==========oOo========== NEVERWINTER NEWS Issue # 129 Week Ending 4-14-96 ==========oOo========== *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* FRONT PAGE *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Congratulations to MoradinSon for winning last week's News of the Realm contest for the story "Dwyvyrn's Home" (Poem for Dwyvyrn). MoradinSon has earned the choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of Heroes). Keep up the good work! ;D <><><><><> <><><><><> Lightning Bolt Booth Winner - 4/6 1am Winner: Tac Nomed Prize : 5 pearls Tac Nomed won the mini-event with the lowest damage from 2 LB's with only 29 hp's damage. -- NWA Shaggy <><><><><> <><><><><> April Trivia Winners!! April 2, 1996 __________ *** First Place - Gherkin II 34 points! *** ** Second Place - Llewdoc 21 points! ** * Third Place - Snaak 15 points! * Random Drawing Winner - Thorn Hawk ____________________________________________________ The winners will have the time credited to their account and pearls credited to their screen name. * First Place - 4 FREE hours and 25 Pearls * Second Place - 3 FREE hours and 20 Pearls * Third Place - 2 FREE hours and 15 Pearls * Random Drawing - 5 Pearls Congrats and thanks from NW Baldor and NW Strahd : ) <><><><><> <><><><><> Location Hunt Winner - 4/9 Tonights NW Mini Event Location Hunt winner was NOR Ashtar. NOR Ashtar was the first person to the Clued/Location that I was seeking. NOR Ashtar will receive 4 pearls and 1 free hour for their efforts. CONGRATS !!!! -NW Lenox :> <><><><><> <><><><><> PvP the Staff Booth Winners - 4/9 6-8pm ET The call went out to test the battle prowess of the citizens of Neverwinter! I, NW Kregar sparred with 15 contestants to see how good their skills are. Congrats to Mob Hawk and SK Farah for besting me! Mob Hawk and SK Farah each win 3 pearls for their victory! Congratulations! All fought well! NW Kregar ;> <><><><><> <><><><><> Tour 4/9 10pm-1am ***** Rumors from CrosserGate ***** The call to arms was raised from the square in front of Lord Nasher's Palace. A rumor had reached Lord Nasher of a conspiracy against him, and he had tasked me with assembling a brave set of adventurers and seeking out more information. A stout group of volunteers came forth, jostling each other, eager to be off. Hillrb, Zhanarax, Tvmrjg, K13Pierce, Dos Dragon, Ashaef and another traveled with me as we headed south, towards Crossergate. The journey through the Southwall was without incident, and our brave group was enbolded by this. Once into Vilnask, the traveling became rougher, and we were beseiged by wolves and lumberering tree's that whiped at us with their branches. Yet before we knew it, we had reached the inn. As we cleaned our wounds and checked our provisions, NW Snowie, Captain of the Guard, joined us, our paths headed in the same direction for a short while. Almost immediately after we had left the inn, we ran into a Banshee and her human entourage of Kraken spys. A few of our party were scared as she screamed in rage at us, yet with Snowie's strong arm, and the mighty blade swinging of our party, we were victorious. We encountered two more Banshee's as we traveled towards Crossergate, but they both fell to our blades. As we ventured under the sign pointing towards Crossergate, my party had dwindled to but 6. Hillrb, Zhanarax, Tvmrjg, K13Pierce, Dos Dragon and myself were all that remained. We encountered strong resistance from the Wolves and Ice hounds that roamed the area, and were it not for a few helpful passer-by's, may not have made it to the town. All was quiet as we left the inn, searching and finding a secret door nearby. With stealth and caution we made our way deeper into the hidden area, battling trolls, bulette's, boars and ogre mages and frogs. We lost Dos Dragon to a Yeti, and more still to the displacer beasts. As my group finally confronted the Cleric and his band, only Hillrb and K13Pierce remained by my side. A spell of fire brought down all but the cleric and his icy pet of a dog. With quickness that I could not follow, Hillrb was held in place by a spell, and K13Pierce halted his movement seconds after. Yet we had hurt them enough, and as the fled to die their own deaths, my comrades and I searched their belongings. We found a note, the contents of I cannot say, but Nasher had to know of it immediately! Rushing back to the palace, we gave Lord Nasher the news, and he rewarded us from his vaults. My thanks to all who participated! NWA Taltos <><><><><> <><><><><> Minor Gauntlet Booth Winners - 4/10 9pm ET Location 14,2 Southwall.. After invading the thieves hideout they had to run the guantlet.. The following were victorious.. Devin Tir Vinavar Agitado Nor Keser Eldemar Ne Kulvra Xanna Rose Abzzsta1n Lady Ellyn Panzermagi Lion Kom All winners of 2 pearls.. Survived a Charm, Poison, and a Hold.. Nice job one and all.. NW Hobbes <><><><><> <><><><><> April GoH booth #1 Winners!! "April GoH booth went underway and the contest was to see who could take the least and most damage from lightning bolts. Congratulations to Mershu, who took the least damage and wins 3 pearls. Also, Abzzcesse wins our "shocking" award, taking home 6 pearls by taking the most damage ;)" --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- winner 1: Abzzcesse prize: 6 pearls winner 2: Mershu prize: 3 pearls -- NW Strahd <><><><><> <><><><><> New Player Tour - 4/12 10pm Putting out the call for adventurers, I gathered a group and headed to investigate troubles in Windycliffs. Joining me were Dnairb, Gilmagee, SS Drkbolt, Panargus, Mge Merlin, Taroden, and DJohn30729. The trip through the Warehouse District was uneventful, except for the case of "Pun-itis" that seemed to strike everyone in the group. :D (That's "Pun", not that other nasty "P" word, thank goodness! :D) Mge Merlin excelled at changing clothes frequently, and everyone commented on his dress...er, kilt. :> At one point he even picked up a style exactly like my own! Boy, was that confusing! :D Taroden excelled at returning from the dead at least three times, finding his way solo back to our location! :D We battled all manner of monsters in the streets of Windycliffs, and were set upon by roving bands of thieves. Finally, we found a cloud giant with his arsenal of Lizards, but with this group of brave adventurers, we easily defeated them! Great job everyone! --Sparkle <><><><><> <><><><><> Location Hunt Winner - 4/13 4pm Clue: A sign over the door reads "Neverwinter Health Society". Congrats to Lord Osris who found the 0,13 in the Wharves first. He wins 4 pearls and one hour online time. -- NW Sparkle <><><><><> <><><><><> *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* NEVERWINTER CALENDAR *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Keep an eye peeled for those Mini-Booths because they will appear when you least expect in different areas of the Realms! Can you be at the right place at the right time when the NW calls for a location? Keep your eyes and ears open for these events! Watch for the banners! New Player Tours: Join the following staff members for a tour of the Realm: April 15th Monday 9:00 PM EST - with NW Vorpal. April 18th *Thursday 12:00 AM EST - with NW Zephyr. April 20th Saturday 6:00 PM EST - with NW Dain. * Technically this is Friday but we listed it as Thursday night at midnight for simplicities' sake. ;> Those interested in any of these tours should keep an eye out for the banner telling where to meet! ;D <><><><><> <><><><><> Congratulations to Moradinson for winning last week's News of the Realm contest for the story "Dwyvyrn's Home". Moradinson has earned the choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of Heroes). Keep up the good work! ;D WPC Championship Tournament (submitted by: Sir Rellik) Slayve, Demon God of KAAOS has just won the 10 week long WPC tourneyment. A tourneyment that included some of the best PVPers in Neverwinter. Here is the play by play of his impressive victory. ************************************************************* Voracious flame consumed all. The scarlet heat proved suitable background for the WPC CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHT that was to occur here this fortnight. The bright crimson flames spread and flowed like a mighty river, writhed as exquisitely as a tortured KEFer and sent blazing tendrils and blossoms creeping froth with inexhaustible, plantlike energy. In the midst of this conflagration stood the demon known simply as Slayve. Slayve, the most destructive fighting force ever known in the world of Neverwinter. Seeing Sylphee through the smoke, Slayve raised his hand and spoke five hard-edged and harsh words. Even as she gathered himself for an attack on the Demon God of KAAOS, Sylphee felt herself slow as if her feet had become frozen. The Champion of KORT had time for one last scream as the Demon of Death advanced upon her, a murderous gleam in his eyes of doom. Smiling grimly as Slyphee tried desperately to break loose from his deadly hold on her, The Son of the Seventh Hells cocked back his obsidian flail "Flesh Flayer" as he advanced upon his clumsy foe, raining a blinding array of torturing strokes on his outclassed opponent. Suddenly a powerful smash crushed through Slyphee's rib cage ripping a huge bloody hole in her chest. With a sickening wet sucking sound, Slayve pulled "Flesh Flayer" from the massive wound and grinned with pleasure at the blood and gore that dripped from its triple killing heads. Slyphee could only scream in horror at the gruesome extent of her wounds. Fumblingly she dropped her mace and with a sickening sideward lurch, pitched to the ground. Raising his flail high over Slyphee's neck, Slayve brought it down, using the strength of his entire hellish immortal frame. With a smashing crunch, the fallen woman's motions ceased as the back of her head was splintered into uncountable bloody brain drenched fragments. Stopping to collect the soul of his latest victim, her remaining eye socket reflecting the red leaping flames and smoke veiled sky, Slayve raised his arms to the sky as he was proclaimed the once, future and CURRENT WPC CHAMP!!!!!!!!!! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Congratulations Sidekick! Heh! Heh!In Defense of Neverwinter (submitted by: Bilyo) Tis a dark day. It has been dark for the time that we have been traveling. Damn weather has been unyielding rain, very few times this week have we had any light. The weather seems to follow our mood, the angrier we get, the worse the weather. Me and my men have been marching against this weather for a week. It hasn't bothered us, for we have learned to accept this weather, for it is like our life styles, dark and morbid. Our clan has been called to march against weather like this before, for when it looks like this, we know what is happening, somewhere. Two weeks ago, a messenger of Lord Nasher brought a sealed letter to our clan leader. In this letter, Lord Nasher stated that a group of trolls and humans had attacked Neverwinter, then retreated after being held off, to the Lost Hills. Thought they had fended them off, they took heavy losses and were sure that another strategic attack like that would surly result in the destruction of Neverwinter. We were promised a million gems, and fine weaponry for the decimation of this force, and our chaotic band has been without carnage for a time now. So here we are, me and two hundred of my best men, standing strong and marching against the wind. Not a word is spoken amongst the ranks, and we march with little rest, for we are eager to here the sound of battle and feel the pulse of death once more. Even when we are resting, most men are cleaning there weapons or honing there skills, I am tanning the hide of the elk I had just killed, which will soon be made into a new sling. As we march, I can sense the eagerness among my men, for some it is there first combat. *** As we draw near to the Lost Hills, I can sense that this will be more than a few brigands and a handful of trolls. The way that lord Nasher had wrote his letter, and the fact that neverwinter is one of the most feared nations, all pointed to the fact that these attackers had both a strong and powerful leader, and that this attack was not random. I can feel that my men think the same as I, for I look at there faces and see fear, not fear of death, but fear that a loss may humiliate out clan, for we are known for our brutalities and our drive to destroy any foe that we must beat. I have noticed the sky too, it has grown pitch black, day and night, as we grow in our strength and anger. Last night, we planed our attack upon the enemy. We have chosen to attack, not behind them when they are asleep, but a frontal attack during what is supposed to be daylight.. We have chosen to attack, not behind them when they are asleep, but a frontal attack during what is supposed to be daylight. As we discussed our attack method around a great fire, I gripped my mace, with which I had crushed many skulls, so tight, I could feel the pulse in my fingers stop. *** We are a afternoon's march from the enemy camp. My men are practicing for the attack, for they are testing there fighting skills and strength for the up coming battle. I am testing my accuracy of my sling upon a tree twenty feet away, and Khaell, my most fearsome fighter and trusted friend, is throwing hand axes at a target made of scrap wood and hay. I can feel my men are ready, and I am starting to build a great pile of wood for a great conflagration. I have a fire such as this every day before combat, for it strengthens my men and send fear through the spines of my foes. The attack shall be quick, for I have spied upon the enemy and I have seen their disorganization. In there camp, trolls and barbarians roam the camp with crude weapons in their hands, arguing constantly. I find it hard to believe that neverwinter had trouble with a measly group such as this. This fight shall be an easy one. *** Our attack came swift, and even though most of the enemy were roaming the camp, they were surprised by the attack, and I laughed at there negligence, as we charged the group. I saw there faces look up from around the dead beast they were feeding upon and they cowered at the sight of us, but non the less, the drew their sword and prepared to defend them selves. I drew my sling and launched a large stone at the front most monster. The rock hit the troll in the chest and as his breast plate was crushed, his ribs closed upon his lungs and he bellowed loudly, then fell to the grown, as his ribs broke and punctured his skin. Then khaell launched one of his deadly axes, which struck one of the human barbarians in the neck, and at this he died, without saying a word. As the great groups mingled, I could hear the clash of swords upon shields and the loud crack as my mace smacked a man in the nose, crushing his jaw and wreaking his face. I saw one of my men attack one of the brigands and watched him cleave the fiend down the his shoulder, the barbarian fell to his knees and my worrier pulled a dagger, slit his belly, then pulled the enemies entrails out with his bare hands. I watched one of my newer men, who I recognized from a battle before, take on a troll twice his size. He fought bravely, but the ugly monster grabbed his arms and pulled them from his torso. I a few moments, our forces had destroyed a large number of the beasts, and soon, the rest surrendered. I personally questioned them and slit their throats. We had minimal casualties, only lost 8 men, but we found no useful supplies or weapons on the corpses of the dead beings. I knew that some thing was wrong, this battle was too easy, I could not feel the glory as I did in other battles. *** Upon our arriving at neverwinter to collect out treasure, we found the castle and city in ruins. The walls of the castle had been knocked down by a magical force, and the city had been burn by a great fire. We searched the wreck, an we found lord Nasher, nailed to a cross with a arrow in his neck. On the cross was a message, written in a foreign language, but translated by a brilliant member of our clan known as Jeff, to say " this here is the leader of the greatest army in all the world". We immediately new that our previous attack had been a small force left to distract us while the real force had destroyed Neverwinter. We new that this would not go with out revenge, for we have never failed to complete out mission. Without me saying it, my small force new that it would be a long time before we ever came home. To Be continuedCat (submitted by: Ekaha) A river in my ears, rainfall. If I had a hundred pages, I could not describe her voice, what magics it would chisel into the walls of my heart. I can only tell you how it made me think of caged birds, and smoke and sweat, and tiny-boned fingers up on my brow. Words are just symbols. They represent whole pages of feelings and images and ideas in every separate mind. But there are no words for the way it felt to hear her voice, like water in my ear, heavy and breaking with the weight of her waking. Water in my ear, heavy and broken with the trespass of morning, telling me all of the hope and the wonder and opportunity every day is a gift full of; that warm flood of music like a sunrise in my head, brushing out the night-time web of already-fading dreams. There is a rainbow on my lash, cutting my vision into different shades of grey. And I raise my head. She is looking at me: pins me with her smile. There is smoke in her hand and another day, a new present, shining in her eyes. "Arise, little Sword-Brother," she turns her head, her eyes crossing into shadow, fills me with her breath, closes them: "Morning." (I live. I die. Rather than dying, I decide, I'll live. This cage seems too easy to flee...) "Morning," I make a smile on my face and silently determine to align the mixture of emotion inside to the picture on the surface. Feelings roll, snap in place. "Good. Coffee?"IGVP (submitted by: Wizard4567) As the day starts I slowly pick my way through the battle scared battle zone know as the wharves clearing out some of the local pests as I make my way to the battle zone after a few minutes of waiting Kevin shows up to collect the entry fee's for the tournement. I give up my ten jewels and a scroll to partake in this tournament of the best fighters of the guilds unknowing what the day had in store for me. We waited for minutes though they seemed like hours for the other competitors to arrive. Concentrating on winning I prepared myself for battle, thinking, all the time thinking about my lost brother Michd. A few minutes latter the rest of the compitition arrived. The battles were assigned and the fighting started. The first few battles were total chaos. Since we were so close to the gloarious city of NeverWinter many young adventurers intervined in the tournament and were delt with. In my first battle I was going up against a more experienced and proud member of the V guild. After we tried to ensnare each other in clouds he choked but the NPC was not co-operative so I tried to poison him. He soon broke free of the noxious clouds and we proceded in combat. After throwing every thing we had at each other I tried a last attempt to send him to the gate. His saves falter, and he is sent back to the gate with a dose of poison. After the first round only four opponets stood alive in the area. My memory was filled with thoughts of revenge and glory so there might have been more or less. The next battle was assigned. This time we would have both battles in the same room. After a moment of confusion in which I sought desperately to seek my opponet out he appeared. I envelope him in thick clouds and try to make him clumsy. All that did was make him cough and slow. He throws his spells this way and that around me. After being enswarmed in three different clouds I only coughed and began another offensive. This opponets save's were not as good as I sent him heading for a temple on the second attempt. Now only me and another proud V stood. We offer each other luck, prepare for battle, and start. When we enter the battle I try my quick takeout with my four poison darts. All fail my cause. I run behind a wall to replenish my globe for it was starting to fail. He followed me in and caught me with a hold monster. Fortunately for me the NPC would not move where he wanted. He proceded to cast all his spells at me. My saves held. When his spell wore off I was left standing with 2 Hp! Since Kevin had to leave soon he decided instead of waiting for a victor to fight for extra prizes he would just join in. Unfortunately for all of them I cast my last high level spell. A hold monster. It grasped the NPC, my V opponet, and Kevin. I moved to the other side of them and attemted to dispell my hold on the NPC. It failed. I quickly search for another and fail to find any! I throw some slays at V and one succedes. Kevin and the held NPC stood in my way of victory. I cast hold person in a desperate attempt to keep Kevin held and it worked. The NPC shortly worked its way free from my hold and finished off Kevin. Not wanting to get close to it I cast a magic missle at it and finish it off since a kobold could kill me with the hit points I had left. I watch my opponets leave one by one. Silently I head back toward NeverWinter.Engagement (submitted by: MOB Honey) Mob Honey wakes from a long sleep unable to place herself. So much termoil for one person, so much confussion. She does not know where she is or how she got to the place that she is at. A rosebud, in full bloom appears clutched in her hands, and a kind man is standing above her. He gently whispers, "I will take you home." Leading her through the realms, Honey hears many friends but is unable to speak to them. There is only one she wishes to see, only one who her heart now burns for, only one.... Arriving at the casino Honey quickly searches for him, but he is no where to be seen. Where has he gone, her heart begins to break. Perhaps he could not bear her absence, or perhaps he has moved on, he is the Boss, many woman would lay themmselves down at his feet. Perhaps she has been folish to think this could be her true love. Honey was escorted upstairs into her room. The days had melded together, and her vision of Scrface was fading as the vision of Melissa was growing ever stronger. As she slipped into her room she found a box awaiting her. Slowly running her fingers around the etched carvings on the box she openend it. She gently removed the scroll and began to read.......Marry me...........Scrface......... Opening the small box she found a glittering ring. Placing the ring on her finger the words Yes rang through her empty room. Calling Rules to her room she writes on a piece of paper...... Love, You have made my dreams come true, I will marry you. Honey "Rules, find Scrface and bring him this letter as quickly as possible." Rules looking at Honey had never seen her look more radient. "Right away Honey, it shall be done."Lizard Bashin' (submitted by: TuxedoMsk0) It was just another day for me. I was a low-level cleric. I was lost. I was in deep trouble. You've heard it all before, but listen up anyway. I suppose you haven't heard of me. No, most people haven't, but there are those who remember the lightning fast swath of green that would let pebbles fly like granite birds from his staff sling +3. I'm Tux mask. It's a title only, but it stands for what I do. I'm a problem solver. Grease my palm and I'll wax the target. Or wax the floor with the target. I forget how it goes. Today, though, none of this had happened yet. I still had my blue cloak, mottled with grey, and I was stuck with a badly made mace and chain mail. We were in the cafeteria of the Realms and I was a small fry. I was a scruffy little dog but I was barking up the wrong tree. I was mixing metaphors and it was time to stop. It was a nice day, as days go. Birds chirping, bees buzzing, lizardmen chasing me... you know the type. It was the Kentucky Derby and I was in the lead but the other horses were gaining fast. And they had fangs. And swords. And a bad attitude straight out of hell. I stumbled into them camp like a blind man without his cane. They were Otthawk, Dravinar, and Crich. Three of the toughest hombres you're ever likely to see, even when their characters' combined levels didn't equal 15, and eight of them belonged to a cleric with no spells. This didn't bother us. We were tossed by the winds of chance but we held on like leeches to a safariman. Then it was battle, and we formed into our lines. Otthawk was taxed for spells but he made up for it with a mace swing that would make some dead baseball guys proud. He took the front, and although I was only level 4 I stood beside him. Crich and Dravinar had low HP, which guaranteed them high life insurance premiums if they fought at the front, so in the interests of finance they stayed to the back. Crich was only level 2, but as a ranger he had a longbow and plenty of arrows. Dravinar was an elf, albeit minus his mage spells, but luckily he had fighting skill and another bow. We rained blows on the lizardmen like iron thunderclouds. Otthawk smashed in the head of one enterprising attacker, blocking another. I spoke a few words and a huge flaming fireball flew from my hands, smashing the snake across the face like a game of broadsword-tag. Of course, I was only a cleric, but I love to embellish. I smiled at it, and the snake was charmed. Then the smile almost got ripped from my face along with my lips and maybe an eyeball or two. Luckily, though, Otthawk had a taste for monster stew, and he turned its hide into a pegboard. It wasn't time for games, though, so I turned to face our remaining enemies. Two lizardmen remained on the battlefield. One was grinning like an overweight tax collector, but some swift arrows from Dravinar and Crich stopped that level of inquiry. One remained. It snarled at us like a demon on crack, with breath to match. My hit points were running low but I stood fast. Dravinar and Crich drew their longswords and moved to our side. It was a showdown at the OK Corral and we were gonna make Clint Eastwood proud. It was an outing to the deli and his number was up. We were K-Mart shoppers and there was a blue light special on death. I was Sean Connery and I had a license to kill. It was time for lunch so I had to finish up the story. We moved like a thunderclap and overtook the lizardman like a tidal wave over a one-room shack. Shrieks and screams filled the air but they were only from those unlucky enough to witness the carnage we wrought. Blood flowed like a giant river and we were the explosives that broke the dam. We went on to join up with another, Amaric Kai. We took on monsters so huge you needed a telescope to fight them. We went into the dank pits of decay like roto-rooter and cleaned out the filth. We were housekeepers and it was time for spring cleaning. But that's another story.The Vilnask Banshee (submitted by: Lake Mist) TroutRasta had traveled through Vilnask several timeson his way to Crossergate, and had never really had any trouble. He had heard of the Banshee that was said to haunt the path south of the Vilnask, but had never actually seen her. On a bright and warm spring morning, as he was making his to Crossergate, he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and then. The wail was so mourneful and sad, and full of grief that TroutRasta immediately turned and fled. Fear coursing through his veins like a Red Dragon's fire. A few hundred yards back down the path, he stopped and gathered himself. The sound had stopped, all sound had stopped, except for the pounding of his heart in ears. After a few minutes of resting, he again headed down the path to Crossergate. Upon arriving in Crossergate, he headed straight for the Inn and ordered a frothing mug of frenzy. As he finished the first mug and was ordering a second, he related what had happened to the Inn Keeper. As he finished, the entire inn bursts into laughter and someone said "Ole Desha is out and about again. Won't be many travelers from the north this night." TroutRasta looked around and then headed over to empty table. A dark figure moved forward and stopped in front of the table and asked in a low voice "May I sit?" TroutRasta nodded that he could and the figure took a seat across from him. The figure sat there for a few moments before TroutRasta realized that he probably needed a drink. He motioned for two frenzies to brought over and ordered dinner for them both when they arrived. After they had eaten, the dark figure looked over the table and said "I am Da Prophet. It appears that you have met the Lady Desha." TroutRasta stared across the table as Da Prophet continued "Let me tell you a sad tale of love and death." "A long time ago, a beautiful young lady from the courts of Neverwinter, who parents had betrothed her to a young nobleman named Atani Roc, was traveling to Red Larch for her marriage. Stopping in Southwall for the night, they happened across a young adventurer named Tangleweed. As the night drew on, he spun tales of great adventure and treasure, and of many monsters he had left slain. The next morning, he joined the party to lend his sword if needed on the journey." "By the time they had reached the town of Vilnask, the young Lady Desha was helplessly and hopelessly in love with Tangleweed. The two eloped and made their home in a cabin not far from Vilnask. Enjoying the serenity of the woods and their love." "When Atani Roc heard of what had happened, he went insane with rage and jealousy. The Lady Desha was his by arrangement, and no others. He left Red Larch with death in his heart and mind, and pain in his hand. When he reached Vilnask and found the cabin, he declared 'Tangleweed, ye shall die this day and the Lady Desha shall spend the rest of her days in the dungeon under Red Larch. This I swear.' With those words, swords clashed and blood was spilled. Atani Roc's long sword entered Tangleweed and ripped upward from the groin to the chin, killing him instantly. The Lady Desha fell to her knees in grief and drew her dagger. Letting out a cry that was heard in Vilnask, she buried the dagger in her own heart, joining her love in death." "No one knows what happened to Atani Roc, but he never returned to Red Larch. It is said that the Banshee that haunts south of Vilnask is the spirit of the Lady Desha. trying to avenge the death of her true love." With that said, Da Prophet rose and left the inn. TroutRasta sat staring at his hands and felt such a great sorrow for the Lady Desha.Remembrance (submitted by: Khar1mar) Darkstar pushed onward through the night at a full gallop, barely able to feel the weight of the halfling he bore towards Triboar. The pony left no hoof-prints in the road; only small puffs of dust remained to mark his passing. He thought little of anything but the road ahead and the occasional tug of his master upon the reins. The mind of his rider, however, was filled with far more important concerns. Kharimar pondered the message which he had recently liberated from the no doubt already-rotting corpse of Gilian Silvertongue, and the intent behind it. What purpose did the wizard's daughter have in mind for him this time? He smirked. Perhaps a more complicated mission than the others she'd envisioned... ~~~~~ The wizard had mentioned some days before that his nightly observations foretold an "e-klips," whatever that was; and that day, whilst his "little mistress" tried on several new outfits (why she'd been given that nickname he knew not, as she was quite a bit taller than he), Kharimar had slipped out of the shop and into the nearby tavern, where he'd overheard a priest of some order - one of Bane's, now that he thought about it - whispering to his comrade, "Tonight we strike! Attack when the moon is as blood." Once Nosh, the wizard's daughter, had explained the nature of an "e-klips", it was a simple matter to deduce the target of Bane's fury. The Temple of Helm, near the Neverwinter Wharves, had been a thorn in the side of the High Priest of the God of Strife for some time. It was fairly safe to assume that a sizable force had been gathered in secrecy somewhere near Neverwinter, and Nosh had a sudden urge to obtain a souvenir. She wanted the "Gauntlets of Helm," a pair of ceremonial armored gloves worn by the high priest of Helm during sacrifices and other such things. Kharimar had grinned and accepted the challenge. It would be a test of his abilities, but wouldn't be too difficult. Slip into the temple through the chaos of the battle, locate the gauntlets (in the high priest's chambers, no doubt), take them into custody, and slip out as quickly as possible. Simplicity itself. They were just a pair of gloves, and wouldn't be guarded too closely. It was there, he discovered, that he went wrong. ~~~~~ The sun gathered in its rays for the last few minutes of twilight before darkness descended upon the Sword Coast. The temple stood as the God of Guardians himself might, proud and stern, casting his gaze down upon the surrounding citizens expressionlessly... or, perhaps, with just the slightest hint of disdain. Kharimar had returned its gaze from a rooftop some half a mile distant, his face a study in contempt. Tonight Helm would be bereft of his Neverwinter sect, and the world would be just that much darker. He smirked. Darkness was his best friend. He delayed a few more minutes, taking in the last hints of daylight, before descending from the rooftop to the street below. Slipping from shadow to shadow, he had reached the temple just as the light from the moon began to change from silvery-white to blood-red. He concealed himself behind three barrels large enough to hide ogres, and waited for Bane's forces to arrive. He did not have to wait very long. A column of some forty men marched out four abreast from a nearby warehouse and turned toward the huge bronze temple gates, with three of the God of Strife's priests in the fore. The column advanced to within twenty feet, then halted. One of the priests called out. "The God of Strife requires your blood this day, Ardilean, Priest of Guardians, and he shall not be denied! Would you surrender yourself and spare your temple, or fall before the wrath of Lord Bane?" A voice, from within the temple. "Never! Helm himself watches over us this eve, followers of Bane! Prepare to meet your Master!" One of the priests removed a horn from a sack at his belt, put it to his lips, and blew the horn in the direction of the gate. A shock wave of immense power lashed out from the horn and struck the gate of Helm's temple, rending it from the wall. The priests rushed forward, and the column followed. Kharimar delayed one minute, allowing the battle to carry further inside, then entered the temple through the breach which the Banites had created. Reasoning that his target, the high priest's chambers, was undoubtedly the destination of the God of Strife's forces, he resolved to see what could be found in this now-undefended area of the temple. The halfling slipped into the main worship hall. Echoes of battle, carried through the many corridors, reverberated within the hall, as did the supplications of one man dressed in a priest's vestments who knelt before the altar of Helm, beseeching him to make his presence known in this time of dire need. Not knowing why, Kharimar drew his dagger and advanced stealthily toward the altar. A single droplet of morag juice dripped from the tip of his blade and splattered against the stone floor, silently burning a small depression in it. The man at the altar seemed oblivious to his presence.... Suddenly, the priest looked up. The assassin had made no sound, he was certain, but the priest rose and turned towards him, hatred burning in his eyes. It was then that Kharimar noticed that the cleric before him wore the Gauntlets of Helm. "YOU!" boomed the priest, in a voice that was not his own. Without thinking, Kharimar threw his dagger. It struck the priest squarely in the chest, and the opaque mist and distinct sizzle of dissolving flesh and bone rose from the wound, but the cleric seemed not to notice as he advanced upon the halfling. At that moment, Kharimar cursed an oath so vile that, in far-off Hades, Myrkul himself involuntarily winced. The assassin drew another dagger from his boot and sunk it into the scabbard of the first, but had no time to withdraw it before the cleric was upon him. Helm's priest reached down, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and hurled him with inhuman strength across the hall. He barely cleared the last row of benches, crashed into the ground, and rolled into the wall, suffering two broken ribs in the process. Stunned from the impact, he was nearly helpless as the priest strode toward him again. The cleric spoke not a word as he took hold of Kharimar's neck and lifted him clear of the ground, choking him. The halfling swung his legs back to gain momentum, then forward, his feet connecting with the hilt of the dagger he had thrown and plunging it deeper into the man's chest. The priest roared in pain, dropping Kharimar in a heap and clutching at his wound. Kharimar regained his feet, biting back a scream from the pain in his chest, and drew his other dagger, now poisoned as the first from the morag juice within the scabbard. The cleric had stopped to pull the dagger from his chest, and blood spurted from the wound, but he advanced upon the halfling once again. The assassin threw his second dagger, striking the priest in the left eye and penetrating to the brain. The man let out a terrible, agonized wail as the morag juice dissolved much of his grey matter; then fell and lay still. Of such was the end of Ardilean Ravenstaff, High Priest of Helm. ~~~~~~ Drawing ragged breaths and coughing up blood, Kharimar had retrieved his daggers and his prize, the Gauntlets of Helm, from the dead cleric. How he returned to Floodblest he did not know, although he remembered half-climbing, half-falling down the well, and stumbling into Nosh's chamber bearing the Gauntlets before him. As Darkstar's hooves pummeled the road to Triboar, his halfling rider smirked. What challenges lay in his path this time? And what treasures awaited him? Only the passing of time would tell for certain.A Lesson Taught (submitted by: Madd Cynic) When a large group of men go looking for fights, there can be trouble. However, when a large group of undead go soul collecting for Myrkul... well that only leads to one thing, total oblivion. No one does it better than the undead! Sneaking around from dusk to dawn, grasping what they believe belongs to them. So you can only guess at what happens when you unite such a group under one banner and give them a few squires to abuse as they see fit. Any one living near the land of Neverwinter can tell you of many strange occurrences, and of many strange creatures. We've seen it all, and abused it all. Brotherhoods of good hearted men and women striving to bring peace to the land. Groupings of thieves and assassins that exist only to further their own wealth and power. Even men that get just a little to drunk in the tavern and claim to be gods. (KAAOS.. hint, hint) This by all means is only the beginning of a long list of oddities to be found in the Realms and every time you think it couldn't get any better or worse, it does. One thing is for sure though. When a grouping of undead decided it was time to bring their deity back to the land that we live in, it forced many sets of eyes open. Good and evil alike fear death... so they tend to fear Myrkul as well. The Undead Lords enhanced this fear to it's highest point yet. Wraiths, vampires, banshees, ghouls, zombies.... all these were to be found hunting the evening with chants to Myrkul and to UDL, and the Realms have never been the same since. Thus, we all have been granted access to the realm of the dead. Night had yet to set fully in when the large body of a drow climbed a large stone that was set solidly into the ground. Sitting upon it, he waited for the sun to sink fully below the horizon. Soon his new family would awake and come to this very spot to meet, so there was little time to get organized. He was now a squire to a wraith that taught him his full duties to Myrkul and on this eve, he was to go soul reaping. Pulling a small strand of leather from his tunic's pocket the young squire pulled back his long mane of silver and gold hair. Finishing off the knot used to hold back his hair, the large dark elf lept to the ground where he would finish his preparations. Ripping the cover from a small cart the squire could feel his excitement grow. These were his most cherished possessions, ones that he would take with him when the time came for him to become undead as were his friends. For now however, his life depended on these items. Putting on the red tinted armor, and fumbling with the various laces and clasps the squire knew that his companions would be arriving soon. Already he heard their voices in his head, singing praises to Myrkul and assuring the lad of his safety in their hands. Next, a flail was pulled from the cart and tucked into a large war girdle found around his waist. Grinning mischievously, the squire located an ivory case and tied this case firmly to the outside of his leg. This case held the many scrolls that he would use before the night was over. Now he was ready, and the time had come. His vision allowed him to see better than most, but it was not what he saw that made him curious. For he heard a very distinct sound riding in the wind... the sound of laughter. Perhaps he could gain an early start on his collecting of souls? Climbing back up the rock and laying flat on his belly he could almost feel the couple advancing closer. This is where patience truly is a virtue. Soon he was able to see them, and make out the polished symbol of the Out-Riders upon their breast-plates. Rising to his feet and standing proudly on top of the rock, the lad waited for his foes to come just a little bit closer before he sprang into deadly action. "What have we here?" One of the travelers approached the cart and motioned for the other to follow. The two Out-Riders scavenged through the cart with greed in their eyes. It was a shame that bloodlust appeared in the eyes of the man watching them. Smiles remained on both of the men's faces while they examined the cart. Well that's partly true. They smiled up to a point.. the point during which a large sphere of flame and heat flew from a close by rock, and exploded into the cart. The cart blew to pieces as the Out-Riders flew back from the blast, covering their faces from the millions of sharp splinters that flew in all directions. Moving quickly before the men had a chance to recover, the mage let loose his second spell. In moments a cloud of stench surrounded one Out-Rider causing him to have a fit of coughing. The battle had already turned in the favor of the UDL squire. That was until the other Out-Rider charged up the stone towards him. This was not hard to take care of however, only an out-rider would try such a trick. Releasing a fumble spell, the Out-Rider soon found himself falling back towards the ground. A quick drop to the ground, and the clumsy Out-Rider was in the dark elf's grasp. A soft glow spread from his hands as the squire's touch focused on the foe's face. That was the last breath the Out-Rider was ever to take. One more soul had just made it's way to greet Myrkul. The squire was in complete control of this battle, this he knew as a fact. Of course he was wrong, and realized this as he felt a blade arc across his back. Bellowing in rage, a quick elbow brought knocked the Out-Rider back, enabling the squire to drawl his flail. Spinning around quickly the dark elf let his flail lash across the defender's chest, crushing the Out-Rider emblem and knocking the lad onto his knees. With a cry to Myrkul, the squire's hands dashed out and grasped the Out-Rider's head. The battle was over after a quick twist of the skull. It was time to collect the spoils. Drawing a great jeweled scepter from his back and placing it into the air, the squire called forth his lord. A deep crimson light spewed forth as the souls of the out-riders were collected. Soon the light dulled and the attacker was left with an odd feeling. A fast moving blur flew past him and he dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks. Hours later the squire awoke to the sight of a few undead friends. Along with that came a more ghastly sight. Six bodies lay broken on the ground, not two. One of the new additions seemed to of died of fright. (Being as pale as he was) The others laid there charred and broken, there was no doubt as to how the older soldiers died. Spells had been cast, and now they lay dead. After several minutes a wraith approached the drow. "Squire Cynic, Grab your gear and let us be gone. Due to you, we have lost many valuable hunting hours." With a lowered head, the squire apologized for his failure and agreed to follow the UDL banner into an upcoming fight which had already been located by his family. As time fades, death comes closer. So beware all of you good citizens of Neverwinter...... Myrkul's on his way!!!Prince of Thieves (submitted by: Elsweyr) Elsweyr Dayl guided his horse off the Long Road and on to the narrow, winding forest path that led west towards Neverwinter City with a feeling of apprehension and remorse. The young Gray Elf, having spent the last two years in self imposed isolation after the death of his beloved Alyssa at the hand of Zhent mercenaries, wondered if he had anything to offer the noble Guildmasters of Neverwinter. Nevertheless, his period of mourning over, Elsweyr had set out of from Waterdeep and rode north across the Savage North to arrive before the imposing gates of Neverwinter at nightfall of the twentieth day. "Halt!" a voice shouted from the ancient and scarred battlements. Elsweyr reigned Mystdancer to a stop and peered through the darkness above. A lone, torch bearing sentry outfitted in cheap, scale mail yelled down at him, demanding his purpose. "The gates are closed till sunrise," he barked, adding that he should return to Floodblest and find an inn for the night. "Orc hordes are gathering in Nightsedge as we speak and M'lord Nasher has imposed a curfew in the city from sundown to sunrise until the danger has passed. "Tell your esteemed Lordship that Elsweyr Dayl, Prince of Greycloak Wood, now a mere messenger bearing a missive in the service of Peirgeiron, Lord of Waterdeep." Hearing the commotion, another sentry stepped to edge of the catwalk and leaned over to glare down at Elsweyr. "Elsweyr ye say? What kind of a name is that? Sounds like its neither here nor there?" the older, seasoned guard bellowed, throwing his head back in a sarcastic belly laugh. "And a prince ye say? A prince of thieves or a spy perhaps, what proof do ye have of your petition?" "Only this," Elsweyr replied drawing a sturdy two-handed sword from its plain looking brown leather scabbard that hung at his side. Holding the sword upright, the steel blade began to glow, faintly at first from a dull vermilion until it became a bright red-orange beacon in the darkness. "The Blood Sword!" the guards gasped in unison. "Open the gates you fool," the older sentry snapped at his companion, "and alert his lordship that the messender from Lord Peirgeiron Wood has arrived." Moments later, the massive gates swung inward and Elsweyr gently heeled the chestnut stallion through the gates. The streets of Neverwinter, normally bustling with activity were empty and quiet except for the shouting of guards, their armor clanging and echoing off the city walls as they rushed up the stone steps to take up defensive position. Moving quickly across the deserted city square, Elsweyr dismounted in front of Strider's Tavern, tying Mystdancer's harness to a rail and walked inside. Like the narrow, cobblestone streets leading to the inn, the hostel was equally empty except for a drunken party of dwarven miners at a corner table, two young and pretty serving wenches, and the innkeeper himself. One of the waitresses giggled to the other, then approached -- her bare shouldered and low cut floor length dress doing its best to contain her large, bouncing bosom -- as Elsweyr took a seat at a table opposite the dwarves near the inn's great stone hearth. "Evenin' M'lord," the woman smiled, bending forward a bit more than was necessary while bowing. "My name is Kishiria, what's yer pleasure?" she added, batting her large brown eyes at the elf. "A flagon of evermeade will do for just now," Elsweyr grinned, "and some sweetbreads perhaps," he added as an afterthought, admiring the woman's ample, exposed breasts. "Aye," the Kishiria smiled, running her fingers slowly across the side of Elsweyr's face as she turned to leave. "Anything at all for one as handsome and strong as you M'Lord." Elsweyr smiled, but said nothing. As lovely as the woman was, he was not completely over the death of his young wife and had not displayed an interest in another woman since her brutal murder. "Alyssa," he whispered, as tears began to form in the corners of his charcoal gray eyes. Elsweyr abruptly shook his head to clear the biting memories that began to surface as the woman returned. "Here we go love," she said, dropping the food and drink laden tray on the table. "A warm mug o' meade to keep your lordship's innards toasty on a chilly night, some fresh sweetbread and ... a bottle of Silverymoon brandy for later, if'n you know what I mean," she winked. "Kish..." Elsweyr began politely, but firmly as well. "Kishiria," the woman replied, finishing his word and lifting her dress to reveal her supple, shapely legs as she perched herself on the table near Elsweyr. "Kishiria," Elsweyr repeated and smiled. "You are welcomed to the brandy, but I fear there will not be a later on. Not tonight anyway." "Oh?" Kishiria frowned. "Are ye sure love?" "Aye, very sure. Another time mayhaps?" Elsweyr smiled as he handed the dusty bottle of brandy to the woman. "Keep this however, with my compliments." Rising off the table, Kishiria suddenly lost her footing and, with a loud crash, splattered the contents of the bottle and her tray on the company of dwarven miners gathered at the next table. Uttering loud gutteral curses, they ignored Elsweyr as he stood and began an apology for the woman. Instead, they drew their weapons and a melee ensued. Elsweyr's glowing, crimson blade was unsheathed in the blink of an eye and he quickly pushed Kishiria behind him and out of harm's way as the dwarves attacked in a drunken stupor. The nearest dwarf quickly fell as Elsweyr's large fist landed squarely in the dwarf's exposed face below his helm, knocking the man unconscious. The next did not escape so easily. Elsweyr's blade entered the dwarf just below his rib cage, rupturing his heart. Gasping wide eyed, the small man swore before falling backwards, dead before he hit the floor. Seeing they were outclassed, the remaining dwarves turned and fled. Suddenly, the door of the inn crashed open and a patrol of Nasher guards rushed into the room, their weapons at the ready. "Hold fast!" the captain of the guard shouted stepping forward from the others and pointing his long sword toward Elsweyr. Elsweyr turned to face the captain and sheathed his blade in its scabbard, its radiance already beginning to fade. Stretching his arms wide at his sides, he opened his palms to reveal a small leather purse that jingled when he shook it. "Take him," the captain said, but as the guards approached, Elsweyr tossed the coin purse to Kishiria before pivoting swiftly to crash through a closed window behind him and out into the street. "Another time indeed," Kishiria smiled, dropping the purse filled with gold and platinum coins into her apron as the guards clambered into the street to pursued Elsweyr into the cold, dark night.Thief: Spedlestor (submitted by: Robitius) When I woke this morning, I found a small packet of papers lying on my desk. Curiously, I picked it up. The front sheet was blank except for the enscription, written in bold, dark print: "Thief: Spedlestor." Puzzled, I sat down slowly and flipped to the second page. Quickly I recognized it as a tale, written in an old, archaic style, about Spedlestor. I noticed that there was no author attributed to the piece. Grinning, I kicked my feet onto my desk and began to read: "With great care I began my task of shadowing the thief known as Spedlestor. Great praise had been reaped upon the miscreant's abilities, and for thus stated reason, I took much precaution in remaining undetected. In such a cautious mannor I ventured forth into the realm of Neverwinter, observing thus renowned thief. The day unfurled itself as a tapestry, and the one known as Spedlestor became known to yon observing knight. Written herein lies thus stated knight's expierience with--and modest opinion of--Spedlestor: miscreant, rogue, and foul villain. "With much pomp and attraction--though yon simple observer saw no audience--the errant thief Spedlestor set foot from the viperish den known as 'Lurker Hall.' Thus stated miscreant wore, in noble fashion, the apparrel of a noble knight. Thus stated wrapp'd about his personage a great plate armor an' carried on his arms a large shield an' a mighty sword. Spedlestor the Thief shin'd nobly in the early sun, and yon observing wondered if this indeed were the roguish villain renowned as Spedlestor. "As a great heroe Spedlestor stood before yon evil den. Thus stated stared valiently about, and in awe yon observing verily wished to cry out 'Brother! Thou art of mine own character, thou noble creature!' Yon observing knight verily showed great restraint and soon thus observing keenly became aware of yon thief's true snakelike nature. For yon thief stood not tall, nor gallant, nor bravely as yon observing had presupposed. Yon thief stood small, cowardly, lost in the greatness of his armor. Thus stated miscreant were not a human knight of valor! Thus stated were elf, and inasmuch, were too much lost in the great armor overbearing his personage. Thus stated resembled not a great knight! Thus stated resembled certain cookery such as yon observing might find within his virtuous wive's kitchen! With rising horror, yon observing knight bore witness to a ghastly sight. Yon miscreant, with much effort, rose his mighty armored leg, and with much effort carried it forth and gratefully let it fall to the earth. Yon miscreant preceded to lift his second mighty leg, and with much effort carry it forth, and with much gratefullness, let it fall to the earth. In such a vigorous mannor yon villian sallied into the realms. "As the intelligence of Spedlestor the Miscreant has much been commented on, yon simple knight knew not what to think. Truly such a devious mind could not torture his own personage in such a mannor! Certainly he should remove the steel garmet and don a more compatable apparrel! Forsooth! Yon simple knight remained perplexed, for though yon thief labored greatly under the weight, he refused to yield to a more relaxing attire. Verily, the day entire yon thief lumbered about in thus stated mannor, so that he wasted himself needlessly. "But then, yon thief approached his known dominion: the vaults. And Alas, yon observing knight believed to know the reason for thus stated thief's refusal to shed his burden! In such a disguise, reasoned yon simple knight, certainly yon simple thief finds it easier to perform his ugly occupation. Alas, yon knight (growing simpler by the minute) remained in error! For whenst Spedlestor the Villain approach'd those clamourous vaults, good citizens began calling to him by name, and yon simple knight knew yet again not what to think. Were the disguise of Spedlestor not working?--for the citizens with easy recognitions hailed thus stated thief. This I thought must verily be the truth, yet yon thief in his great armor grew not angered, nor surprised, nor perplex'd. Yon thief with cheerful waves greeted much of the citizenry present at those vaults. Verily these simple folk knew of yon thief's evil personage, an' with strange familiarity call'd out to thus stated thief in greetings. Yon simple knight reasoned at last that yon thief verily hold'd too much affection and renown for such a simple diguise to affect his personage. Alas, what were the reason, then, that yon thief subject his personage to such troublesome weight? Yon observing knight knew not. "Lost in such thoughts, thus stated knight verily lost sight of Spedlestor the Thief. For a moment, yon knight knew despair, but with great fortune, cries began to drift to yon knight's hearing: "Spedlestor!" an' "Thief!" were the cries. With much haste, yon knight again caught sight of yon lumbering miscreant in his mighty armor. Yon knight notic'd that yon thief were trading. With curiosity and not some small anger, yon good knight cleverly mov'd closer to yon thief and yon simple citizen. Much surprise came to thus stated knight as yon conversation were spoken: Spedlestor: "Greets to ya, friend." Citizen: "Hey, Sped, ya thievin' putz. Steal anything good, lately?" Spedlestor: "Yup, an' fer jus' a magical longsword, I have a beautiful ring fer ya..." Citizen: "Hmmm...a ring, eh? I could use one of those...it wasn't stolen was it?" Spedlestor: "Nay, I bought it in the jewerly shop. What'dya say?" Citizen: "It's a deal!" "Shock'd, yon simple knight watch'd in great astonishment as yon foolish citizen with much naivity hand'd to thus renowned thief his sword. Verily I wished to cry out, 'Stop! Yon elf is stealing from thy simple personage!' Alas, yon knight--with great effort of will--restrained his self. An' in horror yon observing knight watch'd whilest Spedlestor the thief readily grasp'd thus stated sword. Yon thief let forth a villanous grin and issue'd a prepar'd speech to which yon foolish citizen cried in despair. Oh, how yon observing knight's great bleeding heart went forth to yon impoverish'd citizen! Forsooth! Yon knight stood without power whilst Spedlestor the Evil beganst lumbering away, leaving yon foolish citizen to his grief! "In such depicted mannor, Spedlestor the Thief verily dup'd citizens of those clamourous vaults. Yon simple knight again and again expierienc'd astonishment whilst yon simple thief cunningly impoverish'd much foolish citizens. Alas! Were the citizenry of Neverwinter so easily gulled? Were the citizenry so easily part'd of their hard earn'd wealth? With feelings of dejection an' disillusionment, yon simple knight wonder'd at thus stated stupidity. Yon simple knight--in his greatest of simplicities--could nae find an answer... "Alas! One enigma resolv'd itself to thus observing knight! Towardst the fall of night, whenst the vaults had grown most clamourous and boistorous, yon knight with great insight saw the reason Spedlestor the Rogue chos'd to wear such a burden as his greatest of armor. Upon stealing from a great warrior man, thus stated thief gavest a great grin an' with much ado, exclaim'd: "You've been had by the Spirit Lurkers--Professional Thieves!" Alas, yon warrior grew red fac'd an' with much anger an' much strength, tossed aside yon lumbering elf. Thus stated thief with the mightiest of crashes fell against the earth. The great burden of such mighty armor disallow'd Spedlestor the Thief to arise an' flee. Liken a great turtle fall'n onst it's backside, so resembled yon troubled thief! Yon warrior, his anger unabated, withdrew a mighty sword an' with great swings landed mighty blows upon thus entroubled thief! Alas! The reason now became apparent to yon observing knight of yon thief's insistence upon wearing such mighty armor! Mighty were the blows deliver'd against Spedlestor! Mighty were the blows, yet little effect they carried! An' so, whilst yon warrior, red in his face an' growing angrier by the moment, careen'd blows onto yon simple thief Spedlestor, yon observing knight felt reliev'd. Were the mighty armor of Spedlestor any less mighty, verily he would be gravely wounded. But Alas, yon thief in his great armor took such blows unharmedly. Yon observing knight could see no end of yon warrior's anger, an' so yon knight, with much to ponder upon, withdrew himself from thus stated task of shadowing Spedlestor the Thief..." Darkstar The Coming Storm - Part IV (submitted by: FrankSense) An hour was not long but it was plenty enough time for me to prepare for the journey. Just how long this "journey" was going to be was as yet unknown. I left my rundown office front, a lease space adjoining Morngrynn's Wheels and Wagons, after setting the last hex by the front entrance. I never worried about anyone getting in the back way since that was through the wagon work's scrap pile, the door being buried beneath ten years (at least) of saved parts, scraps, and unclaimed work. I soon was headed northward along Bent Bow Lane past a foggy view of the Winged Wyvern Bridge with its intricately carved likeness of its namesake, a testament to the skilled artisans of the city. First time visitors to Neverwinter readily recognize the Wyvern and the spread wings that serve as a perch to seagulls and other birds in the warmer months, and as a place to dive into the river for bolder youths. I uneventfully arrived at the gate first, leaving me with time for thought. Just what I don't need! The more I think about something the worse I feel about it. For instance, I had thought my ways around Neverwinter had been confined pretty much to myself but Lord Nasher's comments and his finding me so easily, even in fog, bothered me. I had counted on my seemingly odd habits being accepted as just "following my weird" since Neverwinter had more than its fair share of weird inhabitants. I now realize how naively foolish I have been. Things would change upon my return! Upon my return? There isn't much for me to return to. The office/home on Moonwood Lane wasn't in good condition, barely all I could afford. The office was identified by an old wagon panel with "Graymantle, inquire within" printed on it. My investigative services weren't needed as much as I'd like and besides that I was hardly ever there to know if anyone did drop by looking for help. Several times I've been tracked down at Strider's Inn, my "other office." That was a place to pass the time and slowly drain away what actual wages I do get. I could hear some people coming. Right on time, very punctual. I would soon know whom it was that I was to escort, and to where. A couple of grim faced chain mailed guardsmen approached the gate area. With them was one other, in remarkably clean cloths! It was the young lad, Pip! Before either he or I could say anything the head guardsman spoke, "Graymantle?" I nodded an affirmative response, not really having anything to say at that moment. My mind was racing with all kinds of questions. The guard continued, "The Lord Nasher has directed me to escort you and the lad with me for one day's march from the city, afterwhich you will be responsible to assure that the lad reaches his destination promptly and safely. Are you prepared, sir?" He inquired looking into my eyes for a response. Again I just nodded. Pip by now was looking somewhat amused at the scene unfolding, a small smirk showing on his face, or a held back laugh. "Well met again, sir," said Pip. "So you are Graymantle the Dark? We really did not properly introduce ourselves before. I am called Pip." With that he made a most dignified but somewhat rural looking flourish of gentlemanly salute. "I am honored to once again be of assistance, for that is what you seem to need at the moment," I answered, "only more formally this time." I alluded to our encounter with the guards earlier without offering the present two any clue. Pip's eyes twinkled at that response but revealed nothing to the guards. "If you are prepared for the trip, then by all means let us be underway. The foggy evening will shield our departure and we don't know whom may be paying attention to our whereabouts." With that, he motioned the guardsmen out towards the gate through which the small entourage proceeded. Oh, yes. There were lots of questions in my mind now! "May I at least know where we are going? Or do you know the way well enough to keep that secret too?" I inquired quietly of my young charge. "I thought we would head eastward for just a short while, then south, more towards the ultimate destination." "And where might that be?" I asked testily. "After all, I should know this in case we get separated." "Home," replied Pip. "Simply home." And then as an afterthought he added, "My father wrote me that you would know once we neared it. It will take several days to get there, so it isn't known locally." That response stymied my questions for a while. Obviously Pip didn't want even the guards to have an inkling of where we were headed. Why the mystery? Why the stealth? What kind of mess was Pip into? Or was I into? (submitted by: Esunaqidao) Hi! I just hosted what I believe to be the first IGPVP on Saturday the sixth (I believe) of April. 4 guilds showed, which was a better turn out than I expected due to Easter. The guilds that showed were these: Demon Knights: Kraidion Bane Night COR: Wizard4567 Camarilla: V Luthar V Random White Sword: Lunarsword They put fortha a excelent PvP, and good sportsmanship. Wizard took first place and won a ability stone for defeating me, as well as a +3 item (or two), V Luthar took second winning +2 items, and Kraidion took third for +1 items. The next event schedualed is the Olympics somtime late next month. Thank You, Kevin Conner(submitted by: Regis Meek) Dracs is not an area. It is a single room about 2-4 areas south of NW, and is very tough. Make sure to have travelling companions B4 you try to get there! Also, PvP areas are tough! Unless you have enough money to heal ALOT of wounds, don't go there.. That's all!! ~RM~<><><><><> <><><><><> Gimme a Scoop! Enter the weekly News of the Realm contest by submitting text for publishing. If your Announcement, Article, Helpful Hint, NW Abby Question, Poem, Fiction, or Tidbit wins, you'll have won your choice of 4 Pearls or Access to the GOH (Guild of Heroes)! Submit all text to screenname: NW NEWS. <><><><><> <><><><><>