[an error occurred while processing this directive]

# 6, May 1995

{The GOH Mag Mirtul of 95}
A note from the editor from Hell
It's the beautiful month of Mirtul, when the flowers bloom and the sun shines down on Neverwinter. It's not great weather but it does beat doing Square Duty in the snow. It's also the month which bore your beloved Editor.. (AHE! AHE!!)

Well, lets get the formalities over with and get into the magazine. Be sure to send me some feedback and other junk. You can even send in stuff you wanna contribute to the mag....plenty of room here to play with.

With that I say sit back and Enjoy!

The Editor from Hell
-NW Elladan

{NW Snowie's Petting Zoo}
Get the +3 weed eater out!! here comes a shambleing mound!

HIT DICE: 8-11 (8-88 Hit Points)
ATTACKS: 2 (2-16/2-16)
SPECIAL DEFENSES: Special Magic Resistance

A shambling mound, or a 'shambler' as it is better known, looks a lot like the salad that has been lying around in the back of Elladan's food stores since last year. The shambling mound appears humanoid, ranging from 6'-9' in height and about 6' wide. They are composed of rotting vegetation devouring any living things which get in their way. These monsters are said be to intelligent vegetable matter, which in itself is an oxymoron.

The shambler is a dangerous opponent with both a potent offense and a formidable defense. They attack by striking with two limbs for massive damage (imagine being clubbed over the head with a tree trunk), and if both limbs strike an opponent, the opponent is drawn into the body of the shambler to suffocate in the shambler's decaying body. The victim has 2-8 rounds to kill the shambler, or they will find themselves hitting the nearest gate.

Now if the ability to kill almost instantly doesn't seem too much, the shambler also has some awesome defenses. Weapons do half of the normal damage, with the blunt smashing variety not affecting them at all. Many clerics have hit the gate trying to kill these monsters the fighter way.

Along with resistance to physical attacks, shamblers are immune to fire based attacks (sorry mages). They also take half damage from cold based attacks and electrical attacks have been known to heal them.

In order to survive these baddies, spells like hold monster and fumble are suggested. Magic missile is also a good spell. Remember to keep well away from a shambler, because if the shambler has the opportunity to grab hold of you, you can expect to see the gate real soon. Few escape once suffocation begins.

Good luck in your shambler hunt!
{The Goddess Apothecary}
Boots of Speed

Of all the items in Neverwinter, none is more rare or more coveted than the legendary boots of speed. This pearl only item is the most powerful magic item found in Neverwinter.

The boots of speed appear to be just a normal pair of leather boots. But once worn, this item will instantly double the movement rate of the wearer. This also applies to the number of attacks the wearer can make.

This speed enhancement is the equivalent of a permanent haste spell as long as the boots are readied. These boots will sometimes age the wearer and at other times will not.

The Neverwinter variety of the boots of speed are unique in that they provide a constant haste and do not offer the armor class bonus of the ones found elsewhere in Faerun. It is said NW Events gets only 1 pair per year delivered to him from somewhere in the west and they are offered to a citizen of Neverwinter who has done some spectacular deed. Although they are valued at a 120 pearls, the limited supply of these items ensure that the Pearl Store is never stocked with more than one of them in any particular year.
{NW Jareth's Mystical Grimoire}
Invisibility and Invisibility 10' radius
INVISIBILITY: Magic User 2nd Level
INVISIBILITY 10' RADIUS: Magic User 3rd Level

Invisibility: Touch
Invisibility 10' Radius: Touch

Invisibility: Special
Invisibility 10' Radius: Special

Invisibility: One person
Invisibility 10' Radius: Same square in combat. 3 diameter in battle.(Targeted Square: Center)

Invisibility and Invisibility 10' Radius are two essential spells for the adventurer in Neverwinter. It will gain them initiative in almost any encounter and provide limited protection while they are enchanted.

Neverwinter invisibility is unique in that it is permanent until dispelled. The only other methods of dispelling this invisibility besides a DISPEL MAGIC spell, is for the enchanted individual to cast a spell, or attack. You can rest for days on end, and unless the above mentioned actions are taken, you will remain invisible.

Invisibility will allow you to walk away from monsters without being attacked. Only dragons will deny you this ability. A few other monsters have senses that allow them to detect an invisible individual, but do not allow them to attack when the individual walks away.

There is another unique quality about Neverwinter invisibility that remains a phenomenon to this day. It seems if 2 or more individuals are invisible in the same combat, they tend to interfere with each other, making one of them partially visible to the monsters for a short period of time. The great Neverwinter sage Strider once theorized that the close proximity of the invisibilities, combined with the essence of the combat itself, causes this enigma. To this day, the actual causes remain a mystery.
{NW Kishpa's Class Acts}
Dwarf Fighter


MAIN BENEFITS: Resistance to Magic & Poison, Bonus vs Goblins, Hobgoblins, Orcs, and Giant types. Navigating underground with coordinates.

MAIN DISADVANTAGES: None (besides being a fighter)


The dwarven fighter is the ultimate definition of a fighter. They will kick, punch, hack, slash, maim, and really hurt any monster that gets in their way. Fearless by nature and always ready to brawl, the dwarven fighter is well equipped with the means to do it. Although not the most nimblest by nature, they make up for it by being naturally strong of body.
Dwarven fighters are rare in Neverwinter due to the fact that most people growing up in this region study the magical arts at an early age. To balance this out, dwarves tend to travel in war parties. Their ability to work together and hit hard, has lead to the deaths of many overconfident monsters.
{NW Essex's Study in Attitudes}
Chaotic Neutral

"This view of the cosmos holds that absolute freedom is necessary. Whether the individual exercising such freedom chooses to do good or evil is of no concern. After all, life itself is law and order, so death is a desirable end. Therefore, life can only be justified as a tool by which order is combatted, and in the end it too will pass into entropy."

-DM's Guide (c) 1979 p. 24.

"Above respect for life and good, or disregard for life and promotion of evil, the chaotic neutral places randomness and disorder. Good and evil are complimentary balance arms. Neither are preferred, nor must either prevail, for ultimate chaos would then suffer."

-Player's Handbook (c) 1978 p. 33.
{NW Aziza's Fantastic Tours}
Population: 130 (1,100 in outlying regions)

Longsaddle is a small village lying near the eastern end of the Neverwinter woods. It is ruled by a council of elders led by Ardanac Harpell. The Harpells are a family of powerful magic users who protect and live in Longsaddle. Of the Harpells, the most famous is Malchor of the mystical Tower of Twilight.

Longsaddle is noted for beef and mutton. Large ranches continue to expand, encroaching further into monster-held frontiers. It is a very productive farming community which is well known, thanks to the famous family of mages dwelling there.

The village has a farmers' market, a stable, a stirrup maker and bellcaster.

The Guilded Horseshoe provides excellent accomodations as the food and the sleeping quarters are of the highest quality. It is rumored that the Inn is also a front for the Guild of Chaos who operate out of Longsaddle. It is a mystery to everyone how the GOC and the Harpells have coexisted without problems in the small village.

The Shield of Righteousness. The Longsaddle Arms and Armor Shop equals the quality and service of the larger Neverwinter stores. The prices are average no more or no less than of Neverwinter, and this smaller shop has everything an adventurer might need.

The Longsaddle General Store and Farmer's Supply House has the essentials for an adventurer. Flasks of oil and mirrors are just two of the supplies you will find here.

The Longsaddle Training Academy is run by a former adventurer who makes his living from the visitors of this town. It is rumored that the mages who frequent the hall are trained by one of the Harpells.

This is the official supplier of the Fohgweigh stirrups. These very high quality stirrups can only be found here.

The very same maker of the stirrups, has his main business of bell casting nearby in Longsaddle.

IVY MANSION: The home of the Harpells lies in the center of Longsaddle upon a hill. Those entering will be greeted by Ardanac Harpell who will tell them about the recent troubles in Longsaddle.

Longsaddle, recently, has had its share of problems. Roaming flocks of griffon led by cloud giant shaman have killed my residents and visitors. People are warned to travel with extreme caution.

There are also rumors of underground area below Longsaddle, with a temple, a graveyard and a crypt. Some very large and nasty creatures have been reported by visitors who did not care to stick around. To the north of the town, wyverns have been spotted in masses. The close proximity of Longsaddle to the Neverwinter Woods have the Harpells concerned that this may only be the beginning.
{NW Baldor's Might makes Right Armory}
Pole Arms (Part 3 the Iduno's)

POLE ARMS: The Special Ones
Pole arms are just what they claim to be, arms on poles. There are hundreds of varieties and Neverwinter Nights features many of them. Because they are not popular, most players have no clue what they are, what they do or what they look like. This month will feature the third class of pole arms; the special variety.

LUCERN HAMMER: Length: 5'+ Weight: 15 lbs. Hands Needed: Two
2-8 damage vs Small & Man Sized Creatures / 1-6 vs Large Sized Creatures
- The lucern hammer would not be an ideal tool for building, lets say a dog house. It is a combination of a spear, a long hook, and a little tiny spiked head. If you did try to hammer a nail with a lucern hammer, it will lead you to believe that this Lucern guy was feebed when he created it. All in all, it is not an effective weapon but it looks pretty cool and has an awesome name.

BEC DE CORBIN: Length: 6' Weight: 10 lbs. Hands Needed: Two
1-8 damage vs Small & Man Sized Creatures / 1-6 vs Large Sized Creatures
- This is another weapon with a real cool name but pretty soft damage. It is a lucern hammer with a spike instead of a hook, designed to make bleeding a more efficient activity for the opponents. The spear portion is not as long as the lucern hammer, but who needs a spear when you can spike?

Next month, we'll take a look at the combos, the "It's this and that" family of pole arms.
{NW Strider's Tavern Legends and Tale's}
Tales from the Bard Mistress Aidynni :Heartbreak: Chapters 1,2,3,4,5,6


* Chapter 1*

The large, circular room, covered walls adorned with suits of armor and various weapons, was silent. In the center sat a large circular table made of stone. And seated before it were grim looking men and women, staring at the center of the table where a white cloth, stained with dry, rust colored blood was covering a large bundle. One of the padded chairs were empty, and a black sash was draped across the back of it.

An old man, his tanned and scarred face grim, got up from his chair and removed the cloth, revealing a broken suit of armor encrusted with streaks of blood and a shield which was neatly cut in half. All those present leaned over closer to the pile, and quiet whispers and murmurs broke the murky silence after an uneasy moment.

The same man raised up his gloved hand, and the room immediately fell into silence once again. He then smoothed his peppery beard and spoke. "The Angel of Death strikes again." He then picked up one of the halves of the shield and ran his fingers over the cut edge of the metal. "She cut Amoyal down in half. Shield, armor, verything. In one stroke."

"Impossible!" A woman exclaimed. "No sword ever made can achieve such a feat!"

The old man raised his brow at the red haired woman, and she fell silent, her anger coloring her features crimson. "Its always been the one who wields the blade, Rebecca, not the blade itself." He said, reproving the woman. He then passed the shield to the person next to him and continued. "Not only do we have the evidence, we also have eye witness accounts as well. Notice the clean cut on the shield edge. The cut was effortless. Only one person, dead or alive, could have achieved such a feat."

"Does the Angel of Death dare oppose the will of the Black Blades?" A large, one eyed man asked, looking inquisitively at the man, his black eye patch creasing as he frowned.

"Surely she can't do so and hope to live." A dark haired woman added, her green eyes looking around the room like a cat hunting. "Let me go after her, and I shall bring her severed head for your trophy case." She added in a dark, sleek voice and looked the man in the eyes, winking.

A thin man seated across from her laughed, and the dark haired woman's hand immediately went to her dagger on her hips, quick as a striking serpent. "What makes you think you have a chance against the Angel, Kiria." He chuckled, paying no attention to her drawn daggers. "You weren't there to see her in action, but I was. I saw her use Amoyal to kill lord Oden and his charge, then slice him in half with just one stroke! Such speed! By the time you reach for your daggers, she'd have you chopped up like dinner."

Kiria's face grew dark, but she returned her daggers to their place and purred, "If one didn't know you better, Clancy, one would mistake you for a coward."

"Enough!" the man with the beard shouted as Clancy angrily bolted out of his seat. "We are not here to bicker amongst each other. We are here to find out why Amoyal, the best of the Black Blades, was cut down with such ease. Jonah," He turned to the large, one eyed man. "What is your thought on this matter?"

Jonah folded his massive hands before him and looked at the bloody armor in front of him. "It's simple. Amoyal was in armor and the Angel was not. She had a distinct speed and visibility advantage. She led him by the nose and killed him."

"That still does not explain how the Angel managed to slice right through his armor and shield." The red haired woman retorted, fingering the cut edge on the shield.

"She learned from Hiroshi, and she has his sword." A dark, small man, looking disinterested, spoke up and answered her.

Kiria snorted and stretched her lithe body in boredom. "I suppose that explains just about everything, Marko. Ridiculous."

"It does. Our records indicate that this Hiroshi appeared out of nowhere one day and..."

"I can't believe we're wasting our time like this!" the red haired woman shouted, interrupting Marko. "Our leader is slain. We're the laughing stock of all of Eteria! We must strike her down now if we're to regain what is left of our reputation, not sit around like scared fools discussing history!"

The old man held up his hand to silence the red haired woman. "We all know how you feel, Rebecca." He said, "I know that Amoyal's meant a great deal to you. However, we cannot rush into this thing blindly. The Angel is too dangerous a foe."

"I cannot believe I'm hearing this, especially from you master Owen." Kiria said disgustedly. "We are the Black Blades. Our skill hold all of Eteria in fear and we are cowering like plucked chicken before this one wench!"

The old man called Owen turned to regard Kiria and smiled indulgently. "You hear caution because there is much to worry about this matter." He began, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Cyan, the Angel of Death. Do you realize how long the rumors of her existence had been going on? For over a century, maybe more. She had all that time to perfect her skills. Not stale lessons you learn under a teacher, but in actual combat. How long have you been plying your knives for killing, Kiria? Matter of fact, all of you? Have any of us been wielding our weapons for that long a time?"

When the room felt silent, Owen sat back down and stared out the window. From this vantage point, he could see the city of Kentar stretching out before him, dusty and crowded with people. "If we fail in killing her, then our organization will be no more." He whispered to himself, but all members present had heard, and looked around uneasily. "For her vengeance will surely be terrible."

"Then what will you have us do, master Owen?" Rebecca seethed, looking at him with rage and impatience in her eyes. "Sit on our hands while Amoyal's death go unavenged?"

"You still don't get it, do you?!" Clancy shouted out, his thin form taut and angry. "She is immortal! We don't even know if she could die. No one has even seen her bleed."

Rebecca's lips grew thin into a smile that was vicious and terrible. "She will, when I whip her into pieces. Her sword will be no match for it. She will bleed for me!"

Owen shook his head. "I will not let you. There is too much at stake if you fail. I forbid you to go after her." He commanded firmly, his veins strained and visible on his neck.

Rebecca got up from her seat slowly. In her hand, she held a coiled, golden whip that looked like a sleeping serpent. Her eyes were red and glistening with tears as she cried out, "Then I have no choice. I cannot let my love's death go avenged. From this moment, I am no longer a member of the Black Blades!" The room grew silent as she slowly walked away from the table and opened the door. And as she was about to step out into the hallway, Owen asked in a soft voice, staring at the bustling streets of Kentar, "Reconsider, Rebecca."

Rebecca turned her head and smiled through her tears at Owen. "I cannot. I must do this for him, father." She whispered, and walked out of the door, closing it softly behind her.

"Owen..." Kiria began, but swallowed her words as Owen closed his eyes and collapsed into his chair, leaning back and breathing out a deep, tired sigh.


* Chapter 2*

A man limped through the worn trail, carrying a wooden bucket in his hand. And as he neared a small ledge that led to a small, babbling stream, he ran his hand over his neatly trimmed blond hair and took out a handkerchief out of his worn pants pocket, wiping trickling sweat from his brow. "This isn't getting any easier." He muttered to himself, and carefully lowered himself over the edge, and stepped on something soft. "What the..." He began, and looked down. Before him lay a young woman, half submerged in the water. He immediately got off her hand and tossing his bucket away, squatted before her limp form and felt her pale white neck for a pulse. "She's still alive." He whispered to himself, and dragged the rest of her body out of the water. As he pulled, he tore the clinging white sleeves of her blouse and almost fell backwards. He then noticed that through the tear in her blouse, he could see that she wore a metal scale shirt underneath. His curiosity reached, he moved the wet, clammy blonde hair covering her face and thought her the fairest woman he saw in his life.

"I don't know where you came from lady, and I don't know what trouble befell you," He began, dragging her out of the ledge and carrying her before him. "but by my honor, I will protect you with my life."

The man started to limp out onto the trail, leaving the babbling stream and his wooden bucket, bobbing and floating freely downstream. In his arms was the woman, her limbs hanging limp and lifeless like a broken doll.


* Chapter 3*

An old man, dressed in a simple brown robe, sat on a porch of a worn down shack, mixing a pasty substance that smelled of sweets in a wooden bowl. He mopped his creased brow, and happened to look up to see a man limping out of the woods, carrying a body in his arms.

"Good lord..." The old man whispered, and put the bowl down gingerly and got up from his chair. He then trotted out towards the limping man.

"Ah, Father Smith." The man began as the old man reached him. "It seems instead of bringing you water, I've brought you a patient."

The old man felt the woman's clammy forehead and then raised her eyelid. "Or a corpse, Sumner. Come on, let's get her inside, and we'd better hurry." He finally replied, and reached over to take her off his arms.

Sumner shied away from his hands. "If you don't mind, father Smith." He said, not unkindly.

The old man opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself when he caught a glimpse of Sumner's eyes, and said instead, "Yes, of course. Come on then."

Sumner gently laid the woman on the soft, worn bed as master Smith removed the small gray cloth over the window to let the sunlight in, revealing a room lined with shelves containing vials of various sizes and herbs. In the center of the room was a long wooden table, covered with small bowls and a basket of bread that looked moldy. A small desk was next to one wall, and a wall above it hung a black cross.

"Please start the fire." father Smith asked as Sumner cleared the wet, clingy hair from the woman's face. When Sumner limped over to the fireplace and put a log in it, he laid his head over her breast and raised an eyebrow. "Fished her out of the stream, did you?" father Smith asked, now running his hand carefully over her head.

"Yes father Smith." Sumner answered as he got the fire going. "I found her lying half way out of the water. Unconscious."

Father Smith stopped his hand over a spot on the back of the woman's head. "She had a rather nasty fall." He remarked. "It's a minor miracle that she didn't drown. How odd.."

"What is?" Sumner asked, looking up from the fireplace.

Father Smith turned to face Sumner and with a puzzled expression on his face, answered, "She didn't swallow any water. She really should have, seeing how she is completely soaked. It's almost as if she stopped breathing altogether when she hit the water." He straightened himself upright with a wince, and started to undo the woman's blouse.

"Father Smith!" Sumner shouted indignantly when he saw what he was doing, causing the priest to fumble with the buttons.

"You don't expect me to just leave her freezing in these wet things, do you Sumner?" Father Smith growled back, annoyed and surprised at the sudden outburst.


Father Smith sighed with a mild annoyance. "If your delicate sense of propriety is offended, then I suggest you face the other way until I have her covered."

Sumner's face turned a shade of dark crimson as he turned around and stared into the fire as Father Smith finished removing the woman's clothing and covered her with a blanket. "Alright, I'm done." Father Smith announced, and pulled up a small stool next to the bed, sitting himself gingerly on it. When Sumner limped over to the bed, he handed him a rusty scale shirt. "Why would a girl like her wear something like this?" He asked, looking up at him.

"I've been wondering about that myself, Father." Sumner said as he studied the shirt carefully. "An old design. The armorers don't make these kinds of shirts anymore since they offer very little protection. It doesn't seem to have seen too much use either. Good thing for her."

"And this." Father Smith said as he pulled a leather pouch from the woman's pants pocket. Upon opening it, both men stared at the glittering contents with their mouths agape. "There must be a king's ransom in here.." Father Smith finally managed to say, taking one of the gem stones out and holding it against a dirt stained window. The yellow gold sparkle of the jewel reflected the sun's light and lit up the dark room like a small sun, hurting their eyes with its brilliance.

"Could someone have tried to attack her for those jewels?" Sumner asked as Father Smith gingerly put the jewel back into the pouch and drew the strings up tight.

Father Smith put his wrinkled, worn hand on the woman's cold, clammy brow that looked to be porceline delicate, and brushed the wet strands of her hair away from her face. "We won't know what truly befell her until she tells us. Unfortunately, I've seen people who kept on sleeping until they died from these kinds of head wounds. We can only pray that she does not. Meanwhile," the priest said as he turned to regard Sumner, "I want you to go into town and inform the lord Sheriff of what happened."

When Father Smith saw Sumner's face grow uneasy at his words, he softened his voice and said, "I am sure a disappearance of a girl like this won't go unnoticed for very long. Someone, her father perhaps, will probably be along shortly to claim her."

Sumner glanced briefly at the woman's lifeless face and nodded curtly to the priest. He limped over to a wall where a sword hung and buckled it on. He then draped a faded cloak that once might have looked expensive and smooth, but now was worn and rough, over himself and headed out the door.

When Father Smith heard the hooves of Sumner's old warhorse disappearing in the direction of the town, he looked out the window and murmured wanly, "Still can't let go of your past, can you Sumner?"


* Chapter 4*

The seeress, an old woman who looked eternally tired and irritated, sat on a stone throne in a dark hall with only braziers that threw soft, quiet light around to no avail for company. She closed her wrinkled eyelids and breathed out a deep sigh, crossing her thin, frail fingers in her lap.

"This won't do at all, seeress." A female voice announced somewhere from the dark, her voice carrying a tinge of irritation and frail in the vast, empty hall. "The angel still has too many obligations to fulfill for her to forsake who she is."

The seeress cleared her throat, and answered in a cautious voice, "I assure you lady, that in time, she will remember who she is and continue."

"Your 'assurance' rings hollow seeress and does not fool me into complacency. If the angel will not fall back in line, then you leave me in a very difficult position. One that you and all Eteria will not like very much." the voice replied, matter of factly.

The seeress opened her eyes quickly, and looked to be troubled at the woman's words. "You cannot mean it. You promised me that this will be how it shall be done." the seeress said, her voice leaning towards desperation.

"Provided that the angel continues to be the angel, and fulfills her duty." the woman's voice informed from a form that slowly appeared before the seeress.

Before the seeress stood a young woman in a flowing gown that seemed to be made of the softest and fluffiest of white silk. Her hair, long and flowing like golden strands, chased away the darkness of the room and seemed to eclipse the weak light of the braziers. The seeress bowed her head before the woman, not daring to look into the icy cold beauty of the woman's counternance that seemed to glow like a pale moon.

"More time, lady. I need more time. Silsalon will be here shortly and he shall find the angel." The seeress said nervously, cowering before the woman as if the light eminating from her burned like fire.

"That traitor." The woman spat out, her face growing dangerous. "He is the cause of this mishap. He can no longer be trusted to carry out his task and will have to be eliminated."

The seeress cowered before the woman's words. "Please, lady. I.."

The woman raised her hand and the seeress, even though her head was bowed, grew deathly silent. "Enough. Bring him in here. I know that he waits outside." She commanded coldly.

The seeress feebly clapped once, and a door slowly opened with a soft creak. A small, glowing form flew inside as the door closed once again, flying towards the two women like a firefly. It stopped before the young woman, and grew in size until a young man with dragon fly wings growing out of his back stood before her.

"My goddess." He said reverently as he bowed and knelt before her, not looking up.

The young woman looked scornfully down at the man, her crimson lips curled upwards like a check mark. "Raise that spiteful face, you traitor!" the woman spat out. When the man slowly did so, staring at her face with eyes full of unfathomable fear, she held her right arm up before his face, the place where her hand should have been ending in a stump. "My angel, my right hand, is no more because of your trechery, Silsalon. What is a fitting punishment for a wretched one who has betrayed a goddess' will and trust?" She announced angrily, her words smelling of brimstones and thunder.

Sils swallowed hard, and held up his hands weakly as if trying to ward off a physical blow. "I make no excuses, my lady." Sils answered in a trembling voice. "But I could no longer follow your will. Because,"

"Because what?!" the goddess asked.

Sils lowered his face and answered, "Because she means more to me than my life."

The goddess' face grew livid with rage. "How dare you!" She exclaimed in fury, and raised her hand high. Thousands of whispering voices rose up as if answering her, and Sils' body started to rise up from the floor. "No matter how close you think you are with her, she is still me, do you understand? She will not be soiled with a love of a mere mortal as yourself."

Sils' body started to tremble and tensed as if unseen hands were pulling at him from all directions. He shouted in terror as he started to feel the tiny but forceful tugs grip all over his body and started to tear his limbs from his shivering form. "Wait! You cannot do this to me! Who shall control Cyan if I were to be killed?!" Sils blurted out, his voice full of shock and agony.

The seeress got up from her chair as well, taking cautious steps towards the goddess. "He speaks truly, my goddess. There is no one in this world who can control the angel if Silsalon was no more." She spoke urgently, but was forced back into her seat by an unseen force with a hard enough shove to take the wind out of her and leave her breathless and in cold dread.

"Sit down!" The goddess commanded. She then turned her attention back to Silsalon, whose limbs were stretched out to their breaking point. Her hardened look softened as she saw him squirm under all the pain, and breathing out a sigh, she closed her outstretched hand. Sils' broken body fell lifeless to the cold, stone floor, breathing in raspy gasps that rang out painfully against the dark walls.

"Sils, look. Look at my face." the goddess commanded gently, lifting the long strands of hair away from her right eye. Sils slowly raised his pain filled face as commanded, and he trembled as he saw that her right eye was missing. In place was a dark, fathomless pool filled with stars that went on forever into cold, empty eternity.

The old seeress saw this as well, and she crumpled out of her chair as if her bones could no longer support her. "The eye!" She cried out in shock and dismay. "You promised us that this wouldn't happen!"

The goddess ignored the old woman and continued to talk gently to Sils. "The other gods demanded it of me, Sils. But my eye will not act until I give her permission. Do you not see, Sils? I know what lies in your heart. I know you want the angel to be mortal. But you seem to have forgotten that she can never be what you want her to be. She is my right hand. Nothing more. Regardless of the emotions she seems to have developed in time, she will return to be my right hand when her task is finished."

Sils nodded dejectedly at her words and cast his eyes downwards. His body still ached from the ordeal the goddess had put him through, but inside his head, one single thought pulsed unchecked through the pain.

"I swear to you, I will use every means available to me to get her away from your clutches. Goddess or no goddess!" Sils thought angrily as he slowly got up and managed to sit on his knees before the goddess, his head still bowed. Had he looked up, he would have seen the bemused and sad smile that slowly formed on the goddess' lips as his thoughts betrayed him to her.

"Will you go to her?" The goddess asked softly, her smile melting away slowly.

Sils nodded his head slowly in pain, answering back, "What will I say if she asks me why I've come back for her?"

The goddess turned to regard the cowering seeress and replied, "You will tell her that you have gone to see the seeress at Kentar and that she has told you that her prophecy has not been fulfilled as of yet. Promise her that all will be revealed to her when her tasks are completed."

Sils looked up slowly, facing the goddess. "Will you truly? For the truth shall drive her mad, I think."

The goddess sighed and replied in a tired voice, "That is none of your concern."

But Sils persisted, saying, "If she were to know that she was you, and that it was her face that she had been seeking all this time..."

"Enough." The goddess said simply, and Sils knew then to keep his mouth shut. "Go to her, Sils. Let her be my angel of death. And if you should fail in that, my eye will be loosened upon all of Eteria. She will not be as discriminating as Cyan, this I promise you."

Sils eyes took on the look of the shocked, and his face drained of all color. With a visible strain, he forced down the tremors of fear that swept throughout his body and winced as he got up. He bowed once to the goddess and to the seeress of Kentar, who looked as if someone had knocked all sense out of her. He then turned and flew out of the room without a glance back, and closed the massive doors behind him, leaving the two women.

The seeress slowly turned to the goddess, looking full of caution and fear. "Surely you do not trust Silsalon to fulfill what you wish of him." She ventured, her voice hoarse.

The goddess looked up towards the vast, empty ceiling of the room, and looked to be in deep thought. When she finally spoke, her voice was tinged with sadness. "He must. The other gods want destruction of Eteria for they see their doom in it. They fear, Saina. They fear the new god that spreads his will upon the land even as we speak. They have chosen me to quell this new religion, but fear that I've taken too long in achieving this goal. A century ago, they forced me to release my eye to completely destroy Eteria from the face of this land, to halt the spread of this new religion. They did not like the progress I was making with my angel."

The seeress's wrinkled eyes started to become moist with tears as she gazed into the goddess' sorrow filled face. "Oh my goddess.." she whispered, and reached out her wrinkled, frail hand. The goddess saw this and with a sad smile, took her hand in hers gently, filling the old woman with a warmth that felt like a gentle summer breeze.

"Saina, my faithful servant, my daughter." the goddess said gently and leaned her eternally young face to the seeress' wrinkled ear. "Do not hate me for what I've become." she whispered gently into her ear and kissed her cheek. And as the goddess' soft, warm kiss slowly dissolve away into the darkness, so did she, leaving the seeress cold and lonely in the darkness.


* Chapter 5*

The Tepper Inn was half empty and quiet, with patrons looking about them disinterested in a lazy afternoon haze. The barkeep, a thin, young man with nervous eyes, kept a weary eye on the patrons as if they were his greatest of enemies, all the while keeping a more stealthy one eyed gaze on his plump, overly excitable barmaid, who was at the moment looking longingly at a well dressed man passed out on one of the tables.

When the door opened and a red haired woman walked in, everyone's attention went towards her, their gazes eager to bring them out of their stupor with something new. However, when their laze filled stares slowly realized who this woman was, they hurridly averted their eyes lest she saw them take notice of her.

Behind the woman followed a tall, well muscled man with a black eye patch. Even though he was dressed conservatively, his huge, bulging muscles were straining the fabric of his clothes to a taut stretch. A long, broad sword with an unusually large guard was strapped to his back by a leather belted scabbard, and it made a sound akin to a clinking coin as he walked.

The barkeep bolted out from behind the bar and rambled towards the two. He bowed deeply before them with a sickeningly scared smile on his face, leading them to a large table in a corner.

"Welcome, lady Rebecca and Master Jonah. It indeed is an honor to have you here once again." he blabbered in a nervous voice as they sat down. He then turned to the red haired woman and with his face straining to put on a semblence of sadness, said, "I am extremely sorry to hear about Master Amoyal's death, lady. Who could have thought that he would meet his match..urg!"

A golden whip slashed out and coiled itself around the barkeep's neck. "Never, ever spread such false rumors again, do you understand me, wretch?" Rebecca spat out venomously and yanked the whip, causing the barkeep to fall to his face and bloodying his nose.

"Y...yes, lady! Of course! P..please forgive me!" the barkeep blubbered, red faced and bleeding as the whip slipped off his neck with a stinging bite. He beat a hasty retreat as the other patrons pretended to study their drinks and look busy.

"Lies, I'll never believe it! How could this falsehood have spread this far from Sanaria?!" Rebecca demanded angrily as she replaced her whip to her hip.

Jonah raised his eyebrow and unbuckled his sword, laying it against the table. "The stories that traveled out of Sanaria is not falsehood, Rebecca." He said as he sat down.

"How dare you?! He was our leader! He deserves more respect than some blabbing gossip!" Rebecca said as she looked at him angrily.

Jonah leaned back into his chair, which groaned under his massive weight, and simply replied, "He is dead. What more of a proof do you want?"

"Not by Cyan's hands! Not by a single person's hands! It's not possible." Rebecca said bitterly, and sat down, looking worn.

Jonah remained quiet and impassive as Rebecca gripped the edges of the wooden table until they creaked under the pressure. "I can see that you are upset."

"You are so perceptive." Rebecca retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm, but softened when she noticed that her words had an effect to the usually stoic Jonah. She lowered her head and relaxed her grip on the table. "I'm sorry, Jonah. I am not myself today." She apologized softly.

Jonah laid his large, rough hand on Rebecca's. "You should tell that to your father, Rebecca. He is besides himself over what you have done today."

Rebecca shook her head hard, and slipped her hands away. "No. Never. If my father is too much of a coward to carry out justice, then I have no need of the blades. I will.."

A cold, mocking laughter cut through Rebecca's words, and Rebecca turned her head angrily towards the source. Before her were two figures. One a man with white hair that grew to his shoulders, dressed in a gray robe with a purple sash He smelled faintly of incense and herbs, and wore a necklace with a golden circle. Another, the originator of the laughter, was a young woman, golden haired and eyes as cold as blue eyes that seemed to pierce everyone in the room with an eerie gaze of something inhuman. She was unearthly beautiful, with a cold, heartless and wild edge to that beauty that caused Rebecca's wondering fingers to hesitate and stop their progress towards her whip. She also wore the same robe as the man, albeit her sleeves and skirts were bordered with violet. She sat down before the two, and motioned the man to sit down also, never taking her mocking gaze off Rebecca.

"Justice! My dear black blades. How you love to roll in that word like some flea bitten mongrels." The woman said, her smile beguilingly intoxicating. Jonah flinched to protest, but found that his thoughs began to swirl and lose coherency in the woman's beautiful smile. "Let us make one thing very clear, black blades. You are nothing more than glorified assassins with a bent towards politics. Your justice is money."

Rebecca's face grew red, but she still couldn't break away from the woman's icy cold eyes. She felt herself drowning in those blue pools and found it hard to breath. It was only when the woman broke her gaze with her and winked at Jonah, who looked dumbfounded with his slackened jaw, that she could gather her addled wits. "I'll not sit still for this outrage!" She managed to blurt out angrily and got up.

The woman tilted her head coyly and regarded Rebecca, but this time, her gaze didn't affect her as the first time. "You will, if you want to know where you can find Cyan, the angel of death." the woman answered, her voice sounding joyous as if she was having fun.

Rebecca's features betrayed her surprise and she found herself slowly sitting back down, gazing at the two new arrivals.

"You do want her, do you not?" The woman asked, her smile carrying a faint hint of some secret amusement. When Rebecca nodded her head cautiously, she turned her gaze towards Jonah and said, "wonderful!". Jonah couldn't help but smile along with the woman and felt himself blush, almost causing Rebecca to gasp in surprise for she had never seen the stoic man even hint at a smile before.

"Well, then. Since we do not have much time," the woman began, but Rebecca held up her hand, stopping her.

"Just a minute. Who are you and, by the gods.." Rebecca exclaimed as she finally noticed who was sitting next to the woman, kicking herself for not seeing who he was before. She bowed her head reverently before the man, who was almost eclipsed into invisibility by the woman's beauty, and said, "Archmage Waren of the Circle. It indeed is an honor."

Jonah also bowed before the man, but did not say a word, his gaze wandering slowly back to the woman, who was looking amused at the reverence displayed for the man sitting next to her.

Archmage Waren noticed this and a wan smile appeared before his lips. He returned the bows gently, and absentmindedly ran his hand over his hair, it sharply contrasting a face that belonged to a man in his younger years.

"It is not often that we see you leaving the towers, master Waren." Rebecca began, noticing an air of unease the archmage was trying to hide before the young woman.

Archmage Waren nodded curtly, and with a voice that was a bit too dry and brittle to sound anything but calm, answered, "No. But my lady here needs my full attention."

The woman smiled coyly at this, and gave the archmage a sidewards glance that seemed to physically slap him and made him look to cower. "All the attention in the world isn't enough to keep me in check, darling. You know that." She said gently, but her words felt heavy and sharp against the skin.

The woman turned to Rebecca once again and with a disarming smile, continued, "If you want the angel of death, you will go over to the temple of the seeress right now. There you will see a Ralantian. Follow him and you will find your query."

Rebecca sneered, but immediately regretted it without knowing why, for she felt a cold finger of fear touch her heart and made her shiver. She forced down a feeling of utter panic and blurted out, "Why should I listen to you? I don't even know who you are."

The woman mocked surprise, and said, "Why that's right! How rude of me to not announce who I am. Very well.."

"My lady!" Waren shouted out sternly, cutting her off.

The woman turned to the archmage slowly. Her smile turned mocking and dangerous as she regarded the mage. "If you do not wish me to reveal who I am to these mortals, then you will tell them that I speak the truth." She said, her voice calm and measured.

The archmage looked to be speechless for a few moments, staring at the woman before him. He finally let out a deep sigh, and turned his head wearily towards Rebecca and whispered harshly, "My lady speaks the truth. The Ralantian will lead you to the angel if you hurry."

Rebecca's jaw hardened, and with her eyes closed tightly, she bolted up from her chair. Without a backwards glance, she quickly walked towards the door, slamming it on her way out. Jonah looked away from the woman's face as if waking from a dream when the sound reached his ear, and looked around him wearily with groggy eyes.

"The seeress's temple. You will find her there. And remember, Cyan looks exactly like me." The woman said, smiling at him.

Jonah got up unsteadily as if drunk. Taking his sword with an unsteady hand, and with an awkward bow towards the woman, left the table after Rebecca, his pace quickening as he distanced himself away from her.

The young woman laughed, and gathered her long, golden hair in her hand, gently laying its silken length over her left shoulder. The patrons of the male persuation gazed at its lengths that spilled over into her lap like a golden waterfall in awe, while Waren's features looked strained as he turned his head away from her with an effort.

"That big one will remember me. Don't you think, Waren?" The woman asked in an innocent voice, turning to lay a gentle hand on the archmage's shoulder to get his attention.

Waren shivered and laid his hand over her own, trying to remove it for it felt as hot as a glowing brand. He breathed out a sigh as she removed it with a twinkle in her eye, and replied, "He shall. Even if you did not mess with his head. It isn't often that a mortal gazes upon a goddess and lives to tell of it."

The woman laughed, and raised her head towards the ceiling that was blackened in places from the years of kitchen smoke. "I am not a goddess, my dear Waren. You know that." She said, and turned her gaze towards the men that were staring at her. "Look at them. So much like animals. All they can think about is how they would like to have me for their own." She commented in a bored voice, and turned to Waren. "But you, my darling. You know what I am about, don't you? That's why there's so much fear in that pretty little head of yours." She reached over to him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Stop it!" Waren shouted furiously, bolting up from his chair. "What you did here is not right. The goddess has forbidden you to do anything until this issue is solved! Until the angel fails, you were to do nothing!" Waren noticed from the corner of his eye that two of the men sitting in the next table was giving him an angry glance and fingering their swords.

The young woman shrugged before Waren, whose face was flushed with anger and fear. "I've waited a century with you, my darling. I was beginning to get extremely bored. Weren't you?" She asked, reaching up to take Waren's hand. "Look at you, sweetheart. Not a day older than the first time my mother left me in your care." She said as she gently caressed his hand. "Although I don't see why you found it necessary to try to negate it. You don't really look good with white hair."

Waren did not answer, but clenched his jaw and looked away from her.

The young woman let go of his hand, and with a hint of annoyance and malice in her words, said, "I imagine that's what your lover's hair is like now, if that even remains of her, rotting away in.."

Waren slapped her hard across her cheek, coloring it an angry crimson. Her long hair flew in disarray from the blow like the rays of the morning sun, falling like a golden curtain to cover her face as the woman lowered her head and gasped in surprise.

As Waren winced in regret at his action, the two men came up to him. One of them laid a firm hand on his shoulder and said, "I don't care who you are. You can't treat a lady like this."

Waren's features grew dangerous as he raised his hand to swat the man's hand away. "If you know what's good for you, then you will go back to your table." He said, and forceably removed the man's hand.

Without a word, the two men drew their swords and raised it to strike, but found their weapons glow and turn to dust in their shocked grasp. They then started to walk backwards toward their table, and collapsed into their chair with a blank look on their faces. The other patrons saw this and one by one crept quietly out of the establishment, quickly followed by the barkeep and the maid.

Waren sat down wearily, and with hesitation, reached over and ran a gentle hand over the young woman's hair, feeling the silky smoothness that felt as if he was dipping his hand into waves of a golden sea.

The young woman, without looking up, leaned her head closer to his hand and in awhile, whispered quietly, "Only you, my darling. No one would even dare, not even my kin."

"I am sorry." Waren said gently, his arms enveloping her in an embrace.

After what seemed to be eternity of silence, she whispered back faintly, "I'm sorry too."


* Chapter 6 *

The road was sunbaked and dusty, causing Sumner to blink and cough too many times for him to be comfortable with. He wanted to shake the road dust out of his hair too, but he daren't let go of the reins. Not only had his horsemenship deteriorated in the two years spent in that hut in the forest with father Smith, his horse had gotten used to the continued disuse as well and Sumner knew that if he showed any signs of losing control, he'd end up on his rear in the middle of the road with his horse flying off back into the forest.

As he got closer to the town, he began to pass by people and grimaced inwardly as they gawked at him and whispered amongst each other. One or two of them actually waved to him, and those he nodded politely to. When he reached the town gates, the guards looked surprised and one of them came up to him.

"Master Sumner, by the gods. It is you!" He shouted, look of welcome spreading across his face.

Sumner gave him an uneasy smile and reached over to pat the guard on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Finn." He said and turned to the other guard, who was coming towards them with a smile. "Shawn. Still can't take it easy with the spirits, I see."

The other guard laughed and rubbed his head as he reached out to grip Sumner's hand. "Naw, master Sumner. Can't kick the habit, I'm afraid."

As Sumner was about to reply, he spied the flag that was flying above the gates. A look of surprise was not unnoticed by the guards and Finn spoke up. "That happened a few weeks ago, master Sumner. I guess you haven't heard."

Sumner stammered and replied, looking dazedly at the banner of a red serpentine dragon emblazoned on a golden background, "No. I have not. That's lord Michels' banner."

"Lord Oden was killed. By the Angel of Death herself, I hear." the guard named Shawn spoke. "There's a new high king in Sanaria now, master Sumner."

Sumner turned to Shawn and asked in a surprised voice, "The Angel of Death? What nonsense is this?"

Shawn shook his head fervently. "Oh no, master Sumner. It's no nonsense. sheriff Steward saw it himself."

"He was there when lord Oden challenged lord Taran for the high kingship. Darndest thing he ever saw he says, the way he was killed I mean." Finn added excitedly.

Sumner creased his brows and looked to be in thought as he said, "Since he's lost, his land is forfeit. Now we're under Michels' control." He gave the guards a pat on the shoulder and turned his horse back towards the gate entrance. "I'll see you men on the way out. I have business with Steward." He said as the horst trotted in towards town.

As the two guards saw him turn a corner and disappear, Finn asked ruefully, "Do you think he's here because of this?"

Shawn rubbed his red nose and sniffed. "Even if he is, he'll never get his job back." He replied, readjusting his grip on the spear. "But I would like to see him receive something. It's just unfair what they did to him."

Finn spat on the ground and returned to the well worn spot next to the gates, saying bitterly, "You mean what lord Oden did to him. I for one am glad that that butcher finally got it."

Shawn rubbed his jaw and readjusted his helmet straps, replying, "I'd watch that tongue if I were you, Finn. Especially around master Sumner. Them high born nobles have a strange sense of honor and he might just take offense to your words."

Finn raised his eyebrows in surprise and retorted, "Are ye kidding, man? Oden's the reason why master Sumner became a commoner! If it wasn't for him, he wouldn't be a useless cripple!"
{NW Mistie's Political Theories}
The Dwarves
Knee Biters
"If it wasn't done by a dwarf, it wasn't done right!"

ASSISTANT GM : Moradinson
ELDERS : Dwyvyrn, Heese 2, Starkadh, Patroc1us

MEMBERSHIP: 53 Members
STATUS: Sanctioned
ENTRY REQUIREMENTS: Must be a dwarf, non-evil
PROMINENT MEMBERS: Nystramo, Moradinson, Starkadh, Patroc1us, Dwyvyrn
GUILD GOALS: Maintain a visible dwarven presence in Neverwinter, promote dwarves as a viable race in The Realms, promote active role play in the game of NWN, assist all non-evil dwarves in any way possible.

Clan Axepeak was officially founded June 13, 1993 by a small band of dwarves : Nystramo, his brother Melkarris, and Patroc1us. It's original name was The Society of the Stone, and was later changed to Clan Axepeak when it was decided that S.O.S. was not a very inspiring acronym. Clan Axepeak gained full sanctioned status in October of 1994 to the surprise of many, including more than a few dwarves. The clan claims Lonely Mountain in the North West Woods as its ancestral home, and regularly sends war parties there to clear it of the recurrent giant and drider infestations.

For the first year of its existence, the membership of Clan Axepeak remained small. There were rarely more than ten or so active members. Despite this fact, the clan remained highly visible in the game thanks to the dedication and persistence of those dwarves that called it home.

From the beginning, Clan Axepeak considered promoting good role play among its members and in the game in general to be its primary responsibility. All members were, and still are, encouraged to define their characters within the context of the Forgotten Realms game world. New members are provided with substantial information about dwarves, both in terms of game mechanics and role playing. The overall goal is to get players to think less about numbers, and more about character.

In the recent past Clan Axepeak has waged a war against the duergar of Neverwinter (Clan Crackskull) and is currently engaged in a war with The Temple of Lloth. The clan generally tries to stay out of guild politics, considering human rivalries to be generally irrelevant to its own existance. Clan Axepeak has formed an official trade agreement with The Grey Company, and considers the elves to be firm, if somewhat flighty and exasperating, allies.

Today Clan Axepeak boasts over fifty members and a very active folder in the Sanctioned Guilds area. New members are attracted daily, and the clan remains highly visibile within the game itself.

Editor's Note: Thanks to Nystramo for this excellent write up. The prominent members here is to mark a few of the members that are seen frequently in the game and may be recognized. If I insulted some dwarves by leaving your names off the list, lemme know and I'll make it up to you with a keg of Ole One Eye.
{Ellster's Party Beach house}
NW Events
Often refered to as the "Cheapskate", "Scrooge", "Pearl Chick", "Pearl Guy", or "The Really Cool Guy who gives ya Pearl Stuff", there is no figure more shrouded in legend than NW Events. Often reborn into different incarnations every now and then, NW Events recently was reborn as a male half-elf. NW Events dropped by my beach house for a little chat and I, your great and wonderful editor (AHE! AHE!!), got permission to use it for the magazine. So here it is, the legendary and mysterious NW Events, in an exclusive interview:

NW Elladan: Heya Events, how are ya today?
NW Events: Pretty good and you Ells?
NW Elladan: Eh, not bad, have felt worse.
NW Events: So what are we going to talk about today?
NW Elladan: Well, I just thought we'd have a lil chat to show the readers out there what you're all about...ya know just so that they know. NW Events: OK, that sounds fine.
NW Elladan: So, tell me, what exactly is it that ya do for Neverwinter Nights?
NW Events: I guess you can call me the official Events Coordinator of Neverwinter Nights. I plan all the events and keep track of the pearls won by players. I also help players and guilds who want to plan events so that they go off without any problems.
NW Elladan: Does it pay well?
NW Events: You know I can't discuss that Elladan (smiles).
NW Elladan: Oh sorry, hey can't blame me fer askin. OK, is that about it? Sounds pretty easy if ya ask me. You one of those guys that get a big office and you sit there and make telepathic calls all day?
NW Events: I would not consider it hard, but it is time consuming. I will change mailboxes with you just so that you get an idea. Sound OK by you?
NW Elladan: What ya average in a day? Five? Six?
NW Events: I'd say anywhere around 15-20 average.
NW Elladan: Never mind, I'll stick to Square duty. I'll take freezing in the cold any day over readin mail. So tell me, the question on everyone's mind...when is the next BIG event??!
NW Events: Hmm, you have a knack for asking questions I really can't answer. All I can say is that there will be a large event upcoming soon. NW Elladan: Sounds good. You said that you plan events...besides big things like quests and festivals, what else?
NW Events: Part of my duties is to ensure that players have something to do interacting with the staff. I plan tours which is an excellent oppurtunity for players to adventure with a NW or NWA and learn with and from them. Mini Booths I plan give the participants a way to gain pearls.
NW Elladan: Why not just have events? I mean just constantly.
NW Events: Well, one of the big problems is that the NW's and NWA's are part time militia. We all have other jobs. Kel runs her Muffin Shop, Aziza runs her Tax Assistance business, and even Snowie has a main job.
NW Elladan: Ah yes, did you know her catering service is now the largest in Waterdeep?
NW Events: Yes I heard, she is quite an businesswoman. I try to the events out so that everyone has an oppurtunity to participate at one time or another. Now that Neverwinter is the 3rd largest city on the Sword Coast, we will have to make some adjustments.
NW Elladan: OK another thing I always here about is that you are an aweful scrooge when it comes to pearls and banners.
NW Events: Well, pearls were never meant to be easy to come by. People actually needed to put some effort into it and those with more experience have a better chance of winning it then those who dont. There are also areas in Neverwinter that people just do not know that they can win pearls through. The GOH is a prime example. A chunk of my budget goes towards the GOH.
NW Elladan: And what about banners?
NW Events: Banners are tough. If it was up to me, I would banner everyones engagement and everyone's birthdays and accomplishments. But there are about 250 visitors in Neverwinter on any given night. If we did this we would be constantly bannering and banners that come too frequently tend to disrupt peoples talk.
NW Elladan: What will you banner?
NW Events: We'll banner weddings. One banner per couple. We will also banner special events for guilds and non guilded people. I just need a few days advance notice so that the banner will be broadcast without problem.
NW Elladan: So if I was to just email ya, I could get a banner when I want?
NW Events: Usually. But sometimes there will be conflicts with events and other banner requests. The few days usually gives me sufficient time to work something out so that the person requesting it does get a banner.
NW Elladan: OK, sounds fair. A question on the personal side. Do you enjoy your work?
NW Events: Honestly speaking, yes I do. It keeps me actively involved in what goes on in Neverwinter. Also, I do enjoy the ideas that players come up with. I can't say all of them were possible, but some are and some are not.
NW Elladan: I know you can't stay too long, so just a couple more questions. The Pearl Plan, is it gonna stick around?
NW Events: Till now, there have been no major problems with the pearl plan. There have been no real big complaints concerning it and if there was, Im sure something could be done to correct it.
NW Elladan: OK last question. What bothers you most about your job.
NW Events: Hmmmm.... I'd have to say that there is sometimes a misunderstanding of player run events.
NW Elladan: What do ya mean?
NW Events: Well sometimes, someone comes forth with a good idea for an event. There is usually a small problem which can be worked out by discussing it. It seems that sometimes players take it as a message that I do not want to do the event. The case is usually that some things are not possible but nothing that cannot be discussed and worked out. Players hear me say "Nope, that part can't be done" and they give up on it, wasting a lot of work that they put into it.
NW Elladan: That happen often?
NW Events: No original plan has been perfect. A player has no idea what resources I have and sometimes overestimates what I can do. If it is within my power and rules I will do it but if it cannot be done, I will say so.
NW Elladan: So the message is....
NW Events: Dont give up on an event if you receive criticism from me or a correction. Its a part of my job to make the player run events work, and it is nice to see players do things for Neverwinter. Jjust remember that I do have my limits too.
NW Elladan: Well, thanks for coming by, and I get a 100 pearls credited for conducting a wonderful interview right? (grin)
NW Events: I don't think so.
NW Elladan: I hope you get tons of mail. ;p

Editor's Note: If you have any questions regarding events, please look under the Neverwinter Events area in the main NWN menu. If you cannot find the answer there, email NW Events for an answer. Be sure to include your petition to get your favorite editor, yours truly, NW Elladan 100 pearls. ;) See ya next month!!
{NW Nimue's Hazy Dazy looking glass}

In the June Issue of the Guild of Heroes Magazine...

o Snowie goes one a quest for the perfect hug (Sheeesh, like she needs to go looking)...

o Aziza gets lost in the...you guessed it....Lost Hills...

o ITB is the topic for Misties Political Theories...

o Baldor ends his study of pole arms...

o And Lord (Nasher) knows whats going to happen in Ellsters...

This and lots more....hitting the Newstand June 1, 1995.
{Law Office of NW Ulfius and Associates}
** All the information in this month's GOH Magazine can be found in the original First Edition TSR Advanced Dungeons and Dragons books, Monster Manual (c) 1979, Players Handbook (c) 1978, Dungeon Master's Guide (c) 1979, and Unearthed Arcana (c) 1985. ***

This site has no affiliation with any games or
companies, and is strictly for private use.
Bladekeep.com, the Sacred Silver Blades,
and all SSB graphics are 1996-2001 by Medar.
[an error occurred while processing this directive]