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Draven Farm
It was a bitter cold night, the leaves from the fall caught up in the
gusts of chill northern wind. The moon had set early in the evening, leaving
the rough silhouette of the landscape steeped in darkness. The only sound to
hear for miles and miles was the slow groaning of trees, rocking back and
forth, fighting against the wind. And an evil hiss of a Myrddraal, as I
swept across the land, in search of meat...
Inside the house, the fire merrily cracked and popped, throwing crazy
shadows against the wooden walls, hand-caulked with mud to protect against
the upcoming winter. A kettle hanging over the fire boiled, and upstairs,
the jangle of a wood flute could be heard. Laughter rang through the house
as well, the children dancing merrily about, shaking dust from the cracks of
the ceiling. Osgood Draven smiled as he sat in front of the fire, warming
his hands in preparation for his rounds about the farm. Oh wouldn't it be
nice to be able to stay inside, knowing that a farmhand was checking on the
hen coop, pouring slop into the pigs food-trough. But none of the boys from
the village would come out this far, they swore it was "haunted." And his
own boys were still a bit young to be hauling around buckets half their
size.
Osgood quickly spooned the last mouthful of soup into his mouth, then
stood up and stretched, shaking the ache out of his bones. Working the land
was a good life, but hard. He pulled his buckskin coat over his shoulders
and quickly knotted the drawstrings. Well, the quicker he was done with it,
the quicker he could be back inside in front of the fire. He grabbed a log
from the hearth and threw it atop the pile of burning embers. It responded
with a gratifying rush of heat.
He shut the door gently, so as not to disturb the children. No need
to call them down to latch it closed. Nobody ever came out as far as the
farm, and if they did, they waited until the light of day was upon the ground.
As he trudged out to the pens, the wind carried bits of the flute's melody
out to him. It was a little children's tune, a rhyme that he had once sung
when he was little himself. As he neared the goats' pen, the song stopped.
I could smell him, hot and ust slightly tinged with fear. perhaps the man
could sense me, out in the ebon night, feel me as I waked silently to the
house, my feet gliding smoothly the dry leaves.
He paused, momentarily concerned. He took two steps back toward the
house and the melody continued once again. Ah, just a trick of the wind. He
checked all the beams of the pen, gave Brisket (the biggest of the goats) a
rough petting, and then checked to make sure their grass-bale was still in
good enough shape to eat. He nodded to himself and cut a path toward the hen
coop.
From out of the darkness, came a hiss as the wind whistled through
the branches of the trees above. He shivered to himself, an ominous sound. It
was like the sound of the Fades, leading the hordes into battle. Even over
the yelling of hundreds of Trollocs, you could hear that quiet hiss, piercing
your heart with horror. But even worse than their vicious whisperings was
their blank faces; no eyes looked out of that flat wall of flesh, but still
you could feel their evil gaze upon you. But that was many years ago,
before the Final Battle. He had been a young soldier then, and the Fades
were but a memory now.
The bolt was undrawn, the door was even ajar. A bright fire burned against
the far wall. Somewhere above, children laughed sweet and ripe and innocent.
I chuckled to myself and I drew my robe closer about myseld. I strode up the
stairs, hungry.
The hens were strangely quiet as he looked in. They sat in their rows
and watched as he poured out a bit more of their feed and checked the drops
for eggs. Not a single one had laid and he muttered under his breath. It
would be a bland breakfast come sunrise. He fixed the hens with an angry eye
and then began wading through the darkness in the direction of the hog sty.
The wind whispered again, the hiss seemingly all around him. But then the
melody of the flute as the children played on. Forget the hens, they would
cook up some bran and soak it in milk and sugar.
The pigs snorted greedily as he trudged inside their pen, fetching the
slop buckets and pouring them into the clumsy wooden trough. Their fat,
bristly bodies pushed him out of the way as they nosed their faces into the
bits of fat and gristle he sprinkled in the mix. A childish shriek echoed
through the night, and then another.
Osgood vaulted over the railing, staring at the house. Had someone?
But just as he was about to break into a sprint, the flute began wobbling
along. He sighed, his heart still galloping. Yet another of his childhood
songs. He smiled to himself and began the long walk back to the house,
whistling along with the tune. Where had the children heard that one? He
didn't recall ever singing that one to them. They must have heard him
humming it under his breath. That would explain why it was so out of tune...
As he stepped up the stairs to the door, it opened before him. A
tall figure, dressed in crimson rags, stood in the light of the fire,
something clutched in its hand. With a quick motion, the stranger tossed
Osgood the object. He caught it, only to realize it was soaked in warm
liquid. Blood...Oh no the children...
"Remember, Osgood? Remember the smell of the battlefield, the bodies
tumbling, the bite of the sword? Do you remember? Because We do. The thrill
of it never fades, the edge of the memory." Osgood staggered, fell a step
backward. It couldn't be, how could it be true? "I've never forgotten the
cut you gave me, leaving me to die in that pile of bodies."
"I killed you! Stay back demon, apparition!"
The Shadowman chuckled as it stepped out of the doorway, into the night.
The darkness seemed to wrap around it like a cloak. "No Osgood, a long time
digging, a long long time, but you didn't kill me." Osgood fell back another
step, and another. The village was only a few miles away, and he had been
fleet of foot as a child, perhaps he could make it...
The towering figure took another step into the night. "We will see
if you can still run as you did in years past, little boy. Run, run far, run
fast, and maybe I will let you live just a little bit longer."
With a shriek of horror, the man ran. He ran and ran and ran, until
there was simply no more running left to do...
Osiris
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A Glimpse Into The Past
The town of Manetheren was filled with excitement. It
was a week before Beltine. Every citizen was
preparing for the festival. Murryn, the town butcher,
ordered two extra dozens of sows from Caire to meet
the demands from the local inns. Juliana, the baker,
worked until midnight every day in preparation for the
joyous occasion. Even Henrick had to hire an extra
helper to make maps to be sent out to visiting
relatives and friends. Medias, the innkeeper hired a
gleeman to perform at the Stag and Crown. It was a
time for celebration indeed.
***
Murray was one of the wealthiest citizens in
Manetheren. Along with several highly successful
taverns, he owned the most popular lodge in the city,
the Jade Rogue Inn. Like every businessman, Murray
was busy in preparations for Beltine.
"Where are all the ales that I ordered? Have they
arrived?" Murray demanded impatiently.
Felicia had been an assistant to Murray for 10 years.
Much of Murray's success was attributed to her
competent management and sales skills. Above all
else, she was able to anticipate Murray's moods and
thoughts.
"They'll be coming in tomorrow. The boars will be
arriving the day after." Felicia replied. "And one
more thing, Caric wants to send a couple of boys to do
penance on Beltine."
"Not on Beltine." Murray objected. "It's the most
profitable time of the year. I can't let a couple of
hooligans ruin my night. The answer is no."
"Caric thought that's what you would say. He told me
to kindly remind you about the incident."
Many years ago, Caric found Murray shivering and
vomiting at the entrance of Moria. Murray had been
plagued while exploring its vast array of caverns.
Caric took him back to the Church of Light and nursed
Murray back to life. Murray was grateful ever since.
"Just make sure they stay in the back. Bloods and
ashes." Murray growled.
***
Haajin was a timid and reserved boy. He lost his
parents in the war against the kobolds. Ever since,
he stayed at the orphanage provided by the Church of
Light. Haajin tried to conform to others' behaviors
to avoid attention to him.
"Now you got me trouble again." Haajin whined. "We
have to do penance at Jade Inn on Beltine."
Hassan was the orphanage bully. He could always
differentiate the weak from the strong. At the moment
he saw Haajin, he knew the boy was a victim. Ever
since then, Hassan held Haajin's life in a leash.
"You bloody fool. If you weren't so dumb and get
caught, we won't be in this mess. To top it off, you
had to rat on me. No matter... I'll make you pay for
that." Hassan snarled.
Hassan knew that he didn't have to serve the penance.
He would just sneak off and let Haajin do all the
work. It had always been this way. It was not about
to change. However, he had to teach Haajin a lesson
about keeping it quiet.
***
The order was to bring up the another casket of ale
from the basement. With Hassan following holding the
torch, Haajin descended the stairs. With a swift
kick, Hassan knocked the boy down the steps. Quickly,
Hassan scrambled up and slammed the trapdoor shut. In
one smooth motion, it was locked. Haajin cried out in
terror, but he was greeted with silence.
After a moment, Hassan spoke, "You should have never
told on me, boy. Let this be a lesson to you."
Haajin was frantic. He was completely in the dark,
not knowing what to do. His pleas for mercy were met
with jeers and sneers.
***
Haajin was very scared. He begged Hassan to open the
door. All he received in reply are mocking laughter.
The basement suddenly seemed very spacious. It felt
like he was in a different place, a world of muted
whispers and hushed conversations. Sleek fur brushed
against his bare cheeks. It felt cold and warm
simultaneously. Suddenly a strange scent filled the
room. It smelled nauseous, but tasted sweet in his
mouth. His hair felt like they were standing. Haajin
had problems breathing. He dared not more nor make a
sound. Hoping to escape the attention of the room
member, he huddled into a ball and waited.
***
Hassan was laughing uncontrollably. His tears were
rolling down his cheek. He couldn't understand why he
didn't thought of this sooner. As he was debating
whether to leave him in for another hour, a dark
shadow slowly loomed over his back, overlapping his
own. The room suddenly became very quiet. It seemed
like the party outside suddenly ended and all the
guests had left the inn.
Hassan turned his head slowly around. A monstrous rat
about 4 feet in length snarled at him. Its hot breath
was like smoltering steam clinging on his face. With
a loud yelp, Hassan ran toward the nearest exit. The
rat was far too fast. The door was blocked.
Red eyes filled with hatred glared at Hassan. Razor
sharp talon shredded his skin with ease. All bloody
and pained, Hassan stumbled toward the trapdoor.
Miraculously, he managed to unlock it. Hoping to
escape to its sanctuary, but it was not to be. Yellow
incisors with serrated edges tore at his body. The
last thing Hassan felt was the rush of blood gushing
out of his neck.
***
Bright lights flooded the basement room as the
trapdoor was lifted. Haajin, blinded by the light,
scrambled randomly about the room. Loud and shrill
laughter filled the room. Once a while, sharp sticks
prodded him like cattle, directing his movements.
Finally, his eyes were able to adjust to the lights.
He saw shapes that were neither man nor woman. They
were covered with slick black furs and all wore rodent
headgear. Haajin tried to fight them, but it was no
use. He was being overwhelmed. His body was bitten
and scratched in many places. The monsters were
toying with him. As he stumbled around, he noticed a
storm drain leading to an exit. With a burst of
energy, he ran toward it.
The rats were being too complacent. They were having
too much fun. It was too late for them to stop Haajin
for escaping. Besides, they knew that he suffered a
great deal and would not able to survive the night.
Haajin had lost a lot of blood. With no energy left,
he collapsed on the cobble stone street and passed out
under the moonlit sky.
***
A large broad shouldered man was in town that night.
He outdrank all the men and danced with all the
ladies. He even outperformed the gleeman in the
telling of The Hunt for the Horn. When asked for his
identity, he shook his head and gently smiled. The
men thought that he was a lord and the women felt that
he must be a god of love.
The stranger spotted Haajin while walking back to his
room in the Jade Rogue Inn. It was early in the
morning and the streets were empty. When he noticed
the wounds, he uttered a few indecipherable phrases
and Haajin's wounds began to heal. He carried the boy
to the Church of Light and left him at the entrance.
As he lowered the Haajin to the ground, his robe
briefly parted, revealing a tattoo of a dove on his
breast.
***
The Jade Rogue Inn began experiencing rat problems
shortly after Beltine. Over the years, the inn lost
its business and became a training site for young
adventurers.
Hassan was never seen again. Marek claimed that on
one moonlit night, he saw Hassan, looking like a giant
rat, stealing an elegant long sword from his store.
Marek was highly ridiculed for it.
Haajin never spoke to anyone about that night. He
kept mostly to himself. On his 16th birthday, he bid
Caric farewell and journeyed east. Hoping to find the
stranger who saved his life.
Rurik
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It started out as a normal day for a typical hero and server of the
Light. Exploring the unknown and slaying evil minions in the name of
Talen was Earendil's job. It seems, however, that Fate had decreed that
Earendil had had it easy and that this day would be more than typical.
Earendil was calmly strolling through some rather dark woods west of
the fabled city of Tar Valon. It didnt really scare him though, for he
was a seasoned hero and walked in the Light. He moved swiftly, using
his magical ability to travel unseen by the prowling wolves and other
dangers of the forest. He soon came upon a river and thought to
himself, 'I have never been out on this river, the River Erinin, before
and wonder where it leads. Perhaps it leads to greater adventure.'
Levitating himself from the ground, Earendil glided up the river
some ways, and after a short while, noticed a sandy riverbank. Tired
from his long trek from Tar Valon, Earendil decided to stop for a little
while and regain his strength. After a short rest, he got up again and
was about to continue up the river when he noticed a small crack in the
cliff wall near the riverbank. Squeezing through, he noticed that it
lead into a cavern which descended down into cliff-side itself.
Earendil, after sparing a moment for thought, crept down the
cavern. As he descended down, Earendil realized that this cavern was
more than it initially appeared. It seemed to have been carved from the
rock by people and fashioned into a hallway of sorts, one that slowly
wound into the annals of the earth. Earendil soon came to what appeared
to be a dead end, in a small bedroom. Raising his light in despair, he
soon noticed that a dark mahogany door was situated to his south and
opened it carefully.
Stepping hesitantly from the confines of the bedroom, Earendil found
himself at check. He was standing in the middle of a long hallway and
suddenly had a bad feeling about his present location. He heard screams
coming from all around him and was suddenly attacked by several palace
guards, dressed in black armor and wielding hideous black scimitars.
Earendil, combining his magical power with his skill as a swordsman
quickly disposed of the evil guards that had attacked him. Not sure
what to do next but feeling confident after his victory over the minions
of evil, he continued to descend.
As Earendil crept downwards, he was confronted with more and more
palace guards, yet these proved to be no real threat to his prowess in
battle. Suddenly, however, an Undead Knight sprang from the shadows at
Earendil, wielding a wicked bastard sword. The vicious knight stabbed
for Earendil's chest, hoping to quickly end his opponent. Dodging
aside, Earendil avoided the lung and swung down his mighty two-handed
sword decorated with gold dragons. The sword vibrated and crackled with
magical energy, launching a firebolt at the hapless undead knight as the
sword sank into its side. Screeching horribly, the undead knight
slumped to the ground, a charred cinder compared to what it use to be.
Sighing with relief, Earendil continued downwards, slaying those
evil warriors that dared to challenge the power of the Light and his
lord, Talen. He must have been several layers down when he encountered
something rather unexpected.
Striding towards him was a tall creature resembling a human with
gray skin. Earendil drew his sword and prepared to strike when,
suddenly, he felt trapped. This strange creature was attempting to
paralyze him with its gaze and spoke quietly, 'Relax your muscles and
don't attempt to resist. Just be calm and everything will be over in a
matter of seconds.'
Earendil found himself fighting an invisible battle, his will versus
the will of the Darksouled. Straining his mind to the extreme, Earendil
snapped out of the trance and swiftly swung his sword at his approaching
enemy. Two thuds resulted, one being that of the Darksouled' s body
hitting the stone floor and the other of his separated head. Wiping his
sword of the black blood that had stained it, Earendil ran quickly down
the stairs.
He found himself to be in a network of black tunnels, sprawling like
an endless maze before him. The tunnels stank of death and of
unimaginable horrors that no doubt sought for their next victim.
Running quickly over the smooth stone floor, Earendil's boots rose dust
with each step and echoed a muffled thud throughout the tunnels.
Suddenly, out of the darkness, light flashed out in almost every
direction. Before Earendil, there lay a swirling nexus, emitting a
bright, white light. The world revolved around him as he stood there,
and Earendil quickly noticed that he was not where he had been.
Earendil was in a bad place. He could feel evil around him, like a
taint in the very air. He coughed violently as he breathed in its
vileness and felt his heart sink with despair. He thought aloud, 'What
evil could cause me to feel in this way? I have explored many lands and
faced many evils before, yet they all seem petty as compared to this.
Surely, this is the great evil commanding those that tried to kill me
earlier.' Knowing full well the danger in his actions, Earendil
proceeded onward, determined to end this evil for all time, so that no
others would have to fear it again.
Earendil stumbled forward, avoiding contact with the walls. They
appeared to be alive, in a twisted way, and pulsed with evil power.
After a short while, he came to a fork where he stopped for a very short
time to rest. Suddenly, out of the eerie silence, he heard piercing
howls and leaped to his feet.
Lumbering towards him were two undead beasts, both the size of a
large horse. Using his powerful magical abilities, he made himself
invisible to their eyes and sneaked quickly past them. Once past,
Earendil gave a sigh of relief, which was his mistake.
No sooner had he sighed than he was attacked by a huge undead
dragon. Its jaws snapped ferociously at Earendil, but Earendil's armor
protected him from the razor-sharp teeth of his foe. Sword in hand,
Earendil slashed repeatedly at the monstrous dragon, drawing green blood
and howls of rage. After more than five minutes of intense fighting,
the beast collapsed in a heap, twitching uncontrollably. Standing above
the fallen dragon, Earendil stabbed the sword through the dragon's
chest, deep into its black heart. The twitching immediately ceased, and
Earendil withdrew himself from the horrid corpse.
Before him, he noticed there to be a door made of living bone.
Sensing that the true evil came from behind this door, Earendil employed
his magic to force the door open. He then stepped through the door and
quietly dodged behind an overturned table.
Earendil spotted in front of him a lich, horrible to behold, seated
on its silver throne. It must surely be the source of the evil that
Earendil had felt. It cackled insanely and cried, 'I am Orimane the
Archlich and all that come before me die, as will you Earendil!'
Earendil, knowing full well the evil that he was facing, shouted
defiantly, 'You are nothing, Archlich, in comparison to the power of the
Light!'
With this, Earendil drew his two-handed sword and screamed, 'For honor
and the glory of Lord Talen!' and charged Orimane. Orimane gurgled
violently as the sword pierced him but soon recovered.
The fighting was the fiercest that Earendil had ever known. Orimane
was slashed and stabbed again and again yet would not die. Earendil
soon because weary and began to despair. Seeking refuge and a chance to
regain some of his lost energy, Earendil attempted to flee back the way
in which he came. To his horror, the bone door had been closed and
locked behind him and was now immune to his magical attempts to open
it. Furthermore, Earendil had no scroll of recall with which he could
transport himself to safety.
Summoning all of his magical power, Earendil cured himself of his
wounds and weariness. He prepared for a final assault upon Orimane,
thinking that it would be his last living action. Crying out one more
time for the aid of the Light and for aid from his lord, Talen, he threw
himself back into the battle.
It lasted for what seemed an eternity and is remembered only as a blur
in Earendil's mind. Exhausted, Earendil truly believed he would die.
Summing up all of his remaining strength, he struck out for one final
blow. His sword, gleaming brightly, truly pierced Orimane for the first
time, biting deep into the Archlich's supernatural body. With a gasp,
Orimane fell to the ground, coughing blood. As it lay dying, it rasped,
'I cannot die, I cannot!' but with that, death took Orimane.
Earendil sagged from the exertion of his momentous battle. He could
not believe that he had survived this encounter with an evil so
powerful. After a short rest, Earendil made a Gateway and Traveled back
to the safety of Tar Valon, grateful to be alive. At the same time,
Earendil felt tremendous pride, as he had removed a terrible evil from
the land. He knew full well, however, that this was just one of the
many adventures that he would live through in his life as a hero in
service of the Light and his lord, Talen.
The End
Earendil
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The Eternal Night
Melanthe kissed Hannah good-bye and left for the Inn to retire for the
night. Hannah sat down next to the fountain wondering what next she could
do. As she sat twiddling her trusty blade in the air, Hannah heard a voice
behind her. Startled by it, she turned her head to see a fellow traveler
that called himself Ceneth.
Ceneth, a high monk of mystic arts, was also looking for something to do.
Hannah and Ceneth sat down and talked for a while about life and the world.
Once both of them had rested sufficiently and the small talk was dwindling
down, Ceneth asked Hannah if she could help him with a mission. Ceneth
wanted to exterminate the magical hounds that had been terrorizing the town's
people. They both knew where the hounds' homeland was and began to set out a
plan of attack. After careful planning, they decided that tonight would be
the night that the both of them would finally rid the world of these hounds
for good. As they left the town and exited the western gate, Hannah began to
wish Melanthe had staid a little longer to help since his strength and magic
were without comparison. Melanthe had helped Hannah ever since she came to
this town from the Ogier's tribal camp. Hannah had been banished by the
Elders because of her opposing views of the world.
"Hannah," Ceneth whispered to her.
She was startled, but then realized that she had been daydreaming and did
not realize that Ceneth and her had reached the outskirts of the hounds'
territory. She could smell the stench of the hounds and knew they were
close.
Ceneth said, "Looks like we are here, better prepare for anything."
As Ceneth changed into his battle gear and began casting spells on
himself to protect him, Hannah began to drift back into her daydream. She
began to think of Melanthe that first day the met and how he taught her the
skills she would need to survive and brought her equipment to help her. Ever
since that first day, their friendship and love grew stronger and they
watched each other grow and become stronger. Hannah did have a deep love for
Melanthe that was much stronger than a friendship.
Hannah's ears suddenly perked up as she came out of her daydream. She
knew the hounds were close. The hounds had very keen senses and the hounds
knew that something was in their territory. She grabbed Ceneth's arm so that
he would stop making the noise he was making preparing for battle. He could
not hear the hounds approaching, but he knew Hannah could. He followed her
up a tree and they hid out of sight from the hounds. He turned to Hannah as
she removed her muzzle and began casting spells. He could only watch in awe
as her skin began to turn to bark and she began to glow dimly. It was a
sight he had seen before, but it always amazed him every time he saw it. He
also watched as she bowed her head, and looked like she was praying to her
lord, Solace. She replaced the muzzle back onto her head. She was more than
ready for battle as her Ogier muscles flexed in her arms as she gripped her
Blade. Ceneth would follow Hannah in the attach, only because she was a much
more experienced fighter. As they both crouched down on the tree limb, two
hounds passes underneath them and stopped to sniff the air and ground. Not
only were these hounds massive creatures, that also had learned certain
powerful magical spells--a deadly combination. Ceneth took his eyes off
these massive hounds and looked at Hannah. Hannah's eyes had turned from
their calm blue color into a bright red. Ceneth had never seen this before
in an Ogier and it frightened him. He was glad that she was on his side.
In one motion, Hannah leaped out of the tree and landed behind the hounds
without making a single sound, which impressed Ceneth because of her size.
Hannah lifted up her blade and gave a howling scream as she charged one of
the hounds. Ceneth watched in awe for a few seconds as Hannah fought both of
the hounds. Ceneth then jumped from the tree and landed next to Hannah and
they both fought the hounds. As Hannah delivered the final blow to one of
the hounds, the hound let out an ear-piercing scream as it died. Ceneth and
Hannah both knew the other hounds would be on there way.
The other hound that they were fighting knew he was out matched and
decided that the only way to defeat these two warriors was to knock them off
there feet, so the hound commanded the earth to tremble. The earth obeyed,
and both Hannah and Ceneth fell to the ground. This amused the hound as he
hit the both of them easily, but this enraged Hannah and Ceneth more. This
extra rage triggered Hannah to go into a barbarian-like berserken rage. The
hound was hit with a flurry of kicks and slashed until it too began to let
out his death cry. But Hannah silenced this cry by placing her blade into
the throat of the hound which made a gurgling sound. But it was too late for
that, because every hound was on its way from the first cry. As Hannah and
Ceneth fought each hound two by two, each hound fell to the hands of Hannah
and Ceneth. As Ceneth killed the last hound, he looked over at Hannah which
was covered in blood, some of hers, mostly the hound's. He too was covered
in blood and they knew that the final battle had been fought with the hounds
as they were no more.
Hannah and Ceneth looked up to see where they were and saw in the
distance a temple f some sort. Since a storm was approaching, they both knew
that they needed to seek shelter. As they entered this eerie and seemingly
abandoned temple, they both knew that they had to rest. Hannah found a
somewhat warm room to rest in. The room had only one exit, so she could
easily defend herself. As she say down, Ceneth left to go explore the
temple. As he left, a cool breeze blew through the room and Hannah began to
shiver. She never liked being alone, but she was just too tired. As she
closed her eyes, she sensed another life-form of some sort in the room. She
opened her eyes and quickly scanned the room. Nothing.
She closed her eyes again and then awoke suddenly to feel her spirit
disconnect from her body. She knew that this could mean only one thing. The
enormous lag beast was in this room. She opened her eye to see the eyes of
this beast looking straight at her. The was the last thing she needed in a
strange place and alone. However, the lag best never harmed anyone. The
beast would only engulf the spirit until the spirit reconnected with the
body. She decided to sleep it off. As she slept, she saw a flickering light
through her eyelids. She opened her eyes to discover a portal had been
opened. She stood up with her blade in her hands. She peered into the
portal to see what was coming through, but she couldn't see anything and
decided to look for the room's exit. She couldn't find it!
Hannah realized the portal had opened in the doorway leaving no exit.
This frightened her as she began to remove her muzzle, but she was hit by
something from the portal and was thrown against the back wall. As she got
up and looked bark at the portal, she saw what had hit her. A balrog demon
had stepped trough this portal with one intention, to kill her. The balrog
looked down and saw Hannah trapped in the room. This brought a smile to the
balrog's face, which was a grimily sight. He also knew that she was without
a spirit, and he knew his friend had already taken care of that.
As Hannah looked over the enormous balrog, she had no option but to
fight. She could not run because the balrog was blocking the exit. She
charged valiantly into battle and seemingly stunned the balrog with her
power. The balrog was hit with a flurry of slashes and was confused for a
second, but only for a second. The balrog fought back and began to pummel
Hannah until Hannah, out of fear, pushed the balrog aside and fled for the
exit. As she reached the door, the balrog knocked her to the floor, leaving
her stunned and helpless. The balrog then delivered the final blow to
Hannah. With a smile, the balrog opened the portal and stepped into it,
leaving the corpse of Hannah behind. However, as the balrog left, the spirit
of Hannah broke free of the lag beast and returned to the corpse of Hannah.
Hannah was not dead anymore, but very close to it.
Ceneth had been exploring the temple when he heard the battle. He rushed
back to the room to find Hannah lying on the ground in a pool of her own
blood. He quickly began to assist in her healing and then picked her body up
and brought it back to town. In town, Ceneth delivered Hannah to the great
cleric which healed Hannah back to life.
With the scars from her battle with the balrog and a brush with death it
self, Hannah now leads a seemingly fearless life. There is nothing else that
could compare to the fear of dying, except maybe that sight of another
balrog. One day though, Hannah will have her revenge on that balrog.
Hannah
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The Bizarre Journeys of Grim and Loch, Book I
In the throne room of a giant castle, a king and his advisor held private
counsel.
"These are dark times, old friend. Dark, perilous times. Often, we wonder how
our people keep going in the face of such utter hopelessness."
"Actually, your Majesty, times could hardly be better. Harvests were half again
as good as the season previous -"
His advisor's droning voice and sour expression annoyed him. "Utter nonsense!
The world is falling apart. We are telling you, Rowel, we are surrounded by
scheming plotters, all wanting a piece of King Welmar's empire."
"As you say, your Majesty."
"You aren't planning to start your own empire behind our back are you, Rowel?"
"Of course not, your Majesty."
"Hrm."
"Your Majesty?"
"We're sorry, Rowel, it's hard to know whom we can trust these days, what with
all the schemers and plotters. A most frightful time this is, we think."
"Your Majesty's apology is completely unnecessary."
"Must you drone on like that all the time, Rowel? It's quite annoying. Perhaps
we should find another advisor."
"As you say, your Majesty" Gah, may vicious beasts consume the man!
"Send in the messengers, Rowel. It is time we proceed with our plan."
"Your Majesty, I must continue to protest this...plan...of yours. The empire is
not in such a state that we must-"
"Enough Rowel! When you are King you can make the plans. For now, we shall
continue as we have begun. Send in the messengers!"
Rowel sent in the messengers. A charming elf, a druid by his clothing, and a
giant, barbarous-looking aracoix. The birdman towered over the elf by several
feet but seemed to follow the elf.
"Your Majesty, I present the druid Lochiel, and his companion Grimwulff, of
the Barbarian tribes."
Welmar did not know how long he had been sitting in his throne, but it felt
like years. As he watched his subject's approach, he realized he had lost
feeling in his left buttock. These were indeed dark, perilous times. "These
are indeed dark, perilous times, Lochiel and Grimwulff."
The charismatic elf swept a flourishing bow. At a glance from his companion,
the gigantic birdman bobbed his head in some semblance of a bow. Schemers!
"Are you two planning on starting your own empire behind my back?" he
demanded suspiciously.
"Your Majesty, we have come as you have summoned us, ready to serve in
whichever capacity you require," the elf stated with an obsequious smile. Ah,
smile all you like, young elf. Now I know you are up to something! But you
are dealing with King Welmar, and though I do not show my suspicions, I know
you are up to something! Very likely to start your own empire!
"Your Majesty," Rowel whispered fervently into his ear, "you are rubbing your
hands and grinning evilly in that suspicious manner we spoke about again."
"Oh bother." Welmar composed his features carefully. Not that he hadn't
been perfectly featureless a moment ago. More loudly he said, "My Subjects,
our lands are in a state of peril. Our coffers are nearly empty, and we have
decided that only by way of conquest can we refill them again. In order to
accomplish this, we have also decided that messengers must be sent to various
kingdoms seeking allies."
"Might I inquire of your Majesty who exactly he intends to declare war upon?"
"Ah, you ask who we shall make war upon then?"
"If his Majesty would be so kind as to tell this subject."
"Then we shall tell you. We intend to make war upon Orthis itself!"
Lochiel and Grimwulff eyed each other uneasily.
"Ah, we see you like our plan. There is no need to say it. Our friend and
advisor Rowel here believes that we are not mighty enough, which is why we
have decided to humor him and send you to our cousin Sulgdai, King of the
Goblin people. There you will present our proposal for glorious alliance
against the incompetent fools of the Orthis Project!" He shouted this last
with a gauntleted fist in the air. He could see it now. The subdued denizens
of Orthis and Astirin marching in chains under the watchful guard of Captain
Peter and his men. Surely nothing there could be as powerful as Peter and the
guards...
Lochiel and Grimwulff held a quiet counsel with each other. Doubtless either
admiring the wisdom of his plan -- or plotting to create an empire. Right in
front of him! How dare they! Welmar was about to order their execution when the
elf turned around and swept such a flourishing bow it completely flourished
thoughts of plotting and scheming right out of his mind.
"Your Majesty," the elf declared obsequiously, "we humbly accept your command to
secure alliance with the Goblin people. If we may with withdraw from your august
presence we shall begin at once."
King Welmar waved them away loftily, with a reminder not to attempt raising
their own army or starting their own empire during their mission. He called for
Rowel to come, and when his advisor approached, he eyed the man suspiciously.
"Rowel, are you considering starting your own empire behind my back?"
Grimwulff was hungry. This was hardly a novelty, but the usual method of finding
him something to eat - that is, relaxing for a bit and letting him "forage"
whichever area they were in -- was hardly appropriate within the castle of the
king who was offering you a much-needed job. Grim had an unfortunate habit of
mistaking just about anything or anyone for food. Lochiel had gotten them out
of there as fast as he could before Grimwulff took it into mind to forage there.
They were in the city now however, and Lochiel watched fondly as Grimwulff
dismembered a tavernkeeper and proceeded to toss back kegs of firebreather.
"That King was a tad paranoid, don't you think Grim?"
Grim responded by tearing the lid from another barrel, and then a leg from the
tavernkeeper, and dipping it in. That reminded Lochiel how long it had been since
he'd had tea and biscuits. "When we're done this ridiculous job Grim, we'll
be eating well friend.
Scrawwwtch!
Well, he wasn't a terribly communicative companion, but when danger or hunger
threatened...well, he got his message across clear enough then.
Two days later found Grimwulff and Lochiel before the King of the Goblin people.
They would have been a great deal quicker except for mealtimes, which in
Grimwulff's case were 9-10 times a day. Today he had managed to "forage" several
houses in Emonds Field, a homeless family in New Manetherin, and completely
ransacked the Fasting Brotherhood of the Sun on their yearly pilgrimage to
Karak-kadrin.
He should be relatively fine during this audience.
King Sulgdai and the goblins, however, were a problem unto themselves. It
turned out they had encountered a slight communications barrier. The king and
some few dozen of his people were arranged around the throne, sharp-looking
spears in hand. After repeated verbal discussion, various attempts to explain
with pen and paper, and a great deal of shouting, Grimwulff, at Lochiels
direction, was now pantomiming alliance between their peoples against the
kingdom of Orthis and Astirin.
"Ok Grim, I don't think they're understanding the battle part. Show more
battle." Grimwulff ran around and around in circles swinging his arms like
weapons pretending to kill things, all the while screeching and squawking at
the top of his lungs. "They're still not getting it, Grim. Can't you mime war?"
Grimwulff, in a fit of typical barbarian enlightenment, decided to grab a
nearby goblin and, much to the dismay of the goblins friend's, proceeded to
tear the screaming creature's limbs off.
Lochiel pondered upon this bit of barbarian diplomacy and wondered how
Grimwulff's people had survived as a tribe.
Grimwulff was now beginning to pummel nearby goblins with the leg of another,
and Lochiel had pretty much conceded their mission as a failure when he noticed
the king nodding understandingly. Blood and gore these creatures could understand.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
"So, we can make this alliance, then, eh men?"
The King, in awe of Grimwulff's display, knelt before the pair and repeated the
words reverently: "Eh-men..."
All the goblins fell to their knees and began chanting "eh-men, eh-men" over
and over again. Apparently Lochiel and Grimwulff and managed to build their
own little army.
"Grim, Welmar is not going to like this."
SCWRAAATCH!
"This took too long. Do you think you can go without meals until we see Welmar?"
Welmar sat in his throne uncomfortably. He had just managed to work feeling back
into his foot, which had gone to sleep some ten minutes earlier, when Lochiel
and Grimwulff strode in. He forgot about his discomfort when he realized that
it was very possible they were attempting to build their own army and empire.
Lochiel forestalled his accusations with a rather charming bow and the
declaration "Your majesty, King Sulgdai has come with his army, and he sends
his respects."
Suspiciously, King Welmar inquired, "Did he not send a gift?"
Lochiel and Grimwulff eyed each other uneasily. "Well, your Majesty, he sent
several kegs of goblin Ale..."
"And where are they now?"
"Well, you see, Grimwulff here hadn't eaten in several hours and..."
Well he didn't really need anymore ale.
"Did he send an ambassador of his people?"
Lochiel and Grimwulff eyed each other uneasily. Lochiel managed to sneak in
a elbow to Grimwulff's stomach.
"Let me guess your companion ate him too. Well this isn't good. Oh well. You
have done an excellent job my subjects on this mission, apart from eating
ambassadors and drinking my ale. It is now time to begin the invasion of
Orthis. You may leave now.
"Rowel! Where are you!? Damn you man!"
Lochiel and Grimwulff eyed each other uneasily. Grimwulff belched up a sleeve
with the royal colors of King Welmars livery, and they strode out.
On an ornate desk in the private rooms of the King's Advisor, a tiny journal
lay open gathering dust.
"I have finally gathered a sufficiently powerful army to overpower and
supplant the King and create my own empire in his place, and no one will ever
suspect me! Viscous beasts shall consume me before I am caught, ha ha ha ha
ha!"
Pyure
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THE HAON'DOR DRUID PROJECT
On The 31st Day of the Month of Pain, in the Year 266, three young
adventurers left New Manetheren to research the legend of an old druid that
was said to haunt the forest east of Manetheren. They were never heard from
again.
Five years later their kits were found.
The mages guild used these belonging to divine a partial veiwing of the
events undergone by these explorers over the last few days of thier lives.
This divination supplemented by the notebook kept by one of the adventurers
were combined to obtain the following truths about thier search.
Barb al'Sim, a petite redheaded ranger, first learned of the legend from
the legends told by an insane old drunk that wanders the streets of Old
Manetheren. She was intrigued by the story he told and his vehemence that it
was wholely true. The story was as follows:
It seems in the year 66, the land was mostly uninhabited. NO real
cities exhisted but people lived in looseknit communites of 100-200 people
who lived in small villages. But Then as now some of the rogues would for
whatever reason be run out of these villages and forced to live alone
apart from the good and decent folk.
One of these rogues was Bandis Tremn. His name is mentioned nowhere in
any formal record, but according to the old drunk he was found to be
taking small children deep into the woods and abandoning them. Rumor say
he would then go back a few days later and using the power of a demon he
would hunt thier souls in the woods. Once he came upon them he would
brutally slay them sacrificing thier eternal spirits to the ancient gods,
splattering the blood and vital organs of the children upon the Gigantic
Trees of the forest. For 3 years he carried out his evil ceremonies
unknown to the villagers, but eventually, as all secrets he was found out.
The villagers chased him from town and forbade him to come within
sight of any of them saying to violate such they would see he met his
death. Now Bandis Tremn was a mighty druid, he had harnessed powers that
would boggle the mind of any living today. He was able to harness the
skills of the forest so that he could move around completely unseen. Using
this skill he came back and two by two he took the children of the
village, until all had he sacrificed among the forest. The Villagers were
helpless against his invisibility, but they learned through magic, that in
the moment he began his sadistic ceremony of killing he became visible. A
week after the villagers had mourned the death of thier last youth, a new
family arrived in town. They said they werre just passing through. and
the man asked lodging for himself, his wife and his daughter and son for
just one nite.
The Villagers called an emergency meeting and decided that Bandis
would be unable to stand the sight of children inside the village and
would seek to work his evils. They came up with a plan that they would
watch for Bandis, and though he would be invisible to them, they would be
able to see his victims the children and could follow the site of them
until in his moment of ceremony, Bandis would become visible. At that
moment they would deal him his death once and for all.
Night came and as expected Bandis made off with the children. The
villagers followed him to a small glade completely encircled with age old
trees. The villagers wcould be naught but the children lying facedown in
the dirt crying, until.....Suddenly The Gigantic form of Bandis Tremn Came
into sight. The villagers rushed him with thier crude pitchforks and
hoes trying to beat him to death. He withstood thier onlaught laughing in
a deep bass rumble. Then the mayor took up a torch and set fire to Bandis
He screamed out in agony. As his pain became evident the trees surrounding
the glade began to move in towards the villagers. The villagers set fire
also to these trees. They grabbed up the children and ran from the forest
back to thier village.
As time passed, life became more normal. Children were born, families
once more delighted to the happy sounds of kids playing, and all were at
ease. Since that day few dare enter the Fire blackened darker half of
Haon'dor forest. And even fewer return.
Barb was Thoroughly enthralled by the old drunk'd story and asked
other people in the area about the woods. None knew more than bits and
pieces of stories about bad goings on in the woods, but all agreed that it
was not a place to EVER go at night. Barb decided to tell her friends Jim
Joeson and Gorm al'Kin about the legend.
After discussing it they got to talking about all the power such a druid
must have had at his disposal and had the thought that maybe some writings
of his powers still exhisted in the forest or maybe even he himself, and
wouldnt it be neat to find some proof that he really had exhisted. After
alot of talk they decided to use this weekend to go looking around in the
woods and see what they might could find.
Friday they set out with backpacks full of pipeweed bread and waterskins
full of water. They obtained directions and a map to the forest from
Harrugh the mapmaker and went exploring. They came across a crazy old
ranger named Sting, who kept screaming at them, 'RUN AWAY!!! THE TREES!!!
IT WILL GET YOU!!!!', then abruptly he ran off cackling insanely to himself.
Jim cracked a joke saying maybe Sting was the druid and they all had a good
laugh quaffing a little firebreather. Gorm started yawning and before they
knew it they were all yawning and decided to camp for the night.
The next morning the looked around and saw that they had setup thier tent
beside an old hollow log. Jim went over and sat down on the log while barb
got out some pipeweed for breakfast. Jim suddenly jumped up screaming about
something getting him. Barb sat there laughing pointing to the sleepy eyed
little badger poking his head out of the end of the log with a piece of
Jim's pants inside his teeth.
After waking gorm from his deep sleep(that guy could sleep through an
earthquake spell), they paked up and headed off once more following the map.
They joked about how they were all gonna be heralded as heroes when they
got back to Manetheren with proof that there really was a druid. After a
long day hiking they were starting to get tired and decided to start looking
for a good place to set up camp. Jim, always paranoid started saying that
they had been going in circles, that they were walking along by the same
trees as yesterday. Barb and Gorm comforted him and assured him it was not
so, that they just looked similiar because to a certain extent all trees
look the same...
Then they came upon the hollow log. The SAME hollow log the had camped by
last night. They had walked all day following the map away from thier camp
from last night, and somehow ended up RIGHT BACK AT IT!!! Jim freaked out at
this and went berserk nearly hitting his friends. Barb explained that it
must be that they had slowly circled around, that that sick mapmaker harrugh
had given them a bogus map. She agreed with them that tommorow they would
follow her tried and true map to New Manetheren back home.
That night as they slept the heard strange noises. A crackling of twigs as
of someone walking. The sat there in thier tent shivering and listening,
when suddenly something shook the tent. Barb, Gorm, and Jim all went crazy
running into the night away from whatever it was.
Shivering with fear Barb hid in a small gully she hid there under an
overhang until first light. then as the landscape became visible she headed
back towards camp. There she found Gorm standing over thier things. Thier
things had been scattered, thier backpacks torn asunder and thier contents
spewed all around. And Jim was Nowhere to be seen.
Gorm sat down and began rocking back and forth holding his knees mumbling to
himself, 'its all a dream, its all a god damn dream, none of this is fucking
real its all a dream....' over and over again. Barb told him to stand up and
follower here because they were gonna find Jim and leave that shithole of a
forest right now. Gorm just looked at her dumbly as she began to call Jim's
name. "JIM, follow the sound of my voice JIM. We're at The campsite" she
heard no response so took it up again. By midday Gorm had come to grips with
the fact that this was really happening and started helping her call.
By 3 pm they decided that Jim wasnt coming and that they needed to get out
now while they still had daylight. Barb reached into her pocket to get her
map to New Manetheren....It was gone. 'Give me The map Gorm!!!', She
screamed at him. Gorm replied, 'You had it remember after you showed it to
us last nite you put it back in your pocket.' They argued on a few more
minutes, then Barb realizing how futile that was said that even lacking the
map they had to get out of there. They knew that the Caire road was to the
south if they could just get to the road they could get home. Gorm nodded
enthusiastically and they started marching south.
They marched long into the evening, only stopping when there was no longer
enough light to see anything. Barb and gorm curled up in the roots of a tree
and tried to go to sleep. Neither of them could get to sleep though, they
just sat there, thier bloodshot eyes wide open, watching. They couldnt have
been sitting more than an hour when it started.
They began to hear screams and moans, seeming to come from all sides. Then
they heard a loud scream followed by, 'BARB, GORM, ANYBODY HELP
Meeeeee.....'. They automatically recognized the voice as Jim's. Gorm
started to stand and Barb pulled him back down. 'We dont know what's
happening, lets call for him to come here rather than burst into who knows
what'. So they began to call Jim's name shouting for him to come to them.
They heard Jim shout thier names once more then heard only his screams.
After a couple of minutes Gorm could take it no more and ran fleeing towards
the west where the screams seemed to originate. Barb followed him through
the brush and soon they could see a dim red light. They followed this light.
On and On they ran. The distance between them became greater and greater as
Gorm's longer stride pulled him ahead.
Gorm came upon a large clearing surrounded by gigantic trees. In the
center of the clearing shone a dark, evil flame emitting a red glow but
burning solid black at its center. No living things could be seen in the
clearing. Gorm slowly walked towards the flame, noting that the trees
surrounding the clearing seemed to bear in on him closing the clearing
tighter and tighter, and from thier limbs hung bundles of twigs tied
together in shapes reminiscent of tortured human bodies. as he reached the
fire he suddenly felt a large pain on his head, and fell unconciously,
facedown in the dirt beside the fire.
Barb kept running. She couldnt see Gorm anymore, but she could see the
light. Finally she came upon the edge of a large clearing surrounded by
giant trees, there was barely enough room between them to step through. In
the center of the clearing an evil flame glowed. Beside the flame Gorm lay
facedown. She opened her mouth to call him when Suddenly a massive being
faded into view above Gorm releasing a killing blow upon her friend. She
turned around and began to flee.. The trees were too close together for her
to get through..... She raised her battle axe and began to cut through the
branches making an opening. Suddenly Someone Shouted, 'You've defiled my
forest for the last time. Now you DIE!'. And Barb saw no more...
This Story is True. Do not enter Haon'dor.
The End.
Jenny
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A MUD based on Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. With roleplaying encouraged through
guilds, clans, clanwars, holywars and throne wars. Experience the Wheel of Time world in a
whole new way: in an Age ravaged by the Last Battle. The time lace has been broken, the barrier
between dream and reality shattered. Weaves. Clans. Crafting. Huge World. Free Online Role Playing Game or commonly called RPG. The most unique Free Online RPG set in the Wheel of Time world.
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