging his hammer, bashing skulls left and right. My mother being drow looked on with pleasure, at the bloodshed. The battle continued, swinging, and slashing, and death cries echoed loudly throughout the forest, which could be heard a good distance. Mother getting curious as the battle began to thin a bit, moved her small, quick frame closer to the action. She climbed down from vines hanging over the ledge and hid behind some goblin and elven corpses piled about four feet high. She continued to look on with pleasure, watching the incredibly built elven warrior, bringing his heavy hammer up over his head, and bringing it down with precision and power. The man swiped across his body spinning around smacking a goblin across his face, which sent him flying about ten-feet spinning the whole time till he met the earth, and lay motionless. My mother grinned and continued to look on, and saw that the man, had only stunned the goblin savage, and my mother saw that he was recovering and ready to take his ground again, and was about to back-stab the elven warrior. My mother using her quickness, grabbed a dagger from a fallen warrior and ran quickly, screaming what seemed to be a battle cry which pierced the ears of everyone, and they turn to see where it came from. She leaped and tackled the recovered goblin before he could lay a finger on the warrior. The elven man turned and grinned, and turned quickly back to the goblin he was fighting, who was distracted by the scream, he moved quickly and got off a critical strike on the goblin. He struck the goblin across the temple, which sent the goblin crashing to the ground, sending the goblin into a seizure before he died. My mother wrestling with the goblin that recovered, rolled him over and slit his throat and she grinned again with pleasure as she watched him die. He tried to call out, but couldn't say a word, air bubbles spewed from his open neck as he bled to death. My mother satisfied, looked up and saw the man extend a hand, in appreciation and helped her up. She smiled at the man, and he smiled back. Then all of a sudden, a barrage of fist size stones hurled across the air, striking my mother in her chest, and a snap could be heard as she toppled over. The man turned and looked upon some goblin strikers from about a hundred yards hurling those stones with accuracy and one struck his hammer snapping it at the base. The man growled and tossed his weapon, and raised his hands in front of him and began to concentrate. The strikers reloaded their weapons, but they were in for a surprise. As they began to swing their load, the man sent his. The earth began to tremble and shake fiercely. The strikers in pandemonium, of what was happening, screamed like women and children crying for help. The man grinned evilly, and spread his arms apart, closing them really quickly. The earth split from underneath the strikers and engulfed them into a pool of malting lava, then closing their screams to a silence. The man looked at the rest of the horde, and they freaked, and ran for it. The man spat and turned towards my mother lying there in pain and agony. The man raised a hand and waved it over my mother, trying to heal her. But she was already too far-gone for magic to work, and her soul began to fade. My mother gasped for air, and got half a lung full, and said without hesitation to the man, "Please ... save ... my child ... and protect him ... like I did you ..." She smiled for the last time and the fire in her eyes vanished, and turned into a cold tear, which ran down her face. She became limp, and cold. The man couldn't do anything for her, except live up to her request. The man worked quickly and lifted my mother's robes, and pierced her belly carefully, not to hit me with his knife. He made a long slit under my mother's stomach and lifted me out. I came into the world as any ordinary child, naked and crying. The man held me, like I was his son, and looked down upon my mother and couldn't help but cry. He looked down and saw my mother's last name knitted into her robes. He could read the name Vel'ty'iss ... The man looked at me and sat for a few moments, wondering what he should call me ... He finally decided after much debate I should be called my last name and some other name. He named me Komorek Vel'ty'iss. He kept my last name to honor my mother and keep the name alive. This man, under the request of my mother who saved his life cared for me. I grew up within the walls of the elven village, as a surfacer. I looked at myself as a surfacer, as an equal, but I was looked upon as a drow. My significant others really made a name for drows being blood thirsty savages. Even called to be as bad as the goblin hoarde. Many years I lived with this man, who was known as Bal'lidrik to most, but I called him father. Many years of trying to find out what I wanted to do, I tried to follow his line of work, as a cleric. I was good at basic healing with herbs and potions, but could never master the basic skills of magically healing someone's fatigue or wounds. This made me depressed, and lead me to a whole other path. I began to sneak around, and spy on people, easily dropping on important things. Before I knew it I was in a whole new profession that I was good at, but I still was in a bit of depression, for no one would utilize my skills. Till one day, I wanted to go to a city called Nexus the City of All Races and seek a job. After hearing Nexus called the City of All Races, maybe, just maybe, I would actually be accepted into a society and my differences looked past. I decided to stay for a few years more and acquire some basic skills on how to survive out in the world, and began to work on my skills to hone them just in case of any dangers that may lie ahead. After so many years, I finally set out on my journey, and gave my dad my farewells and love, and to those who helped shelter me during my beginning adolescent years. I began to my long walk towards the city. I was told the fastest way there was to walk along the beach, until I reach another patch of the forest and then follow the activity of wagons passing that were heading towards the city. I did as I was told. It seemed like I'd walked and followed wagons forever, it was about two days walking non-stop, because I was excited to see this city. My eagerness got into the way of my health, and I had to stop and scavenge for food. I ate anything I could find, edible berries, mice, until I was satisfied and my belly was full again. I remember finishing eating and being about to turn in for the night, when a black wolf jumped out of nowhere, and pounced on me, ripping my jerkin to shreds. I tossed the wolf aside and got up, fearing for my life, I was left in shock and didn't know what to do ... the thing stared me in the eye and knew I feared it, and fed off it. Then from nowhere again, a man dressed in dark black vest and leggings, jumped from the shadows impaling the wolf with his dagger in the vitals, instantly killing the beast. I looked up and fell over in fear, as I looked up again at a man with a pale face, and looks that were hard to recognize and keep in memory hovered over me. He extended his hand as an offering to help, and I accepted and got up and dusted myself off. He said that he was watching me, and said that I was quick reacting to the beast when it leaped. I said, "Oh," questionably and confused. The man introduced himself to me; his name was Radjeck Tholms. He examined me and asked if I would like to work with him. I'm guessing that my skills were to his liking. He was a drow as well, as I was surprised to find out. I asked where he came from. He said that he was from the elven village about northwest of where I lay camp, and it was ironic. I asked him to join me and we talked the night away. In the morning I agreed to work with him. He grinned and nodded. I watched him and soaked up everything he taught me and did. Teaching me how to use my skills to the best of my ability. Over many years, we became close, and we ran into his brother sometimes; his name was Col'hirat, he was half-elven, a long story which I care not to tell. I watched and followed Radjeck for many years, absorbing all I could. Till one day, while protecting Nexus from attacks, he lost his life, and he was brought back by the people in the Healing Hand. His trainers began to look down upon him and stripped him of tiers and a bad luck streak come upon him. This made him go into a state of depression, and soon into insanity. He gave up Hope ... gave all his stuff away, and began to go on a wild spree of endless exploring. When he couldn't go on anymore, threw himself upon his sword, and decided it was time to be with Tilnar. His last words to me were follow my own path, and so I did, to honor his words. So I applied for apprenticeship on the mystical island known as Falcion and began my own path, and followed my friend and mentor's profession to honor his teachings and him ... (at the bottom a word seems to be smeared because of water dripping into the ink) ... Hope ... Kyona Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf Hannes, the newest scribe to the Nexus Library, jumped across the muddy puddles quickly growing across the city streets. He contemplated the days events over in his mind, recalling the streaks of sun streaming through the towering clouds in the morning, signaling another warm day. Yet just moments after the glorious sunrise, black clouds blew in from the west, blotting out the sun's wealth. Hannes had reluctantly left the warmth of his home's fireplace and wife's embrace to seek out one Kyona Ssinss'elghinn, and judging by the name he doubted it would be a friendly confrontation. However, he did need the money he would be paid by the library to bring them her past history; hopefully she would not be as tight-lipped as he had found most Drow to be. Hannes continued down the growingly muddy streets, thinking back to the time when he was asked for money to pave the dirt roads. He had denied them the few gold it would've taken, and now he can see his mistake. Dashing under an overhang, he paused to wipe his face dry with the hem of his robes, muttering and cursing to himself for being out on a day like this. A thick wooden sign inscribed with the insignia of the Drunken Orc was hinged to the side of the building and clattered against the walls; seemingly daring anyone smaller than a half-giant to enter. Just as he was about to give up and return home, a short elf caught his attention. She wore simple green clothing, and her face was covered in scars. She avoided eye contact, and spoke in a deep, raspy voice, directing him inside. Hannes entered the dimly lit room, waving his hand before his face to clear the air of what seemed to be dust, yet he thought better of it to ask. Seated near a fire sat a tall, slender figure dressed in black attire. The other inhabitants of the tavern seemed to avoid her presence, some even nervously glanced over their shoulders to be sure she still sat there. She turned slightly to greet him in her native tongue. "Vendui' rivvil." Hannes tilted his head to the side and leaned forward, obviously showing his ignorance of the Drow tongue. The woman's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared slightly in distaste, yet she decided to put up with this foolish man. The young elven woman quickly went to the woman's side, and added, "She says, greetings human." Hannes nodded in understanding - the woman seated by the fire must not speak his language, and this elf would do the translating. The young woman spoke in broken English, struggling over pronunciation, and soon Hannes understood this was the woman he was to interview, Kyona Ssinss'elghinn. Kyona pointed a slender figure to the chair across from her, and leaned back in hers, exposing a waist riddled in dark silvered scars. Her face had the usual sharp features of a Drow, yet her slender lips never parted in a smile, and unlike most of her kind, her hair appeared nearly blue in the dim light of the tavern. She uttered a few words to the elf beside her, who smiled pleasantly and offered Hannes a drink. He refused, explaining that he needed all his wits about him to properly record this. All the while the young woman explained Hannes' words in clumsy Drow to Kyona, who simply snickered and nodded. Kyona kept her face within the shadows, yet the fire threw stripes of light over her sapphire eyes, reflecting off her irises in a dazzling array of yellows and irridescent orange. She watched the scribe intently, aware of every movement he made. In a near whisper, Kyona began her tale, the translator by her side stumbling over words in a vain attempt to keep up... ------------------ "Khaless climbed and descended root stairs, bruising his bones in the dark, scratching his eyes, and lashing his body. The rain's cold feathers clothed his nakedness and danced about his friend. Khaless ran through the knives of hedges and crashed across streams with the night between his teeth. Time and again, he would reach for the band at his throat, and each time he would scream his grip free from the curse put upon him." ------------------ "Jiv'elgg lueth jiv'undus phuul jivvin." Kyona added quickly. The elven woman paused, glanced at Kyona and muttered, "Torture and pain are fun..." trailing off to a near whisper likened to Kyona's own voice. She then explained that their Matron had onyx bands fitted on each of her House's children, and these bands were the source of constant pain. As children, these bands were used for fun. Pain was pleasurable - or so they were told. Only the light of the sun would destroy the curse. "Ilharessen zhaunil alurl, p'luin jall." Kyona nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. The elf smiled. "Matrons know best, after all." ------------------ "He wanted to die as a warrior in battle, not like some cow split in half to cool in the rain. So he plowed the night with his body, running through the dusty rocks of knives and arrows out of the Underdark and into the clear air - until suddenly a hand big as the wind grabs him. "Clouds open and display the glassworks of constellations. His head swings wide with wonder to take it all in, and he sees the black God above him, darkness traveling across his attire like a falcon. "So, you have returned home to us, my child." Rothe speaks gruffly, stepping out of the trunk of a sycamore tree. And around him Ilythiiri rise up from the earthsmoke like the dead. "Chaparral grass and dwarf willows sway, listening to the under night filled with lights. Kyona gazed up with naked awe at the starry heavens of the Underdark, wondering how the blotched moon and these misty starwheels could be visible down here inside the veins of Altin. She calms her beating heart, reminding herself it is simply an illusion put on by some House wizards to give the illusion of beauty and keep the slaves happy in this horrible place. A distant scream echoes through the caverns, and Khaless is soon beside her, panting for air. Kyona and he clamber through the curly boughs of a giant black tree and perch high among its silver, clustered blossoms, hoping to see the secrets of this inner sky. Craters sleep in the ashes of the walls. The whirlpools of stars fling feathers through the lavender void, and the amplified images of the pure night open new mysteries, almost pointing them towards the tiny, pinprick of light at their destination. "Watching from above the tiny chaparral lakes, where the sunlight streaming through the exit shrivels the grass to whorls of powdery gray mold, they can see all of the Underdark and her horrors. As their Matron rushes toward them from the distance, they stand perfectly still at the edge of terror. Khaless watches the searing daylight from the upper world bruise and sour the delicate flora of the Underdark's roots, reducing the shrubs around him to coral shapes of ash. Slowly but perceptibly, the exit hole clogs with soot and shrinks. "Khaless and Kyona stumble into the sunlight, protecting their eyes from the glaring light. They tumble down a hill into a black tarn where white herons glow like paper lanterns. Among blunt rocks, they wash their garments and dry them in the sun, each glad to be away from the rotten stench of the Underdark. Kyona curls up in her robes, hides her face in her wide-brimmed hat, and sleeps - Khaless watching over her in the cinnamon light of the forest mere. "The hollows of the night woods echo with lorn owl calls, and Khaless lies down at his friend's feet and waits impatiently for sleep. Rest does not come. His desperate heart beats in the swamp grass with fearful vertigo for the namelessness of the depths he has escaped; he knows his Matron will send someone to search for them. At the first touch of sun, he rouses the torpid Kyona, and they slouch away among hanging vines and brown, dusty rays of sun. By noon, Khaless leads Kyona out of woodland into the rolling pastures and dotted meadows. Among the lonely ruins of once splendid villas of the old heroes, thatch-roofed farmhouses and crude hamlets cluster close together. "Clouds heave over the forest hills and budge against the dawn, promising rain. In Khaless, Kyona had found her champion, who could help her reclaim her life. And for him, she was the home he could win for himself by displaying the best traits of his heritage - by daring, martial skill, and strong spirit. Throughout the night, while Khaless plaited for himself a grass kilt under a sky choking with stars, this is all they spoke of. Their faith in each other required no Matron, no clan, no magic but their own sole desire to take back what the world had taken from them. They recognize themselves as counterparts of one destiny. Khaless speaks first. "I want to go with you, to the Nexus - just exactly as we discussed when we stood together in the Underdark, when we could not see each other, only our dreams." "It is day now," Kyona says, and glances at the blush of dawn. "Dreams must prove themselves in this clear light - or fade away." Khaless takes her hand in his. "I will not fade away." ------------------ The elven woman looked back to Kyona, who seemed to be struggling with something. For once, her face nearly betrayed her thoughts, yet she quickly corrected this and calmed herself. Her eyes sparked momentarily, and she stated in a rushed voice, "Ussta ilhar zhahus dal l'El'lar d'Ssinssrigg. Il orn naut tesso ussa vel'uss ussta ilharn zhahus. Ji usstan uil natha fa'la zatoast dalhar dal natha ssindossa qu'ellar xuil ussta abbil, Khaless." The elven woman blushed a violent crimson, and began translating for Hannes. "My mother worked in the House of Pleasure. She will not tell me who my father was, so I am the bastard child from a whore house along with my friend, Khaless." "Usstan.." Kyona's voice faded completely, then came back with force. "whol ussta ilharn whol mzil jhal usstan gumash naut ragar ukta. Usstan zhahus natha rothe whol l'qu'ellar mzilst d'ussta dro." The elf stepped in, translating with ease this last part. "I searched for my father for many days, but could not find him. I was a slave for the house most of my life." To this a small smile played across Kyona's lips as she chanced a look into the elf's eyes, who seemingly shared this secret with her. The elf leaned forward and spoke in a rushed whisper. "As punishment to her mother for becoming pregnant and shaming the House, her daughter was taken away from her at birth, and made a slave for the Matron until she was of an age to ... work ... with the other older men and women. However, she chanced an escape and won her freedom through the fates before this punishment fell upon her or Khaless." Kyona looked up at the elf, annoyed by her trepedition to share these secrets with a stranger. ------------------ "Rothe sent Golhyrr to the new home of her escaped children to ensure that the insolence ended once and for all. To accomplish this simple deed, she wore a sturdy bezoar ring spring-loaded with a fine gold needle sticky with poison. At the young man's door, she presented herself without guile as the niece of Brorn, who had toured a faraway land and was told to seek out Khaless, an old friend of his. Before she could go to him, a one-armed soldier blocked her way. Dressed simply but immaculately in crisp blue tunic, a short sword at his hip, he inspected her with a genial smile on his thin lips and a hint of disdain in his arched nostrils and flexed eyebrows. "A bezoar ring!" With a swift, deft swipe of his fingers, he slipped the ring from her and held it up to his discerning eye. "This particular bezoar stone has been regurgitated from a camel. A legendary but, alas, ineffective antidote to poison. Ah, but my lady, I assure you on my life, there are no poisons to infect you here. Please, do come in. My friend will be most eager to hear of your travels in this land." The man smiled pleasantly to Golhyrr and slipped the ring back over her finger before departing. "Night shone feverishly with the luminosity of the blazing chimneys and the sweeping rays of silver light crisscrossing off the surrounding fields. In the salmon orange glow of the candlelight, Khaless sat on a small wooden chair, waving Golhyrr in to join him. He explained that Kyona had left to care for a sick friend. "Despite herself, Golhyrr found that she liked the young man. She had met numerous personages on her far-flung assignments for her family, and all had had a sameness about them, some imperfection of the heart, either greed, cruelty, or fear. In talking with this boy on the terrace of his house and sharing sweet roots and elecampane drinks, she learned of his childhood as a servant in a whore house, and his oldest and dearest friend, Kyona. He had acquired humility at a young age. And he had been trained to fight and offer himself in sacrifice for those greater than himself - in other words, he would die when his Matron ordered it. "Golhyrr took a last sip of the elecampane brew and rose, offering her hand. Khaless took the woman's hands. "How can I thank you - for these tales you have brought to me of the land I cannot see." Golhyrr smiled wryly, and with a slight twist of her hand, activated the switch on the bezoar ring. In an instant, Khaless felt a small pinprick upon his left hand and promptly stepped away from the woman. Golhyrr apologized prophetically. "I am sorry, my Lord. It was a simple accident, these rings.. they do not make jewelry such as this as nicely as they used to." "He feigned a gentle smile at the woman and excused her from his room. Golhyrr, however, remained by the door, peering in intently to see that her job was completed. She peered into the dark bores of his widening pupils as he died, poisoned as much by her beauty as by the toxins she had delivered. As silent as the forest's breath, she quickly escaped down the long side streets, smiling politely to those she encountered until she was far into the darkening woodlands - she would not bother with the girl, she decided. "Kyona lay by her dearest friend's side, whispering words of love to him. He began to fade, a mirage of spindrift. Sorrow followed her as she parted from the man who had won her heart by his bravery, his virtue, and his physical beauty. She reached forth to touch him once more, this man she had not expected to love. "Kyona spent the following week in a small temple dedicated to the two Brothers, working with priests by day, helping to repair storm-damaged roof tiles, driving the daily wagon of prepared meals to the local hamlets to feed the sick and elderly, working with the priestesses and scribes as they toiled together in the busy gardens around the temple. Kyona did not share her past with any, even those she felt she trusted most. Even time does not heal all wounds, as she well knew. "Eager to get to Nexus, Kyona left the temple and traveled by night through the surrounding forests, slowly heading toward the City. Following a stream, she spotted an ivory shaft of platinum fletch feathers standing in an offset brook, the golden, twilit water unfurling around it. Kyona approached, being wary of her footfalls - the arrow moved deeper into the narrow stream and away from her outreached grasp. She splashed after it, and it coursed upstream, cleaving the bright current before it. Her naked feet sloshed through the cold water, slipped on the mossy rocks, and she thwacked her head against a rock. Stars dazzled her vision, and through their spun light she spotted the arrow and seized it. It stuck from the back of a large fish that thrashed in her grasp, then lay still, its mouth wagging as if drinking in the river. The fish continued to thrash in the muscles of the water, but Kyona would not let it go. She lay with her cheek on a slimy rock, staring into the agate eye of the fish. "I cannot release you. I am on a mission to complete a promise," Kyona held the fish to her face to continue, but the finny creature had already died, its mineral eyes glazed over. She cut open the fish to remove the shaft, and a large, irridescent pearl rolled out. Kyona quickly tucked the pearl away in her tattered robe's pocket, and set to skinning the fish. "Before she turned to find kindling for her fish roast, the sound of a creaking cart and horse hooves emerged from the chill forest. The friendly face of a half-elf decked from head to toe in gleaming silver armor greeted her from atop the wagon. The heat exerted by the horse warmed her body, a welcome feel on these last cold days. The half-elf did not speak, he only extended a large hand, calloused with scars and marks from long battles past. Kyona stood up, and bowed as gracefully as her battered body would allow. Somehow, this man's eyes inspired absolute trust, their crystalline surfaces flecked with silver and sparked with blue. She accepted his hand, reluctant to trust a tu'rilthiir, and climbed up to the seat beside him, smiling in thanks. They rode on in silence down a dusty path, and ahead glowed a deep agate yellow above the forest. The man simply turned to her and smiled. "Nexus." Kyona smiled slightly, and stared toward the rising gates of mithril in awe. Never had she imaged a city such as this, above ground. ------------------ An easy look covered Kyona's face as she muttered these last words just over a whisper and replaced the black veil over her face. Her translator relaxed visibly and wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead. Kyona stood from her seat and stared deep into the fire, the shadows danced across her sharp features and lit the irises of her sapphire eyes. With a small gesture, she tossed a thick black band into the fire, which promptly exploded into flames about her and burned in the heat. She uttered a quick word in Hannes' ear before silently departing into the oozing shadows flickering across the room. The sparks from the fire which had landed on her still glowed, and as she passed by Hannes, he could see her skin burning around the small flames. Leif Class: ThiefRace: Elf When Leif was very young, he lived in a settlement of pure Sylvans. The house he and his mother occupied wasn't very big, in fact, it was probably one of the smallest shelters in the settlement. Leif didn't like it there very much, for the children and sometimes the adults would tease and degrade him and his mother for having human friends previous to living there. Leif often got into scuffles over this and would come home beaten and battered. He marvelled at how his mother handled being ridiculed, for she always kept her composure and never let her temper flare up. One night, Leif and his mother fled the settlement, to hopefully leave behind a life of being ridiculed. They went for approximately a year without a place they could call home, sleeping in the branches of trees and scavenging for food and water. They found many towns during the time, but none that were much different from where they left. Finally they entered a city by the name of Tel'nares. Leif adored the city from the moment he arrived, for the people were very kind and willing to help him and his mother. Within days, Leif had been offered a job at one of the busiest bars in the city. He did custodial work, cleaning up the place and whatnot. Sometimes he served drinks as well. When there wasn't much to do in the bar, he would listen to the thieves tell their tall tales of thievery and sometimes they exchanged valuables as well. Amazed by the art of stealth they spoke of, Leif pursued the art, and began stealing minor things within the city, nothing of great value, as well as picking pockets. He wasn't very good at it at first and was caught numerous times. His boyish looks bailed him out of trouble for the most part as the people would let him go unpunished, mistaking him for a child. After many months of trying to perfect his new hobby, Leif decided to venture out to a different city, as he didn't want his mother to find out about his thieving. If she became aware of it, he would surely be scolded so he told his mother he wanted to be on his own and felt he must depart from the city. The next day Leif set out from the city and was on his own, meandering aimlessly for several months, until he stumbled upon the City of All Races, Aalynor's Nexus. The rest of his life shall unravel in this new city. He will hopefully make a name for himself and build up enough courage to return to Tel'nares and let his mother know of what he has become. Lockler Class: ThiefRace: Human Born screaming in the back of the High seas inn lockler begun his life. His mom Lisa Davron was a barmaid at the tavern. Poor and worked all day and most of the night, yet still barley making enough to survive. holding the new born child she cursed aloud the father for giving her this new burden. unable to think of a name she gave the child the same one as his father. His Father Lockler was a member of a merchant ship.. well.. actually more of a pirate ship. They traded goods but often managed to steal back a good portion of these items before sailing off. Locklers fathers ship came into rymek one night and the crew went off into the tavern. After quite a bit of drinks his father grabbed Lisa and took her off to the ship. There he forced himself upon her and quickly kicked her back to the tavern. His ship left the next day. Roughly one year later the child was born to her. The child wasn't something to be loved, it wasn't a great form of life... it was just another mouth to feed, one she could barely afford to do. The child grew wearing rags and any small thing she could find to dress him in and then when he turned 13 she kicked him out. She could find no love for him and didn't want him to be a burden any longer. And so he walked, out of the town of rymek, and into the forest searching for anything that could be considered food. After a couple days eating berries and stealing what he could off passing travelers he was attempting to steal a few scraps of bread out of a merchants pocket. Upon hearing a sudden thump he quickly looked up to see an arrow sticking straight through the merchants chest. Quickly he jumped back life scared out of his mind and he fled into the bushes watching. Out from the trees jumped around eight black clad men all wielding daggers and short swords. They quickly surrounded the remaining merchant holding their blades to his neck demanding gold else he would turn end like his friend. Without a second thought the merchant threw down a sack of gold and a good deal of precious stones and the men granted him safe passage. The bandits quickly headed off into the woods to split their cash. Lockler seeing the riches they had earned followed them, sneaking as silently as he could till he reached the camp. The men were too busy celebrating to notice him as he quietly picked up anything he could; a hand full of diamonds and sack of gold. Now overcome with greed he was not even trying to be quiet. The young boy grabbed as much as he could shoving it into his sack. As he starting on his way back, a heavy hand fell upon his shoulder, and spun him around revealing the wide grin of a bandit. With a loud yelp of surprise the boy stumbled backed back but the bandit made no move forward. He merely chuckled watching the boys fear. The child backed up tripping over an object on the ground, he quickly scrambled to his feet and picked the object up. It was a dagger, although to the young boy it was big enough to be a Short Sword, so he did the first thing that came to his mind. He lunged at the bandit swinging the dagger like mad. The bandit laughed dodging the blows with great ease and grace until the child did an unexpected dive to the left with an upward slash, catching the bandit in the arm. The smirk gone and chuckles faded the bandit with one fluid motion threw up his cloak and knocked the blade out of the child's hand with his sword. As the blade clattered against the ground the boy backed up, tripping over his own feet. Slowly the bandit approached raising his blade to the child's throat. "What's your name boy?" "l-l-l-l" was all he could utter as he stared at the blade, inches from away from a killing blow. "Answer me if you wish to live!" "L-Lockler sir!" The bandit scratched his chin eyeing the boy with little regard for the cut on his arm. "Where do you live boy?" "Nowhere sir, live been in the woods since i was kicked out of home" The bandit grinned as his sword fell, smashing the boys head with the hilt. Lockler soon lost consciouness, his last sight being two bandits lifting him and the cold slam of a gate. Lockler's eye stuttered open and he peered hazily around his new environment. Quickly his keen eyes adjusted to the dark, his elven heritage true to him. He was trapped in a cell.. a tent of some sort and the sound of laughing and drinking could be heard and through a small flap. No light entered through the flap so he knew that it was night. A plate of food was near him which he quickly ate hardly chewing. Then he sat alone in the dark alone, with only his thoughts. Finally after what seemed like days later the same bandit that caught him opened the tent and dragged him out. "Alright boy, seems like your worth no ransom to nobody" Lockler whimpered slightly, fearing what he thought to be his end "But, I figured since you no know nobody wouldn't hurt ta train ya to work for us. Ya think you could keep up? Oh, and the alternative is death. Its your choice" Not even bothering to think what he was agreeing to Lockler nodded his head quickly. He was willing to do anything to save his life. So it went.. every morning his was taught in combat, with a wooden sword and the arts of stealth. As time went on the bandit leader became amazed.. Yes, amazed at how horribly one kid could do after months of training.. Lockler would trip in the shadows and his fingers slipped out of pockets. The only thing the kid was good at was with a blade, but most the time the missions were that of stealth so little help he could provide. The leader only extended his training, making Lockler train day and night till he would collapse to the ground with exhaustion and from there he would be woken in four to five hours. With this tough training Lockler improved greatly. He became more of an adept with the necessary skills. Soon the leader of the bandits began to check his pack whenever he saw Lockler walk by. Finally three years later he knew the boy was ready for actual raids. The raids were simple enough, circle the carts, hold weapons up and demand the gold. Lockler and the few other trainees, not friends for in this kinda life you quickly learn that there are no friends only work partners, would make games of seeing how much they could steal before the merchants were held up. Despite his occasional trips and fumbles Lockler remained at the head of his group. Life was good for the most part; his group was wealthy and his skills were ever improving. To Lockler there was nothing wrong with this life style, after all, they weren't hurting anyone.. only borrowing a few marks here and there from the few who had a little extra to spare. Over time he looked to the leader as a role model, a savior and even a god. Life continued easily until one day during a raid... These merchants seemed intent on keeping their cargo, they drew their blades as did the bandits. Quick as a flash the bandit leader ran up drawing his blade to the main merchants throat, and yet still the merchant refused to give up their cargo. Lockler peeked into the caravan and eyes widened as he saw heaps of jewels and gold, understanding why the merchants were putting up such a fight. The merchant ordered his family to hide inside the caravan and his wife and four kids hurried inside. As soon as they were safe the merchant made his move and ran toward to the bandit leader aiming his blade for hi heart. The merchant had taken four steps then he was met with the cold blade of the the bandit leader. Easily he swung around and jabbed his blade into the merchants back. Coughing up blood, the merchant fell to the ground and his weapon clattered on the rocks. One of the guards of the caravan leapt forward slashing at the leaders arm and instantly found himself next to the merchant, dead before he hit the dirt. The other merchants backed off realizing this was a fight they could never hope to win and they threw the gold and jewels down from their pockets begging to be spared. The bandit leader ordered his men to collect the gold. Lockler smiled glad to see this ordeal would come to the end and few would have to die but his smile quickly faded as he heard a sharp yell and the sick sound of blade rending flesh he quickly turned his gaze to see the leader pulling his blade out of the merchant. "WHY!!? Why did you do that? They surrendered!!!!" The bandit leader merely smirked at this ordering his bowmen to fire flaming arrows at the covered caravan. In a flash the caravan was ignited, the screams of the women and children echoed in the night. These cries haunt Lockler's dreams even still. Lockler looked around unable to believe what he was witnessing.. He was alright at first with the stealing as no innocents were being killed. But this? This needless death? The pointless killing? His very group were murders.. How did he not realize this? How had he been so stupid to not see this coming? With that he fled into the woods ignoring the screams from the other bandits to return and ignoring the arrows as the flew past trying to stop him from running. He ran far back to rymek, the city that had rejected him. He hid under the docks thinking, crying, afraid. "Why......Why, did they kill them?...They were..innocent" He wiped his tears and stood up. "I need... to get the hell out of here before they drag me down to this, or something" He walked around the city he had thought of many ways to help make up for what he has done and so far the only idea that could be done was to help out in the war, to fight the goblins protect the cities. Then one day when he is strong enough go, and fight the bandits to get revenge for those that were innocently slaughtered. All he needed was a way to start training.. He had heard from passing heroes talking (while lockler was taking their food) of Falcion a city where he could train learn to fight, and the art of stealth. All he needed now was a way to get the marks for the sloop. He scanned crowds looking for the most vunerable people around, ones who couldn't stop him from robbing a few marks. He quickly saw his targets, to mage bumping into everyone and everything looking lost and confused. Lockler carefully sneaked up "Which way brother" "The map says the sloop should be around here somewhere" "Let me see that map" At this point lockler crept up and start picking marks from the mages purses. "..Arclite....this map is upside down you idiot" "It is...oh! Well what would you know" ".......Idiot" "Hey it was a simple mistake! Anyone could have made i......HEY!" Tripping over a crack in the floor Lockler was jolted forward into the mage. The mage looked at him noticing the hand in his hand in his pack, he quickly chanted a small burn spell blasting the thief and chasing him around the city. "Hey!" Lockler dodges the fire "I wasn't doing anything!!!" "Like hell you weren't, you were trying to steal my gold, now burn!!" The mage answered while continuing to fire away A few moments later the mages magic ran out and grew tired from the chase, lockler also began to pant slowing down. Realizing he was getting nowhere he stopped running, and walked to the mage handed him 300 marks. "Here, sorry...take your coins" "Damn right your *pant* Sorry, sheesh you *pant* run fast" With that lockler chuckled and extended his hand "Lockler Davron" Raising his silver eyebrow slightly the mage shook his hand "Arclite, and my brother Morphious is somewhere around here" "So where you headed arclite?" "Falcion, im gonna train and become an arch-mage one day, you?" "Same if i can ever get some money" With that the mage tossed the stolen marks back to Lockler "I don't need them anyway" The next day the two boarded the sloop to nexus and after almost getting thrown off (Lockler had a little problem with one of the ogre passengers) they arrived on the island of Falcion. As they got off the sloop Arclite turned to Lockler "You ready? With a nod Lockler ran of through the gates carrying two sacks of gold. The mage smiled a moment before reading his name labeled on the second bag and quickly ran after the thief. Lope Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf OOC Note from the Gamemasters: Lope's player has requested that this history is NOT to go into the Library. His reasoning is understandable. He is willing to have it put on the Webpage as this is an ooc site and the knowledge should not be brought in game. "Wrong!" A loud hissing noise reverberated around the room moments before a thin yet sturdy staff slammed across the back of the young drow standing bare-chested in the room. A flash of pain echoed on his face for seconds before he regained his composure. Keeping silent he waited for the next question and inevitable beating he was to receive upon answering the question. "Wrong!" The rod flew through the air toward the young drow's abdomen. A loud cracking noise accompanied the dull thud this time as the hollow rod shattered. A small noise escaped the young man this time along with a slight hunching as the shards bit into the soft flesh of his belly. The face behind the rod contorted in anger at the lapse in control. Old and wrinkled the face still inspired fear into the adolescent with its slightest sign of displeasure. The old man could bring any amount of pain and torment to him for the slightest failure. The hunched old figure spun in a huff, and stormed over to a rack filled with a large assortment of weapons. His thin arms reached for a rod similar to the now broken one, except with thorns covering the majority of its length. "You will remain silent." * * The poor fool in front of him was not even aware that it was about to be his last day. A drow hunched over in the shadows behind him sat motionless. Breath slow and steady, garments held tightly about him. The lower half of his face covered with the ritual cloth proclaiming his profession. One of his arms was held wrapped around the waist, and gripping something hidden in the back of his shirt. After watching the target make its rounds five times. The figure was certain he had the guards patterns memorized. So he was patient, waiting for the time he had determined most opportune for the task. At the right moment, he uncoiled like a taut spring, and entangled the guard. Whispering the words, "House Elghinnin delivers its vengeance" into the man's ear, he drew a thin, flat, narrow blade from his back sheath and stabbed between two vertebrae, severing the spinal cord. The body crumpled lifeless to the floor, a small amount of blood soaked up by the uniform. Silently, the figure slipped away into the shadows, up to the rooftops, and across the city to report the success of his mission. * * "The current Hand of our house is getting old and feeble. The matriarch is starting to think along lines of acquiring a new member to replace this one should something happen to him in the near future." The royalty garbed figure paused for a moment to run his finger along silver runes etched into the dark-wood table. "There are not many that could fill in this position. Only a handful have been serving the house long enough to be trusted to be placed in such a trusted position." The young drow shifted his weight slightly and frowned. Knowing too well what would happen to him if the wrong Master Assassin were chosen to become the Hand. With the prince's back turned, the drow slowly fingered a scar that ran from the bottom of his ear to the tip of his chin, and grimaced. Could be very bad indeed if the wrong drow was chosen. "I'm sure you know which I would rather have be chosen. And I think this is one situation where you and I have the same goal." Walking closer to the charcoal garbed young man, the prince lowered his voice to a near whisper. "In your next training, coat the tip of your blade with this poison. Be wary! A mere scratch will be fatal, and there is no antidote. I'm sure you will know how to handle yourself do to your training." Looking into the red eyes of the adolescent before him, the prince nodded in satisfaction and quickly hurried from the room. Holding the small ceramic flask between his thumb and forefinger, the young man stared vacantly at it, plans already forming in his head. * * Deftly jumping to the left, the young man narrowly missed a pair of shuriken that had been sent toward his head. Rolling out of his tumble he darted forward for a stab at the outstretched arm of his opponent. He stumbled slightly as he missed a solid blow and merely scratched the underarm. Spinning on the ball of his foot to face the foe again, he shifted his weight. A moment of assessing the enemy passed as each combatant tried to judge the other's status. In mere seconds it was over, and the older man made a lunge at the younger. Finally seeing the opportunity to bring his plans to fruition, the adolescent stepped aside just enough to disperse the full energy of the impact and to not be wounded badly by the others blade. Pinned to the ground, he felt the dagger start to slowly work its way to his neck. Desperately he groped about for the secret pocket sewn into his pants for the vial of poison. With a flood of relief, his fingers closed about it and withdrew the small container. Pushing with all his might, the young man rolled the older man off. Leaping up to gain the advantage, the teen stealthily ran the edge of the vial over his enemy's blade. Here, he realized, started the true fight. Wrestling with each other, both men tried to cut the other with the blade, only one realizing the finality of the struggle. * * Looking down over the body of his teacher, the young man wiped sweat from his face and chest. He then placed the vial in the opposite hand of the dead body. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he ran threw a shirt about himself and ran for another teacher. Whispering softly in the first one found, he led them back to the training room. "I just sliced him with his dagger as we wrestled for control. It shouldn't have killed him." Bending over the body, the teacher examined the wound and blade, and then eyed the student skeptically. "It was poisoned. The vial there in his hand is probably what it was kept in. I will inform the matriarch." * * "You're being sent out on a mission. The heads of our house have decided that you are to be our Hand for an important mission. We do not know how long this will take, or where it will take you. You will be given information before you leave and directions on where you are to go. "We are certain that with the training you have received here you will be able to survive. This is your first target outside of our world. You must think on your feet and be open to every opening you have to take out the target." The Hand looked down at the young man and crossed his arms. After narrowing his eyes, he nodded slowly and dismissed the teenager from the office. Muggetha Class: ThiefRace: Human An elven man laughs merrily as he yells to the bartender, "Give me 'nutha drink." He was there celebrating his best friend's wedding and was carousing with some friends. They laughed and told jokes for nearly six hours until they decided to leave. He crept outside the tavern swaying back and forth grinning from ear to ear, "This is t-the best I've felt in years," he said with a hiccup. Everything was wavy and swaying in his vision and he came upon a human woman. They smiled at each other and gave each other their names. The woman introduced herself as, "I am known as Miriadi, the human commoner of Syramin," and the man responded, "I am known as Mukirlo, the elven lord of Wiythinil." At this the woman curtsied to the man until he said, "A-arise young lady, I need no formal attitude," he said with a woozy face. The lady seeing his drunken figure invited him back to her place; "Really?" he asked, "I would love to." They set off over hills and through forests towards the ladies house, this was all a dream to Mukirlo, for he fell unconscious over the third hill and the lady carried him back. The morning sun glistened upon Mukirlo's face as he opened his eyes yawning. Miriadi entered the room carrying buttered rolls and fresh eggs. Mukirlo smiled at her and asked, "Are these for me?" She nodded compulsively. His smile broadened and said, "Sit down, and let's share." At this request she sat at the edge of the bed and he beckoned her nearer him and she slowly moved up the bed. When she got close enough to Mukirlo's liking he took a strawberry from the plate and attempted to feed it to her; acting upon impulse she backed away with a curious look. He just smiled and said, "I won't hurt you my dear, no need to fear." And again she inched closer to him minute by minute and ate the strawberry he was dangling in a seductive manner. She smiled at this accomplishment and kissed Mukirlo. Befuddled by her sudden act he returned the favor. She slowly crept into the bed removing his clothes. A few hours later she awoke from a blissful dream staring Mukirlo in the eyes. She smiled and laid her head upon his chest as she gently poked and fingered his chest. Mukirlo was puffing on a pipe watching her with great interest. She asked, "Was that to your liking?" Mukirlo nodded. (For the next few months, arguing was natural between the two, and they seemed to never have a day without an argument, and it looks as if the fire that was once in their relationship has diminished from its final flicker.) In another one of their arguments Miriadi burst forth "Thanks to all that beautiful love making," she exclaimed sarcastically, "I'm carrying your child." Mukirlo's loathing expression vanished and was enticed into a look of hatred as she grinned. "You knew this would happen you…you..!" he exclaimed, but couldn't finish his sentence. She was beginning to cry; she pointed to the door and said, "Leave." Mukirlo grabbed his belonging ands headed out the door without a word. He walked six long fathomless hills till he met another person. Mukirlo came across an old human dotard trotting lazily on his horse. The man stopped the horse and dismounted. He walked to Mukirlo and begged for a few marks. Mukirlo eyed the man, but flipped him a few mar ks. "Oh thank you oh honorable elf, thank you," said the man. Mukirlo merely shrugged and continued to walk forward. The man called from behind, "Is there something you wish to know or see young man? For I can predict the future with outstanding accuracy." The elf looked at the man and said, "Alright." The elf noticing that he was bleeding at the feet knew he needed a rest anyway, but might as well have company while he rests. The man deep in meditation a few minutes later groaned out a few in illegible, "Death…son…thief…" Mukirlo stared blankly as the man's head dropped into his hands. The old man began to cough in spontaneous manners. Mukirlo walked over and kneeled down before the man grabbing his shoulder, "Are you alright?" he asked questioningly. The man just kept coughing compulsively. Day was coming to an end, and Mukirlo would not allow himself to desert this man. He searched the area for pieces of bark. He scrounged up a few pieces of rotten wood, and dumped them into a pile and began to rub them together. A few minutes later he had a large fire going and crept over to the still-coughing man. He grabbed him underneath his arms and slowly dragged him nearer the fire. Mukirlo then took a rag from his satchel and dumped it in cold water and placed it over the man's forehead. He grabbed his cup and filled it with water and placed it over the now roaring fire. Moments later the old man screams out, "What's going on!?, What's happening and where am I?!" Mukirlo nodded to the man and began answering his questions, "I am taking care of you for I noticed you have a terrible cough, and you are on the path towards Kolithin." The man nodded and sighed in relief, "Thank you sir, I have come down with a serious sickness of some sort, I begin to cough convulsively and cannot stop. I forget my entire whereabouts and just seem to black out, I am sorry for burdening you with my care and my problems, If you wish I shall go." Mukirlo shook his head irritably, "No you shall stay. I shall see to it that you are pampered throughout the night." The man nodded and began to drink from the cup of warm water. Mukirlo then had an idea, "You know when you gave my prediction of the future to come, what is it that will happen? Who will die? And what does my life have to concern with thy son's?" The old man sighed and said, "I am sorry I do not know any of the sort, when I read I also forget everything, for it takes a lot of concentration and understanding to preach these doings, I am truly sorry." Mukirlo sighed and nodded. He took the quail off of the fire and fed some of it to the man. Later that night as Mukirlo lay awake dazing at the stars, he couldn't help but question the reliability of the old man's words. Eight months later Mukirlo lies awake dazing at the stars from his hut still wondering what the man meant, "When will this happen? And what of my son?" A few moments later there was a knock at his doorstep and the faint sound of a cry. He ran to the door pulling on his breeches, "Who's there he called from behind the door?" but there was no answer, so he opened the door and look around: no one was out there, then there was a cry from below his vision. He looked down and there on his doorstep was a child. The child was a boy, and the man cried tears of joy. A woman came from behind him and rubbed her eyes, "What's wrong Mukirlo?" she asked. "Nothing is wrong, we are blessed with a baby boy my dear Quino." Quino ran to his side and began to cry along with him as she pressed the boy to her chest, "What shall we call him Mukirlo?" she asked. "We shall call him Muggetha," Mukirlo responded. "But what if the humans do not understand the meaning of his name?" she asked. "Then they shall not understand, he is known as Muggetha to us in elven, but common shall him Malcolm if they wish." She nodded and began to sway with the child in her arms soothing his cries. **** A young half-elven child scurries through the house as his elven father chases after him. "Bring me daddy's tool Muggetha," his father called as he hid in a cabinet. Muggetha ran by and his father pounced on him chuckling heartily as the child tried to wrench himself free of his grasp. A young human woman entered the room smiling. She placed her hands on her hips after wiping them on her apron and exclaimed, "Get him Muggetha!" As the elven man looked up he was jabbed roughly in the jaw by the eccentric child. He laughed and pried the hammer from the child's hand. He got to his feet and turned to the still-smiling woman and declared, "I believe it's time we wed, don't you agree?" The woman withdrew her hands from her hips and charged the man embracing him in a hug. He slipped a mithril-studded ring upon finger and kissed her. He kissed her for a long time and would of kept kissing her were it not for Muggetha's interruption, "Yucky! Smooch Smooch!!" he screamed. They laughed and turned to the boy looking at his face; they laughed harder and proceeded towards the child with outstretched hands muttering, "Smooch." The child ran from them for close to an hour screaming nothing but "Ewe! Smooch! Ewe!" "Ah Muggetha it is time to go to sleep," the lady said. "Indeed it is Quino, Muggetha say goodnight to mother," said Mukirlo. Muggetha ran to Quino and hugged her yelling, "Goodnight mommy." She smiled and nodded, "Do you want me to tuck you in?" "No!" yelled Muggetha, "I am a big man, I don't need to be tucked in." Quino giggled and nodded, "Alright then, goodnight." Muggetha ran to his room and fell asleep. Every few moments Quino would go and check on him. "What is wrong Quino?" asked Mukirlo. "Nothing is wrong, it's just I care about him a lot." Mukirlo just nodded slowly. Quino and Mukirlo were happily married and Quino felt as if Muggetha were borne to herself for there would never be a moment where she would not of enjoyed the company of Muggetha and Muggetha the same. During the next six years Muggetha ran around the house with nothing to do, "Mommy why can't I go play with the other children?" He would ask. "I do not want my child becoming a hoodlum out there, you shall stay and keep your mother company," would always be her answer. **** Muggetha turns toward his father, "Why are we leaving mother?" His father glanced toward the rising sun and then to the forest that separates them from his mother, "It is time that we leave her son," he grabbed his shoulder with a paternal grip, "You are currently nine years old, and you have never experienced anything outside of the cottage. Your mother was going to bind you to her till the day she died. I wish to open up your opportunities." Muggetha was barely paying attention for he was shedding tears. His father released his shoulder and slung his pack over his shoulder. "Are you ready?" he asked. Muggetha nodded as he grabbed his pack. They wandered through the woods till dusk. Muggetha threw his pack at a tree stump and laid down on the pack. "Ugh father…how much longer must we travel?" Muggetha asked as he fought to stay awake. A few more days, tops" replied his father as he attempted to light some wood on fire. On and on the routine went, day after day until finally they approached the outskirts of a barren farm field. Muggetha was almost asleep as he stumbled awake, "…Father!! Look it's a house!" His father chuckled and nodded, "Yes, now the journey is almost over, let us pray they shall provide us with food and shelter for the passing night." They strode merrily through the field talking about what they hoped to expect. Finally they arrived at this farmhouse. The house looked grungy and beat up with little signs of occupants. His father approached the oaken door and shuddered compulsively as a blood-curdling scream emanated from the house. He tore into the house searching for the whereabouts of the scream. Muggetha followed him in and saw his father rear back in fear. "What is it?" he asked. His father stuttered in response, "G-get out of h-h-here n-n-n-now," he whispered viciously. Muggetha ran out of the house and down an adjacent path. As he ran he heard his father's cry for help. He halted and turned around crying. He wiped his tears, took a deep breath, and returned to running. "What could I of do?! What if he's still alive?" All sorts of questions went through his mind. He glanced back and there was a large amount of smoke coming from the house's direction. He paused and then walked to the stream that also flowed in his direction and sipped some of the water as he mourned. After a few moments of silence he heard a scream for help. He peered through the corn stalks anxiously. It was a darkened skin half-elf by the looks of it. Muggetha hissed, "Over here!" The boy stopped abruptly and eyed the stalk, "W-Who's there?" he asked. Muggetha elevated his head above the stalk and motioned for the boy to come here. The boy dove in silently and joined Muggetha as he walked back down to the stream. "What's wrong?" Muggetha asked the kid, "I just saw a person slaughtered by this beast." Muggetha turned to the kid with a stunned expression, "What did you say?" the kid began to cry, "I saw a dwarven child clawed to death by this cloaked beast! I was walking down the path I just came from and looked to the west and there in this field was it! It was hovered over the dwarven body. The beard wasn't too long so I assumed it was a child." The kid halted his weeping and looked at Muggetha, "Why do you lie so deep in the stalks? You look as shooken as I am." Muggetha startled by the questioning sputtered forth reluctantly, "Nothing, I merely wished to quench my thirst." The boy noticed his spastic twitched and shrugged. "Alright, there is a town ahead called Wiythinil where we will head. Please follow me. Oh! Excuse my manners. I am known as Jovian, and yourself? What are you called by?" Muggetha shrugged and said, "I am called Muggetha." Jovian eyed Muggetha and then shrugged innocently, "Let's head out." They set off at a fast pace, but that slowly diminished. They reached Wiythinil at a quarter to midnight. Jovian was smiling and said, "Here's my home city." Muggetha nodded and turned to Jovian with a suspicious look, "Why are you so joyful after witnessing an innocent dwarf mauled to death?" Jovian was taken aback at this accusation, but nodded, "This kind of thing has been happening for a few years now. I personally have witnessed four attacks." Muggetha just nodded slowly lost in thought. Jovian motioned towards all the signs: Boxc's Shoe-making, Whipler's Tavern, and Scorn's Blacksmithing. Muggetha sat in awe watching every sign as he passed. They continued walking through the market and Jovian pointed to a building with a crystal orb on the sign labeled "Seer" and commented: "This woman claims she can see into the future and give you predictions or advice, but the whole town believes she is just a hoax." Muggetha stared at the sign even till he was well down the road. Jovian brightened up as he saw a run-down cottage over the hill, "That's our house." Jovian exclaimed. Muggetha peered down the path and asked anxiously, "Who's out?" "My family of course," Jovian chuckled and began to run, "Come on!" he called back to Muggetha. Muggetha just sighed heavily and trotted after him. A few minutes later Muggetha arrived and watched as Jovian was greeted by a shaggy looking human and a well-dressed elven woman. The woman embraced the child with a worried look of joy upon her face, "Where have you been?" she exclaimed frantically. "I was walking home from the pond and I saw the best and this…"began Jovian, but the woman interrupted, "Oh no! Is my baby alright?" "Yes mother I am fine," said Jovian, "but…I came across this other kid. His name is Muggetha, he's right there." At this Muggetha turned around to meet the cold stare from his mother, "What is it you are doing in these parts?" she asked. "My father was killed by this beast on our way here, and I don't know…" Muggetha said, but couldn't finish; he began to cry. The woman gave him a compassionate stare and walked over to him also embracing him, "It is alright son, everything will be fine. You can stay with us until things get worked out." Muggetha looked into her eyes and began to cry more, "Thank you," he sniffled. For the next few years Jovian and Muggetha were sent to training camps. They were pushed and pushed towards excellence and Muggetha became like family to them all. They all treated him as one of them and there was no exclusion from activities. Muggetha stayed with Jovian's family for quite a few years, but he finally wished to leave, and fulfill the dream of his father. At this Jovian was stunned, but the family understood and sent him with parcels of food and clothing for his journey. Before Muggetha left town he went to the seer and requested her to predict his future. The seer was greatly impressed, "You have a bright and talented future, I cannot tell exactly which profession you shall take part in, but allow me to tell you that you must be meticulous and wait…you wished to know of your future correct?" Muggetha nodded. "In your future you shall visit our cemetery and once in there you shall find what you look for," she finished, but right before Muggetha could hand her the gold she went into a trance and kept moving about screaming, "Where the lantern lies an evil lurks..." over and over again she said this until Muggetha grew weary of trying to sustain her he placed the marks on her table and left. All that night he thought of visiting the cemetery, but decided that tomorrow night he shall venture within. ***** A dark figure creeps flawlessly through the shadows of a putrid graveyard. The character halts to a stop as if frozen in time. A notorious chant emanates around him, never in the same place. The hiss was barely audible, "...ss over here...hahaheh...assassin...worthless." The shadow glanced around meticulously as he fearfully rotated his head. He eyed every inch of the desolate location with a paranoid facial expression. He involuntarily clenched and opened his fists. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He quickly wiped it off. With another glance around he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and leaped to a tombstone. He drew a dagger from his ankle sheath. He peered around the corner of the tombstone: A lantern lit with a blue flame sat in the middle of the graveyard. "Where the lantern lies an evil lurks..." flowed through his mind over and over again. He paused and took a deep breath. He emerged from the shadows. There was a mysterious figure standing behind the lantern, "Come here bastard elf, now" demanded the voice. The man trudged closer and closer to the figure till he was a few feet away. He picked the lantern up and threw it behind the figure. The figure flinched as a dark blue circle enveloped him and the man. The man still clenching the dagger tore off the cloak only to reveal he was dressed entirely in black. He roared out, "I am Muggetha de Van Fres Lorkenal and I shall damn thee to the pits of Tilnar's realm for the murder of thy father. May the gods shine pity on your darkened soul!" Muggetha leaped to a branch and then to another and then he stealthily concealed himself into the tree above him. The figure on the ground strutted to the flaming edge of the circle and attempted to step over the flames. The flames magically leapt up and became more ferocious and thick. The figures cape caught on fire as he withdrew his leg from the searing heat. He removed his cape. Muggetha almost fell from the trees. The figure appeared to be a scaled minotaur. The beast below began chanting and two huge balls of flames seemed to be conjured about his head. With a quick word they raced toward the tree. The tree instantaneously began to burn and smoke was emanating from every branch. Muggetha fought to breath and maintain his composure. He cut off a piece of his leotards and strapped it around his nose and mouth. Seeing his present dilemma, Muggetha leaped out of the tree swinging and slicing viciously. The dagger did much damage leaving deep gashes in the beasts stone like skin. The beast countered his second attack with a vicious clawing backhand to Muggetha's face. He was thrown immediately to the far end of the circle. He wiped his cheek and groaned in pain. Sniffing the air he picked up on the indefinite aroma of poison. He looked to his arm and saw the mixture of blood and green liquid. He spontaneously ripped at his skin trying to remove the poison. The beast chuckled and walked towards him. Muggetha seeing his chance leaped into the trees and dove at the back of the minotaur with his dagger extended. The tip plunged into his skin and was followed by the handle of the dagger as the sound of flesh ripping shrieked through the graveyard. He twisted and turned the dagger as the minotaur yelped and howled in pain. Muggetha let go of the dagger and stumbled back. The beast tripped and fell into the flames as it attempted to remove the dagger. Muggetha fell forward and clutched his head. The poison was setting in and then...black. ***** "Wake up!" yelled a mysterious voice. Muggetha rubbed his eyes and looked up into the eyes of this man. He jumped back in fear, "Who, who are you?" he asked and the man responded, "I am doctor Pholin, and we are in the Refhig clinic." Muggetha sighed and nodded. "What's happened me?" he asked. "Well we found you walking down the path to our city. You barely seemed to be living it looked to be," the doctor responded. "What? I was walking down the road?" asked Muggetha as the man nodded. "Indeed you were son, and we found a large amount of poison in your system, it took a lot of anti-venoms to restore you to health." "Thank you said Muggetha, but now how far am I from Wiythinil? That's where I was poisoned." The doctor stared at him, "Wiythinil? That's about a six days walk from here." They each exchanged worried looks until Muggetha said, "Alright then, thank you, and now how long shall I have to stay in the confinement of this clinic?" "You are free to leave if you wish, we have patched up the wound upon your right cheek there" as Muggetha rubbed it he finished, "but there will be deep scarring from the appearance of it." "Well I shall be off then. Are my clothes around?" Muggetha asked and the doctor nodded picking up his black cloak he handed it to Muggetha. Muggetha nodded pulling the cloak over him. Muggetha walked to the door and bowed, "Thanks again doctor, hopefully I wont have to see you soon." The doctor nodded and waved. Outside the clinic Muggetha looked around eying all the merry people walking around him, "What am I to do now, I have no place to stay and no means of earning gold," he thought. A few nights go by as Muggetha lives on the street feeding off of stolen food until one night he gives in to the temptation of thievery: "We all need to live," he thought and just at that very moment an old lady strode by with her purse at her side. "What's an old lady to me," he thought as he crept up behind her, "Well I can just rip the purse from her clutches and run, she can't catch me." At that point he had made up his mind to steal it and run. "One, two, three," he said silently to himself. He lunged at the purse and ripped it from the ladies hands and began to run, "Thief! Thief! Guards Thief!" he heard yelling from behind him. Muggetha kept leaping forward grinning, "Easy money," he thought, "Easy money." A few moments later two guards leaped from behind the buildings in front of him clutching him underneath the arms. Muggetha scrambled attempting to free himself. "Let go," he yelled. The guards just chuckled and began to walk in the direction Muggetha was coming from. "Where are you taking me?" he yelled again. The guards beginning to get irritated yelled, "You are going to jail for the crime of theft." At this Muggetha hung limp in their arms and just seemed to be thinking elsewhere. A few days later Muggetha was sent off to the jail of Refhig. The jail was so far away from the city of Refhig they sent him in a wagon bound to two guardsmen. A few hours later the guardsmen in control of the wagon called back to the others, "We have a few hoodlums up ahead on the road, I may need assistance." At this the guards tied Muggetha up with a rope and left the compartment. A few minutes later a hooded man came to the back and cut Muggetha's rope. He growled and pointed to the adjacent path leading to the waters, "Go there now. Do not come back, there your life shall start." Muggetha just sat perplexed staring at the man until the man hit Muggetha did he come to comprehend what was said, "Alright, I shall, thank you." Muggetha ran from the wagon and down the path looking back every few feet. It was a long run, but Muggetha seemed to not care for nothing could stop him; he was invigorated by the gods. He came to a pair of huge gates and read the lettering of "City of Apprenticeship." At this he walked in the gates amazed at what he saw.. Natalya Class: ThiefRace: Elf Not much is known about Natalya's early childhood. She was taken in off of the streets by an assassin's wife, Farea. As far back as Natalya can remember, she had seen blood, and learned the ways of a cutthroat. Her father always took her on simple tasks, from burglary, and kidnapping, to assassinating, or blatant murder, never actually taking part, but always watching. Cion never spoke of his work to Farea, and Natalya knew never to let her mother know of her father's activities. He did what he did in his love for Farea, as he knew no other skills. As far as Natalya knew Farea lived in the dark knowing what Cion actually did for a living. When Natalya turned thirteen, she finally came to a point where she could assist her father in his antics, and soon after that, was being hired by people in Ontence to do some dirty work. Cion expressed his pride for Natalya to her, always, and she was content, knowing her father was proud. One night, with a full moon, Natalya and Cion came home from a simple burglary, only to find her mother dead, with a note penned in blood on the table: "My wife has died by your hand, the time has long past that you reap what you've sown." the signature BC. Cion had no idea he was hired to slay Bicknell's wife, when he was paid to kill what he thought to be a common harlot. She was, just that.. a harlot and Bicknell must have been oblivious, as he spent his time and money closing down brothels. Cion and Natalya left Ontence, one day to return and avenge Farea's assassination. Luckily departing every town before a hoarde pillaging. The two hopped from village to town to village, taking in small jobs, to earn enough gold to travel to the next town. Finally arriving in a seafaring town of High Port, Cion and Natalya stumbled upon a bar The Seagull and Mug. After asking the bartender if he knew of any devious jobs, he pointed to a shady man in the corner. Cion approached the man in the corner, Natalya following close behind. After asking the man for work, he just gave a slight chuckle and motioned for the two to sit down. After hours of talking, the shady man, Horazim, made a proposal to the two, and without hesitation, accepted. Now as new members of Shadelords, they were shown the areas frequented with other clansmen. Returning to the Seagull and Mug, they were shown to the back of the bar where all the clansmembers are to turn in their payments from tasks. When in the main office, Horazim explained the laws of Shadelords, members of above all, no betrayal or death. It had been almost a year since Natalya and her father, Cion, had been part of Shadelords. Horazim had congregated all the members one evening, explaining that a rich woman had offered her entire fortune, her home and property to slay a clan of goblins, who had pillaged a nearby town, killing her son, daughter-in-law and her three grandchildren. He didn't want to take the job without every members consent, but urged us all to vote yes. Under the leader's influence, all agreed and they spent the next two days packing for their journey. Horazim approached Natalya explaining that it would be very dangerous and to make sure to use caution in everything she did, as he wanted zero to minimal losses. The Clan of the Red Hammer was well known in the area for their plundering. Two days later the Shadelords had set out to annihilate the Red Hammer Clan. After seven months of travel the clan had followed the Red Hammer's trail of pillaged towns, they came across the City of all Races. Natalya was confronted by Cion and Horazim, as she was asked to stay behind in this city, due to her seemingly always putting the group in danger. Her only choice was to agree, as they said they would come to get her when the task was complete. She awaits for her comrades to return so she may return to High Port, and be one with the Shadelords again. Documented by Alendar Ripp Class: ThiefRace: Orc Ripp was standing in the shadows of the place that the Nexus-heroes called the campfire. He was well hidden, and he was waiting very patiently . He was holding the tooth of a creature called the Gar, this tooth worked very well as a weapon. He heard some noises and he saw a small figure walking towards him. The creature stood almost next to him, and he could easily see that it was one of the goblin ground troops, a soldier. It did not smell very good but Ripp was used to foul smelling beasts ... thinking of it he was practically one. He waited until the creature stood next to him and then he looked inside the Goblin's pockets. There he saw a rather nice ruby glinting. Fast as a snake he stuck his hand inside the Goblin's pocket and seized the ruby. He then left the "campfire" and started walking towards Nexus whistling a nice tune. His mother had been a extremely bad paid Orcish prostitute, after all she had been an orc and her most "guests" were orcs (and sometimes a very odd human). One night she had been raped by an Orcish sailor from Rymek. As a souvenir from that night Ripp was born. His mother hated him and used to beat him. As he turned seven she was strangled by a drunk "Guest". Ripp was really sad ... for about ten minutes. He had joined a gang of thieves and street urchins, They stole from old ladies and from empty stores at night. The gang took good care of Ripp and with their help he survived. One night he and two other friends were standing in an alley, waiting for somebody to steal from. After about ten minutes they saw an old man walking through the alley. The man was dressed in a long robe, and was holding a staff. One of Ripp's friends walked towards the man and tried to take the man's purse, but the man suddenly moved fast as a snake and hit Ripp's friend over the chin with his staff. Another of the street urchins was holding a knife, he raised it to throw at the old man. The old man raised his arms and chanted with a powerful voice: "Thy flesh ignites with magical flame". In a matter of seconds Ripp's two best friends were burning with large flames licking their bodies. Ripp fell down to his knees and started to sob. The old man looked at the two burning corpses with a smile and turned towards Ripp. "What is your name, you useless pile of excrement!?" the man asked. "My name is Ripp sir." said Ripp. "Ripp ... I will give you two choices. One : I will turn you into an inferno of burning flame until you plead with me to kill you ... or" "Or what?!" said Ripp in a terrified voice. "Or you will go to Falcion. And learn how to become a real thief," said the man. Ripp nodded and almost fainted with fear. He looked at the man and said : "Excuse me sir what is your name?" The man looked at Ripp and said: "The name is Darkiln." After that Ripp went home and packed his things (the wizard Darkiln still standing beside him with his staff pointed at him.) Darkiln walked with him to Falcion (the whole journey with the staff pointed at Ripp's back) And left him there ... There Ripp began his training and met new friends. He became quite skilled in stealing and lurking in the shadows. One day he heard that Darkiln had been executed for the murder of Nexus guardsmen. And to Ripp's surprise he felt sad. Salvin Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf Sitting on the edge of his bed, Salvin turned his newly finished carving over in his hand. This small wooden spider was third in his collection of carvings. He nodded with approval at his newest creation and lay his knife on the table near his bed. Satisfied with his work, he stood and approached the shelf where his other two wooden creations sat. He smiled slightly as he placed the spider between the gnarled hand and the small rat. A few footfalls outside his door drew his attention. He quickly picked up his knife and ran quietly over to the door. Opening the door slightly revealed only an empty hallway. Deciding to find out who was up at such a late hour, he started off in the direction of the footsteps. He peeked around a corner and could see a dwarf toting a large bag. Salvin yelled at the dwarf in Common, "You there! What do you have in that bag?" The dwarf nearly jumped out of his shirt and Salvin was on him before he had time to drop the bag and run. Salvin drew his blade and pressed the point into the would-be thief's neck just enough to start a trickle of blood. "You must be new at this. I could hear your footsteps from within my room with the door closed. If you weren't going to die in a few moments I would suggest refining those skills." The dwarf only shook and stared back at Salvin. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would come out. "I suppose you are going to try to explain yourself," Salvin stated after noting the fear in his eyes. "I ... I ... I was o ... only taking back what you st ... stole from my family." The dwarf continued to shake slightly but didn't move enough to place the knife any deeper into his throat. Salvin glared. "So you are both a thief and a liar, eh? These items are ours." The dwarf closed his eyes and accepted his fate. He would not live to see his family's valuables returned to his home. "Intruders in our House are dealt with swiftly," he continued. "I will be greatly rewarded for dispatching you and returning your ... our treasures to where they belong." With one slight hand movement, the dwarf lay dead at Salvin's feet. Turning to the wall, he took a broadsword from where it hung. He sneered at the dwarf and mumbled in Drowish, "Your family will learn from your mistake. I will make sure they do not attempt this again." In one swing the head was severed from the lifeless body. Hearing footsteps behind him, Salvin quickly spun around to see his older brother approaching. "Excellent work, Salvin," Merran said sarcastically. "This is the perfect opportunity to get rid of you, seeing as how you've been plotting to murder me when you had the chance." He only grinned and added, "I will just tell them that I was too late to save you from the dwarf, but was able ..." Before he could finish, Salvin had tackled him to the ground with a dagger at his throat. "But you won't be able to tell them with no tongue, now will you?" Salvin gave Merran a wicked grin only to be caught off guard when Merran tossed him to the side with ease. Scrambling to his feet, Salvin readied himself for the fight. Merran dove for Salvin's legs and knocked him to the floor. Within moments, Salvin was staring down a dagger with his brother pinning him to the floor. "I think I'll have a little fun before I finish you off." With that Merran cut a path of blood framing Salvin's left eye. He tried not to struggle knowing that he needed to wait for the right change in his brother's weight to gain the upper hand. Just as the thought finished passing through his mind, his opportunity came. Merran pulled back just enough for Salvin to toss him to the side and climb to his feet. With Merran still reeling from the tumble, Salvin grabbed the broadsword he had lost during the struggle and whirled around, nearly slicing Merran in two. With the battle won, Salvin spat on his brother's corpse and threw down the blade. He then retrieved the head of the dwarf and returned to his room, leaving someone else to deal with the bloody mess. He had another carving to work on. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Salvin, now elderboy of House Malyrr, set off a few days later to return the severed head to the dwarf's family. His Matron was pleased to find out that he had taken care of the thieving dwarf that had murdered his brother. Now he was off to make sure they never returned to cause more trouble. As he had recently visited the dwarven home not too long ago to steal the items the deceased dwarf was attempting to recover, he knew the way fairly well. While approaching their home, he noticed quite a bustle in and around the house. Salvin thought to himself, "Leaving so soon?" He only chuckled and looked down at the sack that contained the carved up head of their kin. "They'll be so happy to have him back. Perhaps they could even take him along." He snickered softly and continued quietly approaching their home in the blanket of shadows. Upon reaching a good hearing distance he could hear many crying. "I tried to convince him not to go," one woman sobbed, tears streaming down into her beard A man next to her stroked her cheek and replied, "Once we reach the City of All Races we can be done with these horrid Drow. I've heard that only those pure of heart and ready to defend the city at any cost are allowed in ... even the Drow." He offered her a smile and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now, let's finish packing." Salvin nearly gave himself away laughing but no one seemed to notice with all the noise. "Pure of heart?" he thought to himself, still laughing quietly. He quickly made his way around behind their cart and tossed the sack he was carrying inside. He left so quickly that he didn't have time to see the expression on their faces when they noticed the disembodied head. He had to get home to pack some things as well. House Malyrr had been declining ever since the Matron had taken ill. His oldest sister was not smart enough to take over and he knew that they would fall as soon as another lower House got the ambition. This was his chance to leave them behind and go exploit an entire city of surface dwellers. Durrin Class: ThiefRace: Human The Orcish Whipmaster wiped the sweat from his hands - he was nervous, and had good reason to be. Already several hours behind schedule, he would be the one feeling the whip if he did not hurry to make up lost time. *** Her dark grey skin helping her to blend in with the shadows around her, she moved through the night undetected. Keeping the caravan in sight, she slipped through the forest alongside the road, gaining ground and remaining undetected. After another hour of stealthy pursuit, she was finally upon it. *** The caravan came to halt, though just for a moment. The Whipmaster turned, sure he had heard something. His mind focused on his deadline, however, he quickly dismissed the sound as a product of the winter winds, and urged the caravan on. *** Walking quietly into the kitchen, she first noticed the table. Set for two, as always since father died, and it looked as though someone had been expecting company for some time now. The sound of a door closing brought her attention back to the doorway, in which stood her mother, a look of disappointment on her face. "I feared for your saftey Sarina, I sent you to buy us food nearly-" "I'm sorry mother... it took a little longer than I thought." Dropping her backpack on a chair by the table, the young half-drow girl produced many items wrapped in thin cloth and bound with hemp string. A smile crosses her mother's face as she unties the items, and realizes they'll have food this night. Sarina carefully hid the money her mother had given her to buy food with - what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. *** Due to it's remote location and small size, Laebryn lived in peace, its existence unknown to the Hoarde. One thing that did reach Laebryn, however, was word of Nexus, and its struggle. Though they couldn't spare many, the elders decided to send someone to aid in the fight. *** "Sith'lin wait up!", Sarina yelled as she ran across the field. She was upon him in no time, her feet carrying her fast as lightning. "Hey there Sarina," replied Sith'lin. "I couldn't find you earlier so I told your mother to tell you bye for me" Sarina arches an eyebrow, "It'd have to be you to go looking for danger when it's so quiet at home..." Sith'lin glanced around at the all too quiet landscape, "At least this gives me something to do, I'll be back - I promise. Aluve' Sarina" After a kiss on the cheek, she watched as her childhood friend left their quiet home in search of danger and excitement. At first she was upset, but that feeling soon turned to envy - it was rather boring at home. *** Sith'lin was only gone for a month when our scouts found them. Goblins. Hundreds of them. Word was sent to Sith'lin to return home. Using the training he'd undergone in Falcion, he slipped past the Goblin War Camp easily, and sought me out immediately. "You have to go in my place Sarina", he told me. "This is merely a battle, and will be over soon, but Nexus fights a war. Nexus fights for far more than the city itself, it fights to defend all of Altin, and cannot be abandoned." "Go to the city of Falcion, find the one named Kragesh. He oversees the training of the apprentices bound for Nexus. Next you must seek out the House of Shadows, and join it's ranks. I will return shortly to fight alongside you once again. Scared and alone, I headed out to Nexus, trusting in Sith'lin's judgement that this was the best course of action. *** The location of Falcion would elude me for some time to come. I wandered upon the city of Rymek, and spent many days there hidden in the shadows, gathering what information I could. It was then I found the information I'd been looking for - one seeking training there could book passage to Falcion directly from Rymek for a mere 100 gold marks. I had five marks to my name. I spent a few more days stealing from merchants and fishermen, and though I did not like what I was doing, I had no choice, and had always been good at it. Ninety-five marks later, I was aboard the transport sloop, bound for Falcion. *** Keeping to myself, thinking mostly of Laebryn, I trained alone at first as I usually had back home. I found out fast, however, that there was strength in numbers. Alongside many other apprentices, and under the watchful eye of Kragesh, I achieved the rank of fourth tier. Feeling I was ready to join its ranks, I sought out the House of Shadows. I was interviewed and approved by the Elven Nightblade Elayna, who told me of the horrible past endured by the House, and the actions taken to bring it back to good standings. I trained alongside those from other guilds as well, striving to better myself that I might aid the cause against the Hoarde. *** Hunting Giant Crabs one day under the Icewine River Bridge, I finally recieved news from Laebryn. I snuck up behind the crab, ready to land the killing blow, when my mother's voice, weak and fading, entered my mind. "Laebryn is lost Sarina... *cough* everyone... slain. I love you my ch-" Then there was nothing but silence... *** Laebryn... Sith'lin... my mother... everything I've ever known, gone. Nexus was my home now. After a short lapse, I resumed my training, focusing on the bigger picture - the Hoarde. I went on small hunts every now and then, spending most of my time in the training hall at the House of Shadows. I was there, atop a balance beam, when I sensed his presence. Almost falling on my arse in the process, I ran from the Guildhouse directly to town square, asking everyone in my path if they'd seen anyone matching his description. Sitting in Town Square, I had almost lost hope when I finally picked him out of the crowd. "SITH'LIN!!!", I yelled at the top of my lungs. I couldn't believe it, he wasn't dead! "I promised you I'd come back didn't I?", was all he said before I tackled him to the floor. Saumer Class: ThiefRace: Orc I have a mission for you, my young scribe. Find the one named Saumer. He is a master thief of Nexus and I believe it wise to have a recorded history of his for our archives. I know I know…Orcs care not to talk of their past, but try to get as much information as you can. Ask around the Taverns and look to the shadows… Now be off with you!” Soon the young scribe came across the information he was searching for. Saumer it seemed, was renting a room below the Drunken Orc Tavern. All that the scribe had to do was wait near the bar for the one that matched his description. Many people came and went and the scribe was getting restless. Night was long underway. Just as the scribe was half way out the door a tall figure, dark with a hooded head stepped in front of him, blocking his way out. "Uh ... er, excuse me, let me pass?", squeaked the scribe. The tall figure laughed merrily, stepping aside. "My apologies, young scribe. But am I not the one you seek?"”The figure bent down, removed his hood and winked at the Scribe. "Saumer!" exclaimed the scribe. "Yes, that is my name and I hear you’re looking for me." said Saumer. The scribe explained to Saumer his mission and what he needed. Soon they were sitting near the fountain outside the Drunken Orc talking beneath the stars. "I will tell you of my coming to Nexus and a little of my family. But that is all! I came to Nexus long past in my early teens, nearly ten years ago. Why you ask? Well, my family, er tribe as you might call it was doing quite well. We had all the possessions we needed to live and live comfortably. Yet I longed to adventure and my simple life was growing very boring. I decided to leave, so I snuck away and said goodbye to my younger brother, Delray. My little brother, now a Nexus citizen himself wanted desperately to come with me. I told him he was too young and that he’d be better off staying. I didn't say goodbye to my other family members, regrettably. But they would have tried to stop me if I had. So I left a farewell note near the cooking pots where I knew my mother would find it. Many adventures I had along my way, some wonderful and some very dangerous. Those are another story you can perhaps write down some other time. When my supplies ran short I would sneak through camps and steal the things I needed. Or pick the pockets of creatures I came across. The roads were very dangerous for me to travel at day, so I stuck to the path by the light of the moons. I learned much and experienced much until one day I found myself walking along a road, longing for shelter and a safe place from the world around me. Nexus welcomed me in with open arms. I was told if I could lend my services I was welcome to stay and fight the good fight. To my surprise I was told of a guild that toned and sharpened those who were nimble of foot and quick of the hand - something that fits me like a glove. And well lad, I've been here ever since! And that is all I have to say." The scribe smiled and finished the last of his notes. Nodding to himself he stood, as did Saumer. "Thank you very much. My master will be very pleased with this." "Many thanks" said Saumer. "Now my name, as long as the histories are intact will live on and on." They both said their farewells and departed. A new day was just beginning as the twin suns began to rise. Sirendele Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf Alduous entered the tavern, grumbling about the arrogance and vain pride of some of Nexus' so-called heroes. Round of stomach and short of leg, the elder scribe was not well suited to long walks or physical exertion of any sort beyond the sharp strokes of his quill. He adjusted the thick spectacles that perched precariously on his broad nose and tried to pierce the smoky, hearth-lit common room of the Drunken Unicorn. Rosehelm's only tavern of note, the Unicorn was busy despite the unseasonably chill and wet weather outside. The historian's ears finally brought him what his myopic sight could not. From a darker corner booth came the sounds of feminine laughter and the occasional quiet cry of delight. Knowing this to be the proper time and place, and having a firm grasp of his appointment's reputation, Alduous shuffled to the curtain that separated the booth from the taproom, his tan robes clinging about his ankles in muddy disarray. Flanking the sides of the booth stood what appeared at first glance to be two humans not yet into adolescence. As Alduous drew closer, the lad on the right spoke up. "Hallo, gov'. Afraid this booth is a bit full at the moment. Maybe you'll have better luck at the bar?" As a small hand presented a crossbow from beneath the fold of a ragged cloak, the scribe saw beyond the warm smile to the feral light in the diminutive figure's eyes and knew the deception for what it was. These were not human children but a pair of Hobbit rogues set to catch any unwanted company unawares. Trying to maintain his composure, the grey-haired historian adjusted his ever-slipping spectacles and stood up straight. Unfortunately, the crack in his voice belied his posture's bravado. "I am Alduous, a senior Historian of the Nexus Library and I have an appointment with one Sirendele Olath'sol. Is he here, presently?" Before the fierce little Hobbit could spit out whatever curse seemed perched on his lips, the dark velvet curtain was drawn aside. A soft, sibilant voice like that of a snake slipping across dry leaves drew the analyst's attention to the booth's interior. "Be at ease, masters Brick and Brock. The good clerk does indeed have an appointment with me." Adjusting to the dim light, Alduous made out the forms of a pair of scantily clad blonde women, one of whom was helping lace up the bodice of the other. Blushing fiercely, the scribe attempted to stammer something about coming back at a more opportune time but that soft voice cut him off with more strength than the volume would seem to lend. "Ladies, if you would excuse us. I will meet you at the suite in an hour and a half." As the two young ladies slunk out of the booth, they cast Alduous a pouting glower. Their looks brightened noticeably when the voice called to them, "Tell Nigel to have a basket at the rooms. And Rachel, bring that green-eyed friend of yours; we'll introduce her to the candles." Grinning lasciviously, the fair-haired maidens swayed away. Blushing even more fiercely at the thoughts those softly spoken words inspired, the scholar forced his mind back to the task at hand. Raising his eyes back to the darkness of the booth, Alduous finally set his eyes on his subject. Slender and lithe as a dancer, there was an air of danger about the dark elf that offset his stature. Sirendele reclined on one side of the table and swirled a glass of blood red wine absently but the historian could feel the Drow's dark gaze scrutinizing him. After gruffly refusing a few hospitable offers of wine and stew to warm himself, Alduous arranged his writing tools and steeled himself for his interview. He was a senior Historian and knew well how vague and difficult Drow tended to be, let alone Drow thieves. "If you please, I would rather have your story so that I might return back to Nexus as quickly as I may." With a mildly disconcerting grin, Sirendele said, "Then a story you shall have." * * * * Alduous looked over his parchments under the light of several candles in a surprisingly plush room at the Drunken Unicorn. The night's storm had grown more severe and Sirendele had insisted on buying the scribe a room and provisions for the night. Resigned to his task, he set about proofreading the document and preparing a final draft. * * * * "My tale begins in the halls of Har'oloth, in a city whose eldritch beauty was matched only by the deadliness of its denizens," began the soft-spoken Sirendele. "I was born to a House of nobility and taught the basic precepts of Ilythiiri-" here the Drow translated for my sake, "of True Drow beliefs. My place was taught to me with lively and enthusiastic lessons. My sisters took great delight in the teachings." "Would you elaborate upon these lessons?" I inquired. I was quite shocked to hear of the ritualistic beatings, flesh-engraving, dismemberment followed by painful magic regeneration, and other more mundane abuses. But even more disturbing than the tales of the atrocities themselves was the quiet calm he told them with. No fierce light of hate or thoughts of revenge seemed to strain his soft voice or light his cold, amethyst eyes. "Suffice it to say that I have died a hundred deaths at the hands of my own family and I have seen things dark enough to drive a human mad and bring a Demon to tears." His matter-of-fact tone gave me chills and left me with no doubts as to the veracity of his claims. "My time with my family was shortly lived, however. My House fell in a masterful assault by a rival in the hierarchy of status and rank and I alone survived of the nobles." Here a rueful grin twisted the Drow's darkly handsome features. "I survived by a fortunate turn of fate. I was found beneath the body of one of my sisters." I was left wondering which part he found ironic but he continued before I could ask. "Her blood covered me so that my first discoverers thought I was dead as well. It was only when one of the assaulting House's priestesses passed through to check the dead nobles that my ruse was discovered." Sirendele went on to tell of being taken in by this priestess of Kyorl as little more than a slave, his life bound to her whim. "Too pretty for the sculleries, too frail for manual labor, and not trusted enough to wield magic, my mistress found another niche for me soon enough. I eventually found my way to El'lar d'Ssinssrigg- the House of Pleasure. "There, I used my superior talents to rise through the ranks of the Ssins d'Aerthen- "professional entertainers" if you will. I used my position there to gather information from those Matrons and Daughters who sought me out. I quickly became the most demanded Ssins d'Aerth in all the city and the demand for me grew. "Lulled into a false sense of security, powerful females would often divulge useful information. Especially when prompted by the various intoxicants kept on hand. I brokered my knowledge to mercenary bands, other daughters, mages, and of course my mistress. My life was relatively comfortable. I received gifts and wielded more power than many males- and some females- in the halls." I could only guess at what dark intrigues he had his fingers in, what deadly games he had played with such powerful and capricious figures. "That changed one darkness when my mistress decided I had outlived my usefulness, that I had grown too bold and too comfortable. Fortunately, the assassin she had sent to slay me was an associate of mine and a member of Bregan d'Aerthe." Seeing the puzzlement in my eyes, Sirendele elaborated. "They are a group of mercenaries and rogues, almost entirely male, who hold allegiance to no House. They are involved in nearly every conflict in the city, usually on both sides. They had employed me several times and thought my services too valuable to waste." "It was eventually decided that I should head to the surface." I noted that he seemed to purposefully leave out what his intentions were or whom it was who made this decision. His tale went on to tell of his arrival on Falcion, though he gave no details as to how this came about. With his natural grace and tendencies, he quickly adopted the Thieves' Guild as his new employer. It was not long before he became embroiled in the politics of Nexus and the exile of the Swift Hand. In the midst of his work on the surface, he discovered his mistress had not given up her hunt for him and that his pursuers closed. The Drow took a hiatus from the lands under the suns and returned to the Underdark to, as he said, "sever old ties and bind new ones." After several years of work with the Council and other thieves, Sirendele and a few other rogues were successfully able to establish a new Thieves' Guild of Nexus, the House of Shadows. A brief stint as Guildmaster was ended by another return to the Underdark. What business he had there this time, he did not say. Whatever it was, it took him the passing of four seasons to complete. Penned by Alduous Carpunte', a Senior Historian of the Nexus Library * * * * Nodding as he sprinkled sand over the drying ink, the scholar gathered his things for the ride back to Nexus. He knew the mysterious Drow had left out more than he had told but the seasoned scribe had expected nothing less. Smoke Class: ThiefRace: Human People ask me how I got the name, Smoke. When I was a child, my village was raided and burned by goblins. Only luck and my parents' last desperate act of courage and sacrifice spared me. I remember crawling from beneath their charred bodies after the goblins had left. The air was thick with acrid smell of burnt flesh. The smoke was so thick I could hardly see, and the tears streaming down my face...must've been the smoke in my eyes...or something. There were four other children who survived the massacre. I was six then, and I was the oldest. There was no food...no money, no adults, all we had was the clothes on our backs. I was kind of the leader cause I was the oldest. I never wanted to be leader. What I wanted was my parents back. Only thing I could think of doing was checking the dead bodies for maybe some coins or...something that might help us. We found a few small bits of value, and traded them to the trader who lifed in a cave in the hills nearby.. That's how we stayed alive...we followed the goblin raiding party, and every time they attacked a place, we scavenged the corpses. We were always hungry, dirty, often sick but we were alive. One day when I was eight, I found a rusty old dagger in a dead man's boot. I sharpened it on a rock till it was bright and shiny and sharp...REAL sharp! That night, I stole into the goblin camp. I was quiet, on small terrified feet, but I sneaked around till I found their sleeping quarters. I slit his throat, easy as cutting cheese. The first one was the hardest. After that I killed one or two a week, and emptied their pockets. They searched for us but never found our little hidey place...it was just too small for them to believe anything that tiny could hurt them. One night, when I was ten, I heard a goblin guard talking to another. They were talking about the invisible assassin who was decimating their ranks...silent, untraceable, they had built a whole legend around me...thought I was some demon...They called me Smoke. None of the other kids made it...they died, one by one till only I was left. It wasn't exactly my fault, but I feel a bit guilty about it anyway, I mean, I was the leader. I was still following them when they raided your nexus...Except this time, the Nexus wariors & mages and such killed most of the goblins...I figured it was a good place, so here I am. It seemed natural that I become a thief. Syntis Class: ThiefRace: Half-Elf The mother of Syntis, Sahlana, was the wife of the Elflord of the village, Asendurr. A quiet couple, they often stayed in their beautiful and peaceful 'palace' (which was no more than a building, several stories taller than the regular ones in the city). Due to the village legends and restrictions, Sahlana wasn't allowed to have children until the 'Age of Maturity', or fifty-five years old. Being five years younger than the requirements, her and her husband refrained from having children. One day, a few of Asendurr's supposed childhood friends, from another barbaric village, came. They were insanely barbaric. Wielding heavy spiked clubs, and in a berserk rage, they smashed stores and houses. Asendurr came out of his palace and managed to calm the group of barbarians down. The savages explained their story. Jahsah, the leader of the barbarians, spoke. "We were kicked out of our village after having lost a battle with a nearby drow community. We seeked revenge on all elves after this. We did not know that this was a lightelf village. Even if we did. We did not know you were in command of this village, Asendurr. We apologize and will help rebuild, if you allow us." Asendurr allowed them to help rebuild what was destroyed. Everyone in the village was told what happened, and they finally allowed the barbarians to rest in peace. They were offered to spend a night in the palace, but then they must leave to wherever, before sunset, or they shall be punished. Spending the night in the village palace, nothing that was going to happen was expected... During the night, Jahsah, woke with a horrific nightmare. Suffered with insomnia afterwards, he walked the halls, pocketing a few pieces of mithril here and there. He heard soft breathing from a bedroom. His curiousity got the better of him, and he peered inside. On the bed was the elflady and the lord, sound asleep. Mesmerized by the woman's beauty, and full of jealousy, a burst of adrenaline rushed through his veins. Smashing his fist through the door, the woman and man woke with a start. Sahlana attempted to cover up the small bit of clothing she wore, but Jahsah was in a furious rage and failed to take notice of the lady anymore. Growling, he leaped over to the elflord, and smashed his fist into his jaw. The elflord was knocked back by the force of this and was weakened, blood trickling from his jaw. The short ruler was no match for the large human barbarian. Jahsah punched and clawed at the elflord, until he was barely clinging to life. Being savage, he spit on the lord, picked him up and hurled him against the wall, letting him die a slow on painful death. Slowly coming out of his rage, he looked at the lady and smiled at her, his eyes wandering over her body and making comments about it. He walked over to the sobbing woman, ripping off the small bit of clothing she had on. She gasped and screamed, but went silent as the barbarian's hand smacked her hard. She silenced herself, knowing what was going next. The barbarian shoved her down on the bed and raped her that night. Sahlana never toled anyone that she was pregnant - save her elfmaiden - with a halfelven child. Half elves were despised in the village, and she was going to have a child against her restrictions. Exactly two years after her husband's death, she gave birth to a young half elf. Her faithful Servant was the only one who knew about the birth, and was there to deliver the child. She did not know that the child was halfelven until it was born. Taking a glance at the child, the maiden looked at the elflady. "You...you dirty slut! You ran off with that barbaric bastard and decided to have your own!" Sahlana burst into tears when she heard this. The maiden handed the child to her and fled from the room. Word slowly spread through the village. People despised Sahlana and her child. After Sahlana told the village she had a halfelven child (not telling them how he came about), everyone gave her a dark and baleful glare, and the Council decided to permanately exile her from the city. A few people who did not care, gave her a bit of money and food. Sahlana set off to another place. Travelling from village to city and back again, she could find no one to accept her and her child - now 13 years old - that she called Syntis. He stayed with her for a while, to protect her and never let anyone hurt her again. Several years later, Syntis' mother was getting a bit weak. She was resting out in an open field, when a bandit walked by and growled at Sahlana. Syntis could see that she was going to be mugged. Trying his luck and sneaking into the shadows, he took everything his mother had, to prevent them from losing it. Finding the lady to be indigent in his eye, he decided it would be best for her to de. Being torturous, he slit the woman's wrists and stabbed her a few times, to make sure she died slowly. The bandit pushed the woman over and kicked her several times, then began to walk off. Syntis watched, with tearfilled eyes, as his mother slowly began to die. He turned to the bandit, and yelled, "Stop!" The bandit looked around and saw nothing. He shrugged and began walking, but Syntis leaped from the shadows, thrusting the knife he had through the bandit's heart with amazing accuracy. Syntis, seeing he had no one left in his life, sat there, and for several hours, cried. After he was done, he looked around and tried to wake his mother up in vain. He finally realized she was dead, and decided to bury her. After he did, he prayed to any deity to listen, and then he prayed a special prayer to Tilnar, to forgive him for the murder of the bandit. Syntis wiped the blood from his knife and looked eastward, to the City of Nexus. He was able to see the tip of the Ivory Tower from where he stood. Several days, he found himself lost, wandering through the Tothese woods. Finally, he found the Sloop to Falcion. The captain saw him and nodded. "Aye, I'll let ye pass, fer free today. Ye continue trainin' and protect us, ye hear?!" Syntis nodded once and boarded the Sloop...on his way to Falcion. Thgink Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf I would like to say beforehand that most of this history is unknown to Thgink. The story you are about to hear is not the best ever written, but neither is his life. And so, let the story begin… Thgink was born on Dilur, the twenty-first of the month of Blossoms, in the year 1,582 since the Godwar, and year 1,165 of the Empire. Born to a wealthy family in the Drow Community on Tilnar's Vein, Thgink was a sad child. He always knew there was something missing from his life, but just didn’t know what. For a while, he lived a normal life, studying the arts of magic from priests and priestesses within the society. Thgink did not like this one bit, but seemed to learn how to control the weave as if it were his nature. Lots of attention was brought down on Thgink and his family due to this, attention Thgink did not want. On his 26th birthday, Thgink finally popped. He was forced to perform in front of crowds what he had learned from the priests and priestesses, and all the attention seemed to pierce at the young man's soul. He lashed out magically, with a force that no one there had ever seen before, slaying his mentors and family in one swift blow. Thgink, knowing what he had done quickly fled the village, hoping to escape the persecution he faced. None of the crowd moved to stop him, all stunned by what had just occurred. Running swiftly through the forest Thgink ran and fell into a faerie ring. Coming across a small grouping of faeries led by an even smaller man named Biggles. Biggles and his small grouping of Fae folk took Thgink in, as he was just a child, and raised him like one of their own. Thgink quickly forgot about his past, and all he had learned, and took on a more outward look on life. His demeanor seemed to soften, and he slowly began to conform to the ways of the Fae folk. Soon, he was just a large Faerie, and no one could tell them any different. It was on his 60th birthday that tragedy struck. (this is where Thgink loses his memory also) The small village he had been living in was situated through a magical portal. The portal was a small circle of mushrooms, commonly known as a faerie ring. The particular part of the forest he had been living in had been untouched for quite some time now, no one had wandered through these parts. That is until this day. Biggles and the rest of the Fae were celebrating Thgink's birthday when a loud thunder began approaching. Thgink, naturally accustomed to the shadows, slid through the portal unseen to see what was wrong. Much to his amazement, large armies of green men were trampling through his beloved forest. Goblins! Even Thgink had heard of these foul beings. Thgink quickly turned around to warn the others of the grave danger, only to find that the ring had been trampled and no longer existed. That was his only portal back to his new family. Enraged, but not knowing how to handle the vile creatures, Thgink embraced the shadows and headed toward the closest known town. After arriving in Rosehelm, Thgink met a very peculiar man. He offered Thgink a small sum of money to serve tables at a small tavern on the island of Falcion. The man's name was Doc. Thgink, knowing little of how to speak common, agreed to serve tables on one condition, that Doc would teach him how to defend himself. Doc, knowing a little of the ways being a knight (though a thief himself), agreed to set Thgink up with a man who could teach him more than he could ever want to learn. Intrigued, Thgink agreed, hoping to learn enough to take revenge on the Goblins. Doc introduced Thgink to a large man known as Kragesh. Kragesh saw Thgink's natural ability to conform with the shadows, and his talent for theft, a skill which had kept him fed during the last hard year. Thgink began training as a thief, to serve in the fight against the Goblin Hoard, and his memories quickly fled his mind. To this day, he still has no recollection of anything before his training began. Traxis Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf Born in the harsh world of the Underdark, Traxis was born to a family on the lowest wrung of the social ladder. In a society dominated by women, Traxis's house was an exception. His mother, despite the drowish norm, was a caring and devoted woman, thus she was considered weak in the eyes of the other drow. Traxis's father sensed this weakness in her and immediately latched on to her, perceiving the opportunity to actually dominate a woman. Dominate he did, subjecting both Traxis and his mother to savage beatings for the least transgressions. During his early years Traxis was sheltered from his father by his devoted mother. Under her care he too developed a sense of caring and love not seen in the world around him. However, as Traxis grew, his father found uses for him and tried to pull him away from his mother.. He would send Traxis out into the city to pilfer money, food, and other items. Sometimes he would even force him to sneak into the noble houses to steal, threatening to kill his mother if he did not comply. Luckily Traxis proved to be a gifted thief and avoided detection. Over the years Traxis learned to hide his caring side and to put on a veneer of callousness. He trusted no one but his mother and quickly dispatched any who stood against him, except his father who controlled with through systematic beatings and by torturing his mother. This system of control went on for decades, until one day Traxis's father went too far. In a rage over a botched theft, Traxis's father beat his mother mercilessly. Out of control the man killed her. Traxis, silent witness to the incident, finally broke the yoke of control his father held over him. Driving his blade through the stunned man's kidneys, Traxis killed his father with a single stroke. The years of abuse and the loss of his mother soon drove Traxis away from the Underdark and Drowish society. Slowly he found his way to the city of Nexus to make a new start in a freer and kinder society. Verile Class: ThiefRace: Half Elf "You did great, Neen. By the Gods, listen to that child roar." "Don't you at least wanna hold him?" "Yes, yes of course, I just…need a moment." "Heh, little fella. Little fella ain't much of a name. What should we call this howling wolf?" "Verile." "Verile? Where'd ya come up with a sissy name like that?" "It was my father's name. It's from a human word, virile. It means masculine...vigorous of power." "Ah hmm I'm sorry. It's a good name" "No, it's alright. My father should keep his own name." "Okay. So how 'bout Traer?" ************************************************************************ "No! Come back little bird! Wait! Oof! *sniffle* Ow oow. uuuww!" "Ha! That looked like it hurt. Wha'cha get for not lookin' when you're runnin." "*sniff* I was lookin'. Jes' up at the sky, that's all." "Well, leas' ya stopped cryin' quick. You hafta be tough here, like me." "I'm tough. Dad told me I'm tough and I'm gonna get even tougher." "Good thing he didn't see ya like this then." "Hey, c'mon now, I was just kiddin'. You're the little Traer kid, arn'cha?" "Yeah." "Hey. I'm Jake." ************************************************************************ "Mama, can you tell me about Grandpa Verile?" "Again? Why?" "Cuz" "Oh, child, your grandfather would have just loved you. None of us growing up ever really cared to listen to his stories, but you." "Please, Mama! Just this last time." "That's what you always say." "No, really!" "All right, I give up. Let's see your Grandfather Verile. He always used to tell us that he couldn't spend his life in one place, that it would just bore him out of his mind. He always compared his life to a cloud. He traveled with the wind at his back, and poured his wrath on anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in his way with a belly full of ale. But come the next morning, he'd always rise up again, carefree and light-hearted, ready to meander aimlessly again." "I wan' that." "Want what?" "I wanna be a cloud." "Hm. Your grandfather was something else.…There really wasn't much that he couldn't do. Traer wait here a moment." "Mama! Finish, I wanna hear!" "Patience, Traer! Will you never learn that?" "I am too being patient! I've waited a whole 30 seconds!" "Ah, here it is. This flute was your grandfather's. It was his greatest skill of all. The music he played was so beautiful… And unlike his stories, we could listen to him play all day. My sisters and I always sang to his music. Come to think of it, he was always sore at us when we started to sing. Though he claimed to love it, I think he was jealous, since his own voice was so gravelly." ************************************************************************ "Stop it…" "Filthy Mongrel! Dirty Bastard!" "I'm warning you. Papa used to say, 'Jes' give 'em fair warnin'. And if that don't work, give 'em ragin' hell!' "Traer! Cut it out! Get off him!" "Leave me alone, Jake!" "Stop it. Dammit, I said get off him!" "No! He's getting away! Get your hands off me!" "*sigh* Kid, when'll you ever learn?" "Learn what? I did real good that time. Only got caught in one eye this time." "Ya threw your punches just fine, Kid. But ya gotta learn to pull your punches too." "They were making fun of me." "Yeah, I know. Whaddya think happened to me growin' up? We're the same, you n' me." "I could of made sure he'd never bother me again." "Nah. Keep 'em guessin'. That way, they'll never know what to expect when you really have no choice. That's when you let the axe drop." ************************************************************************ "Her lips are blue." "It's alright, Traer." "She's pale and cold." "It hap'ns, Kiddo." "What?…Why this? Why her?" "Everyone's been catchin' it. Can't be helped." "It's not fair." "Yeah." ************************************************************************ "Jake. Where ya goin'? Hey, wait up!" "Shut up! I have to do this. I have to get him." "Do what? Get who?" "Him. That damn murderer." "Huh? What're you talking about?" "Him. He killed everyone with that experiment! He let loose that...that thing!" "What?" "Forget it. I'll see you later, Kid." ************************************************************************ "They're all gone. They all left me." "I guess it's my turn to go now." ************************************************************************ "So what do you call this place again?" "Nexus. But you're only allowed in if you pass apprenticeship on Falcion." "So let me in. I can do it easy." "You don't even know what you'll be doing." "Well, I'll find out then, won't I?" "Can you fight?" "Of course." "And what's your name, Boy?" (What does he care? Well...It's a new start for me maybe.) "I said, what's your name, Boy?" "Verile. Yeah...just call me Verile." Virtapth Class: ThiefRace: Dark-elf From Tilnar's Vein a boy Virtapth was born into the world. A boy who finds that life is hard and brotherhood, friendship, and respect are each values that are meant to be kept at hand... So begins his story... 63 years ago... a boy was born. He was named Virtapth. A drow. At the time he had no brother and no place. He was different. His parents each being dark eyed drows. This boy was with light gray eyes. So light that in certain lights it looked as if the boy had no color and just a pupil. Of course the boy still held the cabability to see in the dark. And the dark skin. But the boy had nothing truly special about him. He had no interest in magic. Or in fighting. So he was considered useless to the drow kind. So they gave him only enough to live for he did not benefit them. Yet the boy grew accustomed to stealing what he wanted. And he became quite good at it. Now that you know him. Let's find out about his past. When Virtapth was three his birth parents gave birth to another Child by the name of Deriseus. This boy was talented with magics and became a great brother and friend to Virtapth. The boys lived together and grew together. But they lived in separate worlds. Deriseus was a boy with heights in magic so he was truly great to the drows but Virtapth meant nothing. So they slowly grew apart after several years of friendship. On Deriseus's 60th birthday he left the vein to join nexus. And left Virtapth all alone. Virtapth did what any boy could do to live with out a friend. He became a thief. He stole what he needed and snuck around in the depths so the drows could not notice him. Then he snuck away. For several weeks Virtapth wandered about the Blackwood forest. Stealing berries from animals and running from the goblin hordes. Until he found the City of Nexus. He had heard much about this city but had never ventured there and never cared to try to find it. But here it was. So he entered. He met very few people and he wandered about aimlessly until someone noticed him. It was his brother, Deriseus. His brother told Virtapth all about Falcion and then paid him the fees to get there and apprenticed into Falcion. Virtapth was overjoyed. He now had a new aim, a goal. To protect Nexus against the evil that threatens it and it's people. Virtapth grew to know several people. And found help in friends. And he returned the favors when asked. Now Virtapth goes about his daily work. Stealing from Nexus' enemies. And hunting with other large parties. He includes himself in group functions and enjoys the company of people. And is happy to be a contributor rather than an outcast. Vithar Class: ThiefRace: Ogre Tiny flakes of snow fell upon the ground, it was mid fall. A slight breeze came from the south, giving Vithar a slight chill as he scurried up the dirt path through his village. Looking ahead of him the ogre turned into a small thatch hut. Entering the hovel, he was immediately welcomed by the warm glow of the fire. The house smelled of roasting flesh, looking at the spit he smiled happily at his mother. "Don't ya think we eat hobbit too much?" he turned to his mother. "Quit catching them then." Reaching down she removed the roasting flesh. Placing it on the rough oak table, she quickly brought out a knife, fleshing it from the spit. Lazily Vithar pulled his burlap sack from a cupboard. Wrapping the flesh in cloth, he quickly stowed the pieces into his sack. Tossing the sack over his shoulder Vithar strode out of his house humming a tune as he went. Walking down the path towards the woods, Vithar stopped suddenly. Cocking his head to the side he listened intently for something. Eventually a very rhythmic gallop could be heard, he even felt the pounding emanating from the earth. Wondering what this could be he returned his eyes to the path before him, where 5 figures atop massive wolves were riding towards him. The figures were reddish in color, holding large lances lowered level to the ground. Their mounts covering 10 yards in a single stride, their teeth bared it seemed that they had been starved. Vithar's jaw dropped. What had he done, he thought. As the goblin's made huge gains Vithar stood still, not quite believing what was happening. When the Goblin's were nearly upon him someone bushwhacked him, sending him reeling into the side of another hut. Gathering his senses Vithar looked up just in time to see his mother being impaled by the lances and her body be torn and mauled by the Wolves. Emitting a low growl Vithar jumped onto the back of one of the wolves, reaching for his dagger he quickly rammed the blade into the Goblin's lower back. A shrill cry arose from it's chest. Tossing him from the wolf Vithar, tried to grab a hold of the wolf's reins. The wolf quickly seized the goblin and began to maul him. The Goblin's comrades turned to see this small Ogre atop the wolf. Laughing amongst themselves, one quickly brought his wolf to the side of the other, cracking Vithar on the head and tossing him across his lap. As Vithar awoke he saw a raging fire in the distance, he found himself on something extremely furry. Pushing himself up, he quickly felt a thump upon the back of his head. Falling back into his dreams, Vithar would soon wish he had been killed. Torches flared around him. Arching up from the cobblestones Vithar leaned against the cold gray walls. Trying to focus his eyes, he squinted at his wrists; latched onto them were black iron shackles cutting his wrists with every movement. Glancing around he surmised that he was in a cell of some sorts; he could see faint figures, large like himself. Straining to gather himself he fell into a heap on the ground again. A guttural whisper warned him, "Don't move, they will pick you if you are strong." Taking heed to the warning Vithar rested waiting for movement from outside the chamber. Eventually drifting off to sleep he slept like a lo g. Regaining his energy with each passing hour. A swift kick to his side awoke Vithar. Peering up he found a Kobold standing over him with a pallet of food. "Uh, what? Oh.. " Ferociously he lunged at the Kobold with both arms, grabbing the creature he quickly snapped its neck, tugging at the chains connecting him to the wall. Suddenly there was a rumble of laughter coming from outside the cell. The whisper in a much more gentle and consoling voice came to him, "Pray to your Gods now, you are about to lose all you know." Peering after the voice, Vithar scooped up the food ravenously stuffing it in his mouth. Looking over the corpse he silently searched for a weapon, finding nothing he scowled loudly. Rubbing his wrists he gathered some dust from the ground. Make a paste he lifted the shackle, it had worn his skin to the bone. Grinning slightly Vithar quickly patted the paste onto his wrists. Turning back to the Kobold's corpse he snatched it up and savagely ripped into its leg; shredding the flesh from the bone rather quickly. Kicking the corpse in the groin he popped the femur from its socket. Snapping the kneecap off, he removed excess flesh from it. Slowly he began to grind the bone into the cobblestone floor. Within an a half hour it began to take a sharpened shape. Smiling crudely he worked feverishly to sharpen his make shift shard. An hour passed before it became as sharp as a spike. Tossing the blade into his right hand he slammed the shard into the chest of the Kobold. A loud crack sounded while the bone plunged through the breastbone of the corpse. Yanking the shard from its resting place there was another crack, pulling the shard from the chest Vithar scoffed at its brittleness. Kobolds were always so weak, even in death. Laughing hardily he reached for the corpse again. Suddenly the squeal of the ironbound door startled Vithar, looking up he saw two goblins bound in mesh mail and carrying long swords in their sheaths. Before they set their eyes on him, Vithar clutched the ghastly sharp broken shard ramming it into his inner thigh covered by his sackcloth clothing. Yelping in pain the guards quickly looked at the blood covered Ogre. A sharp terse voice chattered, "Looks like we've a cannibal on our hands." "The Torturer will be delighted to have something to tease him with." Replied the other Goblin. One of the goblins exited the chamber and quickly re-entered with a long pole with a noose on one end. Lassoing Vithar around the neck the noose quickly became quite taut as they drug him out of the cell. As he came plodded out into the hallway Vithar noted a small kobold at a desk writing a few things down. Just as he was about to turn away the kobold snapped at him, quickly spitting in his face. Stepping towards the desk Vithar soon found himself reeling towards the wall. He hit it with a distinct, Thump! Reaching up he found that his face was drenched with even more blood and his nose was crumpled. Grumbling at the guards his he turned back down the corridor. Soon they came to a T section, to the left there was a refreshing breeze coming from the outside. To the right the air was still, death lingered in whatever rooms there were down that hall. Cries and screams of agony echoed down the hall, chains thudding against flesh, and a few maniacal laughs came from there. Chuckling to himself Vithar turned left, only to be half strangled by the guards and thrown down the right hallway. Vithar muttered, "figured." Upon entering a doorway the ogre was greeted with what seemed to be a slaughterhouse. Corpses lay built up on the side of the great chamber, ravenous creatures cried out in agony quickly finding a chain whip brought to their faces. Walking around the chamber with confidence and determination was an exquisitely small goblin. As the goblin found one ogre, exceptionally large and muscular, lashed to a table by leather straps, he suddenly hopped atop the ogre and plunged a small metallic tube into his abdomen; quickly he poured a vial filled with acid into the cylinder. A thunderous bellow emanated from the ogre as his face contorted with rage he pulled at his straps with all his might. Another goblin stood by the ogre's head whilst chanting an incantation. The ogre soon flared his nostrils and lied there as docile as a child. Vithar's jaw dropped in awe. ''How in Altin am I going to get out of here!!' Vithar thought. An overwhelming sense of fear came over him, he strained at his noose but it was no good and he knew it. That huge ogre had failed to resist them, Vithar had no chance. Moaning softly, he lumbered in the direction his noose took him. Being drawn to a bond fire he was made to turn around and lay down in front of the fire. His legs were clamped into a stockade while his arms were chained to the floor. Two feet were firmly placed upon his shoulder blades completely immobilizing him. Vithar soon heard the sound of metal dragging on the cobblestones. Straining his eyes he caught the faint figure of a tiny goblin with a red-hot poker in hand scrambling towards him. Vithar struggled with futile results, clambering atop him the goblin could be heard giggling quite contentedly. Searing pain shot through Vithar's body causing him to writhe in agony. He slowly felt his consciousness leaving him gripping his restraints Vithar managed to keep awake, although he feigned unconsciousness. When that was over they removed him from the shackles and placed him against a wall. Slumping over on other corpses and living creatures in the shadows, Vithar slowly pulled himself towards the door. "Bless the gods!" Vithar whispered into the floor. Glancing at the doorway he saw a kobold standing guard by the doorway, next to him were satchels. He was handing them to Ogres that passed through the door, checking first their brands upon their backs. With another stroke of pure luck Vithar quietly stepped in line with the ogres. Clenching his jaw Vithar made slow progress in the line. His stomach felt as if it were going to burst, he even felt lightheaded as he made his way towards the door. Finally he came to the kobold and did as the others had, bowing with a straight back he felt the kobolds furry hands upon him. A snort came from the Kobolds chest and before had time to utter another sound, Vithar snatched the satchel in his hand quickly opened it and sacked the kobold's head. Swiftly bringing the bone shard into play, he rammed it between the kobolds chin and throat instantly killing him as well as spraying blood all over Vithar and his sack. Before the Ogre in back of him knew what was going on Vithar had snatched corpse up, tossed his satchel over his shoulder and bolted out the door. With gigantic strides Vithar easily out ran the first sentries. Looking down the corridor he saw two sentries with blades drawn. Charging forward the guards cowered back a bit, looking at the apparent deathrall in rage. Just as Vithar was passing between them they came to their senses and rendered two magnificent strokes with their swords as Vithar rushed through. As the blades came arcing down upon Vithar he quickly tossed the corpse of the kobold at the blades and leapt beneath them tumbling towards the archway. Just as soon as corpse was being shredded into 3 pieces Vithar was racing up the stairway soon he came to find himself on top of tower of sorts. Peering out over the edge he saw endless forest before him. Groaning softly he turned north and saw mountains, strutting forward he stepped on the edge of the tower. The trees below him were not very far off, 10 or 15 feet Vithar thought. "Halt!" a goblin shouted behind him. Just as the steps neared Vithar plunged into the treetops below. Once he had made it to the ground he was covered in scratches from the tree limbs. Looking back to the towers he saw goblins pouring out into the forest. Gasping for breath, he turned back to the north and began to jog towards them. Eventually making his way to the base of the mountains he could find no trail or path of any sorts, so he turned eastwards. Another couple days and still no path Vithar muttered to himself and walked on in search of civilization. After a few days of running Vithar came to a river, he had already passed one but that one had a bridge. This one was flowing steadily and did not seem that wide. So Vithar crossed, it swimming the entire length. A slight drizzle was making the day a bit gloomy. Making his way southeast he saw a massive body of water. His mouth gaped in awe. "What is this!?" he gasped. Searching the beach he found a boat, hopping in the boat Vithar hoped that he would soon find someone to help him. An island not far off seemed inhabited; there were structures in the jungle as far as he could see. With nightfall coming soon and the drizzle turning to a downpour Vithar made his way to the island. Just as the suns were setting he found a cave right next to where the boat had landed. It was too dark for him to explore right now but he would sleep in here until day. Crawling into the fetal position Vithar soon found himself drifting off to sleep. (2 years pass between this time) Stepping back into the cave Vithar spotted a figure in the shadows "yer de'd!", snarling he leapt towards it only to be greeted by a cave wall. Grunting loudly he picked himself up the ground and looked into the emptiness of the cave. Before he had another second to move a cold steel blade was at Vithar's throat. "Don't move." A voice commanded beside him. Vithar snorted trying to make out the figure. It looked like an elf but it was different, he had never seen something like this. It didn't matter; he was going to kill it. Swiftly bringing his fist to where the voice came from, his world instantly turned black. Whenever Vithar would regain consciousness it would immediately be taken away from him. "Good gods! What in Tilnar happened to this fellow? A voice gasped. "Alchemist." Was the terse reply. "Alchemist? Are you sure? Shouldn't he be dead?" "Whatever, is he trainable?" "Yes.. we will revive him and set him up for training." A shuffle of movement and a door creaks open. "Oh Verile! You forgot this book." A grumble is heard, then something being stowed in a sack. Will Class: ThiefRace: Human William Jerome was born on the 13th of the month of Twilight to parents Jonathan and Katelin Jerome. He was born in the city of nexus where he lived until he began his training on the island of Falcion. This is the story of his life so far, as told by him. "I was born here in nexus to a semi-wealthy family, they were merchants. And so I grew up in the world of merchants, everyday seeing new items, that's probably where I got my love for shiny things. I was fascinated by the items and wished I could have them for myself. Sometimes I got lucky and my father bought it for me, other times I didn't. Life was pretty easy back then, I didn't have to worry about anything, I always had my parents to look after me. I lived like that for a long time, until I was around 14 years old. At that time I began to grow bored with the easy life, and I wanted to do something new and exciting. So I set out from my home, leaving a note instead of telling them in person, because I thought they would be angry. I went out of nexus and I lasted for a little less than a month outside. After that time I had no choice but to return to nexus, however, I didn't want my parents to know I was a failure. So a spent a day or two trying to look for money on the ground that I could use to buy food. I was very unsuccessful at that, I ended up using what little money I had left in those two days. The second day though, when I was about to give up hope and return home, I met someone. He was a young man just a few years older than myself. He asked me if I would do anything to survive, I said yes and so he took me with him. He took me to a dark alleyway where we met up with some other people. There he told me what this was all about. He was the leader of a group of common thieves in nexus, a small group numbering no more than 10. He asked me if I would be willing to join them. I agreed part out of interest and part out of fear of what would happen if I had said no. It turns out that I was actually pretty good at some of the things they asked me to do. I had a natural ability to be swift and crafty. They had taught me how to pick pockets like a pro. One night I asked the leader, Drakor, if he had ever wanted to do anything more in life besides being a commom thief in nexus. He told me that he had had dreams about joining the Thieves guild, so that he would not have to be a petty criminal for his whole life and so he could become a warrior-thief, who would be respected and treated well. He said he just needed to find someone to replace him as leader of the group, he chose me as that person. I took the job wishing him good luck in his adventures. I didn't talk to him very much after that and decided that perhaps I could also join the Thieves' guild and become a noble warrior for nexus and perhaps find out what happened to my friend. Shortly after joining the guild I was sorry to find out that my friend had died. I heard that it was because he had so much pain in his life, and felt that he couldn't go on any longer. From that point on I have tried to make people happy, although sometimes I have trouble being happy myself. I made new friends though, while moving my way up in the Thieves guild, soon I was able to make the rank of nightblade in the guild, currently I am of the thirteenth tier in the Thieves' guild and i hope to one day become one of their greatest members. And that is just about it up to now, perhaps if i ever do become a great thief i will give you a more up complete history of my life. Until then, have a nice day, and remember, always be optimistic, try to have fun, and always laugh at my jokes." Zakainen Class: ThiefRace: Dark Elf Written on the scroll was this: The History of Zakainen of House (This part was unreadable) Zakainen was born to a very powerful House in the Har'oloth, the Underdark. A place where the very land itself was just as treacherous as any of it's denizens. His House resided in a city that was far from the furthest Drow settlement in relation to Nexus. And unlike many Drow communities this one was not a complete matriarchal or even female dominated society. Patrons held as much sway as Matrons in some Houses. Both sexes were treated with very little respect until they came of age. Although, those of noble blood knew a slightly easier life when it came to this and Zakainen was definitely of noble blood. His House was ranked Fourth upon his birth. Their ranking was very secure at the time and was becoming a definite threat to continue rising in status. A couple of things that made them formidable were the several Priestess's in good favor with Kyorl and a small collection of Dark-elven Wizards they had in the family. The Patron himself was an Arch-Wizard. He was known to lead the House but in truth it was the Matron, Zakainen's mother, that ruled him from the shadows. Of the parents, he bore very little resemblance to his father but greatly favored his mother. Zakainen was currently the eldest male child of the family. He had several older sisters but no brothers. He eventually had two younger brothers but one died before reaching adolescence. That brother died when the children had escaped the watchful eyes of the House Guards and ventured out into the wilds of the Underdark. Rumor contended that Zakainen was somehow responsible for the incident but nothing was proven. Of all the children, the Matron paid special attention to Zakainen's upbringing. From the beginning she started to influence and guide him personally. A far deal more than what most Drow parents normally would in the raising of their offspring. One of the first things she accustomed him to was death... Before he could walk, he was in her arms while she sat in the stands of the Gladitorial Pits. As he grew older, he would accompany her when she had to discipline a slave. These disciplines normally took the form of torture or death. On the day he was able to pick up a shortsword and hold it, she had him kill one of the Goblin slaves to get him accustomed to killing for himself. He beamed under his Matron's approving gaze. He learned that the strong ruled over the weak and that was just the way of the world. She slowly molded him into a Drow who saw killing and pain as something natural. He also viewed these things as something that pleased his mother as well. Over time he began to see his father as being unfit to lead the House as Patron. Zakainen thought the Patron held back too often, that he was too cautious when opportunity was obviously presenting itself. Too many wasted chances to increase the House's assets. He began to think that the House would flourish better under his mother's rule or perhaps with a little time... even under his own. His mother tried to subtlety teach him that ruling from the shadows had its benefits but this teaching was lost upon him. This would be the first lesson that Zakainen would break away from and begin to start weaving his own plots. He started to view things in a slightly different way after this. He began to pay more attention to the House intrigue within and without. Everyone he had any contact with or met from then on was evaluated as a possible ally or threat. His foremost competition was the only brother he had left and he posed no threat in Zakainen's now prideful eyes. He made sure to take every opportunity to keep his brother in check and let him know how things were going to be. The situation looked very promising once he could establish a foundation for power. All he needed was time and more experience to replace the Patron. His chance to learn more was indeed close. Because as soon as he became of age, he was immediately enrolled at the Melee-Magthere, the Academy of Warfare. His training went well at the Academy as he readily immersed himself in his studies. Although all students here were supposed to be treated as equals, station and House rank did matter. Because of that, Zakainen led a more 'comfortable' life here than most. From his quarters to food, he had beyond what the normal students were allowed. He was taught by only the finest Instructors of the Academy. He was also made a Captain of one of the many patrols the school sent out into the lawless lands around the city. Any of his carnal desires were satisfied by the ssins d'aerthen or 'professional entertainers'. Even the occasional Priestess visited his room. Excuses, for a few days leave, were arranged now and then as well, at the request of his House. Coincidentally each time he took a leave of absence his House soon became involved in taking another House down or defending against a rival. Despite all of these favors and blessings of nobility, Zakainen would sneak down to the lower quarters of the city. His Instructors knew this of course but decided to look away and pretend that they did not. Amongst the thieves and mercenaries he continued his studies of a different kind. Each moment in this section of the city was spent refining his reflexes and honing his shadow skills. He learned the art of information gathering and stealth. Asides from that these dark streets proved an invaluable resource as almost anything could be had for a price. This paid off when he got wind of the Second House's plots to raid his own. His family quickly prepared and attacked the other House first, catching them completely off-guard. This strike went unusually well and their casualties were negligible. Zakainen tried to convince the Patron that now was the time to go on the offensive and take down more of their enemies. No one would expect another attack so soon was his reasoning but his father refused. Another example of the Patron being unfit to lead is exactly what Zakainen thought to himself. He could do nothing but keep preparing and wait for just the right time. He threw himself deeper into his studies hoping that moment would come soon. So for 10 short years this was the life he knew. Training at the Academy and learning what he could from the shadows. Until one day, while walking down the hallways of the Academy, one of Zakainen's classmates beckoned him from behind one of the many statues of famous Drow warriors that lined the walls. His fellow students eagerness was very evident and he soon learned why. For Graduation, this class would venture to the Lands of Light for a surface raid on the Darthiir, the Elves... Upon entering his quarters and closing the door, a wicked smile played over Zakainen's lips as thoughts raced through his mind. After the surface raid and upon his graduation, he would be Blooded and be a true Dark Prince of the Har'olath. Then he could start gathering his resources and replace his weak father as Patron of the House. Laying down and folding his arms behind his head, he eventually fell asleep and dreamed his dark dreams of power. A little over a week later Zakainen's class was informed that they were indeed going to the surface to 'visit' their cousins. And a few days later, after listening to hours of propaganda on the Darthiir, preparing their provisions and packing their gear, the raiding party set upon their quest to the Lands of Light. The journey through the Underdark met without any incidents. Obviously it was a sign of their future success they thought. Only moving under the cover of night, the raiding party made it's way to an Elven village. The location was made known to them before they had left by one of the City Bazaar's Merchants that traveled to the Surface occasionally. Scouts were sent ahead and they soon returned after confirming the village was nearby. After hearing what reconnaissance they had gleaned, the party started to make their battle plans. The Instructors that had made the journey along with the class allowed Zakainen, the Patrol Captain, to devise the strategy they would use. Having already done so while listening to the report he laid out his plan. The Instructors made a few suggestions and then the group set out into the woods. There were not as many Elven sentries as they had thought they would have to deal with. It almost seemed that several members of the village were missing or perhaps out hunting, so entry into their homes went smoothly. The attack started quietly as the Drow took out the first few sentries and the occasional villager performing a chore. While rounding a corner after getting some water, one of the Elven villagers stumbled upon one of her neighbors being murdered. She had just enough time to cry out an alarm before Zakainen personally shot an arrow through her heart. Then the night filled with the sounds of the raiding party in full melee. Darksilver longswords rose and fell, hand crossbow bolts whistled through the air, and spells were hurtled mercilessly upon the Elves as the Drow began to cut them down. Zakainen's squad consisted of his younger brother and two other classmates. As they entered one of the homes, they got more than they bargained for as a fully prepared Elven mage cast a Lightning spell and used a Bloodboil wand on the first two of them to enter. Luckily these two were his classmates. An Elven Priestess stood slightly off to the side and behind the mage. She had let loose an arrow from her warbow just as the mage used his magics. The arrow glanced off of Zakainen's buckler as he maneuvered directly behind one of the still-standing corpses of his classmates. Using his momentum he drove his shoulder into the charred remains of the one that was hit with the lightning bolt and shoved the body into the mage, bowling him over. As his younger brother leaped upon the mage and drove his sword through him, Zakainen cut cleanly through the Priestess's bow with his own blade and then raised it high above his head in one motion. Continuing the swing he slashed downward with his longsword, ending the Elf's life. All his killing in the village had been done in the darkness up until now. Here, in this well lit room, he paused for a moment as he watched this Elven woman's eyes slowly lose their sparkle of life. His next sight was a explosion of color as someone hit him in his head from behind. Laying on the floor, his vision slowly started to fade to black. Before he fully lost consciousness he could hear his younger brother speak. "Foolish, very foolish and careless of you... -brother-," his sibling said that last word with as much contempt as possible. His brother then smirked and walked away, most likely telling the rest of the party that the Elves had slain him. Not quite a day later, well after the raiders had left, the remaining members of the village returned to the slaughter. As they moved about and cared for their dead they came across Zakainen still lying on the floor. His long black hair covered in blood from his brother's strike. The Elves in their outrage took Zakainen's unconscious form deep within a part of their forest rarely traveled. There, before a suitably long dead tree, they prepared to hang him. Throwing a rope over one of the tree's limbs, they then stood him up and put the noose around his neck. Glazed red eyes fluttered open and Zakainen began to shake his head as if to clear it. Finally focusing and realizing his situation, he could only turn his burning gaze upon his captors. Before he could even speak a curse upon the Darthiir his body jerked upward and the rope began to cut into the flesh of his throat. Gasping for the air that would not come and slowly having his circulation cut off, he finally passed out with his last vision being the Elves turning their backs on him and wandering back toward their home. Zakainen's eyes snapped open and he found himself staring up at the tree they had hung him from. Drawing a sharp ragged breath he sat up and clutched the bleeding wound across his throat. Untightening what remained of the noose, he then pulled it up and off of his head. Staring down at the rope, it was clear that it had been cut and at this point Zakainen did not care by who or what. Death had stayed His hand twice now for whatever reasons in a very short time and that's all that mattered. Still dazed, he tossed the noose away from him and staggered to his feet. He began to walk in the only direction that came natural. The direct opposite way those Elves had left in... [Little is known of what happened to Zakainen after this. Rumor has it he made it to a beach on the Sea of Tears and found passage on a ship. It has been said that around that time he tried his hand at piracy. Eventually his travels brought him to Rymek and the stories of Falcion intrigued him. Here he learned of the Thieves' Guild of Nexus being burned down and the thieves being exiled. Whether it was for profit, power, a challenge or something else, he set about to either help restore the Guild of old or begin something new...] So, Zakainen Apprenticed on the Isle of Falcion and began his life all over again. Zanarian Class: ThiefRace: Elf Hello. I am Zanarian Swi'lik. I was born around here in a great city called Nexus. Perhaps ye've heard of it? Ye have? Well then, this makes my story much easier. During the summer of my sixty-third birthday, I was out doing my normal mischief (stealing things, annoying the guards) when I saw a strange man walking around with flyers. I went up to him, and he jumped. I think I scared him *shrugs* but he explained to me that a group of young people were to be taken to Falcion to begin their training for defense of the city. My ears perked up at this. I took a flyer and ran home to my parents. We talked about it for a long time. I packed up my necessities (a small knife, some clothes and some food and water) and said good-bye to by parents. I met the rest of the young apprentices and we boarded the sloop. On the sloop, everyone was issued a set of armor pertaining to their class. The clerics were issued some scrolls, as were the mages. The rest of us (except the monks) received weapons of our choice. We were all given a small sum of gold to aid in our training. Upon arrival in Falcion, we departed from the sloop and headed into the city. We were all very excited and could not wait to begin our training. One year later One year after my arrival in Falcion I had achieved the sixth rank. I had also made very many friends (and enemies) and found many useful items. It was one day, which a young human fellow came with an envelope for me. I smiled and opened the letter, which read: Zanarian, I am very sorry to inform you that your father Fusilis Sticky Fingers Swi'lik has been injured severely in battle against the Cloud Giants. He fought bravely to defend Nexus, but has sacrificed his health to save the cities. He shall be honored with great valor. I wish you the best of luck with your training and will provide a special escort to bring you home to spend with your family until he recovers. Sincerely, Xavier, the Hand of Death I shed a tear and folded the parchment. I stuffed it in my pocket and packed my belongings. I was going home. Two years later I have just returned to Falcion to achieve the seventh rank. I had missed a long time being at home with my father and mother. I must train hard to cover the ground that I have missed. With my good friend Gardef, I set out to complete this mission Guild of Knowledge Library Text saved from archives about the old Library of the Guild Of Knowledge. Keep in mind that this is information about the old game. Some of it may not apply to the new game. The Orders of Knighthood Seven Noble Houses of Nexus: There were seven, one the Baron's House Argaen, the other six lesser Houses, ruled originally by Knights of the Empire. Of the seven, only three remain. House Argaen was destroyed some 40 years ago. There was usually a Priest (of Pandora) born to the family each generation. Their symbol is a Silver Dragon with a white rose between its foreclaws. House K'tevrimon The House was founded 500 years ago, the title bestowed by Empress Tairyn herself. The founder was a loyal Knight of the Empire, given a landhold in the Nexus area. He was murdered, the "official" history says by Enemies of the Empire, but the thought even then was that it was by his wife's lover. She bore a son 6 months after his murder, and there were rumors that it wasn't of K'tevrimon blood, but he inherited the title, and from that point on the House was less than nice to it's peasants and the like. 250 years ago, Pylain K'tevrimon slew Raaelinius, Crown Prince of the elves in a "hunting accident". About 50 years ago, the elves, with proof of the murder, destroyed the keep and slew every being in it. It was believed that the elves slew the adults to a man, and took the younger children with them to raise, but with the occupation of their village by the Hoards soon afterward, little is known. The symbol of House K'tevrimon is a black panther with a sword in its maw, in front of the Imperial Crown. Known vassals of House K'tevrimon House Anubis The house founder was Dal'nar Anubis. The symbol of House Anubis is a copper dragon with a black background. General Information: The Imperial Crown was made of Platinum, rising to a central point which was embossed in gold and set with a single moonstone. The symbol of the Knights of the Empire was a single broadsword down over the Imperial Crown. Those who were knighted, as opposed to Inheritors, had twin roses wrapped around the hilt. The Knights of the Empire: The Order of the Unicorn: -------------------------The Order of the Unicorn was considered the most elite of the Orders of the Imperial Knights. Its membership was composed exclusively of dedicated Paladins of Aalynor. Membership to this Order was not automatic, needing to be earned through deed, trial and quest. Symbol: A white unicorn imposed over a rose, blood dripping from one thorn. The Order of the Moonstone --------------------------The Second Ranking Order of the Knights of the Empire, the Order of the Moonstone was comprised completely of individuals who were marked as Heroes of the Realm. In fact, several Knights of the Unicorn were also Knights of the Moonstone. (Members of all other Orders were simply promoted to the Order of the Moonstone, although Knights of the Sword and Knights of the Silver Heart had also been known to carry both ranks as well.) The Name of the Order comes from the single Moonstone set into the Imperial Crown. Symbol: A single broadsword driven clean through a moonstone, the stone wrapped in roses. The Order of the Silver Heart: ------------------------------The Third Order of the Imperial Knights was the Order of the Silver Heart, to which paladins of all faiths were admitted, after having quested to earn their place within it. So long as the Knight in Question was a paladin in good standing, the Order of the Silver Heart was available to them if they sought it, and could accomplish a quest to prove themselves. The Order is named after Dilanis, whom all the Knights revere, thinking that the hardship of the world was caused by her death in the Godswar. Symbol: A black sword driven down, separating the two rings of Dilanis' symbol, the whole emblem was crimson to show the mourning. The rings are flanked on each side by diagonal broadswords, their blades twisted in white and crimson roses. The Order of the Sword ----------------------The Order of the Sword is somewhat outside the standard ranking of the Orders, as its members were the Justicars of the Realm. As such, only the most honorable and just knights were ever allowed to join the Order of the Sword. The Order was largely comprised of Paladins, who accepted the fact that their admission into the Order would prevent them from attaining the Order of the Silver Heart, or the Order of the Unicorn (once a Sword-Knight, always a Sword-Knight). Still, the Order of the Sword was one of the most respected. Symbol: The Sword of Knighthood over a set of balanced scales, the Imperial Crown on one side, and three roses, one black, one white, one red, on the other. The Order of the Gryphon -------------------------The Order of the Gryphon was the fourth ranking Order of the Knighthood, and comprised the "aerial cavalry" of the Imperial Knights. Acceptance to the Order of the Gryphon was difficult, as was admission to all Orders above it, requiring quests to reach this level. Most Knights of this Order were given "bonded" mounts (Gryphons), from the Imperial stable, however some of the more legendary Gryphon-Knights went on long quests to find a bonded mount and return with it. Tales of Pegasi, Jungle Gryphons, and even Wyvern are told of some of the greatest Heroes of this Order. Unsurprisingly, the small number of Gryphons raised restricted membership to an elite few. Symbol: The silhouette of a Gryphon swooping down, the sword of the knighthood, with its roses, in it's talons. The Order of the Silver Wyrm ----------------------------The Order of the Silver Wyrm was originally created with good intentions, and is, in fact, the fifth ranking Order of the Knights of the Empire. Thinking that the children of Knights, or nobles, would be trained by their sires and environments, the Order was created to allow these already-trained knights to be elevated above those who lacked that training and leadership. However, as many have said, true nobility is not something that you have simply because you were born into a title, and as such, a bit of a stigma was carried by Wyrm-Knights, even amongst the Knights of Other Orders - for the question of whether or not the individual was worthy of their rank always lingered. As such, the common people still sneer at the Order, with many expressions for describing uselessness or rank without ability being comparisons to the knights of this Order, even despite their fine performance as a cavalry unit. Symbol: A great Silver Dragon, wings spread, holding the Imperial Crown in both talons. The Order of the Shield: ------------------------The Order of the Shield is by far the most numerous of the Orders of the Knighthood, for it allows any member to join it, save those of Noble Blood who are started as part of the Order of the Silver Wyrm. Many Shield Knights tend to sneer at the Order of the Silver Wyrm, and although the Wyrm-Knights are technically higher in the Imperial Knighthood, the bad blood and horrific tales of bad orders has somewhat diluted that power. Entrance into the Order is still by no means easy, all individuals must find a knight to sponsor them, and prove their honor and loyalty. Symbol: A kite shield over the sword of the Knighthood, a single red rose on the shield.Justice System of Nexus Overview The justice system is designed to uphold the laws of Nexus. The laws of Nexus and the authority of the Justice System come from the Nexus Guild Council. The Sentinel's mission is to maintain these laws for the health and prosperity of all Nexus' citizens. Into its hands were given the tasks of investigation of crime, judgment of guilt or innocence, and punishment of the guilty. Sentinels of Justice: Derwyn Rapheous Dan'duka Officers of Justice: Grissom Pious Sennaria Kalron Arwyn Noranne Vragdish Danilo Vesper Cailan Lyrasel Anterio Cromwell Dante Darkblade Nigel Wicked History of the Justice System of Nexus The empire was originally ruled by the emperor and empress. With the knights of the empire entrusted with up holding the laws of the empire. Judgments where held within the "Hall of Justice" within the royal city of Tholm. After the city of Tholm fell the knights took their orders from the Guild Council of Nexus. The original Sentinels of Justice were chosen by Tilnar, the Lord of Justice and given the Precepts of Justice to guide them. He left the creation of policy and the addition of new members to this original group. Seeing the wisdom of Tilnar's wishes, the Nexus Guild Council quickly officially sanctioned the Sentinels as the will of the people as well as the will of the Lord of Justice. New Sentinels are appointed by the existing Sentinels when they find an individual with the combined qualities they think are necessary to be a fair and impartial Sentinel. With consensus being a necessary condition within the Sentinels, new members were only appointed by unanimous decision. This consensus driven by equality has been incorporated into all their major decisions. Originally cases were judged by a tribunal of Sentinels. IN recent times this has been changed so that only a single Sentinel is now required. While only one Sentinel decides a case the policies and procedures are unanimously endorsed by all. The Precepts of Justice The "Precepts of Justice" come from a obelisk which Tilnar took from the ruined city of Tholm. The obelisk had rested within the "Hall of Justice". Tilnar, displeased with how the laws where being carried out, hid the obelisk and charged the paladins with finding it and reading the words of the law in its pure form before it was changed by politics. After much searching by all the paladins a group of paladins, lead by Wicked, found the obelisk deep within the Blood Swamp. To this day they continue to be the rudder by which Sentinels guide Justice within Nexus. It is important to remember that like many of the messages that come from our gods, the true laws have been lost, or misunderstood. We choose everyday of our lives. And the laws themselves allow it. That's why they were made, you know. Because if we weren't able to choose, why would we need our gods at all? The laws are there so the consequences of our choices are clear. Nobility is a measure of the soul, and not of one's rank in guild, wealth, or birth. Only those of a noble spirit may interpret these precepts, and only one marked by justice may pass judgment. All intelligent beings share the same Basic Rights, regardless of the nature of their creation, which can only be removed as the Consequence of their own actions, as per the divine laws of Free Will. Offense begins when an act influences another in a harmful way. One's lawful right to swing a sword ends where the flesh of another starts. A being should always act to others as they would be treated. All intelligent beings have the right to defend their Basic Rights, by whatever means are necessary, and the right to aid, or enlist the aid of others, in doing so. Enemies of the people at large have, by their actions, given up their Basic Rights. This loss of right can be applied to a group as a whole rather than an individual, so long the individual members of the group are acting as part of the group, and not on their own merits. Individuals acting on their own merits must only be judged on those merits. One's actions can only be judged on the knowledge and perceptions that were available at the time of their action. Justice is Swift and Harsh, tempered only by the flames of Mercy. It takes but one who is marked in the Flame of Justice to judge, though it cannot be the one who accuses. One who is marked by the Flame of Justice will be consigned to burn within it if ever a judgment is made for reasons other than the cause of justice itself. Justice is hard and cruel, and above petty bickering or political interests. It is an invasion of the Basic Rights of the accused to wrongfully accuse or unnecessarily detain them; It is an invasion of the Basic Rights of the victim to allow the offender to go unpunished; It is an invasion of the Basic Rights of all intelligent beings to abuse or manipulate the system of justice. It is beyond the power of any mortal being to set all wrongs to right, as such, those marked seek only to deliver justice, and not mediate every conflict in the realms. Officers and Sentinels of the Justice System Originally all paladin were granted the powers of arrest when they reached the status of Holy Warrior. This system was easily implemented, but poor in execution. Holy Warriors with little or no knowledge of the policies and procedures of Justice were being asked to do their duty. These Holy Warrior had their honor questioned simply as they did not know what they should do. To rectify this two tiers were established within the Justice System and paladin in general lost the power to arrest. Officers of Justice: The Officers of Justice were created and given the power to arrest and investigate crime. Officers are trained in the law, policies, and procedures such that they can execute their duties without unneeded arrests. They are part of most discussions of the Justice System, being excluded only from membership discussions. While their input is welcome and encouraged in non-membership discussions, they do not have a vote. Sentinels of Justice: The Sentinels of Justice act as Officers when needed but their greater duty is to act as judges for the cases investigated. They alone may appoint new Officers, advance Officers to Sentinels, or make policy and procedural decisions for the Justice System. They also have the power to demote or relieve Officers or Sentinels of their duties. Appointment, Advancement, & Demotion of Officers & Sentinels The Sentinels periodically add new members to their ranks. Any citizen in good standing may become an Officer of Justice. New Sentinels of Justice are chosen from the Officers, having proven themselves ready for the increased duties and responsibility. In each case a unanimous vote of the current Sentinels of Justice is required. Demotion of a Sentinel or Officer requires a unanimous vote of the Sentinel, save the one being voted upon. Crime, Trial, & Appeal Procedures Crime: If you feel someone has broken the law or wish to admit to breaking the law. If you fear for your life, find sanctuary in one of the temples. Find a member of the Justice System and contact them with your complaint. If none are available write everything down, as the details will be important. An Officer or Sentinel will come to you, it may not be the one you called. Officers of Sentinels involved in the case should excuse themselves from acting in any official capacity. The responding Officer will act as the investigator. He/she will ask you and all witnesses a number of questions to establish what happened. If they feel they have enough evidence they will attempt to place the suspect under arrest. Fleeing from arrest is considered a sign of guilt and will be taken into account in the trial. The arresting Officer will immediately broadcast a quick explanation to the realm. They will compile a report of the event and investigation and mail it to the Sentinels within a week (in the real world). Officers failing to perform these notifications will be punished with monetary fines, per the request of the Guild Master Council for expedient trials and an informed citizenry. The arresting Officer may opt to release the accused until trial, but in doing so accepts equal responsibility for any additional crimes the accused may commit while out. A Sentinel will review the report and set a date for a trial within two weeks (in the real world), based upon the availability of those involve. The Sentinel may opt to question any witnesses, set the criminal free until trial, or even void the charges based upon the report and questioning she/he may do. If the Sentinel opts to release the accused until trial, he/she accepts equal responsibility for any additional crimes the accused may commit while out. Trial: In the trial phase the arresting Officer will act as prosecutor and call witnesses if the accused disputes the charges. A single Sentinel will act as judge. The trials are generally public, but loud or otherwise disruptive observers may be told to leave. The Sentinel may impose additional rules of conduct for those present in the courtroom. Examples include bearing no weapons, not speaking, and no singing/spellcasting. At the Sentinel's discretion the trial may be closed to the public. A defendant may choose someone to speak for them or act as council. The defense does not have the right to endless time or questions and may be cut off by the Sentinel at any time. Disruptive defendants or council, like observers, can be excluded from the trial, though they are given more leeway than the observers. When all evidence has been presented, the victim and accused will be allowed a short statement. The Sentinel will then render judgment based upon the facts of the case. It is of note that some cases have been ruled justifiable homicide. The Sentinel will set the punishment for the convicted. A summary of the case, including the verdict reached (innocent or guilty) and sentence (if any) imposed will be published within days (in the real world). The summary will also be sent to the Guild Master and/or Emissary of the accused. Those found guilty have the right to appeal the sentence or verdict to the Upper Court. They must voice that desire immediately after the sentence is read. Appeal: While the case is being appealed the guilty will be returned to jail or set free as a criminal at the judge's discretion. Those returned to jail who escape have their appeal automatically declined with additional penalties. The Upper Court is a panel of three Sentinel. They will meet privately and review the case for fairness of the sentence or the validity of the verdict. They may or may not call witnesses, but will defiantly call the Sentinel who acted as judge. Their decisions will be posted within a two week time. Those appealing without merit may incur additional penalties, sentences of final death and banishment are automatically appealed to the Upper Court. At this time decisions of the Upper Court are final. Summary Trial: The accuse may also decide to forego a Full Trial and opt for a Summary Trial. Once a decision regarding which trial the accused opts for is made it may not be changed. An Sentinel CAN make a summary Judgement in cases where they arrested the accused. A Sentinel will weigh the facts of the case by interviewing the accused, the victim (if possible), and any witnesses (again if possible) and then make a summary Judgment. There is NO appeal of this decision.  It is final and binding. There is NO defense council. A summary of the case, including the verdict reached (innocent or guilty) and sentence (if any) imposed will be published within days (in the real world). The summary will also be sent to the Guild Master and/or Emissary of the accused. The Law of Nexus At this time there are few codified laws. The Justice System as a whole has requested a codified law from the Guildmaster Council. Without such a guideline, the Justice System has been handling the following crimes. Murder and Attempted Murder: This crime includes malicious teleporting, direct assault, malicious stunning in the presence of enemies, and other actions where the intent was to cause harm. Treason and Attempted Treason Violation of the Proclamation Wanton Destruction of Property: This crime includes arson, tossing other's equipment, and other actions which result in the loss of property. Theft: Accusations of theft of property by picking pockets, stealing from corpses, stealing from a group's drops, stealing from someone's room, etc., are investigated by the Justice System, but are considered a guild matter. If a resolution can not be found in the guild system, the Guildmaster's, or emissary for clerics and paladins, should bring the matter to the Justice System for resolution. Nexus Council & Guild Notices The Council Notice #1 The following Proclamation has been made by the Guild Council of Nexus: Wartime Statement to the Citizens of the realms: We stand in a time of siege, all citizens must be prepared to give their all to the war effort. Producers of goods, and every able-bodied person must stand unified, forgetting petty squabbles in light of Nexus' need. The recent attacks on the city have been severe. We must stand firm with all of our resources if we are to win our survival now. The threats, both subtle and military from Kyorl and the Hoard, who are now, at least partially allied, must be paid constant attention. Remain calm, act without malice or hatred, for those feed the enemy. You are called upon to obey the laws, aid the militia at every opportunity, and respond in an organized fashion the challenges that now face us. Statement of resolutions passed by the Town Council: These are statements put into law by a meeting of the Town Council; they are effective immediately. The resolutions listed below are not meant as punishment for anyone, they are meant to improve our chances of survival during wartime, and to provide security for loyal citizens. Equal protection for citizens, regardless of class; acts of mayhem. It shall be a crime to steal from or attack citizens of the realms, regardless of their social status. All citizens shall enjoy equal protection in this matter. During times of war this crime shall be considered treasonous, as it profits the general disorder by inciting mayhem, and punished by summary banishment. Heroes and citizens requested to desist from such actions must by law comply. During times of relative peace, this offense is prosecutable and may be tried by a Sentinel. Thieves Due to the inability of the Thieves' Guild to maintain an orderly relationship with the populace, it and its constituents are no longer welcome within the City walls. Thieves are hereby exiled, and prohibited from entering the city of Nexus. The Council notes the heroic contributions of certain members of this guild, and encourages its proper and expeditious reformation. Should the guild re-form, and demonstrate cohesion, the Council will consider a petition for re-admittance. Individual Thieves may request sanctuary with another guild, and with the approval of 3 council members, inclusive of the Guildmaster of the guild in question, be readmitted. Trainees arriving from Falcion have the same option. Followers of Kyorl exiled We will not tolerate followers of Kyorl within Nexus. All followers are hereby banished, never to return to the city, even should they lose their mark, or be marked false. No edifice dedicated to Kyorl shall stand within the walls. Followers of Kyorl entering the city will be slain on sight. Exile In all cases the penalty for breaking exile is death. Those exiled may not enter the city for any reason, else lose their life. A list shall be maintained of the names of those exiled, date and charge for purposes of record keeping and possible review. Should someone be charged with breaking exile, they will be arrested and tried. Daily Scouting Scouting shall be conducted daily along known Western and Eastern paths to keep us informed of enemy movements. Guildmasters are responsible for coordinating this. The Council Notice #2 We of the Council have decided that the crisis that led to the need for thieves to be issued with passes in order to walk the streets of Nexus has passed as has the need for these passes.  Those that train as thieves are again as free as any other to walk the streets of Nexus.  This however does not excuse those who broke the now overturned edict.  Also, the Council's stand on Kyorlites has not altered.  They remain banished from our walls. Nexus Council The Council Notice #3 The exile of the Thieves from Nexus and their guildless return to the City has placed a great deal of strain on all of our Citizens. It has always been the hope of this body that the Thieves' Guild would one day return to the fold. We hope that the time away has allowed them the opportunity to rethink their position and role within our society and has made them open to the kind of change and restructuring that must occur in order for harmony to exist. The Thieves have made significant progress towards this goal since last they stood before this Council.  This document seeks to set forth in writing both the spirit and letter of the Thieves' return. As such, it has four main sections: I. Thieves and Nexus Society; II. Thieves and the Law; III. The Thieves' Guild and the Council; IV. The Thief Guild Hall I.  Thieves and Nexus Society It is the expressed desire of the Thieves to find a unique niche in which to lend their services to the City and her cause while at the same time receiving her protection. They view themselves as urban rangers, solitary and moving in the shadows of the mortared forests, seeking to apply their skills to the greater good. The Thieves hope to once again be accepted amongst the Citizens of Nexus. They understand, accept, and can move beyond the kinds of discrimination and stereotyping that those who choose their profession will often be faced with. In order to avoid confrontation, they prefer to operate from the shadows where their skills can be put to the most use. The Nexus City Council is the governing body of this City. The Thieves understand the course of events that lead to the current situation and have moved to address the concerns raised by this body. Their main goal is now one of collaboration and cooperation. The Sentinels are the enforcers of Nexus Law and are perceived as such.  Those who have committed no crime should have no cause for fear or enmity. Hence, the new Thieves' Guild will work with the system rather then against it. II.  Thieves and the Law It is the responsibility of the Sentinels to enforce Tilnar's Word of Justice, but it must be the Master of Thieves' responsibility to see that these offending thieves do not mar the true Guild. The Laws of Nexus and the proclamations of this Council must be respected.  Those that do not do so will face the Thieves' Justice that must be swift and efficient, though not hasty or rash. We must draw a line between the Thieves of Nexus (the Guild) and those rogues that hold no alliances, so that history does not repeat itself. To clarify, if any thief of the Guild of Nexus steals, murders, or assaults a Citizen of Nexus or an Ally of Nexus or commits a treasonous act, they will not only face the Sentinels, but the Thieves' Justice as well. They will be judged by at least two senior members of the Guild - at least one of whom must be the Master of Thieves. The Master of Thieves will have the final say in the decision with the others there to observe and offer council. Punishments will range from fines levied (varying upon the severity of the crime) to banishment from the Guild. Banishment is a serious punishment for a serious offense. The Thieves' Guild must work to separate its official members from those rogues who think only of themselves.  To this end, the Master of Thieves shall be bestowed the power to banish guild members from the Nexus Guild, as other Guildmasters are able. Those thieves who show that they would place their own desires above the well being of Nexus, those thieves that actively work against the cause of the City, shall be cast out - marked as rogues as surely as their actions speak it. This banishment may be reviewed after no less than one year's time, barring some extraordinary actions on the part of the banished. Finally, the power of the Master of the Thieves will henceforth be kept in check by his guild lest he or she harm the entire group with their actions. The Master of Thieves shall be held to the same standards as other thieves, if not higher, so that if they too places their own goals above those of the Guild and the City, they may be replaced by their guildmembers.  The Master of Thieves must not be allowed to bring ruin to their guild through their own actions. III.  The Thieves Guild and the Council For a period of one year marked by the official passing of this document, the Thieves' representative will serve in an advisory, non-voting role on the Nexus City Council. This position will be identical in nature and influence to the ones currently held by the representatives of the Nexus Churches. At the end of this probationary period, the situation shall be reviewed with the aim of returning full voting power to the Thieves' Guild. IV.  The Thief Guild Hall The Thieves' Guild does not wish to rebuild the old guild and hence do not wish to rebuild the old guild house. As such, they plan to build a new Guildhall on a new location within the city walls. The Nexus Council On this day, the Thirteenth of Torrents in the 1,229th Year of the Empire The Barbarian Notice Rules and Regulations of the Guild A scribe will be available to teach those of you who don't know the Rules and Regulations of the Guild and of Nexus. Any Barbarian found using their guild powers to the detriment of the Guild or Nexus will be punished severely. Druids are off limits to all Barbarians. If Guildmaster is acting against the will of the Guild, a vote of no-confidence may be called.  If more than half of the guild lack confidence in the leader, a new election shall be held. The guild chests are for your benefit.  If you take an item from them, you have one week to place another item of like use in the chest.  Any caught stealing from the guild by using these chests for personal gain shall face the full wrath of the guild. The Notice in the Thieves Corner The Council of the Sovereign City of All Races has given its recognition to the new Thieves' Guild of Nexus. As such it is important for all Guild members, apprentices and graduates to recognize the privileges endowed and the responsibilities borne. All Guild thieves will respect and obey the laws of the City or face not only the judgement of the Sentinels of the Realms, but also the Thieves' Justice. It shall be swift and efficient, in an effort to prevent a select corrupt few from sullying the entire Guild. Signed Sirendele Olath'sol Voice of the Guild of Shadows The Attraction Notice Mistakes are often made, in the line of war. Situations change, and what once seemed simply a harmless effect, becomes a dire result. Ignorance often causes these mistakes to go unnoticed for a long while. We refuse to acknowledge these mistakes, because we are stubborn, and cannot accept that we would make them. When the spell attraction was designed, the sprite people had not joined with the allied races. We thought very little of them, other than their being cute little inferior people. But the times have changed, and many sprites now stand within the ranks of Nexus, aiding in the battles we fight. As such, the way this spell is used is to change. We are not the goblins, and yet, there are those among us who think nothing of the sprites that are conjured up to serve this spell, and will slaughter them needlessly, should they refuse to do the bidding of the caster. They hide behind excuses when confronted, claiming the sprite should have simple acted as a slave, or that the sprites were illusions, and not real. All these lies, simply because people refused to walk away from the creature's anger, until it calmed, and left. Hence forth, any member of the Tower who casts an attraction spell, is fully responsible for the life of the sprite they are conjuring. If those they choose to fight beside do not care for this creature's life, that mage will suffer serious penalties from the Tower, for endangering that life. I would openly invite the other Guilds in Nexus to beging enforcing similar penalties on those within their control that conjure this spell. In her own hand, Thelia, Towermistress To date, the Churches of Aalynor, Tilnar, DIlanis, Erisar, Paelina, and Andaras, have agreed to enforce similar rules upon their members, along with the Ranger's Guild. The Guide to Mages Robes The following indicates the order of official robes sanctioned by the Mage's Guild.  Depending upon your level of skill within the Art, you may wear the following robes...  Other, non official robes are known to exists, however, their magic may interfere with the magic of lesser magi, preventing their use. Rank Official Robe Max. Armour 1 Blue 5 5 Green 10 10 Red 20 15 Black 30 20 Purple 50 Despite the ability to wear other robes, Guild Members are reminded to wear the official colours at all times, for easy identification by other ranking guildmembers....  It is against the rules to impersonate a mage of a Higher Order, this offense punishable by being cast out of the Guild, and being manaburned. The Notice of Sponsorship The Sponsorhip systems exist for a reason.  It is important that each young mage that you sponsor understand the responsibility that Tower membership entails.  This is not an issue to be taken lightly.  Because of the great power that a mage's connection to the weave provides them, wisdom and understanding must be present in the individual who wishes to advance.  It is not my place to tell you the questions that you must ask.  It is just as, if not more, important that you who would sponsor know the kind of questions to ask on your own as it is for the young mage to answer those questions. I would simply remind you to not take the task lightly.  Your decisions effect the entire Tower. Tif'eret, Magus-Senatus The Notice of the Social Weave The relationship between the Tower, the Weave, the City, and the individual mage is often overlooked.  The land on which the current City of Nexus is built has long been a center of activity both in social and magical terms.  Following the God's War and the destruction of the Old City, the Tower was built and the New Nexus grew around it.  There is a reason for this.  The Tower serves as an antenna for the weave, a focus of magical powers just as the City now serves as a center for the Allied Races.  These three entities: The Tower, The Weave, and the City, are therefore inexorably linked.  And of course, the mage is likewise connected to each of the three.  For this reason, each of your actions has repurcussions. Just as there is a magical weave, there is a social weave.  When you act, you create a ripple in that weave that can easily turn into a crashing wave.  Act accordingly.  The power afforded the mage can be great and with that power comes great responsibility.  It is not the job of the Tower to tell you how to act.  This is meant to be a rather solitary process filled with hardship.  Some may fail.  This does not mean that if you have a question it will not be answered.  We want you to ask.  We encourage it. Asking means that you are thinking on your own, not simply being told. The process of asking is often more important then learning the answer.  Each mage must grow in wisdom just as their connection to the weave grows. Tif'eret, Magus-Senatus The Polymorph Proclemation *A gold lined parchment with silver lettering.* The polymorph spell is now on ban from the use of any mage.  They are not to cast it in any form, from devices, wands, or invocation.  They are also to not go on poly hunts outside of the designated shake for such found in Nexus.  Any mage found guilty of such shall severally penalized, if such occurrences keep happening they shall be subsequently cast out. The polymorph spell has been found to kill to many innocent bystanders in its use.  The recent incident on Rymak is only a all to real reminder of how it can kill those not in the group.  Another fact that is not taken into account is when polying outside the group tends to clear on things they do not with to take down.  Leaving the monsters to wonder the area.  As Thelia stated in her post clarifying the poly spell, the polyed creature eventually aligns itself with its new form, and has the skills of such.  This in itself is a danger to nearby innocents.  The Tower will not promote the use of poly spell when it posses such risk to others not involved. This verdict shall stand until Either, Thelia, myself, or the council agrees upon with a unanimous vote on a safe use of the poly spell.  If such a usage is agreed upon, then the guild shall adopt such.Until then, the Polymorph spell is banned in any use by the guild. Zanifics Rainbowleaf, The Rainbow Wizard.The Book of Riddles - Old Found in Aalynor's Temple: You examine the portal of light. It's a large glowing portal of blue-green light. It stands as tall as a Stone Giant and as wide as the double doors into the Temple of Aalynor. As you examine the swirling vortex, you grow dizzy, and familiar words whisper in your mind: Before my birth I had a name, But soon as born, I changed the same; And when I'm laid within the tomb, I shall my father's name assume. I change my name three days together, Yet live but one in any weather. You examine the exit from the labrynth. Hidden behind the ivy covering the walls, you find a smooth blue slab of stone in place of the regular granite walls which cover the rest of the labyrnth. I am just two and two, I am warm, I am cold, And the parent of numbers that cannot be told. I am lawful, unlawful -- a duty, a fault, I am often sold dear, good for nothing when bought; An extraordinary boon, and a matter of course, And yielded with pleasure when taken by force. You examine strange markings on the wall here. The markings are completely foreign and unintelligble to you, although you get the feeling at the back of your mind that they could be translated and are in fact an incantation of sorts: "questioN untO Lumini Ferric knoW Roses invitE lovE Ov The resT" From the Jungle Temple: You examine the Old Scroll. At first glance does one shy. But soon the art attracts the eye. Strength surpasses that of steel. And skillful beauty obtains a meal. From Falcion: You examine the carving on the deck. Tired of sitting home all day. The fee's of travel are beyond my means. Therefore I've decided to... The Tome of Ancient History Taehris the Wolf's Bane By Vryce, Gamemaster My name is Taehris the Wolf's Bane and I am a devout Follower of Lord Erisar. My time upon Altin is close to an end but before I leave this coil, my Lord has geased me with one final task. I am to share with you my knowledge of the Werebeasts that I have gathered through my years of research while hunting them, studying texts, journals and even through visions blessed upon me by Lord Erisar. Between Erisar's death and subsequent resurrection, a legion of mercenaries became quite infamous during the War of the Races. This group had taken up using Erisar's name during thier battles and started calling themselves "Erisar's Chosen" and "The Beasts of War". The use of Erisar's name was used to inspire fear invoking the dead God's name. They had also taken up the fetish of wearing animal skins and masks, emulating the beast of their choice. And to further their nightmarish reputation they attacked only at night and consumed the flesh of their enemies after any of their "victories". They hired out to the highest bidder which almost always ended up being the Horde. When there was no work for the mercenaries, they kept in practice by raiding. Soon after Erisar's resurrection, he learned of these mercenaries and their, what he considered, blasphemy. Erisar appeared before the gathering of mercenaries and cursed them: Erisar declares, "As you have mocked the Hunt, so shall you now be hunted as the animals you disgrace..." Erisar continues, "And only during the night will you be strong." And so the Werebeasts were created (Wolves, tigers, bears, rats and sharks). At first, the cursed legion still worked together but that soon ended as the animal instincts now within their intellect began to take root causing strife. The Werewolves became a tightly knit family and soon struck out on their own (They have been known to work with the Tigers, Bears and Rats once in awhile). The Weresharks found an irresistable call to the Sea of Tears and made their "home" there. The Weretigers, Bears and Rats continue to lair together to this very day (Some Wererats broke away and founded an exclusive lair in the sewers of Falcion. It is still unknown to how this happened or why). It is rumored that there are a few more Werebeasts that have become lost in the sands of time. The Werebeasts were declared enemies of The Church of Erisar by Erisar himself. Over the following centuries the Erisarians hunted down the Werebeasts and it seemed as if they had almost wiped out the Werewolves. Most of this knowledge was lost and forgotten over time for various reasons and the steady attacks upon the Werebeasts lessened as they were no longer considered a major threat. All of the Werebeasts share some common traits: Only magical weapons will be able to strike them. All of the various Werebeasts have an intense hatred for Erisar and any of His Church. The preferred diet of all Werebeasts is that of humanoid flesh. They in fact, crave it. The Werebeasts replenish their ranks through spreading the disease of Lycanthropy. Infected persons survive the process and become a Werebeast, overcome it, or die. During the day they seek refuge in human or animal form. Upon death, they revert to either form but never the hybrid. As Wolf's Bane, I am an expert upon the Werewolves, I will list a few of their personalities and their role within the Packs and Tribes to help further understand their psychology and personality traits. Large Wolf: Werewolf in full wolf form. More animalistic in general but still possesses human intellect. Massive Wolf: Same characteristics as a Large Wolf, only enhanced. Werewolf : Typical half-wolf, half-human hybrid form. This is normally the "War Aspect" the Werewolf will assume. Human intellect but completely animalistic in actions. Frenzied Werewolf: A normal Werewolf who has become either enraged or is starving for humanoid flesh will assume this aspect involuntarily. The human intellect is completely obscured and they are completely savage in this form. Warwolf: A Werewolf that acts as an armorer for the Pack. The human intelligence is more pronounced while working, but their bestial side comes on full during battle which they love above all else. Raging Warwolf: A Werewolf in full battle frenzy. Its bestial side totally in control. Werewolf Ghost Dancer: They are the "magic-users" of the Pack. It is common that they act as seers and advisors to the Pack Leader. Werewolf Spirit Walker: Formerly Ghost Dancers, they have attained a higher mastery of magic. Werewolf Pack Leader: A powerful Werewolf that controls one of the tribe packs within a lair. They are able to control their bestial side a bit more than other Werewolves. This lets them best utilize their human intellect. Werewolf Paragon: An elite form of Werewolf that controls one or more Tribes. Like the Pack Leader, their bestial side is controlled to best utilize their human characteristics. I hold hope that any who read this will find something useful within if they should cross the Werebeasts. Erisar be with you if you do. -Taehris, the Wolf's Bane The Questor's of Oblivion By Sirendele, The scents of wood, paper, dust, and candle smoke mingled with an aroma that could only be described as history. A gray-haired scribe gathered up a small handful of sand, grains that had been gathered from the Eastern Desert, and let them sprinkle onto the last sheet of parchment. The sand absorbed the excess moisture from the sharp black strokes of his practiced hand as Alduous returned his ever-slipping spectacle to their perch on his broad nose and began to look over the most recent of his historical annals. * * * * * " The Questors of Oblivion: An account of events described by Sirendele Olath'sol, as penned by Alduous Carpente' " I was assembling the tools necessary to conduct my interview of one Nightblade of the Thieves' Guild of Nexus, a Sirendele Olath'sol, when I was abruptly introduced to his presence. He leaned casually in one of the armchairs of the inquiry room. I could not say how long he had been sitting there before the cold glint of his dark gaze caught my attention. Undeterred by his theatrics, I commenced the questioning. His soft voice echoed through the quiet room like the whispers of wraiths as he told his tale. "It could be argued," began the soft spoken Drow, "that the most recent activities of the Cult of the Void were caused by a small group of adventurers of whom I was a member. I had been relieving some of the wandering Disciples of their goods and their ability to harm wandering citizenry when I was joined by Nethra the lady paladin, Rhelton (a fellow Nightblade), and a priest answering to the name Fafa. We were hard pressed as the Cultists began to come in greater numbers- packs of three or four instead of the loners I had been preying on." Here the dark elf pursed his lips in thought. "Nethra led well, however, and we were able to keep our lives while taking theirs'. Things became considerably more complicated when a Cult Devotee arrived. He lay in wait, prepared to ambush us, but again Nethra was able to keep us clear of disaster. While we sat under the alley grating deciding on our course of action, several Disciples attacked us, coming from our flanks. Though we managed to fell several of the rabid cultists, there numbers eventually overwhelmed us." I struggled to keep up with the Drow's words and he must have realized this. He held a thin-stemmed glass of wine in onelong-fingered hand (where it came from I cannot say) and peered into its blood-red contents until I caught up. "Please continue," I bade him. "It was decided by our group that our best course of action lay in dividing the things we had gathered up and then returning to thebattle, perhaps with some reinforcements. The tolling of the Dark Brother's Bells told us we would not have the time for such luxuries. I prepared myself to go and scout out the area and made my way from Tiger's Pawn Shop to Market Street, near the magical shop there. "I came across a large gathering of people. They appeared to have come across the Cultists in force somewhere in the streets of the city. There was no organization that I could discern, no leader, and no orders being presented. It was, I would assert, barely controlled chaos- clerics tanked and scouted, people wandered in and out of the group at random and without consent of the others, and the ranks of the would-be heroes grew so that we bumped into each other in the midst of the battle." Though he managed to keep his dark face expressionless, I detected a hint of quiet annoyance in his voice. Before I could press theissue, he continued. "The Bells tolled several more times as the warriors of the Void continued to flood the streets. Through theskills of some powerful healers- including Ashen, Zharina, Kylia, and Ellwynn- we managed to press on, heading toward Maelstrom and the alley there. "Unfortunately, during these forays I had come to discover that the cultists had grown in their mastery over the spells of displacement. While the large group forged southward on Maelstrom, I was sent hurling on the winds of magic. I barely had time to register that I was in the Town Square when a swarm of waiting cultists set upon me. I fumbled for the Misty Vortex at my waist that would carry me away but the disorienting effects of the bastard's displacement spell slowed my reactions. "I felt the explosion of pain and smelled my own hair and flesh burning as flames erupted from within. It was like the embrace of aDemon of the Twelfth Hell." His jaw clenched slightly and dark eyes seemed to remember something. Whether it was the effects of the Devotees' burstflames or his analogy, I could not say. "The next thing I remembered I was in the Healing Hand, rising as though jolted from some nightmare laden sleep. Knowing I would be of little use to my companions or myself if I was unarmed, unarmored, and unable to heal myself, I quickly went to equip myself for the long battle ahead." Occasionally taking respites to wet his mouth with his wine, Sirendele went on to tell of his rejoining the group of adventurerswho traveled the streets, beating back the Void's pawns. From his account, it would seem that they encountered and defeated at least two score of the Disciples and a half dozen of the Devotees, with an assortment of Guardians involved as well. One can never be sure of the accuracy of such numbers, though. He told of group members continuing to come and go at random, some propelled by the teleportations of the cultists and some spurred by the taste for adventure and reward. His tone continued to hold mild… annoyance… whenever he mentioned this. His account was eventually cut short, however, as he told me of being waylaid in the chaos of a battle. "I was in the process of removing my blade from the spinal column of one of the fiends when I was struck a wicked blow from behind. My head seemed to explode and I dropped my sword, falling into unconsciousness as I felt several hands grab hold of me and drag me into a darkened alley." His recounting of his escape from the clutches of his nefarious captors was vague at best. "Though I did manage to get away with my goods and life intact, I can tell that they had pillaged my mind. To what end? I would prefer not to speculate on that at this time…" Attack on the Mages Tower By Lyrasel, The first fireball streaked across the early morning sky, its tail suddenly exploding as it burst against the wall of the Ivory Tower. In case there had been any mistake about intent, the familiar voice spoke through our minds, "Yes, that's what I was aiming for..." My first thoughts were thanks that I knew Faulk was safe, but immediately on its heels.. Fleia! Even as I attempted to reach her mind, though, her thoughts rang out, asking if the mages were well. So began the night. Not a mage, and not my Tower, but the magicks it holds help to hold the barriers that keep Nexus safe, so I gathered myself and my things, and made my way from Rymek as quickly as I could. Just as I reached the entrance to the Tower, where were gathered a number of people, Astaroth faded into view and hurled another fireball into the door. Without a second thought, the barbarian Karnok attacked him, swinging his warmace into the mage's face, but before I could even blink, Astaroth chanted a few words... and Karnok was a puddle of goo on the ground. Fleia's thoughts came again, asking all available to help put out the fire -- worse, the Tower itself shimmered eerily in the pre-dawn dark. I hurtled in through the doorway, noting from the corner of my eye that Hellfire was running in himself, arriving from the south. Before my foot hit the first step on the stairway, Hellfire's death was felt. I started to turn back at that point, but just then the Tower shimmered again, and instead, I raced up the stairs to find Fleia standing on the topmost landing, directing the efforts to save the tower from fire. In the hustle and chaos, I noted others standing with her, but my mind did not register who they were at first. As Fleia began to gather her energies to draw on the Weave and strengthen the Tower's defenses, I tuned my lyre, and quickly shifted into Draen's Tale, thinking to myself that a more appropriate song could not exist. As Fleia's energies flagged, Jewel and Hellfire supported her efforts with healing spells and blessings, and slowly, things seemed to right themselves and return to normal. Just as the song finished, Thelia came hurrying out from a side hallway, looking wan and drained herself. As they hurriedly conferred, the deaths began again...Astaroth had loosed his zombie creatures on the city. Thelia directed Fleia to lead the group on a search of the city streets, and we set off. I hesitate to name all those who were there, for fear of leaving out someone deserving of mention. The groups split and reformed as we broke off into smaller parties to move more swiftly and rid the city of the zombies. Fleia, Thelia, Larkin, Lucillia, Martax, Zakainen, Pralys, Jewel, Rapheous, Gallows.. one by one we hunted down the zombie menaces and dispatched them. Throughout all this, the Silver Alchemist continued to gloat, but when challenged by Fleia, by Sinister, by Hellfire, by Karnok to meet the Heroes face to face he sneered that he would choose the time and place for that meeting, and that he was waiting for someone. We learned who that someone was when Ariel joined our small party. Astaroth thought out that he had a special gift for her, that he had been waiting for her. When Ariel teased him that he didn't want a silly old woman, he said that he would make her young again. As we were informing her of what had taken place, she disappeared from our midst, apparently summoned or transported somehow by Astaroth. Fleia and Faulk were able to clair her, and reported that she was in an elegant and luxuriously appointed room, apparently within Astaroth's tower. Attempts to summon her back were fruitless. The room is apparently warded against such magicks. From that point on, we were helpless bystanders to the drama that unfolded in snatches of thought here and there. First came Ariel's startled thought that 'he put it in the tea', followed by her thoughts becoming increasingly unclear and jumbled as she slipped into unconsciousness. The last we heard was her muffled attempt to resist drinking more of the tea, and Astaroth gloating that now Ariel was his through eternity. Further attempts to reach her were fruitless. I only pray that her faith stays strong while we find a way to retrieve her from Astaroth's clutches and destroy the mad power that daily creeps further over him. Submitted to the Archives of the Bard's GuildLyrasel, Minstrel Below may not be the correct story, but its what comes up in the archived website under this title by Pious.. The Battle of the Corynthian Wastes By Pious, I entered the realms on Dilur, the eleventh of the month of Blossoms, 1,644 years since the Godswar, and the 1,227 year of the Empire; two hours before dawn. I was at the Town Square, and with me (already there) were Darmis, Dean, and Tarkin. I smiled to see them there, curtsied to Darmis, and opened my mind to sense the presence of all others within the realms, but before I could sort through the multiple impressions my mind was receiving, I was interrupted by a sudden thought carried along the Weave to me by a certain wizard . . . Astaroth flashed, "So I could kill you and no one would care?". This confused me a little, as I had only just arrived and his sentence seemed to me like one to be used in the middle of a conversation. I wasn't sure if he'd meant to speak to someone else, but got the feeling that I was definitely missing out on part of what had been said. Still, a very powerful archmage had just threatened to kill me, and so I thought it best that since he had put it in the form of a question, I would try to convince him not to. In the physical world, I blinked, thought about it, and told Darmis and Tarkin, who had wanted to ask me something, to hold a moment, as someone else wished to speak with me. I then tried my level best to persuade Astaroth not to kill me, though hampered somewhat by trying to get out a convincing reason before he assumed I had none and killed me anyway. I told him "No, I have many friends. Why would you think that?", and he countered with, "Please, all of nexus and half the goblins want my head on a pike. Your friends are nothing.". Seeking to play for time, I asked him, "So why again, do you think noone would care if I died?", adding "And by this point, probably half of Nexus wants me too . . . to take my (admittedly true) unkind words.". He told me, "If your guild will cast you out, others will have no pity if you were dead is my thinking.", and, amused at how easily even the powerful wizards could be fooled by propaganda, I told him, "Funny about that. I'm rather sure Dragonslayer did it as a face-saving measure -- since I left, he had to do something, and so he pretended I was back in it long enough for him to be able to say, we Outcast you! In other words, you can't leave because we threw you out. I actually left before being given that title.", sentence by sentence. He replied, "That is comical. The leadership of nexus always did have a supiority complex.", and suddenly I thought of something, and took a quick trip to the tavern to the south, to ask who Astaroth was; I found that he was about twenty-third tier of the mage's guild, called Weavemaster by some, and known more as the Silver Alchemist. (OOC: I found it amusing that, while he was a non-player character, he WASN'T a contributing player; most NPC's are.) I told Astaroth that "Sadly, not everyone will listen to me . . . So, few others get a chuckle out of it.", and he inquired "How could there be so much upheaval in a guild of bards?". I answered, That's one of the reasons I left -- the ridiculous idea that there could be a Guild of Bards.". At this point Tarkin was asking me about some kind of experiment, to see if my apprentice aura was still in place, and once I had ascertained he would not kill me if it was not, I returned my attention to the telepathic world and listened for Astaroth's voice; as he had not yet told me anything else, I felt it minutely safe to engage in an argument with Darmis, about training, and how not all combat was physical . . . I found him to be a surprisingly uneducated monk, for a Nexusian (a term commonly used in referring to one that had 'completed' their training), and sought to explain things to him. Partway through, I remembered that I never had seen who exactly was about, and reopened my mind to the impressions of who was in the realms (Astaroth was visible); and just in time too, for Darmis' comment a moment later. He said, "aside from Astaroth rearing his ugly head again"; I could not tell exactly what his comment was in response to, there was nothing in our conversation to which it seemed a logical response, so I assumed he was replying verbally to something Tarkin had sent to him telepathically. I did attempt to explan my rudeness earlier, in not speaking with him earlier, saying "Yes, that's what I meant when I said I had to talk to someone again. I thought speaking with the person who had the power to kill me with a thought somewhat took precedence over arguing with you.". He sighed, and Arkenon passed by heading to the west. I continued speaking with this stubborn young monk, gradually losing patience with his inability to see the simplest of points I presented; yet I was determined that reason would win the day. Unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to find out. From out of nowhere, a voice came, saying, "As you asked, I have come.", and then chanting "Thy blood become venom, and kill from within.". Some of you may recognize this as the chant to the Venom spell -- indeed, as the chant echoed in my ears, Astaroth faded into view and his Venom spell took effect on Darmis. As the cathedral bell tolled, sounding the knells of Darmis' murder, Astaroth chuckled, saying "Poor dead boy". At no point had I spoke to him requesting his presence, so I could only presume that Darmis had somehow done so; later I realized it was him referring to Astaroth as having an 'ugly head' that probably did it. Seeing him so easily strike down one more efficient in the arts of battle than I, I foresaw my own such doom in a few moments . . . he would say something akin to 'You don't find this amusing? I hate it when people don't get my jokes! Thy blood become venom, and kill from within!', so I drew upon my acting abilities and quickly forced out a chuckle. Some time later, he mentioned that the people of Nexus were a joke; my views upon this matter already being evident, I elected not to comment. Astaroth then commenced to chant again, invoking a magical cloak to obscure him from sight, and slowly faded from view. Thank the gods, he had spared my life! On the other hand, he might view it as a personal favor... better not ignore it. I thanked him, and then Arkenon arrived, leading the way with a slap to the cheek (mine, not his). I felt a presence in my mind as Astaroth told me, "I could stand the fool no longer, I appologize for not staying to chat". I blinked at Arkenon; why slap ME? At that point he asked me, "an outcast and a murderer?", and I understood his reasoning . . . sort of. In a way, one wonders how he could even think that . . . true I had gained my fourth tier recently, but even so, how the heck is a fourth-tier bard with no weapons or armor or items, and one hurt spell, with mana to cast it only a few times, going to so much as put a dent in the robes of an (at least) tenth-tier monk? Never mind that a couple of blows from him would easily incapacitate me, but what about his healing ability, his devices, meditating, or just leaving? One looks at the scenario and can't place serious faith in the idea that I would have a chance. More likely, one dies laughing. (Hey, so that's how I would have done it. Maybe Arkenon wasn't jumping to conclusions after all.) I exclaimed quickly, "Not me!", and Arkenon asked me, "then who?". At this point I knew I was safe from an impromptu, Nexus-wide game of kick-the-bardling; I actually had PROOF that I was not responsible for imagined slights. Well, in this case, it was not imagined; but for the most part, I was used to being discriminated against for offenses that existed only in the minds of their avengers, or at least the idea that I had anything to with it being restricted so. I felt smug that, at last, it could not be fudged that my 'deceptions fooled noone, and anyone who was not an apprentice automatically defects to the Goblin Hoarde or Kyorl or someone', and that anyone who was hasty in killing me would be tried for murder -- at last, able to fight back with the city on my side! So, I told him to ask Darmis, and smirked with the knowledge that even the 'paladins' that had accosted me before, would have to take my side if I were murdered on this one. Arkenon told me, "you were the only one here",and, shaking my head, I hastened to explain that I had been -- "Now, yes.". Arkenon said, "then speak", and he asked me "who?"; seeing Darmis arrive, I decided to let him answer, and knowing that I had had plenty of time to flee if I really were the murderer, I stated that I had only stayed around to guard his corpse. I shrugged, thinking I had shown at least I should not be under immediate suspicion, and Arkenon said, "I just left and only the 2 of you were here". Nonetheless, his next question was not addressed to me, and he asked, "who did this Darmis?"; Darmis replied, "I would sure like to know why he thinks I summoned hiom...". Again, at this time I had not yet deduced the link between Darmis' comment and Astaroth's words. Darmis told Arkenon, "asteroth", and Arkenon replied "darn". I was curious as to how Darmis might have summoned him, and, seeking for clues, asked "Why would you think you summoned him?". Instantly realizing the answer (thought it turned out not to be the right one, I stifled a slightly hysterical giggle, and taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, tried to concentrate on the situation. Arkenon was saying, "darn darn darn", and asked me "were you talking to him?". I told Arkenon "I was talking with him, yes . . . trying to persuade him not to kill me . . . I guess he mistook it for a summons. I didn't object, though . . . ", and Arkenon apologized, saying "and I am sorry Lathet for the accusation". Darmis broadcast, "Asteroth, Why do you say I summoned you? You attack me without provocation or cause.. Why?", and I shrugged, both to Arkenon's apology (under the circumstances, what else might he have thought?), and to Darmis' question. At this point Astaroth told me, "They run around while detecting invisible, but fail to search for what is hidden. Fools.". And fools are killed, thought I. Well. I had best remove myself from their number, then, or join them in the Hand. I wracked my mind for a way to do this. In the meantime I reassured Arkenon, "I've come to expect it.", Arkenon was saying "darmis stop being stupid", then told us "he kills for the fun of it". Darmis protested, "but he took it out on me...", and, as if in reply, Astaroth broadcast "You think I was speaking to you?". Arkenon continued calming Darmis, "so what" he said, "he kills for the sake of killing". Getting a slight feeling, not unlike that which climbers at the end of a rope must feel just as the last strands of it begin to snap and they have not yet found a stable handhold, I told Astaroth "Yep, that's what I was thinking . . . hehe, I tried not to laugh at them.". Arkenon said "he does whatever he wishes", and advised, "do not flatter yourself or give him ammunition". Darmis broadcast, "I died, so I assumed", and Astaroth broadcast in return "Assumptions get more people into trouble.". Arkenon growled, spit, and, as Paedric arrived, asked "what did you say to Astaroth Lathet?", clarifying "that brought him into town?". Ariel arrived and hugged everyone, saying hello; Paedric cast resist-poison upon himself. I told Arkenon, that I had told Astaroth that there were those who cared for me, and thusly yes, there would be those who would care if he killed me. When Arkenon again inquired of why I was speaking to him in the first place, I reiterated that the first words he spoke to me were asking why he shouldn't just come and kill me then. In the meantime, Ariel gave us some advice, "Just a word of warning though. I keep hearing Astaroth's name. Treat him with care. He's evil and will kill you for as little as glancing at him."; he arrived (I had not noticed him leave, but with Astaroth around and having just killed him, it was perhaps a wise strategy to adopt, sneaking around the city everywhere) and, sighing, kicked his corpse. I had not entirely given up on my talk with him, and asked "Well, think it would be tempting fa -- err, him; to continue our discussion?", but apparently he was not in the mood for resuming it anymore - as a return to that might incite Astaroth to come back for a repeat session, I realized that was a good idea. Arkenon asked, "he was casting venom?", and, as if answering his own thoughts, said "that sounds about righ". Darmis nodded in affirmation anyway, and then Ariel got there; Arkenon asked her "ariel", as Darmis continued with "that's what got me", saying "can you rp rd and rw me"? Arkenon was asking for rp rd and rw that is, not Darmis. Ariel started casting the requested spells, while I ran to the tavern again to find out a few things; when I returned, she was just finishing up, and Arkenon asked if she could try to Clair Astaroth again; she replied that this was doubtful, as he kept himself well shielded, but she would try. As she attempted it, I asked, "What's to stop him from just turning the spell back on her, so that she sees from her own eyes?". I was ignored, but then again, I'm not a mage, I suppose they knew better than me that it wasn't possible . . . Ariel said, "Oh aye. He's going to love me for that.", chuckled, and cringed. Arkenon asked, "is he in a shielded room", and followed Ariel. Ariel shook her head, saying "I just can't connect to him.", and Arkenon suggested that "perhaps it will bring him here". Ariel nodded to this, and Arkenon and Florian started using devices and spells to resist all the other elements. Ariel told us, "He wanted to know if I was trying to be noticed.", and what she had replied "I told him he couldn't expect to kill without at least someone trying to find him, without repercussions.". Arkenon said "neah just wanted to see his lovely face once more ", and grinned. Ariel looked around warily; I did the same, but saw only a merchant besides Ariel and Arkenon. Ariel also began to cast protective spells on herself, and, seeing that I could not help in this one, I decided to try to get an apple from this Merchant who, for some ridiculous (or insanely brave) reason, was still here with Astaroth about, trying to sell apples. I stifled a giggle, and thought, might as well not disappoint her. Speaking to her, she said only "Care to buy an apple?"; Ariel looked around further. Florian tried to hide in the shadows, and grinned as we noticed him. After a moment's consideration of the Merchant's question, I said "Why not.", and checked my coinpurse. Ariel could feel her skin crawl, and I wondered if she was sensing Astaroth speaking to me, for at that moment he sent to me again, this time with "I am too powerful for her clairs to work. Only the mightiest arch-wizards might succeed and I have heavy wards on my tower when I am at home.". Finding that my coinpurse was empty, I asked the Merchant "Of course, I have no money with which to afford an apple, but how about a song?". She did not reply, so I began singing an invigorating song. Ariel tried to think of a reply to the claim that Astaroth had friends, and Arkenon asked her "who said astar has friends?". Ariel replied simply, "He does.", and Arkenon said that "he only has people who are afraid of him so do his bidding". Ariel looked warily at the Town Hall, then slowly around the Square, trying to spot some sign of Astaroth. She also cast a detect-invisible spell on Arkenon. Thinking about the claim of friends, I asked, "Heck, I'm afraid of him. But do you see me obeying him?"; then, realizing how events might seem as they had already transpired that day, I said "Scratch that question.". I was just wrapping up the song then, letting the final tunes play slowly, and when I was done, I asked the Mrchant, "Well, acceptable?". Upon receiving no reply, I told her "Anyway... loved to bring some joy to your dreary life.". Arkenon whispered to Ariel, nodded, and hugged her; she said "Oh yes, Ark. Let me spar verbally with Astaroth and then desert me.", then tickled him. I waved to Arkenon, and he sighed, Ariel hugged his leg and then chuckled. Getting confused as to who was leaving, I hugged Ariel, and she tried to frown at big bad Arky but couldn't. Then she grinned and said, "He's just invited me to join him in his tower for some entertainment." Ariel chuckled, and I sighed, asking, "Did he mention what kind?", I readied my Crystal Lyre just in case. After a moment with no reply, I checked, "No?" and said "Hmm.", then sank deep into thought. Arshes arrived in the realms, and Ariel nearly had a heart attack as he suddenly appeared beside her, then hugged him anyway. Arshes said, "Hmm....didnt think I was scary" then continued "But ok.". He said, "Hmm...interesting. Astaroth not hunting Archmages anymore? Bah.." and concluded that "He must be getting old". Ariel said, "Not you, no. But when Astaroth is around, and someone suddenly appears beside me like that ... well ...", and I added "At this point, anything appearing out of thin air is bound to be scary to her.". I chuckled, and Arshes said "Hehhhh"; Stunz nodded, and Arshes exclaimed, "Boo!". Stunz commented that "old ladies scare easy", and Arshes giggled. I sighed, and Ariel looked at her fingernails and smiled a little. I shook my head at the thought of Ariel ever being 'old', and Ariel murmured to herself, "Now, what if I were to accept his invitation for tea in his Tower?". Arshes said "Uh uh", and asked, "Asta's inviting you for tea?". Stunz said "errrrr......", and asked, "tea for two?", chuckling. Ariel continued to think aloud. "He promises he won't use me against Nexus. That I undersell myself.", and smiled to herself. Kierstin arrived, and Ariel absentmindedly hugged her. I volunteered to play the background music. Arshes told her, "Ariel.....you know, he had no intentions of killing my master either.", and said, "However, he aint with us no more.". Ariel nodded, saying that "As I said to Lathet, he will kill if he dislikes the way you smile.", and frowned suddenly. Arshes said, "So.....tea is fine.", and I nodded. Arshes clarified, "As long as you don't get tbolted along.", adding "Or disintegrated. I doubt you can stand it.". Stunz said to "please be careful Ariel", and I moved over behind Ariel, getting ready to follow her whereever she might go, and mentally reviewed all the songs I knew for one that might be suitable, just in case I asked Astaroth or Arielfor a choice in song and they both told me to pick something myself. But she moved aside, shaking her head, and hugged me, presumably goodbye. I hugged her back, and nonetheless continued to sort through songs, just in case I should suddenly find myself in a tower. As Ariel waited, I sensed Kanji, the Honor Bound, entering the realms. Arshes told Ariel, "Well, stay alive.", and she nodded. Stunz said, "we prefer you that way", and Arshes added, "You are no use to us dead.". Ariel said "Thanks, Stunz.", asking, "I spend half my life dead?". She chuckled to herself, and Arshes said "Well, yeah. But we sure would not want to see another grotesque creation of Asta walking around.". Ariel looked closely at each of the merchants and the Noblemen, but the hiding person was not there; Kanji suddenly made his presence known, bowing before each person present. Ariel murmured a swift farewell, nodded, and (as far as I could tell) was summoned away. At least, I've never known a mage to sneak around very well, she didn't cast Invisibility, and moments later she was no longer there. I didn't have much time to worry about it though, as Kanji asked "What happened here?", and indicated the corpse. Arshes asked, "Hmm....isnt it always here?", and replied, "Seems like everytime I pass by, there is Darmis's corpse here.". Taking a moment to organize my thoughts, I answered "Hmm . . . Darmis got murdered. He rushed here, found me, and accused me of murder.". Kanji told Arshes, "No, I believe the citizens try to keep town square corpse free". I continued, "Seems pretty simple on the surface.", then amended, "But wait, there's more.". Arshes said, "Oh", and I assumed he was talking to Kanji, adding "And it gets worse.". I clarified "Or better, for me, depending on how you look at it. Astaroth could have killed ME.". Darmis arrived in the realms, and in the Town Square, and asked, "so... Anyone care to join me in wondering why he killed me?". Speaking of Astaroth still, I said "I think Aeris is having tea with now, in his tower."; I was not quite paying attention, and meant Ariel. Noone else was paying much attention though either, so for the most part it passed unremarked. Considering Darmis' question, I responded, "I can guesws.", and Darmis told me, "Ok, so share...". He whispered to me, "why did he come kill me when he claims you summoned him?"; as I had already said aloud that I could guess, I decided to save my breath, and said that "He was on his way here to kill me, but was speaking to me while he did so; I managed to persuade him not to. So as not to make the trip a wasted effort, he killed you instead.". I shrugged, not having anything else to offer in way of reason, and Darmis said "lovely.... thanks". I replied, "Makes the most sense I can think of.", then a sudden thought occurred to me, and I barely stifled a giggle. Darmis misread the cause of my humor, and said "yeah, really funny getting someone killed". I explained to him that, "Thing is, if I hadn't been so persuasive if telling him why not to kill me, he might have left you alone and poisoned me instead.". Kanji said, "One wonders how you persuaded him", and Darmis thought it was a "good question". I tried to catch up with the conversation, saying "And that's how I summoned him; I was someone to be killed.". To Kanji's query, I shuddered at the thought and said "No idea.". Darmis thought it was "by speaking to him in the first place", and remembering what I had said about not killing me, I replied, "Actually, I don't think I did.". I clarified that, "I think he's just letting me think I'm safe, to make it all the more surprising when he does come after me.". Eli eyed me suspiciously, and I asked, "He spoke to me first, remember? He mind-sent that, was there any reason that he shouldn't just come and kill me right now?". Kanji replied, "Perhaps he simply feels killing someone who was not faithful to their guild will not accomplish much"; a comment which insulted me, as, if anything, it was the IDEA, the very notion, of a Guild which I was not being faithful too . . . at least the other people who were being mean to me, got that much right. Darmis said, "I did not say you initiated it, but you kept the conversation up". I retorted to Kanji, "Actually, that was the stated reason for killing me in the first place."; he replied, "Really, interesting since he was not faithful to his". Unable to judge the accuracy of this statement to any degree (I was not sure whether it was the faith he felt or how others viewed it which counted), I countered "Well yes, I wanted to live . . . I thought I'd provide him with a reason or two not to kill me.". I then added, "He said noone would care if I died.", but Darmis said "and his exact words were.... "As you asked, I have come"". He told me, "so you asked him to come here", and I protested, "But I never did.". Darmis gazed questioningly at me (OOC: how else am I supposed to interpret some asking '?'), and said that "he said that, venomed me, then I woke up in the hand.... Those words echo through my head even after all of the trauma.". Kanji interjected, "Fighting each other for blame will accomplish nothing but furthering his goals", yet Darmis said, "I am not blaming..... Merly upset to suffer as a bystander", then asked, "What ARE you talking about?". Kanji replied, "We are at war, and Astaroth has long been an enemy, he likely would have killed you regardless if he was here". I told Kanji that "I was standing right there.", and Darmis answered, saying that, "I know you were, I was in mid sentence speaking to you". Kanji said, "Well, I am sorry you died Darmis, such casualties are always painful", and then left the realms. Darmis shook his head and left to the east. I waited around for a bit, until there were a few people suiciding all at once . . . Ringo was first, and Firbolg, at the time the only one in the Town Square with me, frowned, shook his head, and said, "another suicide". He sighed, and Gacy soon followed Ringo into the Void. I sighed, as it was apparent the Cult had gathered another group of worshippers to feed the Void, and Firbolg asked, "what is going on?". Zum the Disciple entered the realms, and Josh broadcast, "what is this with suicide? Is it a new style?". Predicting who the next one would be, I said "And Zum.", to which Firbolg nodded and said, "I expect so". Zum committed suicide, and Paedric broadcasted, "It simply feeds the Void. In fact, I'm hoping it feeds exactly 3 Voids into this here machine.". Reassured to see that even in the midst of sadness, some things stayed the same, I chuckled, saying "Ah, Paed . . . " Firbolg smiled, I sighed, and, as Purge committed suicide, I frowned, wondering why Firbolg would smile. Jewel broadcast, "Purge just purged himself", and Paedric broadcast in return that, "You couldn't resist, could you". Jewel merely replied, "And you could?". As I sensed Marcellus, the Immaculate, entering the realms, Paedric broadcast his answer "barely ;)". I sent Jewel a teasing remark that, coming from a priest, her comment was almost funny . . . she told me she was a priestESS, and, thinking that indeed these clerics were brought up without humor, I replied that, well, then it was even funnier! Marcellus arrived, bowing, and I smiled to see a friend around, curtsying before him. After one attempt to Clair someone, and some time passing which I assumed was him talking with another telepathically (I waited for Ariel to return), his features once more animated as he returned to life. He grinned and asked, "So, how've you been?". I replied, "Oh, usual day. Argue with Darmis, watch Darmis get killed by Astaroth, have Arkenon rush in and accuse me of murdering Darmis, have Kanji accuse me of being in league with Astaroth, wave Ariel goodbye as she goes off to have tea with Astaroth.". I paused a few moments to let him absorb that, and then added, "Yep, like I said, happens all the time.". We both chuckled, and he gave me a hug and then an Iced Tea to calm my nerves with, and pulled out his I.O.U. which he was saving for Astaroth; he admitted that he would then probably be Venomed or Combusted, but it would be worth it, and said that he had already teleported Astaroth once. Jewel tried a Clarivoyance spell; when Marcellus inquired if she was trying to Clair Astaroth, she replied in the negative, saying she was thinking about Ariel. Marcellus said he was pretty sure Ariel wouldn't venom her, but I warned Jewel that Astaroth still might, for interrupting her when they were having tea. At that point Ariel returned, and said that his tower was ... sumptous. We talked a bit more about what had happened, and then she left with Dean. I also yawned and fell over... well, not *quite* that ungracefully, but I also fell asleep a short while later. Bardic Words of Art This area will be dedicated to collecting and preserving the works of our members. If you would like to submit a story, song, poem, or piece of artwork, please PM a GameMaster. "She's Fer E'eryt'ingin'", by Duryl Now... a... fair so I says she's fer e'eryt'ingin'..Fer big crowds adinnin' at Bob's openingin'...Fer 'uge wheels aspinnin', giddy eveningin'...An' apply lips grinnin' while yer 'air ye's wringin'... Oh yer t'irs' an' yer 'unger t' fair she'll appease,Fer t'ere's ale t'ere an' cider an' 'ot an' colt teas,Slushies, fluffy can'y, sal'y taffee t' please,Inside out corn an' drinks made from lemons ye squeeze. Aye... t'at... fair as ye's 'eard she's fer e'eryt'ingin',Fer sum couply twinnin' or wee kiddie bringin',Fer alls is akinnin', 'aggy 'ouse aclingin'.An' blue ribbon pinnin' when fat caddle kingin'. Oh t'ere's piggies an' ponies an' bunnies t' pet.T'ere's golt marks, ticket stubbies, an' stuffed toys t' bet,An' sum prize fer big snackers what don' get upset,But t'em creepers an' crawlers ye'd likely regret. T'at... fine... fair ain' ye 'eard she's fer e'eryt'ingin',Fer t'at darlin' Maudie who deals anythingin',Fer queues what ain' t'innin', yet folks is still singin'.While fellers try winnin' from shellers what's stringin'. Oh t'ere's kewpies, lobster, an' ain' quite yet bacon,Lizards an' chippymunks an' dangly kraken,Fer neckies an' trunkies and birds lads is achin'.An' sum shiny dragon's still t'ere t' be taken. But... t'at... fair we all know she's fer e'eryt'ingin',Fer big 'ammer swingin' seddin' bells a dingin',Fer liddle knee skinnin' while 'igh bouncy springin'...An' sum 'orsey clingin' atween apple flingin'. Oh t'ere's golt t' be won, aye, wit' t'ree funny diesAn' a ladder when climbt what'll earn ye a prize.An' sum big branchy tree what t' careless despiseLike t'at fearsome lass wit' irresis'able eyes. But... now... she's o'er ain' no more e'eryt'ingin'...No big crowds adinnin', no more openingin'...No wheels aspinnin', no giddy eveningin'...Until nex' beginnin', jus' memories o' singin'...A Reply from Lathet Said Aeruk to the dwarven bard,I don't think that you work hard.You must raise a hand and slayWork with weapons day by day It's time for you to prove your worthTime for bards to accept the truthSinging, dancing, doing plays,Telling stories, they're not the way. Unlike you, I do not fearTo carry weapons 'gainst the HoardeI'll use dagger, sling and spearMy spells back up my sword! Replied she to the reni mageI'm still of use up on the stageFor all my actions there's a reasonHow dare you imply treason? In our ranks, morale is fallingMore give up all the timeI say, enough with stallingIt's time to draw the line! Weighed down by mistakes they can't abideSpirits swallowed by the shame,Pushed to the brink, they suicide.They fade, their souls by Void claimed. Every week we see another oneThe times, they've gotten tough;How can you say it's not enough?Events from History Log submissions of Players old and new to tell the hidden stories of the realm. Banzai Falls Down Ravine While fighting Winter Wolves, Banzai slips on a patch of ice and tumbles over the edge of the ravine. Muttering and grumbling loudly about the quality of her boots she berserks and returns to the battle saying she is fine and feels no pain from her injuries. Her companions watch her closely, not believing her as blood drips down her leg. After a short while she begins to grimace and limp and is forced by her companions to sit down so that Taringail might have a look at her leg …… You say, "I'm fine"You sigh.You say, "it's a scratch ... legs always bleed alot"Taringail says, "Banzai, please, sit down"### Gryphon: make way for party with an injured Barbarian..You say, "I'm not some namby pamby weak kneed female"Taringail says, "Now, Banzai"Ariel frowns.Seoman says, "it's very unconvincing when you can't even stay with one excuse, Banzai"Gryphon nods.### Anterio: some to the square, she will be healed.Banzai grimaces and sits down with a thud as berserk wears off.Banzai mutters to herself.Taringail asks, "Which leg has the 'scratch'?"You say, "this one"### Rheom: grphon painting a target? lets not let everyone know where the injured are coming and goingBanzai lifts it slightly and frowns with pain.Gryphon picks up Banzai and puts her over his shoulder's holding her still despite her struggles.You say, "bah"You say, "I can walk"Taringail says, "Careful, Gryphon, please"Taringail says, "Put her down, I need to take a look"You say, "sheesh"### Gryphon: how about i come over there and rip your head off### Rheom: nah my blood leaves an ugly smear### Banzai: shut up all of you!### Rheom: far beneath your artistic senseGryphon gently puts her down.Gryphon says, "i carry her"Banzai tries to scramble up.Seoman says, "calm down, please, Gryphon, that doesn't help matters."Taringail removes Banzais boots.Taringail says, "Light"You sigh.Seoman puts a restraining hand gently on Banzai's shoulder.You say, "it's cold ya know"Naed casts a light spell.Seoman casts resist-air on you.### Gryphon: I could stick your foot in your mouth?Gryphon cackles.You snicker.Naed snickers.### Rheom: i have done that myself many timesYou wink at Gryphon.Taringail lays his hands over the wound, so no one sees.### Rheom: gets dullTaringail casts a heal spell on you.Taringail frowns.Taringail shakes his head.Gryphon asks, "ready?"Taringail says, "She needs to go to the Hand"You say, "oh for tilnar's sake"You ask, "for a scratch?"Gryphon picks up Banzai and puts her over his shoulders, holding her still despite her struggles.Taringail says, "It is more than a scratch"Gryphon says, "i bigger than you"Taringail says, "Careful, Gryphon"Gryphon says, "so you shush woman"Gryphon smiles.You mutter.Gryphon smiles.You grumble.You say, "this is ridiculous" You're standing at the mouth of an immense and luxurious valley Stretching out around you. Tall, multicolored grasses and small Trees stretch as far as the eye can see, save for the near-perfect cut of the Mountain Road. Obvious exits are north and east.Ariel, Gryphon, Naed, Seoman and Taringail are also here.You see a Traenol Centurion.You see a mountain pass to the south. Gryphon nods.Taringail says, "I will prepare"Taringail casts a teleport spell and disappears in a puff of smoke.You ask, "prepare for what?"Naed shrugs.Seoman says, "you're going to have touble carrying her throught the pass"You ask, "he's not gonna cut my leg off is he?"Naed says, "he got a point"Seoman says, "he better not"Seoman says, "I like those legs"Naed says, "i hope not"Gryphon says, "no"Seoman says, "everyone else go on ahead"Gryphon says, "i take her through"Naed says, "okay"You say, "I can walk"Seoman shoes the mages.Gryphon says, "no"Ariel just went to the mountain pass to the south.Naed says, "hey hey"Taringail group flashes#, "the Hand is prepared, please hurry".Naed just went to the mountain pass to the south.Gryphon says, "all go"Seoman says, "I'll mark an easy path"Seoman just went to the mountain pass to the south.Gryphon just went to the mountain pass to the south. You're standing within the main entranceway to the Healing Hand. You see many priests wandering about, ducking into one room, and then sprinting off into another. Many are dressed in the cerulean blue robes of the master healers, which commands considerable respect from all the Allied Races. Before you are two stoic templars, charged by the Light to defend the Healing Hand, as our last, best hope for survival during the Goblin Invasion. Obvious exits are out.Anterio, Ariel, Gryphon, Naed, Seoman and Taringail are also here.You see Marik, Knight Templar of the Order, Taerin, Knight Templar of the Order. Anterio arches an eyebrow questioningly.Banzai looks around.You exclaim, "put me down!"Naed flashes#, "please don't bash my skull in but you should have the leg looked at at least it could be infected".Dhamon asks, "What is going on?"Gryphon careful puts banzai down on a cot.Anterio sets about cleaning up.You say, "nothing"Seoman says, "Don't worry about it, Dhamon"Taringail says, "On the cot, Gryohon"Anterio says, " got water? I can heat it."You say, "I get a little scratch and everyone goes bonkers"Ariel sighs.Gryphon says, "ahead of you leaf eater"You ask, "water?"Taringail says, "There is some in that room back there"Seoman hands Anterio a water skin.Gryphon winks at Taringail.You say, "sheesh I'm not in labor"Anterio nods.Ariel says, "You're all making such a fuss about this."Ariel bows before you.You nod.Ariel says, "She'll suffocate from all this attention."Gryphon says, "tis a good thing"Ariel says, "Just let Taringail look."Gryphon says, "your insufferable now"Ariel says, "It might be broken, might not."You say, "look I'm fine .. let me go to Kalims .. a stiff drink and I'll be as good as new"Gryphon says, "imagine if you were having a child"You poke Gryphon.You say, "shut up"Banzai struggles to get up.Anterio hands the heated water to the cleric.Taringail says, "Down"Anterio says, " relax."Seoman whispers, "you be good now, let them take care of you.".You say, "No"Naed says, "trust em"You say, "let me up"Ariel smiles.Taringail says, "Banzai, listen"Banzai looks at Taringail frowning.Gryphon says, "dont make me come down there"Banzai looks up at Gryphon and glares.Taringail says, "You have shattered the bones in your left leg."You say, "bah"Ariel nods at Taringail.You say, "I've scratched it"Gryphon says, "we love ya"Ariel asks, "Will you splint it Taringail? Or let Marik do it?"Ariel bows before Marik, Knight Templar of the Order.Taringail says, "In addition, it has become infected very quickly"Gryphon says, "thats why your here"Naed flashes#, "after the healing i got an elixir if ya want it".You say, "it has?"Seoman says, "Banzai, you're smarter than that, stop being stuborn"Banzai looks down at her leg.Gryphon nods.You say, "oh neat colors"You say, "but.."You say, "I'm fine"Ariel gets some salve from her backpack.Naed says, "i have to go"Ariel gives some salve to Taringail.Anterio gave a Milky Root to Taringail.Naed leaves out.Banzai struggles again to get up.Taringail says, "Listen, the bacteria you have been infected by is very strong and very deadly"Anterio asks, " that will help, but I must away lest you still need me?"You say, "just ... let .. me ... up"Anterio stunned you.Anterio says, " have a seat."You notice Ariel whispering to Taringail.You growl.You glare at Anterio.Anterio says, " no offence, but this is necessary."Gryphon helps restrain Banzai.Gryphon says, "silly barb"Anterio says, " you know I have the utmost respect for you and yours, that is why I do this."Taringail says, "Salves help, but I am afraid this bacteria is too strong"Anterio says, " burn it out then."Banzai 's struggles subside but she continues to growl and mutter under her breath.Ariel says, "Banzai. Listen to me for a moment."Ariel says, "You need to be still."Taringail prepared a blue potion.Ariel says, "The bone's showing through the skin."Ariel says, "Just lay back."You say, "tis nothing"Gryphon holds Banzai down gently but firmly.Ariel says, "I know you hate it, but just stay still until its splinted"Taringail says, "Banzai, please take a sip of this potion"You say, "I'll be fine in the morning"Anterio asks, " is my aid needed further?"Seoman whispers, "let them take care of you and get if over with, then I'll buy you a good stiff drink at Kalim's, alright?".You ask, "what is it?"You whisper: "go get me one now" to Seoman.Ariel says, "Yes, you probably will be. But if you don't behave now, you could lose that leg."Taringail says, "It will help with the infection"Banzai looks cautiously at the potion .. what is it?.Seoman whispers, "will you be good?".Taringail says, "Sip it."You whisper: "of course not" to Seoman.Gryphon nods to Anterio.Anterio nods.Anterio salutes briskly.Gryphon says, "thanks friend"Anterio says, " send me a report."Gryphon smiles.Taringail gives the potion to Banzai.Gryphon nods.You ask, "is there alcohol in it?"Seoman whispers, "then you'll have to wait for the drink".Anterio says, " I want to know why I had to stun a defender of the realms."Taringail says, "No, its all natural"You whisper: "bah" to Seoman.Anterio nods.Anterio leaves out.You say, "bah"Banzai sips the drink, gagging at the taste.You say, "this is awful"Taringail nods.Gryphon says, "silly barb"Gryphon says, "drinkit"You glare at Gryphon.Gryphon says, "or i make ya"Gryphon winks at you.You say, "you drink it"Taringail takes the vile from her hand and lays it on the bedstand.Ariel chuckles.You say, "just ... let ... *yawn* ... me .........up"Taringail nods.Ariel smiles.Taringail helps Banzai lay back.Banzai tries to shake her head, "I'm sleepy, let me go home".Gryphon shakes his head.Gryphon says, "no"Gryphon says, "you stay here till your a bit better"You yawn.Seoman whispers softly into Banzai's ear.Gryphon says, "was like a 50 ft fall"You say, "I'm ..... *yawn* ... fine"Ariel says quietly, to Taringail "The infection's spreading Taringail. What will you use on it?".Seoman whispers, "just close your eyes for a minute".Taringail turns his head to the others when he sees Banzai drift off.Ariel nods.Gryphon nods.Taringail says, "Alright"Banzai 's eyes flutter closed.Taringail says, "I have seen this type of bacteria only once, and it was fatal"Taringail says, "There is no cure for it"Ariel frowns.Taringail says, "Luckily, it started near her feet"Seoman whispers urgently, "There's got to be something we can do.".Gryphon asks, "nectratizing Faecietis?"Ariel asks, "Will you open the wound and clean it out?"Taringail says, "Listen"Ariel nods.Taringail begins cleaning the wound while he talks.Banzai shifts slightly in the bed.Taringail says, "We also cannot set the bones in her leg. She will require surgery"Treon just arrived.Ariel takes the used clothes from Taringail and drops them in a bucket at her feet, to be disposed of later.Treon bows.Gryphon loks concerned ..his mask of Bravado gone, now that Banzai is asleep.Ariel bows before Taringail.Banzai mutters quietly in her drugged sleep.Taringail cringes when Banzai moves in her sleep, for he heard a loud cracking noise.Ariel rolls up her sleeves and washes her hands and arms in the hot water.Taringail takes leather straps from beneath the cot.Ariel nods.Taringail attaches the straps to the bed, then ties Banzai in place.Seoman continues to talk quietly, "Is there anything you need me to do?".Ariel gently wipes Banzai's hot face with a cool cloth.Ariel says, "She's got some fever, Taringail."Seoman says, "please tell me there is something that can at least help her fight this thing"Gryphon asks, "were not gonna have to amputate are we?"Taringail says, "Yes, Seoman. I need you to tie this around the top of her leg, very near the waist"Banzai grimaces and wakes slightly, "damn it that hurts".Taringail gives Seoman a thick piece of cloth.Treon asks sofly "What happened?".Ariel says, "Gryph, hold Banzai's arms, don't let her move"Taringail says, "We may, Gryphon"Ariel says, "Drugged as she is, she'll probably feel this."Gryphon leans down and holds Banzais Arms.Gryphon cries.Seoman takes the strap and ties it as indicated with his best woodland knot.Banzai jerks her head, "Xavier?".Taringail begins examining the wound.Gryphon says, "wait taringail"Banzai flinches.Gryphon says, "hold on a sec"Ariel says, "Hold her Gryph. Don't let her move."Seoman whispers quietly in Banzai's ear, "Rest easy...rest easy.".Gryphon says, "call to her god"Xavier temporarily sees through your eyes.Gryphon says, "get xavier here"Seoman says, "I am already"Ariel tenderly wipes Banzai's face withthe cloth, pushing her hair back from her eyes.Gryphon says, "before you do anything rash"Banzai moves her head from side to side, muttering nonsense.Xavier just arrived.Taringail winces, kneeling before the wound and getting his first real look at it.Xavier asks, "Where is she?"Gryphon nods.Seoman says, "on the cot, there"Gryphon says, "right here"Ariel hugs Xavier.Xavier runs over to the cot.Ariel says, "Be calm Xavier. We need you to be calm."Ariel says, "She's been given a drug. She's fairly out of it at the moment."### Gryphon: we have a sick barbarian here..pray for herTaringail takes out a thin knife.Seoman says, "She's asleep and has a bad infection"Xavier sighs.Xavier puts his hand on Banzai.Treon is shocked that Banzai could get hurt after all the dragons she has slain.Ariel says, "Gryph, hold her tightly now."Banzai moans quietly on the cot.Gryphon holds her very firmly.Taringail lowers the knife to Banzais lower leg.Gryphon grimaces.Ariel says, "shhh Banzai, shhh now"Xavier whispers a silent prayer to Tilnar, a tear forming in his eye.Taringail slices a thin cut where the infection seems worse.Banzai flinches again and growls.Gryphon the expert fighter turns green at the sight.Ariel winces as Banzai moves under the knife.Taringail pushes on the wound, forcing it to bleed.Banzai lets out a cry of pain.You notice Seoman whispering to Taringail.Taringail says, "Come on.."Gryphon holds banzai firmly but gently as he whispers comfort into her ear.Xavier tries to keep his composure.Ariel quickly wipes away the infection released so far.Taringail says, "This bacteria does not respond to common healing magics"Taringail says, "It must be done the old fashion way"Banzai mutters, "for Tilnar's sake! what are you doing to me?".Treon ponders.Taringail quickly dips a siringe into the blue potion.Banzai turns her head, "Xavier? Is that you?".Ariel takes another clean cloth and continues to stand beside Taringail, gently cleaning the wound.Xavier says, "I am here Banzai"Taringail injects the potion into Banzais arm all in one fluid movement.Taringail says, "Sleep now, dear Banzai"Banzai squeezes Xavier's hand and screams loudly.Xavier bends down and whispers in Banzai's ear.Xavier whispers, "I am here Banzai, I am always here.".Banzai 's head falls to one side and she goes limp.Ariel holds her breath, waiting for the potion to take effect.Ariel nods.Taringail says, "Ariel, see that dark red potion over there? I need it"Xavier looks on in a state of shock.Treon wonders how Banzai got hurt.Ariel nods.Gryphon hugs Xavier.Ariel turns, reaching for the potion and hands it to Taringail.Taringail nods.Taringail pours the potion over the exposed bacteria, which begins sizzling.Xavier strokes her hair, mumbling something quietly.Gryphon grimaces.Seoman steps back with a worried expression on his face, not seeing anything he can do to help.Ariel whispers, "She fell, Treon. About 50 feet or so. We were fighting winter wolves and she stumbled".Banzai eyelid's flutter, the only visible sign of her pain.Gryphon says, "i not able to fight things like that"Taringail says, "Alright, Gryphon, get ready"Ariel sooths Banzai, watching her eyes close.Gryphon nods.Ariel nods.Taringail says, "Hold firm"Gryphon braces ands holds banzai as good as he can.Ariel looks at Taringail and nods.Seoman helps hold Banzai as well.Gryphon nods to Seoman.Xavier wipes the tears from his face, and whispers another prayer.Taringail begins to push his finger into the open cut.Treon prays.Ariel lays her hand on Banzai's leg, just above the knee, holding her leg firmly.Taringail says, "A piece of bone is pushed back..."Ariel nods.Ariel says, "Too far to knit through normal healing? "Taringail says, "Very"Ariel sighs softly.Taringail pushes his finger in more, then nods. "There is it.".Taringail pulls the cut open wider.Banzai jerks slightly.Ariel says, "shhh"Ariel looks warningly at Gryphon.Ariel says, "Hold her! "Gryphon has a firm hold.Taringail says, "This is whats going to hurt. I need to pull it back"Gryphon says, "she aint moving"Xavier whispers, "I am here Banzai, as is our Lord".Ariel continues to exert pressure on Banzai's leg, keeping it still.Taringail asks, "Ready?"Gryphon asks, "could you?"Ariel nods.Seoman turns his head away from what Taringail is doing, but continues to hold Banzai.Ariel says, "Ready, Taringail"Gryphon grimaces.Taringail puts a thin, curved wire into the open wound.Ariel lays both her hands on Banzai's leg.Taringail begins turning the wire in small circles.Taringail says, "Come on... where are you..."Ariel holds her breath.Banzai flinches and mutters.Gryphon looks at Banzai with concern in his eys as he continues to hold her firm.Taringail stops turning the wire. "There... now...".Treon is careful to keep a neutral expression.Xavier rubs his signet, looking down at Banzai.Taringail makes a quick jerk of his hands. You hear a loud cracking noise, followed by a pop.Ariel gasps, releasing her quickly.Banzai jerks her eyes open, full of pain and confusion, and yells out.Ariel says, "Sorry have to leave"Gryphon says, "dont"Ariel sighs.Gryphon says, "seo"Ariel frowns.Gryphon says, "hold it down"Ariel says, "Hold her leg"Xavier whispers, "Be strong Banzai".Ariel says, "Don't let it move, whatever you do."Seoman moves to Ariel's place holding Banzai's leg firmly..Taringail quickly covers a rush of blood with a rag.Banzai mutters, "god damnit it, I'm fine, leave me be".Ariel wipes a tear from her eye as she leaves.Xavier whispers, "Be calm Banzai".Treon takes Seoman's old place to help hold Ban.Taringail injects Banzai with the blue potion.Taringail says, "You are fine, Banzai. Sleep"Gryphon asks, "she gonna be ok Tar?"Banzai tries to glare at Taringail as she drifts of again, her eyes full of pain.Taringail says, "Seoman, there is some thread and a needle by you there. Get it for me, please"Atala says, "sorry to bother ye fine people, but do you happen to have 65k that i can borrow, i will pay back within a week"Gryphon says, "not right now please"Atala nods.Treon says, "Leave us be please"Atala leaves out.Gryphon looks angry.Seoman continues to hold Banzai's leg with one hand and retrieves the thread and needle with the other, handing them to Taringail.Xavier curses under his breath.Taringail ties the thread to the needle and begins to stich the wound.Taringail finished stitching.Taringail says, "Alright, the worse of the broken bone it finished"Seoman asks, "and the infection?"Taringail says, "I am afraid there is nothing we can do but wait for the bacteria. I drained most of it, but she will need to fight it herself"Taringail says, "This is one of the worse bacterias known to us"Treon says, "Is it possible to use blood magic like what is used for the shield? I would gladly give her some of my life energy"Banzai tosses lightly in the cot, muttering..Taringail says, "There is no known magic to cure this. In fact, removing the bacteria magically influences it to spread"Seoman frowns slightly.Gryphon says, "how close is she to death"Treon ponders.Seoman asks, "Is there something more mundane that can help her?"Treon asks, "How about leeches?"Taringail says, "Her chances of dying are lessened now"Gryphon nods.Taringail says, "Our best bet is the creams and liquids used for the other infections"Banzai thrashes on the cot.Gryphon holds her firm.Xavier tries to soothe Banzai.Gryphon exclaims, "easy there Girl!"Taringail says, "Hold her down. I cannot give her any more sleep inducers"Seoman asks, "We should cool her, yes?"Treon holds Ban down as much as he can.Taringail opens a small box next the cot, and takes out a variety of creams.Banzai mutters, 'dog mice'.Taringail says, "She needs to be warmed, actually"Seoman says, "she's already burning up"Banzai mutters, "ale pies belong to winter".Taringail says, "Don't let her sweat fool you"Xavier sighs.Seoman says, "as you say"Xavier grabs Taringail's arm.Taringail says, "Internally, the case is much different"Xavier says, "Take care of her for me"Taringail says, "It will be done"Seoman lays a cloak across Banzai.Taringail finishes applying the creams.Xavier whispers, "I'm sorry, I must go for awhile. Please be strong".Banzai thrashes, "my leg hurts!".Taringail begins to mix a potion in a small vial.Xavier whispers a prayer, and vanishes.Gryphon holds her still.Gryphon says, "hold that leg"Taringail fills a siringe with the new potion, which appears to be flowing soft yellow.Taringail injects the potion into her leg.Taringail says, "That should neutralize the bacteria"Taringail says, "And greatly increase her chances of survival"Banzai goes limp on the bed again.Gryphon thinks Taringail should get a patent on that medical kit.Taringail wraps her left leg in long, white bandages.Gryphon winks at Seoman.Taringail says, "Now, all we can do it wait"Taringail says, "Let us take her to her Temple, in that the Priest there can apply her medicine tonight"Gryphon nods.Treon says, "Did any thing get into the wound? Like the wolf blood, ect"Taringail says, "You may carry her, Gryphon"Gryphon carefully cradles her in his arms, extremely careful of the leg. You stand within the main area of worship in the Cathedral of Twilight. Hundred of pews lead to a raised platform upon which an immense gilded altar lay. Around the Cathedral are the symbols of Magic, Justice, Knowledge, Mercy, Thievery and Death are spaced evenly around the circular room, each one in a different gemstone. Emblazoned on the altar is the Sigil of Twilight, combining each of the other symbols into one. The symbol of Love, and a statue of Dilanis is in an alcove behind the altar. Obvious exits are north and staircase.Gryphon and Taringail are also here.You see The Altar of Twilight. Taringail unfolds the cot and lays it down.Gryphon asks, "here?"Taringail nods.Taringail says, "I will see you when you wake up, Banzai"Gryphon careful sets his good friend down, careful of her leg.Gryphon kisses you.Taringail tells a Priest nearby, "Don't let her get up when she wakes up".Gryphon says, "sleep well pet"Banzai remains limp.Gryphon hugs Taringail.Taringail nods.Taringail raises a glowing Ring of Hope towards Banzai.Taringail blesses you...You feel mystical energies filling your being.Gryphon loses you.Taringail nods.Treon just arrived.Gryphon asks, "she be ok here?"Taringail says, "Let us let her rest for now"Gryphon nods.Gryphon leaves north.Taringail leaves north.Kalishar Casts Town Barrier Having succesfully invaded the goblin camp earlier that night, and fresh from the success of that mission, Kalishar was talking to the Lord of Chaos about a question that had plagued him since earlier that evening, suddently, the magical weave surrounding the Nexus was ripped apart, and Kalishar knew that another arch-mage had died. Lord Fariol, leader of the Mages Guild had died two nights previous while trying to cast a mysterious spell, and now it seemed that another had died under the same circumstances. A short while later, Ralan himself a Mage of the Red Robe, was mana-burned trying to cast the same spell. Suddenly, Icedragon called for Autumnfire and Kalishar to come to Town Square as an apprentice was seeking them. When Kalishar got to Town Hall, the fighters were off at the East Gates defending the town against a white dragon. The apprentice, glad to see Autumnfire and Kalishar gave the book to Kalishar, who recognized it as the Tome of Magic they had returned to town when they had cleared out the University. Briefly looking through the tome, Kalishar and Autumnfire agreed to a joint research effort, in order to be able to cast the spell safely. Suddenly, three specks appeared on the horizon, as they grew larger and closer, they became visible for what they were, large dragons, of varying colours. Realizing that they did not have the time to research the spell properly, Kalishar decided to cast the spell himself. Carefully studying the bood, he realized that if he were successful, the magical barrier surrounding the Nexus would be restored, if he failed, the best result he could hope for would be clean death, like that of Fariol. Deciding he could not ask others to take that risk, he asked those people in town centre to wish him the best of luck, taking one long last look around, Kalishar began to prepare to cast the spell. As he cast the spell, Autumnfire could follow the basics of what he was doing, but gradually the complexity of it overwhelmed her, and she began to pray to all the Gods that Kalishar survive what he as attempting to do. Gradually, the power built up around Kalishar, the magic that he had trained so long to understand and wield with respect surrounded him in an almost visible cloak. As the magic grew in power, Kalishar realized that something was going wrong, the magic was turning inwards, and not focussed on the goal he envisioned for it, slowly Kalishar became manabured, his mind destroyed by the power of the spell he was attempting. Using the last of his power, Kalishar forced the magic to obey him, unaware that people watching him were cyring at the obvious pain he was in, and other mages already counted his attempt a failure. Gradually, the mana started to turn it's way outwards, and as the violet flames surrounding Kalishar leapt to the sky, they began to form a dome over the city. With one final effort, Kalishar managed to set the spell in place, just in time to bounce a red dragon off, who was swooping in to pick up some easy villagers for a snack. Collapsing under the strain of the spell, his mind almost totally destroyed, Kalishar fell to the ground in what appeared to be almost total shock and exhaustion. Unaware for the most part of the celebrating happening all over Nexus, the only sign that Kalishar was still alive was when he tried to cast a vigor spell on himself. He was unable to. Kalishar had been able to cast that spell since he was a child, the first sign he was a mage, now he could no longer cast it. The ability had left him to focus the magic. Trying to sit up on his own, still oblivious to the goings on around him, Kalishar simply stated "I am no longer the mage I was." When the others heard this, they stopped in horror, the mages in the room stunned at what they did not sense from Kalishar anymore. His aura of magic was gone, not totally, but enough to stop his functioning as a mage for the rest of his life. Kalishar sobbed as he tried to send out his farewells, realizing that the spell had cost him even that basic ability. Lord Tilnar warmed Kalishar and told him to send out whatever he had to say, for Tilnar was supporting him in that action. Announcing his retirement from adventuring, Kalishar pleaded with those around him to let him go, his decision was made. How could a mana-less mage function he reasoned, the only ones who understood were the other mages, no other group is so dependant on their magic. Looking at Lord Tilnar, Kalishar simply said, "My mana is almost completely gone, there is no point in continuing to adventure." Announcing his displeasure at this situation, Tilnar announced that he could restore Kalishar, and took him away to a quiet room where Kalishar re-lived his life up to that point, and realized the mistake he had made in casting the spell. Successfully casting the spell this time around, Kalishar regained his mana. In honor of this accomplishment, and to note the thanks of the deities, Lord Tilnar made a gift of a boon to the now restored mage. Accepting the thanks of those nearby, Kalishar decided to hold onto the boon until such time as a worthy use for it would be found. He decided not to use the boon for personal gain, or to gain the title of Leader of the Mages guild. When asked later on that night, how he thought he had survived when so many other, more powerful mages had failed, Kalishar's only response was, "It helps to have good people around who are supporting you, and the chaotic protection spell that Lord Novind cast made a great difference.Wolves and Ghosts and Erisar Oh My! It was the most fascinating thing. There I was, lounging about the square, looking passively bemused as I tend to. Moments later, I was called off to defend the city, in what was to become the longest, most drawn-out series of maulings I had ever experienced. We chased a group of wolves about the roads for quite a time, their leader always coaxing them into retreating as we cut through their ranks. After a great deal of muttering and pith, members of the group decided to listen to the advice of an anonymous thief, and a charge was made right for the leader of the pack. Before he could be cut down, he transformed to a hybrid form. This wasn't much to his benefit however, and he quickly fell to the ground. Of course, being a particularly stupid and stubborn wolf, his ghost decided to rise again, only to be cut down again shortly thereafter. Not knowing much about Were-Magicks, the same anonymous thief advised the cleric with this party to cast a blessing over the remains of these beasts, and they were then lit fire to. And then our good friend the Render decided to taunt us for a while. He confirmed that it had indeed been his wolves responsible for the attack on Erisar's temple, and further stated that his people had some personal vendetta against the church of Erisar. The followers of Erisar I had spoken to earlier seemed to have no idea of such a motive, so I inquired. Mollok decided he would remain cryptic about these events, and advised that were Erisar's followers so curious, they consult their Lord. The wolves announces they would continue to prowl the roads at night until they had their revenge. We, in turn, promised, doubly so because of how uncourteous they had been, to get in their way. Jokes aside for the moment, I would like to remind people that while these werewolves clearly come across as intelligent creatures, they are still wolves. They have the instincts, motivations, and tactics, and reasoning, of wolves. We have seen them travel in packs, rely on a leader, and attempt to herd potential prey into ambushes. They think both like you, and like an animal. At the same time. Possibly backwards. Be wary. And now, on a more personal note: Because he clearly cared little for our feelings, I have decided to share the same disrespect. Mollok has a stupid name. The Render. My, how frightening. What does that mean? Yeow, he's going to claw us for a while? That's certainly intimidating when compared to dragons who take the names of magicks we can barely comprehend, and dark servants of dark forces, who name themselves in languages long since dead. Booga Booga? Mollok, if that gash on my leg leaves a visible scar, you shall be the front mat for my home. Kirin, Seeker