The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Knife_of_Dracart.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap Off 65 80.'
The gully continues 'Eyes hurt? Turn Color OFF!! (regular story dates)

Astinus says 'Enter the main library here to view only the author list.'
Astinus gently places a leather bound tome with glowing glyphs on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Knife_of_Dracart' scribed in vibrant red ink.

Sender  Takhisis
Date    Thu Dec 11 02:45:27 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart pt 1


The cave walls were slick with moisture, and screams reverberated off of
the slate walls. The narrow passages pulsed, seeming almost to breathe.

In the corner of the large central cavern, hidden by an outcropping of rock,
a man crouched, watching the center of the caverns intently. His clothing
was dark, but a pendant of Solinari hung from his neck, barely visible in
the folds of his clothing. He stared intently as a small group of
black-robed figures moved in the center of the cavern, carrying what
appeared to be a large rock to an alter that had been placed in the center
of the cavern. Suddenly, the light fell fully onto the rock, and the man
gasped as he saw that it was made out of gold! 

He leaned forward intently, as he watched the figures separate, and form a
circle around the large gold rock. Two figures stepped forward to grasp
hands over it, and the rest stood silently, watching. Squinting, the man
could see that one of the figures wore the medallion of Takhisis emblazoned
on his robes, and the other seemed to be wearing the black robes of a
magic-user. Slowly, they began to chant in unison, their hands now closed
around what appeared to be a dark knife, smeared with some kind of liquid.

Their chanting grew and grew, as the two figures raised the knife high over
the lump of gold. Suddenly, as the very air seemed to hum with their power,
they thrust the knife into the top of the rock. It shattered, to reveal some
kind of golden creature, which was writing in pain. Slowly, the creature's
gold skin began to darken, and it's small cries of pain grew more shrill. It
writhed and began to tear down the middle, forming two lumps of golden flesh
which continued to writhe and change, until two small lizard-like creatures
were formed. The man gasped again, for he knew now what the lump of gold
must be: a gold dragon egg. 

The two creatures were handed to some of the robed figures, and a new gold
egg was brought forward. Before he rightly knew what he was doing, the
hiding man had begun to run towards the circle in the middle, crying out
words of magic. As he ran, he raised his hands, and pointed at the two
closest members of the circle. Darts of light flew from his fingers, flying
into the dark clerics, and leaving a hole in the circle, through which he
ran. Towards the center he ran, towards the two with the knife. He knew he
could not kill them all, but he could feel the evil of the knife. It must be

He leaped up to the alter, ignoring the smoke that began to rise from his
feet, and pressed his hand to the cleric's chest, crying out more words of
magic. Frost began to form on the cleric's robes, and he fell to the ground,
his hand blue and frozen, as the knife fell to the ground. Quickly turning,
he shoved the black-robed mage out of the way, and grabbed the fallen
dagger. It burned his hand, and his flesh sizzled, but the man had no time
to worry about that. He could feel the evil of the thing, and knew that his
magic would be unable to destroy it. As the circle of dark clerics closed
in, murder in their eyes, the man knew what he had to do. Closing his eyes,
he once more muttered words of power. The knife grew hotter and hotter in
his hands, and a wind whipped up, though there was no source, as a small
hole opened in space. The man quickly threw the knife through it, and sighed
as the portal winked shut behind it. Even he did not know where it had

He had time for one sad smile before the dark clerics were upon him.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Estwilde, the portal opened, and the knife fell out.
A passing thief noticed the shining black blade, and picked it up, thinking
to sell it. But the knife felt warm, and he liked the way the handle curved,
so he tucked it into his belt, and headed on towards the Kalaman port. He
had a ship to catch. 

Sender  Takhisis
Date    Thu Dec 11 02:46:21 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart pt 2


Later that day, the Emperor of the Dragonarmy walked through the cavern,
examining the corpses.

"One man did this?  How did he get through our guards?" He asked the
man standing beside him.

"The human paid a guard to let him through the door.  I've already had
the man killed."

The Emperor looked at the alter.

"And the knife?"  His voice was quiet.

"Gone.  I do not know where it is, but Dracart assures me that the
knife's powers would force it to remain on Krynn."

"Find it.  Without the knife, we cannot make more draconians.  That is
unacceptable. That is our priority now.  Find that knife, Harkiel."

"Do not presume to lecture me, human.  If your plans had not forced me to
preform my part of the ritual weeks ago, this would never have happened."

For a moment, it seemed, the man beside the Emperor was gone and an
enormous red dragon stood in his stead.  Then the man stood there again.

The Emperor spoke again:

"Spread the word to your dragons.  We must have that knife."

And so the order went out to all of the Dragonarmies: to find the Knife of

Sender  Dante
Date    Thu Dec 11 04:08:35 2008
Subject Leaving in search of the Knife of Darcart


Dante bursts into his small room, his face aflame with rage. He jerks a
small pack off a table and empties the contents on the floor. He curses
angrily as he starts to stuff the pack full of things. He had heard of an
artifact as he was being drug from the common room. Luerk had said it was
something of great importance. All he had heard was Dracart. He would show
that arrogant fool of a highlord how wrong he was about Dante. He would find
this artifact and bring it back. His honor would be restored as would his
rank. He could see it now. Shaking his head, he throws the pack onto his
back and quickly leaves the room. He grabs a messenger who passes him and
smirks as the boy curses. "I Need you to do something for me boy." Dante
says as he looks into the boys eyes and the boy cowers away. "Wha..what?"
The boy says, his voice trembling. "Take a message to our allies. Tell them
to watch for Solamnic forces who might move to intercept an artifact of the
Dragonarmies." Dante says, his voice quiet. "Do this, or suffer my wrath.
Understand boy?" The trembling boy nods and Dante smirks, before handing him
a few coins. Without another word Dante leaves the Temple and soon Neraka.
He pauses outside the gate and whistles loudly. Soon a black wolf appears
from the brush and Dante grins. "Lets go old friend." With that, Dante and
the wolf vanish down the road. 

Sender  Acaydon
Date    Thu Dec 11 04:52:28 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart: A Merchant Caravan


After a rush through his manor Acaydon ended up in his private quarters.
The road was rough and the travel quick and far too light, not the way he
usually would do things. Apparently haste is of the utmost importance in
this most recent turn of events. He sat down at his desk in a comfortable
chair and pulled out the message given to him as he recalled the
conversation just two short days ago at the camp just back from the battle
lines of the current campaign. It was an audience with the head of the camp
regarding a message delivered earlier that same day. There was hardly a
conversation just the pleasantries and the message was handed over to him.
He left within an hour of reading the message.

Hastily written on some elegantly decorated parchment:

We are in need of council in Neraka. We have received word of an important
matter regarding a lost artifact. We need to utilize some of your other
talents in this matter. Come at once. 

Upon returning to the city he was summarily greeted at his manor shortly
after arriving with an armed escort and was lead toward the temple. A brief
and rather uninformative meeting had him on his way to his manor once again,
muttering all the while about wasting time and pointless meetings and the
need for couriers and urgency and a dozen other things causing him agitation
at the moment, to prepare a small contingent of wagons for the road.

The concept was quite simple after a bit of thought, which he'd gotten
plenty of on his walk back to his manor. He figured it all out quite nicely
and had a plan set by the time he reached the front gates. He sent servants
scurrying across the courtyard to send word to the appropriate people he'd
be taking with him.

Shortly after arriving home he had a detailed route planned out and had
already dispatched several agents to various target locations. They would
naturally arrive weeks before him and have gathered any pertinent
information on this mysterious artifact. That is if there was an artifact to
be had, and if there was any information floating about in the taverns and
on the darker streets of the cities.

The route was simple enough starting from Neraka he'd head north and west
eventually arriving in Palanthas. It was the perfect cover for gathering
intelligence on this delicate matter. His long history with merchants and
caravans would aid him well as he conducted this faux expedition. That in
its self would be quite profitable from his past experiences with such
dealings, let alone any profit to be gained from information gathered for
the Dragonarmy agency which he was currently heavily involved with at the
moment. 'Ahh but they do pay well.' He thought to himself.

Acaydon RavenClaw 

Sender  Makarth
Date    Thu Dec 11 05:02:28 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart


Somewhere in the Solamnic Plains, Makarth lounges on a large pillow, by a
fellow Priest of the Lord of Decay, in a large, marble ovalular room. Two
guards, one a hobgoblin, the other a Theiwar, stand over them. Makarth takes
a puff from his pipe and turns to the cleric. "There is something brewing, I
felt it in my prayers yesterday" The cleric looked at him curiously and said
"oh? what do you mean?". Makarth blew a series of smoke rings and then let
out "I'm not sure...a dark force, something uncontained". The cleric smiles
and said "That may have just been me, I had a bit too many beans the other
night and could not contain myself". Makarth chuckled loudly and took
another puff from his pipe. Just at that moment, a Daegar guard came rushing
in and hurriedly let out "Lord Makarth! There is a footsoldier of the
dragonarmy miling outside!". He began panting heavily as he had not yet
caught his breath "He carries a scrollcase".

The cleric beside Makarth immediately raised himself, his eyes in alarm. The
two guards standing over them look at each other in confusion. Makarth
smiled towards the cleric and said "Relax, ofcourse the Dragonarmies have
spies in our midsts" as if imparting a fact which the cleric should have
been aware. Makarth turned to the Daegar guard and said coldly "Fire an
arrow into his heart and bring me the scrollcase". The guard then
immediately rushed out of the room. Makarth then turned to the cleric and
said "This may have something to do with what I saw in my prayers." 

Minutes later, the Daegar guard returned with a scrollcase and handed it to
Makarth. Makarth nodded to the guard, who subsequently bowed and left the
room. Makarth then took the lid off the scrollcase, emptied it of its
contents, and began perusing the scroll carefully. The cleric began to eye
him with immense curiosity; The two guards standing over them once again
looked at eachother dimly. 

"It seems the Dragonarmies have misplaced something, and require our
assistance" Makarth finally let out with an amused grin on his face. "They
want us to help retrieve it before the Righteous Knights get a hold over it"
Makarth continued. The cleric looked at him suspiciously, "Could it not be a
ruse?" he cleverly stated. Makarth nodded, "We will have to learn more of
this before we act" he said as he began to ponder. Makarth began to whisper
some words of prayer, and suddenly coming out of his trance, turned to one
of the guards and said "Send word to our friend in Sanction, ask him to
retrieve any information he can about a special artifact. Go! Make haste".
With that the Theiwar rushed outside the room. The cleric then looked
towards Makarth and smiled "Our friend in the dragonarmies?". Makarth
grinned and said "What? did you think the Dragonarmies are the only ones
with spies?" 

Sender  Dharisath
Date    Thu Dec 11 06:29:42 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart


The short, stocky dwarf whistled lightly as he walked through Estwilde. He
held a small figurine in his hands and whittled away at it as he walked, not
watching the road at all. He was on his way to Kalaman where a ship awaited
his arrival. He was to oversee the transportation of several acquired goods.
The means of acquiring the goods was illegal; thus, the means of
transporting them was also illegal. It paid well and his Brothers needed
this shipment to boost the monthly income. So, he would do it..for them.
As he whistled and as he whittled, a dark spot caught his attention from the
corner of his eye. The dwarf's whistling immediately ceased, and he tossed
the figurine away. He had been working on it for over a month.
The oddity was a mint looking knife. No doubt it would fetch a pretty penny.
As he wrapped his hand around the hilt, he noticed something different: the
knife felt warm; it felt right. The handle curved just the right way to fit
his hand, and the knife had a proper balance about it. He put it into his
belt and set off to Kalaman. He could sell the knife when he arrived in
Aboard The Rising East, the dwarf sat on a barrel beneath the deck. The
motion seemed to be less down there; he could forget that all that seperated
him from a watery death were a couple pieces of wood. He stared at the
hilt, mesmerized by its darkness. The knife helped also, to take his mind
off of the fact that he was aboard a ship.
Up on the deck, the captain pulled a deckhand aside: "Go inform our friend
that we will be arriving in Palanthas momentarily. Ask if he wants to make
sure the dock handling goes smoothly."
The deckhand, a young boy whom had run from home once he was old enough to
hold a job, nodded eagerly and rushed off to tell the dwarf.
Below deck, the dwarf perched upon the barrel, his back to the wooden ladder
that led upwards. He heard the footsteps of the enthusiastic young boy.
Could he hear the boy's pulse? Strange. He continued staring at the knife
as the boy stood behind him. The deckhand's words fell on deaf ears; the
dwarf was so absorbed in his acquisition. A silence fell on the room as
the boy finished delivering his message. He was practically bouncing on his
toes, anxious to get an answer and complete his assignment. The dwarf grew
Why was he still standing behind him? Didn't he have anything better to do?
Why won't he just go? Did he just take a step closer? Who was this deckhand,
really? Who'd hired him? Done the background check?
Suddenly, the dwarf spun and struck out with his knife. The boy stood there,
blood spewing from his neck onto the dwarf's face. This seemed to snap him
out of some sort of trance as he stared while the deckhand toppled over.
He put the knife back into his belt and slowly made the ascent onto the deck
and found the captain. His statement was methodical, given almost
subconsciouly. "I do not need to oversee the dock handling."
As he walked the plank down towards the docks, he saw a Solamnic Knight
coming from another ship. The dwarf felt a sudden urge to get rid of the
dagger. He moved to throw it into the water.
No! Not there.
Hide it. He had to hide it. Now. He quickly pulled the knife from his belt
and plunged it into his boot, deftly concealing it. He strolled past the
Knight, who seemed to stare at him oddly. Was that a condescending look?
The dwarf's fists clenched, and he started to lean towards the boot he had
concealed the knife in. However, the Knight walked aboard his ship, and the
anger dissipated. He headed through the gate and into the city.
By now, his head was spinning. Every Solamnic Knight that he saw, he either
wanted to run from or run to and kill. His right hand was in a constant war,
trying to grab the knife from his boot and simultaneously put it back. He
had to get out of the city..but he had work he had to attend to. Such a
dilemma! However, as he passed by one of the gates, he was hailed by a
Brother. The man was part of a caravan smuggling goods out of the city.
The dwarf waved as the train of wagons rode by. The last one was just
passing him, when he noticed the flap was open. There was a hold up with the
line, and the wagon stopped right before him. He moved to tie it down and
noticed a chest with an open lid. As he went to close the lid, he felt a
massive urge to pull the knife from his boot. The chest had nothing but a
single pillow in it. How convenient, he thought.
As the train rolled out of Palanthas, the dwarf lounged against the gate
looking wistfully after it. Some part of him, however, felt as if a weight
had been lifted from his shoulders. The knife fit well on the pillow; the
chest lid closed smoothly, and the flap seemed to tie itself. As he turned
his back, something caught the corner of his eye: a smooth piece of wood,
perfect for carving a nice figurine..perhaps of a shiny, black knife.
[Exit Dharisath, Stage Right]

Sender  Derkylos
Date    Thu Dec 11 06:33:44 2008
Subject Shadows Proposition (Knife of the Dracart)


Walking back from his last encounter with the black robed mage looking
for revenge Derkylos passes through the town of vingaard stopping to get
some ale and bread. Derkylos sits back and enjoys his ale, chewing on his
bread when necessary when he heard some people talking. Now normally he
would not eavesdrop but the words 'Legendary' and 'Black Robes' caught his
attention, thinking this may be something new they would come after him with
he listened to their conversation. 

Many minutes after that Derkylos had figured out what they were talking
about, apparently there is a rumor going around that golden dragon eggs were
being mutated, of which Derkylos cared little, and that there was a dagger
blessed by something, the men talking didn't know what either, and that it
had awesome powers for whoever wielded it.With this in in his mind Derkylos
set out, deciding it would be good to do some research seeing as how the
mages lost it if Derkylos could find it this would serve him two purposes.
The first being the mages would not have another weapon to come after him
with, the second obviously being a little more towards self preservation
would be that he would have new powers defend himself with. Either way it
would be up to him to find it. 

Setting out across the solamnic plains towards the city of palanthas and the
great library Derkylos was stopped by a man shrouded in black robes a stench
that was ungodly. Derkylos politely nodded to the man giving him a few
coins, this man obviously needed it for a bath and some new clothing,
Derkylos started on his way again. Before he got too far the man stopped and
spoke 'You have the look of strength.' Derkylos stopped, not knowing why
something just pulled him towards this man. 'Yeah, what of it?' Derkylos
stated, not wanting to be delayed from his research for too long. 'And you
are in the holy order of the stars, no?' Derkylos nods slightly confused. 'I
would like to employ you then, I need you to get whatever information you
can from the holy order about any peculiar items, rewards will come when the
information does.' Derkylos stares at the figure, debating for a moment,
then finally nods. 'And these rewards, what form will they come in? Coin?
Power? Knowledge? What?' The dark figure grins 'In whatever form you wish i
can give you any or all of these things, so the form is your choice and
yours alone.' 'And if i decide to give you such information? How shall i
find you?' As if the figure disappeared in front of him altogether Derkylos
heard nothing but a voice 'I will be here, waiting.' 

With that odd bit done Derkylos continued on towards the city without any
incidents. Upon reaching the town of palanthas night had fallen and Derkylos
went to the inn paid for his room and sat down in his bed, head swimming
with bits of thoughts of half run-on sentences "'Crazy stranger looking to
me for information?' 'Wonder what this weapon looks like?' 'Wonder if i'll
ever find it?'" Before long Derkylos was fast asleep in his bed, still
sitting in his meditation style. 

Sender  Derkylos
Date    Thu Dec 11 06:38:00 2008
Subject Shadows Proposition (Knife of the Dracart)


Walking back from his last encounter with the black robed mage looking
for revenge Derkylos passes through the town of vingaard stopping to get
some ale and bread. Derkylos sits back and enjoys his ale, chewing on his
bread when necessary when he heard some people talking. Now normally he
would not eavesdrop but the words 'Legendary' and 'Black Robes' caught his
attention, thinking this may be something new they would come after him with
he listened to their conversation. 

Many minutes after that Derkylos had figured out what they were talking
about, apparently there is a rumor going around that golden dragon eggs were
being mutated, of which Derkylos cared little, and that there was a dagger
blessed by something, the men talking didn't know what either, and that it
had awesome powers for whoever wielded it.With this in in his mind Derkylos
set out, deciding it would be good to do some research seeing as how the
mages lost it if Derkylos could find it this would serve him two purposes.
The first being the mages would not have another weapon to come after him
with, the second obviously being a little more towards self preservation
would be that he would have new powers defend himself with. Either way it
would be up to him to find it. 

Setting out across the solamnic plains towards the city of palanthas and the
great library Derkylos was stopped by a man shrouded in black robes a stench
that was ungodly. Derkylos politely nodded to the man giving him a few
coins, this man obviously needed it for a bath and some new clothing,
Derkylos started on his way again. Before he got too far the man stopped and
spoke 'You have the look of strength.' Derkylos stopped, not knowing why
something just pulled him towards this man. 'Yeah, what of it?' Derkylos
stated, not wanting to be delayed from his research for too long. 'And you
are in the holy order of the stars, no?' Derkylos nods slightly confused. 'I
would like to employ you then, I need you to get whatever information you
can from the holy order about any peculiar items, rewards will come when the
information does.' Derkylos stares at the figure, debating for a moment,
then finally nods. 'And these rewards, what form will they come in? Coin?
Power? Knowledge? What?' The dark figure grins 'In whatever form you wish i
can give you any or all of these things, so the form is your choice and
yours alone.' 'And if i decide to give you such information? How shall i
find you?' As if the figure disappeared in front of him altogether Derkylos
heard nothing but a voice 'I will be here, waiting.' 

With that odd bit done Derkylos continued on towards the city without any
incidents. Upon reaching the town of palanthas night had fallen and Derkylos
went to the inn paid for his room and sat down in his bed, head swimming
with bits of thoughts of half run-on sentences "'Crazy stranger looking to
me for information?' 'Wonder what this weapon looks like?' 'Wonder if i'll
ever find it?'" Before long Derkylos was fast asleep in his bed, still
sitting in his meditation style. 

Sender  Khin
Date    Thu Dec 11 08:41:35 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart


With a resounding thud, Khin woke suddenly. He noticed someone through
the flap of the carriage, walking rather leisurly. He squinted towards the
person and noticed that it was none other than "Dharisath!". It immediately
occured to him that that thieving bastard must have taken his stash of
illegal mind altering substances, which he had just acquired from a wil
drunner mage, and rushed to open his case. To his dismay, and afterwards his
surprise, he found his supply of herbs (which he had conveniently placed
atop a pillow) missing, but in their stead he found a rather ornate looking
blade which seemed to possess him at the sight of it. Khin completly forgot
about his now missing nefarious stock, and after some time of staring at the
strange blade, reached to grab it. As soon as he grasped it into his hand,
it seemed to take hold of him somehow, he felt a surge of energy and anger.
The blade's handle seemed to curve in just the right way as to fit his hand.
Khin spent quite some time admiring the blade, turning it several times to
get a good look at it.

Khin now decided to get off the carriage. He thought he may sell this dagger
in Palanthas, or perhaps keep it for himself? In any case, there was no more
need to stay on the caravan. His drugs were gone and Freeport was no fun
without any drugs. He hopped off the carriage and made his way towards
Palanthas. He proceeded to walk, excessively paying attention to his new
acquisition. The passers-by in the caravan were also eyeing the blade

Upon reaching Palanthas, Khin was quite sufficiently enthralled with the
dagger. It's shape, its colours, its spotless blade, its perfect balance had
all appealed to him greatly. But above all, he loved the possession it had
over him...the power. Khin was known to be somewhat sexually deviant, and
well the dagger was becoming somewhat of a...fetish item for him. He was so
taken by this thing, in fact, that he had failed to realise that he was
brandishing a shiny blade in broad daylight in one of the most heavily
guarded cities in Krynn; It was not before long that he began to hear -hear
like never before - footsteps rushing towards him. Khin looked up to find a
Solamnic soldier rushing towards him, his hand on his hilt. "Throw down your
weapon!" the soldier yelled towards him as he was approaching him.
"I...I..don't..." Khin returned, obviously quite confused. The soldier
unsheathed his sword as he ran towards Khin and thundered once again "Throw
down your weapon, or ill be forced to take action!" Khin felt his hand grip
tightly on the blade, and began to raise his arm, apparantly not out of
choice. "I...can't.." Khin muttered confusedly. 

The Solamnic then raised his weapon, still running towards Khin. With that,
Khin took aim and threw the blade towards his target. A scream was heard
from the Solamnic before the dagger connected with his throat and turned his
screams into choking . Blood gushed from the Solamnic's throat and mouth as
he collapsed to the floor.

Khin was always better at expressing himself with a weapon rather than with
words, but this time it different. He would have never have accurately hit
his target before, not in a million wanings of Solinari. Furthermore, he
felt like he had not even decided to take aim at the Solamnic; It was
somehow decided for him. Khin shook his head at all these thoughts and
rushed towards the corpse, and with a single pull reconnected with his
beloved dagger.

Khin now had to make haste, such a crime would undoubtedly be discovered
quickly, and it was best for him to clear the scene. He ran out of the gates
of the city, dagger still in hand -he had no intention of letting go of it,
even to sheath it on his belt. All he could do now, all he could think of
now, was to far as he could. But before long, a sudden weariness
began to take hold of him. 

Sender  Khin
Date    Thu Dec 11 08:43:39 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart cont.


He began to slow down, his mind began to weigh heavy, his vision blurred.
He finally collapsed in a heap somewhere in the forest, not even him knowing
where. He later recalled that the effects he had suffered were much like
those of the red and b lue herbs he's accustomed to acquire from shady
looking wildrunner magi. He lay there face down in the mud, the dagger still
grasped tightly in his hand. 

Sender  Ghared
Date    Thu Dec 11 09:26:35 2008
Subject The First Interrogation: The Search for the Knife of Darcart


A whisper rose above the dark stillness and silence.

"You are a fool...even though the light of the morrow is destined to
overcome the darkness of this night, the light can only hold its breath in
fear. In fear of their foresight of the shadows that lurk deep within the
earth, only revealed as the light basks in its certainty of glory and hope
to come. The essence of light breeds ignorance and the dreams of
infallibility then come hand in hand. They provide us with a breeding
ground; their happiness feeds our souls with envy ...I long to extend this
retched hand to one that does not comprehend this fear."

With a snarl the soft whisper is betrayed by a light growl..."Look into my
eyes, do you understand of what I speak..Appear as no other would, flesh and
bone rotten, fallen sinews and wrinkled skin...feed me your anguish and

A sharp cry rings out and malignant sounds of bodily desecration are barely
audible over the shrill cry to the pantheon of all gods...then silence.

The surronding space seemed hardly inhabited; dust covered the walls and
earth of this cove in the mountains near Sanction. A sliver of light made
its way by the last bend of the tunnel that was the last to bear witness to
the dragging of a bounded man. At the threshold of the cove, the lights
reach ended short, illuminating the area only a few feet away of the dark
figure that lay sprawled opposite. The figure lay motionless across the
narrow space. A smell of putridity and rot slowly lifted itself to mingle
with the musky, dusty air.

A man gasps out a series of shivers and moans, his gasps only exacerbated
with the wheezing noises arising from his lungs in a rhythmic fashion.

"How useless are these guards now a days, pawns of their highlords, none
without a single mind to commit otherwise, this calls for greater
interference, yet one must be cautious. Many are on the trail, they have
picked up the foul scent of this mysterious evil dagger, now..the lapping
tongues are on their way."

Suddently, a shape stirs the serentiy of the dust; sounds of flapping
sandals can be heard echoing their departure. 

Sender  Deviant
Date    Thu Dec 11 09:33:09 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart


Deviant was talking a walk through a particular forest when suddenly he
fell flat on his face. He looked back to find the unconscious body of Khin
as the object of his fall. He snickered to himself as he got up, and dusted
himself off. He walked towards Khin's body and chuckled to himself. He was
about to reach for Khin's pouch when he noticed a knife clenched in Khin's
fist. He grabbed the dagger but it was clenched tightly. He pulled and
pulled to no avail. Deviant finally placed his foot atop Khin's head as to
acquire more leverage, and began to pull and pull, finally wrestling the
dagger from Khin's grip. He looked at the blade for a while and thought
"What an ugly looking blade" before throwing the blade into the forest. He
then examined Khin's body and shook his head "Always a drug addled fool", he
thought to himself. He then relieved Khin of his coin pouch and tobacco, and
walked off whistling after delivering a sound kick to his ribs. 

Sender  Gnash
Date    Thu Dec 11 16:07:31 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart: A coincidence


Not far from Neraka in a what from outside looks like a simple cave, a
short figure sits in the shadows, unseen. Gnash sits there his eyes closed,
listening to other goblinoids passing by. A rusty bronze dagger rests in his
lap, his hands constantly move around the blade, oiling it with poison. As
Gnash finishes he carefully sheathes the dagger, making sure he does not
scratch himself with it. Suddenly his eyes flash open, two red dots in the
shadow. "Time to hunt" the goblin mutters.

An hour later Gnash waits in an ambush with two Hobgoblins on a valley
between Sanction and Neraka. There had not been too much of travel in these
days. Not many travelers moved in bands small enough that the goblinkind
would dare to attack. "Thank you, my Lord" Gnash mutters as he sees a lone
human riding as fast as he can through the valley, towards them. Three
crossbows rise. One rider falls from horseback impaled by three bolts. Gnash
waves his hand "Go check if he has anything of value" he mutters to the
other hobgoblin with a rasping voice. A moment passes, then the hobgoblin
cries "Tis one from Dragonarmy and only has message, notting valuable!". So
a messenger, Gnash thinks to himself. "Come and show me the message" he
shouts. The hobgoblin arrives and hands the message to Gnash, who ignores
the seal of the Highlord and opens the letter. He reads it and stops to
think. Suddenly in a flash of violence, he draws his poisoned daggers and
slams them into the chests of the hobgoblins. This was to be his secret. So
the dragonarmies had lost a knife of Dracart, what ever it wasBut according
to Highlord of Dragonarmy it was very valuable. The knights of Solamnia were
also mentioned several times in the letter, so most likely the knife was
somewhere in Solamnia.

Some hours later Gnash boards into a ship headed towards Palanthas. He knows
that his kind are not looked well on in Palanthas, so it was good that the
smugglers were not going to use the official harbor, but a one of their own.

Sender  Leaflock
Date    Thu Dec 11 17:18:03 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart - An odd day.


(OOC: Leaving off from Deviant's Ending)


Leaflock slowly glanced upward without lifting his head at the blade
protruding from the tree barely a hairsbreadth from his topknot...

'Funny place to leave a knife', he mused as he turned his head up in a
strangely contorted pose to view the underside of the blade. He then had a
quick thought, as kender always do, and turned to thank his new friend for
the fine gift.

'Seeeek the mage...' 
a voice hissed softly in his ear as an image flashed in his head.

'Thank you... er... did you drop this knife?' his cheerful shout turned
into a whisper on it's own volition... hoping secretly that Deviant
wouldn't hear him, and the nearly comatose form of Khin wouldn't stir. 'Who
said that?' he wondered, and boggled at what mage, where, who?

He quickly forgot and returned his thoughts to the knife. 'They must have
wanted me to have it!' he brimmed with excitement as he realize that for
once... for once he might just be right and they really did want him to
have this fine specimen.

He quietly worked the blade back and forth in the tree until it slid free.
'Wow! It's warm! That will come in totally handy when I have to go out and
it's soo cold you know when your fingers hurt and you can't quite find that
right pick and that lock that was built with extra special care and love
won't quite pop open and you're standing outside of the Inn wondering why
the people keep glaring and ...' he rambled on bemused by the flighty

'Seeeek the mage...' 
a voice hissed softly in his ear as an image flashed in his head.

'What? You know, that's becoming kind of creepy, even for me and I like all
kinds of things and rarely even ever turn a frown at things even though
sometimes people aren't very nice and say mean things and don't even look
to see if it hurt my feelings or anything but that's ok because usually I
just forgive them or forget and.. what was I saying again?' the Kender
babbled as a sense of frustration and rage came to him from some unseen

Leaflock quickly made his way back to his favorite fishing hole, passing
the sailors and rarely even borrowing anything at all, really. His thoughts
often upon the nice knife, well not so really nice, it was actually kind of
a mean knife but nice make and weight if you know how knives go and all

'Seeeek the mage...' 
a voice hissed softly in his ear as an image flashed in his head.

As he passed a sailor he quietly slipped the knife into the poor lout's
rucksack and didnt' even trade a thing! He was amazed, but realized that
the knife would simply end up under a dock whispering that stupid phrase
over and over... 'Seeeek the mage' he giggled as the sailor looked at him
and quickly checked his own purse strings as he shied from the little

Ooh look! He grinned, the groupers are feeding! Fish on!

Leaflock, the Shark Hunter!

Sender  Kael
Date    Thu Dec 11 18:01:51 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart: A Prelude


A knight resplendent in the armor of Solamnia stood in the middle of the
vast plains, taking his place amongst the ranks of the many knights awaiting
the grand battle. The towering spires of the city of Kalaman can be seen in
the distance behind the battalion, silently granting the warriors strength.
Archers perched upon its bleak walls supporting the valiant fighters on the
ground, gently (some may say nervously) caressing their well-used
bowstrings. All lay still and calm, if only for a moment, as the adrenaline
pumped steadily within their veins. A slight clearing of the misty fog then
reveals a faint line on the horizon, what one could only deduce to be the
formation of soldiers serving the Dark Queen.

The knight on the plains fidgeted in his armor, irritably swiping away a
persistent grasshopper with a wave of his gloved hand. Beads of sweat now
formed freely on his forehead, making the musk and stuffiness of his helm
that much more abhorrent. The bloodlust burned deep within his soul, and all
of his will and swordarm concentrated on the battle at hand. The warhorns
bellowed. A cloud of dust rose in the distance from where the faint line
once, commingling with an equally immense cloud kicked up by the sudden
charge of the knight and his comrades. To an onlooker, the time prior to the
actual battle appears to be a negligible commodity. To a warrior in the
fray, it is an eternity.

And so it was to the knight on the plains. His legs ached in their greaves
long before his blade had drawn any blood, his eyes half-blinded by the
incessant dripping of salty sweat. He was thus almost thankful when the two
sides collided with devastating fury, sword on sword, shield on shield.
Overcome by the passion of the moment, the knight lashed out furiously at
any advancing foe, felling several at one time. His ears could not discern
the screams of the dying for they all melded into a confusing cacophony. His
mind was preoccupied with the never-ceasing parrying and thrusting. Never
mind the ache and pain in the arms -- it would all be over soon, the knight
assured himself. 

So the knight went: slashing, parrying and thrusting. Many a foe fell that
day. Soon, the dust cleared and all that could be seen were bodies upon
bodies, stacked in a gruesome tribute on a land gleaming with the blood of
the dead. The knight collapsed onto the soft ground, exhaustion finally
overwhelming him. A smile crossed his face even as his body burned, for he
knew his deed was done and his rest was well-deserved.

But wait, what was this? What was this dull pain he felt in his lower back?
The knight whirled around at lightning speed, swordarm at the ready for he
had been trained for such contingencies countless times over. "Fight me as I
face you, dishonorable vermin," he exclaimed to a figure clad solemnly in
the emblem of the black lily. Even as he spoke, poison rushed through his
very being, paralysing him. The sunlight turned slowly but surely to
darkness as a serrated knife plunged deep into his torso...


The knight woke up with a start, his eyes pinned on the domed ceiling above
him. "It was a dream, just a dream," he repeated to himself. He wiped his
forehead with the back of his hand and took leave of his chambers, taking
with him his sword. Donning his armour, he heaved a sigh for the long day
ahead. Little did he know that this day, with the help of a tiny dagger
adorned with a curiously curved handle, would be the one that changes his

Sender  Kael
Date    Thu Dec 11 20:11:59 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart: An Opportunity


The weather sure is hot and humid today. The stuffy breastplate and helm
aren't helping things much either. I walk the end of the patrolling route
out of the Lordcity of Kalaman, one that I have covered 14 times today since
the dawn broke and one that I have traversed countless times these past few

"Lorcan, mind covering for me while I take a short break?" I tapped on the
hollow helm of a lazy squire sprawled on a cot in the eastern guardhouse to
draw his attention. He mumbled something inaudibly before acceding to my
request. Ah, the benefits of being a senior knight.

I strolled leisurely to the woods east of the city, meaning to catch a quick
breath of fresh air. Being in the city stifled my senses - the characterless
spired buildings and bustling of commerce all added to the dreariness of the
dead heat. Leaning on the curvaceous roots of a solid oak tree, I finally
found my solace, even if just for a while. The chirping of the birds and the
tranquility of the forest calmed my mind. If only I could be here forever.

"Beware the eastern gate... buregghh grrimm toreak. Nasty Solamnics there,"
a deep guttural voice carried itself through the quiet air. Eh, goblins? I
peeked past the large trunk of the oak tree and spotted a minotaur clad in
the trappings of a black dragonarmy warrior in conference with two wiry
goblins. Not wanting to draw their attention quite so quickly, I drew my
sword from its sheath in in the gentlest way I could. Why were they here?

"Do not stir the Solamnics from their beauty sleep. We are here for the
artifact and nothing else," the minotaur warrior bellowed. The goblins
nodded their disproportionate heads in obedient acquiescence. The minotaur
issued a field signal to advance with a sharp cocking of his wrist and the
goblins crept on after him. I followed a tree behind. So, it is an artifact
that the Dragonarmy seeks. Interesting, I looked on as the three minions of
evil scrouged the forest, burying their clawed feet and hooves into the
muddied ground in search for the artifact. I bidded my time and once it was
certain that their attention was all but diverted to their exploration, I
emerged from the obscurity of an adjacent tree trunk. Uttering a cry to
Kiri-Jolith, I sliced the heads of the goblins cleanly off their scaled
shoulders and pressed the pointed end of my blade uncomfortably close
against the throat of the startled minotaur.

"Tell me what it is you seek. Speak, or I will slit your throat wide open."
The blade drew a drop of fresh blood. The minotaur did not answer. A
maniacal grin crossed his face and he promptly impaled himself on my blade.
I frowned at the bovine blood that splattered all over my armour. I'll never
be able to wash this off. Worse still, I have nothing in exchange for it.
Even as those thoughts ran rapidly through my mind, the periphery of my
vision caught a small sheet of parchment slip from the stiff grasp of the
slain minotaur. Grabbing the parchment as excitedly as a newborn, I peered
intently at its contents.

A picture. A shining black blade. A strangely curved handle. Wait a minute,
this was the very dagger that pierced me in my dream. I can still feel the
cold of the blade on my back. What could this portend?

Then, I smiled to myself. An opportunity to prove a knight's worth. 

Sender  Tnaxz
Date    Thu Dec 11 20:24:07 2008
Subject Knife of teh Dracart: A goblin tattles


 "Dard. Leave,"  Tnaxz growled, waving at the goblin. A goblin messenger
had recently informed Tnaxz of a lost item of value belonging to the
Dragonarmy. As the goblin messenger bowed and left, Tnaxz called some others
from his adopted tribe, Marauder, to discuss what could only end in
advancement of the clan he had so recently found himself in.  "A lost
Dragonarmy item.. Must be important.. Much talk of it" Tnaxz thought to
himself. One of his old tribe, now a goblin servant in the Dragonarmy, had
overheard some high ranked officers talking furiously over a lost item An
item more then one goblin had lost its life over as the officers took out
their furry. Scanning around, Tnaxz sent a message to his brethern in the
MidenIr and to King Grumm on the wings of magic, this would be a most
interesting turn of events.

And so they as they had it, all the goblins under their command had been
ordered to be on the look out for this particular artifact. Even though they
did not know yet what it was, they would find out. Many goblins may be
slaves or warriors in the Drago Dragonarmy, but not all were loyal to the
Dark Queen. Tnaxz snickered to himself, the Dragon armys must be foolish to
think a godless race wouldnt betray their precious queen as long as there
are still tribes in the world to live under. Suddenly Tnaxz had a great

 "Come,  Tnaxz ordered to a few nearby goblins to follow him. Time to find
this artifact. Without it, the Dragonarmy would surely lose its power and
goblins would return to their tribes.  and you see the treacherous worm,
kill it. Tnaxz had other business he planned to take care of before finding
this artifact. 

Sender  Kael
Date    Thu Dec 11 21:42:16 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart: The Discovery and the Blade


The knight returned to the place within his dream. Just out of the north
gate of Kalaman was where he met his untimely demise. This time, the faint
line of the enemy in the distance no longer existed. There were no bodies
gruesomely piled and no death in sight. Could he really find what he sought
here? The knight swept his steel sabatons close to the ground in an arc to
part the thickening grass. The field was simply too vast to comb this way.

He turned to face the city to his back and was almost blinded by the
oncoming rays of the sun. The distance from the gates seemed to be about
right -- if his memory serves, the guards on the ramparts did appear that
small from where he lay in his dream. The knight stared at the ground for an
eternity, searching relentlessly for a visual clue. But there were none.
Lifting the visor from his helm and wiping his sweat for the umpteenth time
today, the knight chuckled and chastised himself for having been led by his
own subconscious mind into this fool's errand. He flung the parchment he had
earlier retrieved from the Dragonarmy minotaur into the wind.

A gust blew. The knight's eyes followed the flapping parchment as it
floated, light as a feather, to a pre-ordained spot in the grass. Parting
the grass obscuring the parchment, this time with a gloved hand, the knight
caught a glint of metal against the shining sun. His hands closed around the
comfortably curved handle of a fine knife. He found it! Imagine what his
superiors would say when he returned to the barracks with this gem -- an
artifact lost by the Dragonarmies and discovered by a Knight of the Crown.
Wars have been won and lost by such fortuitousness.

The blade was just the right length and exactly balanced, making the
knight's previous weapon pale in comparison. It was almost as if it were
made solely for him. The knight looked up and his short-lived glee turned
quickly to despair. A creature the size of an ogre and bearing the scales of
a red dragon as skin towered over him. What sorcery is this? In the
distance, the knight could once again see the formation of the minions of
evil obliterating the horizon. The knight summoned up what little courage
and vigour he had left. He was not about to die there. He wondered for a
moment why the archers in the city had forsaken him, but he rapidly
refocussed on the battle at hand. He was not alone. The fine knife imbued
him with a magical strength he had never experienced before and the power
exited with hellish fury from his swordarm. A quick thrust rendered the
gargantuan beast flailing in its death throes, covered in electrical flames.
The knight was pleased with his new find and decided to beat a hasty retreat
in the face of the stiffer opposition that was to come. A dust cloud rose
once again in the distance.


A farmer, by the name of Theodore, lay on the ground that day. The corpse
was just out the north gate of Kalaman, the farmer's chest pierced by a
single stab wound and his body burnt almost beyond recognition. The archers
on the towers had miraculously missed any altercation that occured and the
farmer's cause of death is still uncertain. All that is known is that the
farmer was on his way home from a day in the fields. The Knighthood has not
ruled out foul play. More guards are now stationed on the ramparts, but
there is as yet no sign of enemy activity. 

Sender  Tnaxz
Date    Fri Dec 12 00:33:23 2008
Subject name Knife of Dracart, -.-


Tnaxz crawled along the outside out Palanthas. He finally learned of the
object, the MidenIr goblins had eventually found a man who knew of it and
made him talk.  "The knife of Dragosomething, foolish goblins.  he thought
with a sigh. His own tribe would never have been stupid enough to kill the
prisoner after only learning the name of the object.  Perhaps I should
convince a Cave Lord to take residence their, their current leader is
stupider then a dwarf, or an elf."  He shrugged, he could find a Cave Lord
anytime, now now was time to find this knife. Muttering and cursing to
himself, he entered Palanthas covered in rags even a goblin would consider
filthy, hoping to be mistaken as a gully dwarf. It would never do to have
knights stick a sword in his stomach. After a long hour of searching, he
found the port. It was not as easy as he thought it would be to find. Mainly
because he had got lost in the sewers as he met up with his loyal bodyguard,
a troll that was more hideous then the rest. Still he had made it. It had
not taken long for him to find a ship, a dark figure in the sewer had
readily agreed, after a bit of convincing to pay for his passage aboard a
ship, and tell the captain of the unusual passengers. As Tnaxz boarded the
ship, the sailors eyed him warily. "YOU!!" Tnaxz screamed. This particular
sailor glowed a bright blue. He had the dagger Screaming orders to his
troll, the troll and a few quick fireballs from Tnaxz had most of the
sailors running for their lives, and the dagger was on the ground.

 " It doesnt look very good Tnaxz said with a sigh. He liked the looks of
his fillet knife better.  "Still it must be a powerful weaponBlaegsh,  he
ordered pointing at his troll  grab it" As the troll grabbed it, Tnaxz saw
its face twist in rage, a strange power sweep through him. The troll lunged
at Tnaxz stabbed him in the chest and knocking him back the plank into the
street. Screaming and running in terror from the troll, Tnaxz cast a quick
fireball followed by a lightning bolt at the pursuing troll, the troll
screamed, its hair caught fire, and the dagger went flying back into a dark
alley. The guards soon came and put an end to the troll. Tnaxz continued
screaming and running down the streets crying in fear until he ended up in
another, dark alleyway. Certain no more crazed trolls or guards could find
him, he considered going back to the dagger, but no..  Not sure which alley
it went in, someone mighter grabbed it.."  Besides, he was afraid of the
dagger, as much as he crazed the power he had seen it give the troll, he
figured it best not to go mad while in a city of humans.  "MidenIr goblins
will watch the exits,  he said to himself  "someone leave soon with dagger."
x  Good thing magic armor protect me from troll dagger Or had it? He could
have sworn the dagger pierced both his magic and metal armorSighing, Tnaxz
was just glad the trolls fist must have hit him more then dagger.

Sender  Ayasana
Date    Fri Dec 12 03:53:19 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart and Consequences


The tip of the dagger tapped the granite railing of the balcony again,
the sound carrying freakishly loud through the domed chamber.
The gathering of knight, cleric and spellmaster stood quietly, nervously
as the sound reverberated yet again.
Some winced, as if thunder boomed, echoing the mood of the wielder.
Finally, a sigh came from the lone figure on the balcony.
Which only elicited more anxiety.
"It has come to our attention," a voice whispered,"..that a 
certain...important tool, has been stolen, and misplaced by the thief."
Someone's foot shuffled, a few heads hung down.Silence still held otherwise.
"That a thief, somehow entered these Holy walls, deeply concerns me."
Silvery eyes glared down at a man laying nailed to a large wheel in
front of the gathering. His body showing signs of violent abuse, blood 
 running from his hands, feet and mouth. His severed tongue nailed just
above his head.
"Also, it has come to our attention, that information of this theft,
of this important tool, has gotten out, and is fast becoming common knowledge,
not only to the rest of the Dragonarmy, but to our enemies, and any 
thief, knave, Kender, Gully, or fool with ears to listen".
The voice still whispered, but the intensity had multiplied.
"I find this most distressing as well.."
The eyes glanced over at a priest, prone next to the man on the wheel.
The priest's eye sockets still smouldered from the coals burning in
them, the silent screams morbidly still mouthed by the still living wretch.
"I trust, you will ALL, give this situation, your unwavering dedication,
and find this artifact, before it falls into our enemies hands. Failure
is an unacceptable outcome, one our Queen,will not allow mercy for..."
The silver eyes flashed over the group.
Am I understood?"
Three score fists saluted in unison, as the gathering silently retreated 
from the Temple.
As they filed down the stairs to the huge central square before the 
palace in Neraka, they passed rows of guards impaled on iron stakes,
remains of priests still hanging over smouldering fires, and the crucified
bodies of lower mages, still alive as ravens pecked at eyes and open
wounds, feeding on liver and intestine.
While displays like this were usually reserved by the Baroness for enemies
of the State, today, it was for the traitors and betrayers of the Queen.
And Aya'sana uth Matar, did not tolerate those who betray Takhisis.
Today, it was not for amusement's sake.

Sender  Valas
Date    Fri Dec 12 09:23:10 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart.


The sun was just beginning it's descent into the Blood Sea. Valas walked
quietly down the streets of Flotsam taking in the scenary, or, lack-there-of
with little enthusiasm. He pulled the hood of his cloak lower and began
sticking closer to the shadows, not wanting those few drunks still making
their way to the next pour house to notice him. This was a city where one
was better off not being caught unaware. Not that he was worried, he knew
none would approach him and leave alive. 

Approaching a particularly wretched establishment, he made his way inside.
The smell wafting from the place would attract every gully dwarf for miles.
It increased his lack of enthusiasm even more so, if that were possible.
Wondering to himself why he decided to accept such a job, for one of his
skill it seemed insulting. But his employer was generous, and the sum
outweighed Valas' dismay. Thinking back to his time in Kuri-Khan, the
notoriety that required him to make an abrupt, yet swift departure made his
lips raise to something of a half-smile. It did not reach his eyes. He truly
despised gully dwarves. 

As he entered the smell increased even more so making his eye twitch
noticeably. He quietly made his way to the slab of splintered wood they
passed for a bar and ordered honey mead. He scanned the room quickly, as the
bartender handed him what must have been the cleanest glass in the room. You
could almost see through the grime smeared on it. He tossed the bartender a
steel coin, enough to cover a whole night in a hole like this. Valas took
his glass and headed for the nearest corner, table, closer to the shadows
dancing about the edges of the fireplace. Noticing that the rest of the
"patrons" in the mudhole went back to their business, he quickly poured his
drink out and pulled a small flask from a hidden pocket in his cloak, he
took a quick sip to wet his lips and quickly put it away, the smell of mead
now coating his breath. 

He signalled for the serving wench to bring another, and to keep them
coming. Sooner or later his target would appear, he had every night for the
past tenday. Valas knew his habits well enough now that it was time to
garner the information he was sent to acquire. By whatever means necessary
were the orders. 

2 hours later the door banged open, the loud creak of leather and iron, a
steel sword slapping against a buckles. He walked with a confidence that was
betrayed by his nervous eyes, his boots scuffing the dirt floor more often
than naught, white knuckled gripped hands at his sides, close to a sword he
most likely knew how to use. The man was a soldier. Perhaps a guard, but
military was written all over him. Valas bowed his head slightly, looking
down into a half empty glass and made a show of swaying in his chair
slightly as the man looked about the room. The nine glasses lining his table
would make the show seem genuine. 

Valas sat for another two hours, pouring drinks out near the fireplace to
evaporate quickly, studying the man, watching him drink, making sure not to
arrouse the man's suspicions, though his cognizance was minimal at best.
Valas didnt get to where he was by acting on assumptions. 

Sender  Valas
Date    Fri Dec 12 15:36:05 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart (Weight and Measure)


Another hour later the soldier stumbled out of the place, Valas tossed
another coin to the bartender and gave him a look that promised forgetful
behavior begets a longer lifespan. In a swift move that could barely be
registered Valas palmed a knife from some hidden sheath on his person and
stalked out the door to follow. Valas watched the soldier continue his
unstable gait, passing many buildings and alleys. Knowing the man's route,
he picked his way up to the roof tops and began running across them making
about as much sound as a spider crawling across heavy carpet. He chose his
intercept point and waitied, his hood and cloak pulled close against him. He
completely blended into the shadows. 

As the man stumbled below him, Valas crouched even closer to the rooftop,
coiling his well honed muscle for a spring that would take him down directly
on top of the man. He re-sheathed his knife and just as the man turned
(probably sensing someone watching him or perhaps just getting his bearings)
Valas leaped, the man looked up and saw only a dark cape fluttering wildly
through the night with a man attached. Valas tucked his legs up closer to
his body and then flung them out straight into the man's face, turning his
momentum at the exact moment of impact to roll away. The soldier hit the
ground, hard, and Valas jumped up instantly, turning to face him and take a
measure of any witnesses that might be near by. Seeing none he quickly
binded the groaning man's hands behind his back and wired his legs to allow
him to walk, but not run. Valas quickly yanked him into a standing position
by his hair and stared directly into the man's eyes. From nowhere a dagger
was up against the soldiers throat.

He spoke in a voice completely devoid of all emotion. "Now,  my friend. You
shall tell me -everything- you know about this knife I have been hearing so
much about... The look in Valas' eyes left him no room to doubt his future,
or lack-there-of, would be. 

To get his point across, he cot off both of the man's index fingers, shoving
one into the soldier's pocket, the other into his mouth then dragged him

Sender  Valas
Date    Fri Dec 12 16:08:48 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart (Questions...Questions...)


Valas dragged the soldier along, his moans muffled by his own digit, to
an old run-down wharf warehouse. The soldier, finally recovering somewhat
from the shock of his ordeal, gathered courage at the fact there was indeed
no fireplace at all. That was short lived however, as Valas strapped him
securely to a wall and walked over to a corner where a small box sat. He
picked up the box and walked slowly toward the man, a look of annoyed
impatience glinting in his eyes. "Do you know what this is?" The man stared
at him, defiance clear in his posture. Valas stared hard at him for several
moments. "It is a box. A small box with a metal slide covering the only hole
in this box. Inside there is a rat. I have kept the vermin in there for a
few days,  it is quite hungry." 

"Now, you are going to tell me what I want to know, because I am going to
make a fine meal. I already know you are part of the Dragon Army. What I do
not know, is why I have been sent on such a lowly mission for a simple

Valas walked over to the man, box in hand and began strapping it around his
waist. As he finished buckling it on he checked the man's bonds to make sure
he had no room to move, cutting off circulation to his hands to stop his
other wounds from bleeding out too much. He looked the man in the eye as he
sliced a small gash into his chest to let the blood leak down and tempt the
rats hunger. 

"I had the honor of escaping a prisoner circus where this was done for
sport.  It is quite painful...  Most men soil themselves and beg
for death long before it is over.  Do hurry it up.  I was told
there were others who know as much if not more than you.  You were
simply the easiest to start with."

(Had to log, more to come.)

Sender  Rodin
Date    Fri Dec 12 21:58:51 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart: A Vision


From the journal of Rodin Greenleaf, A Kagonesti monk of Majere:

I sit here in my room of the Smiling Mug, researching a tool of evil. It's
been given a form of dagger, but inside it everything I can feel is pure
evil. All the time it tries to seize control of my mind. I feel it urging me
to violence. Even I, a monk with years of mental and physical training, find
it hard restrain myself. Without my faith in Majere I would most likely go
mad, but my lord, although humble, is great and he protects me 

I will now write how this item of pure evil found it's way into my
possession, to store it for generations yet to come, or if what I am going
to attempt will fail. To anyone who might find this journal.

It was two days ago, while I was meditating in the monastery, that I
received a vision from Majere. In my vision was only this knife. And even in
the vision I could feel the unholy power radiating from the item. I believe
this was sign for me to find this evil item and bring it back to monastery
for safekeeping. Though, I must admit, I can not be sure if this was the
meaning of the vision. Majere is a quiet god and speaks to his followers
through visions, not words. story edit And behold, as I woke up from my
meditating trance, I found a single praying mantis buzzing close to me. This
was not an ordinary mantis though, for it was three times the size of a
normal, and color of purest silver. It also moved very swiftly. Without a
second thought I began to follow the mantis. And with great haste it led me
to great city of Palanthas. When we were closing in towards the gates at the
time of noon the mantis disappeared in puff of silver smoke. And from this
sign I believe that I understood the meaning of my vision the way I was
supposed to. 

For hours I searched, and just an hour ago, though it feels like days. I
almost gave up. In my desperation I looked up in to sky and fell to my knees
praying my gaze focused on the constellation of Majere. For the night had
come as I searched and I had not even noticed. But today it seemed that
Majere himself reached his hand to help his servant and I once again heard
the familiar buzz of praying mantis. I followed the sound into a dark alley
near the harbor. As soon as I entered the alley, I could feel the evil. It
was not hard to find the dagger, but making myself grasp it was. Praying for
protection I finally grasped the dagger. It burned my hands, but I have been
trained to deal with pain. I quickly placed it inside a backpack. Then I
quickly made haste to the Smiling mug Tavern and rented a room. The battle
in my mind against the dagger was so hard, that when renting a room, I think
I gave quite a shock to the barkeep. Yelling at him from the bottom of my
lungs in all my tension. Luckily he still gave me a room after my

; Now as I already wrote, I sit here, researching the dagger. The evil of it
much greater than I could ever guess. So there has been a change in my
plans. I will not take this item back to monastery for safekeeping. It is
too dangerous. Now it is my plan to get rid of this tool of evil. Place it
somewhere, where none will ever find and use it. Tomorrow I will board a
ship towards the blood sea of Istar. I will try to make my way to the middle
of it and cast this knife in to the Vortex. I will set traps into doors and
windows, just in case that the evil of this item will try to lure someone to
steal it from me. I believe it has mind of it's own and it knows that I am
going to displace it for ever. 

(OOC ok as the knife is now in my posession, feel free to rob it from me in
stories if you want, but If I am on, you can freely challenge me to RP or
Dice fight for it)  

Sender  Ayasana
Date    Sat Dec 13 00:08:20 2008
Subject The Knife, and many like it...


Another report, another probable dead end.
A strange blade was reported to have been found by farmer near the 
Nordmaar region.
Kender swears to have said blade in one of his pouches, or one of his 
cousin's , he can't remember.
Dark, wraithlike being heard to have been mumbling about a wereblade..
Ship under curse while transporting short stock subject, knife seen.
Throwing the pages atop a growing pile near her desk, Aya sat
back in the chair, rubbing her eyes.
Bad enough it was stolen, and even worse to be lost, but now.
Now to have to deal with every idiot who sees a filet knife in  some
fishmongers hands being identified as THE artifact.
Turning the chair so as to look out the window over the city, she 
contemplated the possible courses of action.
Find a certain thing, in a certain place, likely in a certain someone's
What would that certain person do, if they knew what it was they had?
Recognizing it for what it was, only likely by someone who knew of such
Using it as a comon tool? No, it would let on to what it really was
sooner or later. It was corrupt, and would change the wielder.
Sell it? Possible. If the person was clueless enough to resist it.
Even it it somehow miraculously found its way to one of the Queen's 
Servants, would that person be likely to return it?
Looking at the map across an adjoining table, the task was made more
formidable by all the distances involved, and the lack of Loyal and
discreet Blue Dragon operatives to cover all ports, cities, caravans...
Aya threw a nearby vase against the wall in frustration.
Nearby, in a chair closest to the massive fireplace, Starfire, in her
accustomed human form, raised an eyebrow, looking at her little charge over a
book that she was reading.
"That really helps nothing, and at this rate, the manor will be completely
littered with remains of your childishness."
 Aya turned glaring at her companion,"You have any suggestions on this?" she
snarled angrily.
Starfire quietly closed her book, stood, walked over to Aya, and as
fast as the eye could blink, slapped her across the desk.
"First off, do not speak to me in that tone, I taught you to behave more politely.
Second, if this incident is beyond you, then go join the commoners in the 
search...if you can not think straight.
Third, this is quite a masive task, perhaps, as with the running of the estate, if
you lack the proper manpower to achieve the neccessary assignments, you should
hire outside contractors. You have met with those Mercenaries recently. Put
them to work."
The regal dragon-being then returned to her chair, and continued with her book.
      To be continued...

Sender  Valas
Date    Sat Dec 13 00:50:34 2008
Subject The Knife of Dracart. (The Name)


Valas removed the pin locking the metal hatch into place and pulled it
up, opening the slot just enough for the rat to poke it's face out.
Immedietly the man started screaming in abject horror, his eyes widened
until it looked as though they would just fall out of the sockets. "Truly,
this not need be so painful, all I desire is a name and a description."
Valas pulled a simple worn dagger from his sleeve, and sat down quietly
while the rat began to tear at the man's flesh. He retrieved a whetstone
from his pouch and an oiled cloth, he began to run the stone along his blade
in time with the man's screams. 

"One name and the pain goes away. Surely they don't pay you enough for such
a situation?" The man screamed in a pitch normally reserved for choir boys.
Finally he began screaming one name over and over. A title really. "Baroness
of the Blue!." He repeated it over and over, and still Valas merely sat and
watched as the rat made it's way into the man's intestines. The man's
screaming raised yet another pitch that Valas hadn't figured a grown man
could make. Finally, as blood tinged froth began to come from the man's
mouth, Valas walked up and neatly slashed his throat. Valas checked the
man's pockets, finding little of use other than a few coins, in his boot
however, was a description of the dagger. Looking down at the man, Valas
flashed him a disgusted look and turned to walk out. As an afterthought, he
looked back. 

"One can never be sure of the truth, until death is involved. Perhaps the
Gods designed you to die by my hand." Shrugging at the corpse he turned and
walked away. "It appears I am going to Sanction." 

Sender  Derkylos
Date    Sat Dec 13 01:41:55 2008
Subject Rodin, Knife of Dracart.


Awaking the next morning Derkylos stretches, walks out of his room and
goes down to the inn for some breakfast. While eating breakfast Derkylos
decides to go for a walk, coming out of the inn he takes a left down diamond
and continues on, taking in the sights of the beautiful city. Upon passing
the park he bumps into a member of his order, Rodin. 'Greetings Rodin, how
have you been?' 'Shove off.' was the response he got from a fellow monk of
the holy order of the stars. Finding it odd Derkylos shrugged it off but as
his fellow monk passed he felt it, the urge to fight, to bleed, the urge to
kill. Upon feeling this he knew there was but a single item powerful enough
to nearly overcome his senses, the legendary knife. Knowing that he must
have the knife, of course to save everyone else from its wrath, Derkylos
swiftly followed Rodin on his way towards the docks. Since it was mid-day it
would be hard to find a place to subdue the monk, knowing it would be hard,
he had to find a place that the noise would be expected. Moments later the
idea smacked him hard in the face, literally. Caught up in his thinking and
focusing on Rodin he had walked directly into a sign for the arena. 

That was where it would happen. After a few moments they neared close enough
to the arena that battle screams would be common occurrence and their battle
would not be heard. 'I am truly sorry my friend.' muttered Derkylos, loud
enough for Rodin hear and make him turn on his heels landing a gruesome
punch in Derkylos' face. "I do not remember him being this strong in our
last training session, is this the power of the knife?' Derkylos thought to
himself just barely dodging another attack, obviously meant to destroy
Derkylos' rib cage. Concentrating more on the present Derkylos takes to his
martial arts style of fighting and begins his assault. Through an immense
amount of dips and dives Derkylos can hear rodin saying 'Derkylos, you can't
have this dagger, the power is too immense.' 'I seek it for nothing, not
it's power, not it's use. I seek it simply to have it, not use it.' Of
course Derkylos knew this was a lie, he wanted the power, yearned for it,
would even kill for it if he had to. It's odd being in close proximity to
the knife he was feeling rather strange. Before interaction with Rodin, when
he woke up this morning, he really did just want it to have it, to keep
others from using it from wrong or right. Ever since he was in close area
with the knife the feelings increased, he knew now that the dagger would
overwhelm him, but at this point he cared little he could worry about that
if the time ever came. After a bit of dodging and more gruesome blows from
Rodin Derkylos saw his opening, when Rodin threw his punches, just for a
second, he left his chest open. This was how he would have to beat him. He
did not want to kill him, while yes he had a feeling for violence and blood
ties with a fellow brother were more important which gave him hope that with
some time he could deter the dagger from controlling him. With another shot
from Rodin bringing him back from his thoughts he once again concentrated on
subduing the monk. With a shot that was intentional taken Derkylos brought
his fist into Rodin's chest with all his might. That one blow coupled with
the other small blows to vital spots Rodin all at once stopped attacking and
fell over, unconcious. 

Apologizing one more time Derkylos began to frisk the unconcious monk
searching for what he was looking for. Tucked quietly in the back of Rodins
belt was the dagger he sought for so much. Holding it in his hands Derkylos
felt the burn, felt and loved it. The pain brought him to the realization
that he needed to get out of here, out of the city. If the guards found him
standing over a crumpled corpse then they would be sure to arrest him and
confiscate any weapons he had, including the dagger. Looking both ways up
and down the street Derkylos spotted a guard to the south and walked
promptly up the street to the north, briskly but not enough to draw
attention. Not wanting to risk going by the inn to grab his things Derkylos
walks straight out the south gate onto the knights high road. After hours
and hours of walking Derkylos' feet and body begin to feel the pain of the
previous battle, now that the adrenaline rush died down, and he decided it
would be a nice time to rest a short bit.

Taking a two hour walk off the east side of the road he discovers a cave and
enters it, first checking for previous inhabitants of course. Derkylos sits
down and rests on a rock, taking the knife in his hands again he begins to
study it. The first thing derkylos noted was that it curved to fit his hand,
tight enough to stay there, yet not too tight to cause discomfort, the knife
looked cold, freezing almost, yet its touch was hot. It would appear as
though the blade was liquid, or dipped in something liquid, yet that had
dried up long ago from the air and the weather. As he continued to study it
his mind started to fill with an overwhelming noise. Voices, he could not
understand what they were saying yet he could hear them crisply. Shoving the
dagger into his belt he began to meditate, attempting to heal what damage
was caused by the duel between him and Rodin, after many hours and much
effort nothing occurred. Every time he tried his head would fill up, he
could not concentrate on anything but the dagger. After a few minutes
exhaustion took him over, he fell into an uncomfortable sleep, dreams
haunted by a power that would control him and yet satisfy him at the same

Sender  Acaydon
Date    Sat Dec 13 02:58:35 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart: Profit from the Naive


The wagon rolled along the road coming from Telvan at a steady pace
bumping and thumping along. Acaydon sat at the head of the second wagon, the
most secure place of the three wagons in tow. He was a bit distracted at
first but before long he realized the driver next to him was talking to him
not the horses this time. "So that last town wasn't bad eh?" the driver said

Acaydon looked curiously at the driver, a bit suspiciously at first before
stating the obvious, "Aye, we sold quite a few of those trinkets didn't
we?"he said with a wink and a nod. "We've got plenty o' stock left to sell
that's fer sure. We'll make quite a good profit whether we find th' damn
thing're not I say." 

The driver smiled wickedly, "We'll be in Kalaman before nightfall for sure."
That evening Acaydon met secretly with his informant located in Kalaman. It
was much the same, however, which didn't surprise him in the least.

"So no word of the artifact then?" Acadyon asked quietly after glancing
around the dimly lit tavern common room. The fire had all but gone out and
the figure across the table from him was cloaked and hunched over.

"Nothing, there has been increased activity, but that doesn't confirm
anything we don't already know. The docks have been swarmed by new comers in
search of the great knife and there have been countless fights and brawls in
the taverns around the city. It is much the same in other cities I would
imagine. They are all false trails so far I fear. Word has come of some
activity in Gerighelm and Lemish. I've even heard a few stories from as far
off as Palanthas." the shadowy figure said softly.

Acaydon took a great swallow of the now warm ale wondering how he'd let it
get to that state in the first place, before he shrugged and offered, "Aye,
much the same, world has gone mad I say, and over what? An imagined knife.
Th' durned fools I say." he slurred a little more than usual with the ale
thick in his blood and his agitation showing clear on his face. "Guess we'll
stick to th' plan then and sell these durned things, the whole lot of 'em
eh? We'll make good for sure th' durned fools!"

The wagons were set up in a semi-circle right near the docks almost herding
the crowd in a narrow passage right past. Mixed into the crowd were a few
pick pockets he always kept on hand with a caravan such as this. No harm
taking from both ends was it then? A select few merchants wore elegant and
fine robes, and they were the true success of this grand scheme. Each was
loaded with a fine array of 'magical' daggers; all enchanted with minor
spells of little importance or significance. The usual reports of what the
dagger was capable of and some other less dramatic spells thrown on for good
measure. Each dagger was fairly unique in stature so as not to confuse it
with other false replicas. 

It was a rather ingenious plan he'd concocted shortly after the original
meeting with the louts back in Neraka. He preferred dealing with intelligent
beings whenever possible and he'd heard little from the Baroness of late.
That thought reminded him at the moment, she was well past due to intrude
with some obscure orders again. 'Oh but it was worth it most days' He
thought to himself as he often did.

This wild goose chase wasn't working out so poorly after all, he'd made a
small fortune peddling these counterfeit daggers with his little operation
and the general intelligence reports coming from the informants were
actually drawing a pretty clear point of reference as to where the dagger
might have been or likely still is. True, these were all stories, lies and
rumors, but that is often the case with outlandish rumors floating about and
a craze that captures the pathetic beings too dim to realize it's all a
hoax. At least Saragonnas could appreciate his efforts to feed the flames of
this ridiculous endeavor for the hunt of some imaginary knife. Acaydon gave
a soft chuckle to himself as he considered that it may all have been planned
by Sargonnas himself. How sweet that would be if it were true.

Acaydon RavenClaw 

Sender  Derkylos
Date    Sat Dec 13 07:34:07 2008
Subject Final resting place (Knife of Dracart)


Waking up the next morning not feeling completely refreshed from
yesterdays battle Derkylos once again sat on the rock. His mind set on
overcoming this dagger. 'If I am going to have this to prevent all else from
using it I must resist the temptations of it myself or fall pray to that
which I am choosing to save others.' Taking the dagger in his hands yet
again Derkylos feels the impulses surge through his head more than when the
dagger was tucked away. 'I must resist this, remember your training.'
Derkylos strains through all the negativity to remember what the abbots
taught him back at the monastery, the only way to overcome something is to
not try to beat it but instead just try to neutralize it. The only way to
neutralize this daggers animosity would be to stay positive. With memories
of all the wrongs done to him, like being an outcast from his family for
being only half-elven, or how at first he did not exceed in the monastery.
Those were the first thoughts coming to his head. After straining to fight
through these he began to remember the days of laughing and playing with
childhood friends, then even those turned to flashes of his friends dying,
Derkylos saw himself standing over them with this knife in his hand,
grinning madly. 'NO!' Derkylos fought harder through these memories to bring
back those of the good, this continued on through the better half of a day.
The memories of good finally seeping through only to be perverted and
twisted by those of the dagger. After a long time Derkylos found it
necessary break his meditation, coming to the realization of blood seeping
from his mouth from the mental stress, sweating, out of breath, and very
much drained from the 'battle' that had waged in his mind. 'I need rest, to
continue on like this will kill me', but he could not bring himself to put
the dagger down. 

He slept that night, dagger in hand, not restful at all. His dreams were
even twisted by the dagger which he still held, clutched in his hand. He
awoke the next morning feeling no better than he did the night before. Again
sweating, gasping for air, and drained in general. 'I must seek a better
place, one where I am comfortable and good energy will surround me.' This
meant returning to the monastery where he once trained. 

Gathering his things he wearily trudged on through the solamnic plains south
of the knights high road he had traveled to get to his cave. After many
hours of walking he finally reached his destination, only to have his hope
shattered. The monastery lay in front of him, completely in disarray. A
single temple stood, which used to be gleaming and majestic, now with holes
in the walls. Where there was once a bustling courtyard of monks in
training, was now just an empty lot, overgrown with plants and weeds. The
once silver shining doors were now turned what could only be described as a
dark ugly green. This upset Derkylos, the place he had loved was now in
disarray. Feeling the twinges of anger and malice towards the masters that
once taught here Derkylos once again started thinking the happy memories,
subconciously trying to fight the dagger yet again. Walking through the now
empty lot Derkylos started getting flashbacks of his training, interactions
with other monks and his teachers. 'This is where it will happen, if I
cannot neutralize this thing here then it will not be able to be done.'
Walking over to the front of the solitary temple Derkylos studies the doors
giving them a push. Realizing they were blocked from the inside, possibly
rubble from collapsed pieces of the second floor, maybe not who knows.
Setting out his bedroll Derkylos cannot help but begin his routine that he
used to follow when he still stayed in the monastery. After his workout
Derkylos felt drained so without giving the dagger, which was tucked neatly
into his belt since he got to the monastery earlier today, Derkylos fell
fast asleep being at ease for the moment. 

He awoke early the next morning, feeling more refreshed than ever before he
once again without thought did his morning exercises and sat down. Taking
some bread out of his pack he munches on bread and sips on water from his
leather skin he ponders on what could have transpired here to allow this to
happen. After his breakfast Derkylos decided it was time to try to battle
this dagger again, filled with thoughts of happy memories from his dreams
the night before he pulled out the dagger confidently. Once again staring at
it, as the feelings started to surge through his body once again, he thought
he saw the dagger blow a bit of red. It also appeared as if the pointed end
of the dagger twisted slightly, almost as if to make a mock smile at the
monk's efforts. 

The meditation started once again, the battle started as well. Mind
straining to remember the good times without being perverted by the bad. The
battle waged on within Derkylos for many hours, he had one last shot and he
knew it. Dragging up the single memory he has of his parents back when he
was younger, Derkylos smiled. The way they held him and looked so happy,
even if it was only for a moment, that single moment was all he needed. The
concentration Derkylos set on this memory was one that the dagger found it
hard to penetrate, after hours of concentrating on the same moment he
suddenly felt a rush of relief with in him. The sudden rush of calmness only
lasted for a brief moment before it was broken, his parents held him, but in
the twisted version his parents had held him only long enough to take him to
the monastery. When his parents dropped them off, instead of riding off
together his mother is slain by his father who is in turn slain by elves who
banished him for his love of a human woman. 

Derkylos then stopped his meditation, realizing that nothing would ever be
able to neutralize an object with this much force. Continuing to try would
be insanity and most likely drive him mad. With that thought in his head
Derkylos then began thinking of how to discard this weapon of immense power
so it could no longer be used by anyone. Derkylos sat there thinking a
while, when he realized the best place would be his current position, no one
had been here in years it was perfect. Glancing at the dagger in his hand
one last time he almost could not bear to get rid of it, the touch was warm
and the power was trying to entice him once again. Glancing around he took
note of a well that had been covered in vines, 'This is where the final
resting place of this object should be, away from those it would hurt. No
power this great should exist and you must be destroyed ' Derkylos said to
himself and to the dagger. Tossing the weapon into the well, making sure to
cover it with stones and rocks to ensure no one would ever find it. He then
packed up his things, thinking it would be best to move away before anyone
saw him and got suspicious of what he was doing in such a place, Derkylos
then moved on making his way back to the holy order of the stars, hoping he
would forget any such thoughts of the dagger. 

Sender  Gnash
Date    Sat Dec 13 19:17:54 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart:"For I will have vengeance"


Darkness, just plain darkness. And a grand, pounding pain in his head.
Growling quietly Gnash opens his eyes. "That cursed knight!" he mutters as
he events before the black out come back to his dizzy head. The last thing
he can properly remember is the silvery hilt of the sword striking him right
between the eyes. The goblin glances around his surroundings and nods
slowly. The place seems familiar. It is a dark night, but his heat sensing
eyes need not such thing as light. Light.that stirs something in the back of
his head. Suddenly he curses aloud and jumps to all fours on the ground,
intensely searching for something. Realizing that he will not find what he
is looking for a terrifying expression of rage crosses his face and he howls
with a horrible sound that can be heard miles away:"It's GONE!
GOOOOONEEEEEEE!". then he continues quietly "That knight shall pay, and he
shall pay for long and pray for death. Yes he will pay"

For without knowing what he did the knight of Solamnia, Kael Encuintras, who
had knocked Gnash unconscious, took the note Gnash had captured from the
Dragonarmy courier. The heart of the lantern the knight took had not held a
candle, but the letter covering details about the missing Knife of Dracart.
Sitting back to calm down Gnash thinks about where the knight might be
headed for. "I need the damn note and my superiors take my head for losing
such thing" he thinks "And I want my vengeance too" For a while the goblin
just sits there and ponders about different possibilities. Finally he
decides that the knight was most likely heading for Sanction or Neraka.
Standing up, he starts to stumble back the road he had come from before this
unfortunate collision with the knight. As Gnash walks away his last words
still seem hang on air itself: "By the name of my Lord Morgion, I will have
revenge up on this foolish knight or I will die trying" 

Sender  Rodin
Date    Sun Dec 14 09:07:05 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart


From the journal of Rodin Greenleaf, Kagonest monk of Majere:

I sit here, In the same room from where I wrote my last entry. A day or a
bit more has passed in between these entries and much has happened during
that time. Terrifying things have happened during that time. Terrifying
things that I fear can down the world into eternal darkness.

The last night, for me, was a night of horrors. I did not sleep a minute,
for all my strength and concentration was focused on grasping control of
myself. The dagger did all it could in order to lure me into using it. It
offered power, chances of being the greatest fighter in the world, one of my
life long dreams. And when it noticed that offers of power did not have the
desired effect, it tortured me with the most dreadful memories of my past.
As the morning sun rose, the room felt like it would be too small for me and
the dagger. It seemed to me that the whole Krynn was too small for both me
and the dagger. Still hardly controlling myself I left for the docks, where
I would board a ship to get rid of this tool of Evil for good. This is where
the darkest thing of this entry happens. I was betrayed by one of my own. By
one I could call brother. The evil knife possessed Derkylos, a fellow monk
of the Holy Order and in the shadows of the Great Arena of Palanthas, he
assaulted me. We traded blows, but In the end I fell from his blow and
drifted in to darkness.

As I woke up in the shadows of the arena I found, just as I suspected, the
knife gone. Instead of anger, I felt sorrow. Sorrow that poor Derkylos had
been possessed by the knife. Of course I also felt relief that he had not
killed me, for that indicates that in some part of his mind he still is my
old friend. And of course I am not that eager to leave Krynn again. I must
also deem that I was lucky, for my small amount of golden coins had not been

Now I have returned to the Smiling Mug Tavern, where I used my last few
coins to rent this room. It is time to make decisions. In my mind I am going
through all those things Derkylos has ever said, and from there I am trying
to find a hint where he could go with the dagger. 

(A bit later entry)

I am disappointed, I have not been able to figure any place where Derkylos
might go with the dagger. As I remember he has not talked a lot about his
past, or places important to him. If I am going to try and find him, it will
be a desperate search. So my decision is this, I will travel around
Solamnia, trying to figure where he might be headed. If I will catch him,
maybe I can save both the dagger and the man himself.

(Yet a later entry)

Thank you Lord. Wandering in Palanthas surrounds, I found two farmers who
had witnessed a man fitting to description of Derkylos leaving south towards
Solamnic Plains along the Knight's High Road. As I have travelled south I
have found more witnesses that have seen someone looking like Derkylos. I
have also witnessed the horrors of this dagger. Today as I entered a
village, I found out that at about same time that Derkylos had passed, two
men, before best friends, had killed each other. Also from a merchant
travelling towards Palanthas I heard an alarming rumor. According to this
merchant, somewhere south in the Solamnic plains a mob led by a wizard had
attacked a lonely monk. Now I must make haste. I will pray the Derkylos is
still alive, but for now this is not my main concern. The dagger is more

Sender  Derkylos
Date    Sun Dec 21 07:08:09 2008
Subject The post regrets (Knife of Dracart)


Waking up, feeling cold and bloody from the beating he recieved from the
mage, Derkylos first took a few minutes to first realize where he was. He
sat up, feeling the pains from his ribs and the back of his head, and stared
around with a blank look on his face. "Where am i? What happened?" were the
first thoughts to come to his head. Then he rememberd, he had done battle
with the dagger and before he could overcome it he put it in the well. With
that thought and not another he strained to get up, after a couple tries and
some seriously painful feelings, he succeeded. Slowly walking over to the
well he looked inside only to find the dagger had gone missing. 'SHIT!' he
said aloud to himself and no one else because he was alone. 'I don't really
give a damn about the mage he deserves whats coming but that power must not
be released on krynn, I must wield its power for control and not domination'
he said. It was then that he realized it, the cold feeling, not from the
weather or the lack of gear he had, but the cold of being without the
dagger. The warmth of its blade, the enticing power, without this he was
nothing. If he would have had the dagger and just embraced it he would not
be laying here, damn near naked. Realizing what he must do he decided to
rest for a few days, heal his body with his mind, and then set out in search
of this dagger once again. 

rest for a few days, heal his body with his mind, and then set out in search
of this dagger once again. Tower. Feeling the pub was the best place to find
answers he walked inside and sat down, looking for the person who would know
all the towns gossip. 'You, would you please come over here for a minute?'
Derkylos asked the man sitting in the corner, huddled in the middle of
another group of men whispering like women. 'Me? Now why would i want to do
that, eh?' was the mans reply. Derkylos stood up and walked over to this man
'I will ask you one more time, will you please join me at my table?'
Derkylos said with less patience. The mans reply was simple 'No.'Derkylos
nodded, 'If that is your wish then thank yourself' in a single swift motion
Derkylos picked up the man and hurled him into the chair that was sitting
across from where he was previously sitting, 'Thank you for complying'
Derkylos said with a slight smile as he walked over and sat down across from
the now frightened man. 'I'll make this simple, has there been a mage that
has passed through this town in the past few weeks? Acting odd, even for one
of those mamby pamby mages?'the mans reply came swift and unsarcastic now
'Yes, was walking round, talking to himself and would answer anyone who
tried to talk to him back, came paid for a room and went to study, got up
the next morning and that was the last we saw of him.' the man finally got
out after a little bit of fear induced stuttering. 'Good, now since you were
so rude to me you will pay for my ale, and my room as an apology, go inform
the barkeep and you will keep your limbs.'"I must find this dagger again,
its power was much too comefortable, if i could have had that this would
have been prevented, i must embrace the power and let it engulf me in its
glory." Derkylos continued to think about this as he walked to his paid for
room and laid his head down. Dreams had haunted him that night, nightmares
had comforted him. The only dream that stuck out in Derkylos' mind was the
one where he had the dagger in his posession and was challenged by none. A
dream about traveling the world where there was no war for any who sought to
start one turned up dead, with a single mark carved into their back. The
mark at this point was shrouded in a blrruy fog, but he was sure it would
become clearer once he had the dagger in his posession once again. 

Awaking the next morning, filled with a sense of renewed need for this
dagger Derkylos had set out across the Solamnic Plains in search of rumor of
this mage who attacked him and last had the dagger, as far as he knew. Once
he had come to the middle, or what looked to be the middle, of the plains he
stared ahead, having an eerie feeling, and continued walking forward
cautiously. After another few minutes of walking he came upon a shadowed
figure once again, remembering when he had started his quest that he had an
arrangement with this figure he tried to walk around, to avoid questioning
but it was effort that ought not to have been spent for the figure had seen
him already. 'Have you brought any news of any powerful artifacts that we
had once talked of?' 'No, i have not been in the halls much lately to have
time to do research for you.' Derkylos started walking again, surely the
figure would not follow him. 'You know something your not telling me, I have
heard rumors of a monk that possesed a dagger of quite some power, a monk
that fits your description.' 'Well there are a dozen monks that look like
me, go ask them.'The monk heard a slight rustling of robes, then felt very
confused. Things that were stationery started moving, walls appeared when
there were none, he could not find the words in his head to speak. Locating
the robed figure who was staring at him intently Derkylos heard two things
the first was the voice of the robed figure 'I told you rewards were great,
i did not mention failure would be deadly.' the second thing Derkylos heard
was the bone crunching crack from the figures mace smashing down on
Derkylos' head, before drifting into unconciousness Derkylos reflected yet
again upon how this would not have happened, if he had only kept the

Sender  Luerk
Date    Sun Dec 21 09:29:55 2008
Subject Knife of Dracart: Sitting on your throne (1)


Lord Luerk Trell, Highlord of the Green Dragonarmies, sat quietly in his hall, sitting deep in his throne. The gnarled wooden seat once stood proudly in an elven chamber, an heirloom of some obscure lord. It was a thing of beauty then, intricately carved and luminescent -- but it stood broken now. Dyed a dark hue and the captive of a darker men. Lord Trell treasured it, and also loathed it. Yes, he was pleased to own such a display of artistic skill. Imbued and blessed, it was without a doubt a grand display. But Lord Trell knew what it really was -- a reminded of what he once was. And from time to time, the back was uncomfortable. But as he sat, his delicate fingers massaged his brow in an attempt to alleviate his headache. The current state of affairs exhausted him, as all efforts to recover the Dragonarmies' most prized tool proved fruitless. The Knife of Dracart. The dagger was an instrumental cog in the creation of draconian soldiers, and now the dragonarmies were left vulnerable. The eggs stood as dead assets, while ranks steadily thin. The Knife must be recovered quickly. Luerk saw now end to his troubles. It was boggling enough that a single man sowed monstrous chaos, but a member of the Conclave? This did not bode well at all. White robed magi tend to be smug and irritating, but they are rarely fools. Luerk found it hard to believe that the dead magi acted alone. Any number of Conclavians could be responsible. High Archmage Lelthas, Highmaster Elinos, or the fool Jendaron! Luerk gritted his teeth, agonizing at the thought of his rival landing such a devastating blow. Delicate. Luerk would have to proceed delicately -- there were forces greater than himself involved. Perhaps he could engaged Jendaron or Elinos alone. But the thought of facing magi two was not encouraging. But how he longed to lash out! His ire was great, and he craved for someone to abuse. His own turmoil did not help his mood. But he was only a smolder compared to the Emperor. No, the Emperor had not been kind, ..., though he wasn't known to be a gentle man. The strangled page was evidence of that, the poor lad's throat crushed shut by the Emperor's strong fingers. Luerk recalled how the boy gurgled, how his eyes pleaded for mercy. Luerk hoped somewhere, in the nethers of the abyss, in between his squeals of pain, the white-robed intruder wept for the innocent blood on his head. The Emperor quivered with rage, causing the ragdoll body to tremble too. It was beyound grotesque, like some sick marionette made too real. Luerk sneered as he recollected, his long fingers restlessly tracing lines in his throne. The Emperor rules with fear, but he was a reckless, wasteful man... (Continued...) Sender Luerk Date Sun Dec 21 10:40:14 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart: Look into your glass (2) {---
Lord Luerk Trell detested the Emperor. Whether or not he was chosen by the Queen, he was careless and arrogant. Even the great lizards constantly tested his will. Finally, Luerk withdraws from his own thoughts and opened his eyes. Nothing had changed in the last hour, though he half expected various subordinates to scurry forth, nervously announcing the Emperor's arrival. Almost daily the man demanded good news from Luerk, and when disappointed growled orders to scourge harder. Scheming for the unforeseeable future is exhausting, but Luerk also cast his mind into the arcane corridors. Opening his awareness to the flow, Luerk hopes to catch a passing flux of the Knife. But his aggressive searching was difficult and dangerous. Though the Knife is powerful, Krynn is deep and wide. Easily enough, Luerk managed to recreate the magi's portal. But from there, the trail goes cold. Luerk also fears being detected by any Conclavians. If, as he suspects, the Conclave conspires against the Dragonarmies, then he must be wary. Glancing to a simple pedestal to his right, Luerk peers into the ichorous juice contained. It swirls ceaselessly, though painfully slow. Through the vile portal, the Lords of Doom pour black, acrid smoke into the air. The precarious city of Sanction bustles below, a surviving hub of crime and cruelty. Luerk gently strokes his chin, wondering if the Knife has eluded his enemies. Is it possible, such an immensely powerful artifact unknowingly smuggled and stolen? Curious, Luerk mutters aloud "I suppose there is only one way to be sure..." Gripping the arms of his throne, Luerk lightly lifts himself. His arms creak slightly, though the pain soon subsides. Gathering his uniform at the throat, he motions to his aid... Sender Dante Date Mon Dec 22 21:10:49 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart- Conscripting Informants. {--- It was late evening and Dante was stalking after a very odd couple, a Minotaur and a Half-elf that had been asking questions about the knife. He smirks as he sees the Minotaur enter an inn as the half-elf waits outside. He thought about rushing the Half-elf now since he was alone but by the time he had decided against it, the Half-elf had gone into the inn. He sighs as he follows him into the inn. The Minotaur was interrogating another man about information about the knife and Dante sat down, listening to what the minotaur was saying to the man. He takes a sip of his drink and curses as someone he knows walks in. It was Highmaster Luerk. What the hell was he doing here? This complicates things. Glancing over at Luerk Dante slides back into the shadows. By the time Dante turned his attention back to the Minotaur, it and the Half-elf were sitting together now, talking quietly. He strained to hear what they were saying but it was really no use. Suddenly the Half-elf jumps up, drawing a sword and a dagger and closing the gap between himself and Dante rather quickly. The Minotaur roars and rushes at Luerk. The half-elf throws a dagger at Dante, who easily moves out of the way, and stands drawing his long curved blade and kicking a table out of his way. The fight was short and interrupted by Luerk jumping on Dante as he was reaching for the Half-elf who lay on the ground. Dante quickly rolls to his feet, his face finally being revealed. He lowers his blade and glares at Luerk. He exchanges a few words with the arrogant Highlord but doesn't really pay attention. He loathes Luerk and his arm twitches wanting to strike at the man. With a profound distaste he sheathes his sword and does as the Highlord says. Pulling a length of rope from his pack he moves and hogties the Minotaur who had been slept by a spell from Luerk. The beast smelled awful, but he was soon tied enough so he couldn't move. Luerk took the Half-elf into custody and had Dante wake the Minotaur and bring him along. Dante curses inwardly as he wakes the beast and cuts his feet loose so he can walk. He glares at Luerk as they disappear outside into the streets of Sanction. Sender Valen Date Tue Dec 23 03:15:00 2008 Subject Establishing new ties {--- Valen Haakan was born to a lovely human couple in the region of Icereach. Known to outsiders as the Icefolk or Arktos, the people of Icereach led a generally fulfilling and civilized, if not hermit-like, existence. Contact with the northern parts of Ansalon was few and far between. However, by the time of Valen's 16th Day of Joy (the Arktos' synonym for a birthday), the elders of the tribe decided that survival dictated that trade and commerce lines be established between the rest of Ansalon and certain parts of Icereach. In order to establish the contacts needed for such a momentous task, the Arktos had to send a champion as an ambassador to the northern regions. As a young devout of Majere, Valen was chosen for this quest. The Arktos care deeply for their own, and therefore take neither side of good or evil when in battle. Valen was sent to northern Ansalon and the great township of Solace to seek the Holy Order of the Stars as part of the initiation of his journey. The story goes that the Starmaster received the request of the Arktos with much enthusiasm, since the Arktos were known to be fearless hunters and would undoubtedly provide a steady stream of new talent to the Order of Neutrality. This was to be the beginning of the Haakan legacy. OOC: Valen is petitioning to join the Holy Order of Balance. Sender Rodin Date Tue Dec 23 20:46:01 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart: The hunt continues {--- From the journal of Rodin Greenleaf, Kagonesti monk of Majere It has been some days since my last entry. I haven't had time to write, actually I would not have time to write now either, but a lot has happened today and I need to dissolve this tangle of problems in my mind. And the easiest way to do this for me is writing. At first I must quickly sum up what I have done in past few days so the events of this day would make sense to anyone who might ever read this. Since the last entry I wrote I have been desperately hunting down Derkylos, but he seemed to always be a step ahead of me. The further south I travelled, more rumors about mob attacking lonely monk came to my consciousness. I also heard rumors of mage with a dagger. Even then I had to make a hard decision if I should track down this mage or Derkylos. I chose to track down Derkylos. Now It seems that I was wrong, maybe I would have been able to find mage before he disappeared, maybe not. But that brings me to what happened today. It was this morning just a hour after dawn that I finally found Derkylos. He lay on the Solamnic Plains covered in his own blood, unconscious. It took all my skill with herbs and little help from Majere to bring him back to state of consciousness. Of course I first searched his body and surroundings to see if he still had the dagger. But as I assumed the dagger was long gone. As the Half-Elven monk came back around he first had no Idea where he was. I feared he might have lost his memory for good and could not tell me anything about the dagger. Luckily the events quickly became back to his head. He told to me how he had lost the dagger to a mage and how he later had been knocked out. Actually he told me everything that had happened after he had got the dagger into his possession. Having heard what I wanted I left Derkylos, I know it was not a right thing to do, but I do want to take the risk that he would betray me again. This writing has cleared my thoughts a bit, and I have decided what will be my next destination. I assume that the mage has left for Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth and this is where I will be headed too. I know that it may be impossible for me to get in, but I will try. I can not risk that the dagger would be used by a mage. Their training might keep them away from the temptations of the dagger, but if it would notI can not imagine what the dagger could be used for in the hands of a powerful mage. Sender Valas Date Wed Dec 24 08:43:03 2008 Subject The Knife of Dracart. (Damned the Luck) {--- The trip to Sanction was fairly uneventful for Valas, a few minor skirmishes with lesser beings, but nothing unexpected in such treacherous territory. The roads were still unusually busy. Not a good sign. Something big was happening and Valas was not a part of it, had very little information on it even. He knew this Knife must be involved. He had heard little else in the way of gossip during this ridiculous journey. He was entering foreign territory and he was ill equipped. He knew a new acquaintance from his recent alliance with a mercenary band. The minotaur was named Kaiba, although not the most subtle of companions, he was a hulking beast. He was minotaur, and he carried other skills Valas might find useful. "Damned that Khan... I will most certainly set up a meeting between this precious knife of his and his own lungs for sending me on this mission..." Of course Valas no longer considered the deal they made viable. The man knew more than he let on and did not tell Valas before hand. That means he considered the assassin expendable, it was insulting. Few ever survived Valas' displeasure. None who had ever insulted him. Staring a little too long at Kaiba, the minotaur looked at him uncomfortably. "Do not worry, if what the Khan said was true, we may yet make a fortune from this venture. Or we will find our deaths." The minotaur merely nodded, he wasn't much for speaking when he did not have to. Valas was glad for that. He was not the type to keep company on a regular basis. Valas continued his pace, with a few hours they would reach Sanction. The wind picked up slighly, Valas didnt like the greasy feel or the death filled stench of it. He draped his cloak closer about him and pulled his cowl low, hiding his face completely. Resting his hands upon his weapon pommels easily, he just sighed and kept walking. Sender Valas Date Wed Dec 24 09:15:33 2008 Subject The Knife of Dracart. (Damned the Luck cont) {--- Valas finally reached the gate, he had slowed his gait to lag far behind the minotaur. It was better if no one connected them right away. Valas and the minotaur had agreed on a simple means of signalling each other, he passed Kaiba a small piece of reflecting glass, kept one himself. They continued along searching for some means of finding out about the one known as "The Blue Baroness" and they were having little luck. Valas signalled to Kaiba shortly before they came to an intersection in the hideous city. He realized they could search for days and find nothing, they needed a place to work from. Informants they could bribe, bully, or otherwise bluff into shedding some much needed information. Seeing a shabby, run-down inn on the corner he decided that it was worth a shot. No one important would be caught in a place like that, and most would willingly share rumors and such for the price of a few cheap drinks. He let Kaiba enter first, staying behind to get his bearings and note the best exits from the inn and the city itself. This place wasnt the type to be kind to strangers. Kaiba was stranger than most... Valas entered after awhile and found a quiet seat with his back to the wall and a view of the entire room. Kaiba was already starting trouble, pushing the drunkards around and probing about the knife in a voice loud enough to annoy the Gods. Valas simply sat back and watched everyone's reaction to the spectacle. None took enough interest to be suspicious, except for one man. He could not be identified other than he was armed, and well at that. Kaiba chased the man out of the inn... Not the plan Valas had in mind, but as soon as he left another curious patron entered. He was not dressed like the scum that filled such a place. His manner and grace were not even human. It was obvious to Valas who shared a bit of elven blood himself. Kaiba re-entered shortly afterwards and went back to the bar searching for his next victim. Valas decided the next victims had already presented themselves. Both were being a bit too curious and Valas knew then they had to make their move. He moved up next to Kaiba and spoke aloud some nonsense about his gratitude towards his latest victim and silent pointed the elf out to Kaiba. The minotaur was thick headed and didnt quite get it. Frustration over-ruling caution, Valas chucked a glass at the elf and charged the well armed stranger while screaming for Kaiba to act! He finally did, and a quick battle ensued. Valas knew the dangers of attacking outright, people he knew nothing about. His suspicions were soon confirmed. Kaiba was snoring loud enough to shake the flimsy walls of the inn, his own opponent was a well trained soldier. Valas could not hope to win. (The rest of this story can be referenced from Dante's previous story - Conscripting Informants. It was all taken from a rather long IC Luerk, Kaiba, Dante and I did a short while ago) Sender Dante Date Wed Dec 24 17:55:15 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart -A new mission- {--- Dante takes steps two at a time, cursing Saige. -Damn him! Damn him to the Abyss- He speaks within his mind and bursts through the door at the bottom of the steps. Immediately he saw the two Sivak Draconians standing next to horses. He strides toward them, his spear held low. "Rastar and Viraas I presume?" He says but doesnt give them time to answer. "Lose the horses and the heavy armor. We travel light, we travel fast. Meet me at the docks in an hours time." One of the Sivaks start to say something but Dante interrupts. "Know that I do not need, nor want you with me. Do say do I will not hesitate to kill you my damned self. Understood?" He snarls as he speaks and then turns to leave. "Like some soldier could.." one of the sivaks start but his words are cut off as Dante sweeps its feet out from beneath him. The tip of the spear is pressed against the Sivaks neck before he hits the ground. The other one reaches for his sword but suddenly realizes there is a blade pressed against his neck. "Do as I say or I will kill you both." He says before sheathing his Katana and leaves the courtyard. He moves swiftly through Sanction, toward where Luerk and his Greens were staying. He smirks as he enters the inn unnoticed through a window and slowly draws his Katana, looking down at the sleeping man. It was the Half-elf he fought not a day ago. He had information and Dante needed it. He grins as he kicks the bed, waking the Half-breed. Sender Ayasana Date Wed Dec 24 22:23:31 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart and other False sightings. {--- Grabbing the last of the documents, and cramming them into the mapcase, Aya headed out the doors, followed closely by her guards. "Of all the inconsiderate foolishness..." she fumed. Walking down the Grand Staircase to the courtyard, she snapped the shadowy cloak from an attendents hands, flinging it around her shoulders. Starfire waited patiently with the six other blue dragons and their riders, the escort for this journey. I hate Sanction, I hate Sanction in the winter, that foolish... She continued to grumble as she took to the saddle, fastening the straps. The courtyard was quiet otherwise,no one wanting to draw the attention of the enraged little baroness. Not this time. "How could this happen?" she thought to herself. "First, sightings of too many knives, so obviously false ones were being reported." She looked back at the other riders, nodding, then bowing head in prayer, she asked the Great Blue to take wing. Starfire nodded, and with a mighty roar, launched up with powerful wings into the sky, as the others took their cue and followed. "Now," she continued in thought,"Now my Queen is being sighted by every lunatic and Gully on Krynn! Such Blasphemy! Taking so lightly the Holy name of Takhisis!" Someone would pay for this, and dearly. For now, her ire was directed at her Highlord, Saige. That fool! Sanction of all places. This was going to be a long flight. Sender Dante Date Sat Dec 27 10:15:35 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart -Stealing a prisoner- {--- Dante kicked the bed, but of course the Half-elf wasnt in it. He crouched in a corner sprouting a witty remark about kicking beds as a hobby. He smirks to himself as he tells the half-elf to tell what he know about the knife. He of course had to make things difficult and Dante gripped his Katana tighter, keeping a rein on his anger. Finally the Half-elf cooperates and tells him very little about how he knew what it looked like and something else. That was honestly more than Dante knew so He ordered the Half-elf to come with him to find it. After some witty banter He agreed and moved to ready himself. "What do you think youre doing with my prisoner?" A very unpleasant voice says from the darkness. It was of course Luerk and Dante was kind of taking his Prisoner. Words were exchanged, but Luerk surprisingly let them go and even gave them supplies. Smirking Dante shakes his head and follows after Valas out the window and then lead him to the Docks where the Sivaks, Rastar and Viraas, waited. He spoke to a Captain of a ship painted black and then beckoned the others onboard. Soon they were underway and floated through the water, the moons bright over head. He stands at the railing, looking out over the water. His vision darkens and He starts to hear His Queens voice, whispering things to him. She calls him to Her again and he willingly goes. Soon his Queen floats around him, whispering to him, filling his mind once more with images. Again there was a Great Red Dragon and the tall man with black hair and a green cloak. Then there was a single image of a monk and then one of a huge ogre in black robes. "Find this monk, My hunter. He has information for you.." Takhisis whispers to him and he bows his head. "Of course my Queen. It will be done." He replies almost woodenly. His Queen Laughs mercilessly and sends him rushing back to reality. He falls to his knees, gasping for air. He must of held his breath the whole time. Shaking his head he looks up. He stands and grins as he sees shore fast approaching. "Valas, Get the Draconians and get ready to land." He says, his eyes glinting in the darkness. Sender Leodas Date Sun Dec 28 02:07:56 2008 Subject High Archmage Leodas of the Red [Knife of Dracart (Konan/Derkylos)] {--- The whispers on the still winds of the Tower had reached his ears as he stood over the scrying pool: Lelthas had retired from the Head of the Conclave and from the post of High Archmage. A small smile crept onto the normally stoic face of the Archmage of the Red Robes; it was not malicious, nor was it ambitious. He respected the former High Archmage, though he felt that the man held the post far too long. As he leaned further over the scrying pool, he pondered how old Lelthas really was. Moments later, a man and a minotaur, found themselves in an epic battle with an unknown magic user. They faught valiantly as fire and smoke engulfed the room but soon found out their opponent was no longer there. The red robed Archmage stood around the corner, gazing out of the window of a different Tower; this tower looked out upon the plains before Thorbardin. He gave the two time to settle back down while they grumbled about hauntings and whatnot. The Archmage, Leodas, knew the minotaur well; he had fought with him before and won, of course. His name was Konan, and he served Takhisis and the Dragonarmies. Leodas would discover, later, that the other man was named Derkylos. He knew what they were after, and he wanted it. Not long after the two settled back down, the Archmage reentered the room, unbeknownst to his opponents. After the two were quickly subdued, the man began questioning them about the Knife of Dracart. To his displeasure, they knew little, though the man named Derkylos had it once, and that was a lead that the Archmage could go off of. Disgusted, he left them unconscious in that Tower and disappeared. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Archmage of the Red stood silently in his room, putting together the pieces of the puzzle he had uncovered so far. Chasing down this Knife of Dracart was not unlike searching for Shinare's treasure: there were so few clues and a myriad of potential locations. He would have to put the Knife off for now, however, and hope that it would find its way to him. A smile appeared on his face, though, this time it was slightly different. The malice was still gone, but the ambition had managed to make a small appearance. There were no other worthy candidates for the role of High Archmage. Perhaps worthy was not even the right word; there were no other candidates, period. His descent down the Red Tower was quick. He chose to forgoe the stairs, as always. He was dressed simply: a crimson robe and a staff with a garnet stone at its tip. He made no sound as he strode calmly, purposefully towards the Hall. He entered the Hall to a clamor; people were arguing loudly with eachother: who should be the next Head of Conclave? Do we need a Head of Conclave? Who will be the next High Archmage of Red? The Archmage saw several red robes seated on the red chairs, new to the Hall of Mages. He, certainly, did not know why they were there, and he most definitely did not understand why they felt they deserved to be arguing. As he strode to the center of the half-circle, he allowed his staff to make noise when it struck the ground, each step growing steadily louder. When he reached the center, most of the mages looked at him, while a few continued whispering arguments from the sides of their mouths. Leodas stood calmly and looked at each of the three groups slowly before speaking: "I am claiming the position of High Archmage." Without waiting for a response, the red robed figure turned and walked from the room, his staff making no sound. Sender Raelin Date Sun Dec 28 02:45:39 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart: Archmage Raelin Starblade of the Red {--- Two red robed magi stood in a silent courtyard, the wind chilling their bones. They paid the freezing cold no heed, for they had far more important things on their minds. A shiny blade with a curved handle lay stationary on the palm of a disembodied hand floating strangely in between the two magi. One of the wizards ventured to speak. "This is the Knife of Dracart, Archmage Leodas, the weapon that I have procured from the possession of the dark monk. I have heard of Lelthas' retirement from the Conclave and his relinquishment of the Order's leadership, thus I have turned to you for guidance in this trying time. There have been many legends regarding this blade, and none of them have dared take the power of the Knife lightly. It is a dangerous weapon." The archmage nodded briefly in agreement but did not speak. His brows furrowing in intense thought. The two wizards both knew what had to be done with the weapon, but neither wanted to enunciate his intention. A weapon such as this could be used to maintain balance in the world, but no single mage could possibly control it. Much has been heard about the knife's ability to cause dissension and chaos. It must be kept out of the; public eye until a method was concocted to restrain and subdue the knife's whims. No one else must know about it. The magi did not speak, but they knew what the other was thinking. So together, they cast a magical portal to realms unknown, past where even the most seasoned adventurer could seek. In the heights of the eastern Khalkist mountains and in the depths of a desolate cave, the red robed master and archmage erected a magical sanctuary and threw the knife far into it. Such was the strength of the incantation that without the concurrence of either of the two mages, the seal to the cave could not be opened except through death. Then they left, comforted in the knowledge that the Knife was safe, at least for now. --------------------------------------------------- It has been three days since the council to the Order of Lunitari first convened in the Hall of Mages to determine the new High Archmage of the Red. Still, there was no resolution but only endless bickering amongst the power-hungry magi. I have felt the power of the Knife in my hands and I must contain it. Already, the Knife seeks to plant a creature of ambition into the leadership of my Order -- one who would indubitably lead us into oblivion. There appears to be only one person I can trust. I stood up amongst the crowd of magi and hoped that the adrenaline-induced courage would not suddenly leave me. "I vote aye for Archmage Leodas to be the next High Archmage." I inhaled a quick breath even as the magi turned their gazes upon me. "And I am claiming the position of Archmage." Sender Luerk Date Sun Dec 28 10:10:06 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart: Sanction Stirs...(3) {---
Luerk Trell growled in pain has the cleric tightly wound the lord's injured hand. Shielding them from the rough cleric, Luerk gently flexed his fingers, testing his delicate hands. His hand ached, and already blood stained through the clean white linens. Lord Trell cursed silently, lamenting the toll his injury would take on his spellcasting. "Clean wrappings in the morning Highlord. I will personally prepare the salve." Luerk waved away the cleric, who saluted and took his leave. The injury was not critical, but Lord Trell dared not risk a serious infection. His hands were damaged enough from his Test and severely sliced fingers only mad casting more difficult. "Curse you Dante!" Luerk hissed the name as he rubbed his eyes in annoyance. "You are cause me more irritation than you?re worth." Lord Trell blamed the man for exposing the Dragonarmies too soon. How else could the mercenary have identified them so easily in Sanction? Gathering his uniform at the neck, Luerk Trell walked through a sidedoor to reach the parapet overlooking the keep. Dante was too hasty, too eager to whet his blade. The mercenary, and his minotaur companion, had gathered valuable information. It seems that word concerning the Knife of Dracart spread quickly. The Dragonarmies were not allow in their search. The mercenary, Valas, and the minotaur Kaiba, were the only leads Luerk had to the Knife. The two surrendered easily enough, it was obvious that both Dante and Luerk heavily outmatched them. Luerk frowned, remembering the brawl. Valas was too keen, Luerk noticed the man's eyes on him as he entered the Blue Baroness. The Sanction tavern was dirty and gritty, even for the inferno-town. Several leads led the Highlord to the city, though he did not expect to apprehend two mercenaries. The Knife was arcane, and he expected magi and clerics. But two simple sword sells? Hmm, but perhaps not so simple. The human, Valas, intrigued Luerk. Valas and Kaiba had a simple plan. The hulking minotaur was the front, the decoy. He poked and prodded until he found someone willing to talk. All the while, Valas avoided attention and gauged the interest of eavesdroppers. Dante would have been easy to spot. Far too cliche, too interested in too detached of a way. But Luerk wondered why he was as easily caught. Indeed, Valas had directed his partner to charge the Highlord. So, Luerk admitted he was easily spotted, but also vastly underestimated. He easily befuddled the minotaur's mind, downing the huge beast. But it seems Luerk underestimated Valas as well. The mercenary winged a dagger at the Highlord, which Luerk only managed to avoid. (Continued in the next story) Sender Luerk Date Sun Dec 28 11:17:30 2008 Subject Knife of Dracart: Sanction Stirs Pt. 2...(4) {---
The blade slide through his fingers and palms, spilling blood onto the grimy tavern floor. But Valas' attack cost him, as Dante took the opportunity to engage. Dante was easily riled by Valas, though Luerk guesses the soldier would have easily beaten the man into submission. The two crossed blades until Luerk's timely intervention. Valas danced around Dante well enough, but Pitted against two superior opponents, Valas reluctantly Dante was easily riled by Valas, though Luerk guesses the soldier would have easily beaten the man into submission. The two crossed blades until Luerk's timely intervention. Valas danced around Dante well enough, but Pitted against two superior opponents, Valas reluctantly submitted. Both the minotaur and Valas were taken into Luerk's custody, though they came peacefully. Luerk mused over how to best deploy his newly acquired assets. They couldn't have been working independently -- they knew too much about the Knife. But mercenaries are mercenaries. They're all after the same thing. "Pity", Luerk thought, they're too short-sighted to see past the steel coin. Luerk smirked as his plan came together, as Valas fell prey to Luerk's mastermining. "Simple incentives tend to disguise the obvious threat." "The mercenary doesn't have much of a choice. Nontheless, I must make his lack of options ... more appealing." Luerk frowned as he wondered if the man could be trusted. Certainly not yet, but even in the future? Valas struck Luerk as a crude man. Cunning and skilled maybe, but surely low in ambition. "Yes, Valas is my key. But will he hunt for the dragonarmies? Of that I must be certain." Luerk stared intently into space, wondering how to win over the man. Then, smiling cruel to himself, he traced a crude circle into the stone parapet. "This man isn?t looking for power. Not yet. He's looking for his "This man isn't looking for power. Not yet. He's looking for his fortune." Drawing his hands together, Luerk turned to withdraw from the parapet. In his planning, he nearly missed a slinking figure slide across the sonte courtyard below. Dante, Lord Saige's underling, made his way to the prisoner "It seems that I must guard my prize ham against the greedy wolf.' Lord Luerk Trell turned away from the parapet and made his way to Valas. (OOC: This is Luerk's memory of the brawl involving Dante, Kaiba and Valas. It is also a prelude to Dante's latest story. Luerk's version of that to come soon!) Sender Valas Date Sun Dec 28 21:01:17 2008 Subject The Knife of Dracart. (Burning the Fields) {--- Valas looks over at Dante coldly and simply shakes his head. "Whether you care to believe it or not, I am not your prisoner, I do not take orders from you, and I do not like you." He turns his thoughts back inward, ignoring the man's presence entirely. Valas had little care for his current situation, he was hunting a knife and so he focussed on that. The problem was not going to be easily solved, it could be anywhere and he had not even a starting point to go from. He considered the possibility that this was some sort of a suicide mission, he was being sent to take the blame since the "powers that be" could not find it. Valas simply didnt care. He had been under the thumb of others all of his life. He hated them and he hated his inability to free himself from them. Shaking himself out of those feelings of weakness, he decided a methodical search would not suffice. It was time to make some noise and get noticed. If they could not find the knife, perhaps the knife would find them. He looked back once again at the man who had beaten him in a fair fight not a week ago, deciding it was time to put the muscle head to use. A plan began to form in his head, it was comparable to catching a snake with your bare hands. You simply had to find what it was after, make it come to you. "If all else fails... You simply burn the whole field until it has nowhere left to go." Valas turned, walked down the plank as soon as the ship had secured it's lines to the dock. He stood among the bustle of the fishermen, merchants, and sailors who were scurrying about everywhere. "What a fine field to burn..." He smiled grimly then, if this mission were a failure, he could always place the blame on the others. After all, he was not in charge. He waited for Dante and his brainless minions to catch up. Perhaps he could even angle the entire thing, success or fail, into his favor. These soldier types were never clever when it came to intrigue or subtlety. He might even be given a comfortable spot among this army. He simply could not deny that they were a force in this world, perhaps one of the most powerful given time... Sender Lars Date Tue Dec 30 02:22:50 2008 Subject Answering the Call [Knife of Dracart] {--- Lars moved swiftly through the streets of Neraka, making his way to the Temple. The rain had picked up on his way into town and hard winds blew it in almost from the side. It was late... very late. He had traveled through the night without rest for there was much urgency in reaching his destination. However, he didn't know why. Lars had woke in the night two days before, bullets of sweat tumbling off his skin. He was drawn to the Temple like a Kender is drawn to the bulging pockets of fat Solamnic. He knew his Queen beckoned for him, but why? Lars pushed open the doors to the Temple and moved inside. His hands jittered slightly from the red herbs he had eaten on the way. Those coupled with lack of sleep or rest had him wired, but he thought nothing of it. He was relieved to finally arrive at the temple. A wave of warmth from inside the temple brushed across his coarse skin like the soft caress of a woman. Lars felt at home... he felt welcomed. He removed his helm as he knelt in front of the altar - his eyes and head lowered in respect and submission to his Queen. Lars spoke softly. "Lady Takhisis, my Queen, what do wish of your servant?" At this moment the rain stopped its rhythmic pounding of the Temple's roof and the wind had all but ceased. The sheets of glass in the windows began to flex ever so slightly as the pressure in the room began to increase tremendously. The calm warmth had turned into a blazing inferno-like heat and the halls of the temple were filling with the anguish of the damned. His ears popped and his body pained as the pressure grew stronger. He dared not open his eyes. The cries echoing throughout the Temple became unbearable when the windows shattered violently. Lars fell forward onto his hands and knees as his discomfort turned to sheer pain. All of the sudden the horrid screams stopped. The tremendous pressure and heat pushing in on his body continued as a new sound filled the Temple. It was a deep, godly voice that spoke. He did not recognize it, but he knew to whom it belonged. The voice wavered slightly when it spoke, almost as if it was carried in on the breeze. "Lars, consider your thirst for riches and self-satisfaction quenched for now. That will perhaps come in time. You will seek out he who is known as Luerk Trell. My armies currently search for something of great importance to me... you will help them. Look for Luerk, a faithful Lord of my Green armies. He expects your arrival and will situate you within the ranks. Go now and do as I command." As soon as the voice had stopped a shrill ringing filled his ears. He grasped his head in agony and, overcome by the pain, fell to his side - unconscious. Lars opened his eyes slowly - he was on his back now. The Temple was calm and everything appeared to be in order. He looked around to see the windows still intact. A young priest of the Temple made his way quickly to Lars' side. "Are you okay?", the young priest asked. "What hap... where...." Lars looked the priest in the eyes now, obviously a bit confused. "What happened?" The priest replied, "You knelt by the altar and immediately fell over to your side. That's when I came over. Is everything okay?" Lars worked his way to his feet and peered down at the wiry young priest. "Yes... yes everything is fine." Lars grabbed his helm from the ground and moved to the exit. He was off to find the headquarters of the Dragonarmies where he hoped to find whom he sought. Sender Luerk Date Fri Jan 2 09:49:47 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart: The Blackwood Council(5) Highlord Luerk Trell sat comfortably at a new chair, one with a high backing and plush armrests, but lighter in construct than his usual throne. He rested his arms on the velvet rests, waiting for the last of his guests to arrive. The Highlord sat in contemplation, lightly stroking his chin. He sat at a long stone table with a smooth polished surface. The bindings were skillfully etched with motifs of the Dragonarmies. Seated along the stone table were several others, high ranking officers and commanders of the Green Dragonarmies. Luerk's gaze drifted lazily, picking out his hand chosen council. The recent growth in the armies' size brought considerable talent to Luerk, though he bitterly accounted for those who'd never returned. Dante. Kevril. Athin Kantiran. But in the end, no matter, for Highlord Trell had been industrious. Highlord Trell gathered to him a wide array of personnel to further the goals of the Queen. At last the herald announced the arrival of Colonel Filbas Tragarus of Ergoth. The bald man strode forth arrogantly, taking his seat at the high end. Behind him, his goblin wretch Dr'Gath slinked behind. As silence finally settled, Lord Trell coughed slightly to signal the beginning. He rose out of his seat, taking a moment to adjust his uniform, and then spoke. "Hail and well met, loyal of the green armies." The council saluted in unison, thumped their left breasts with closed fists. "Do you know who you are? Do you know who I am? Yes. Look deeply children, peer around. Do you know who WE are?" Luerk's speech spilled off his tongue, charming even the most coarse soldiers at the table. The men and women seated nodded grimly, most already well aware for the secretive meeting. Nontheless, Luerk continued. "No doubt our unfortunate situations has reached your ears. Yes, the Knife of Dracart is indeed missing. Our armies have been thrown into disarray." Luerk leaned over the table, laying his blackened hand on the cold stone. "We lack discipline. Unacceptable." Luerk snorted in disgust, straightening again. "In our current state, the green armies are the strongest. Our brute friends of the red and blue are still in shambles. Therefore it falls to us to retrieve the Knife. I'm sure you'll agree, no others are capable." Some members at the table murmured agreement, though most remained silent. They eagerly awaited what their Highlord had to say. Luerk reached into a dark leather pouch which sat unceremoniously on the table. He withdrew a fistful of rough sand, and scattered it across the table. "NNyrk yslpsid, nrettap otni soahc." At the arcane bidding, the sand gathered together to depict a map of the continent. The map was impressive, as it even measured to scale. Gathered grains formed piles to show mountain ranges, forests, capitals and so forth. As the last particles arranged themselves, Luerk swept his hands over the table. "We will be everywhere. Our army will stretch from Sancrist to Mirthas and Kothas. Every stone will be overturned, even dark corner scoured. We will find this Knife." (OOC ... continued) Sender Luerk Date Fri Jan 2 10:25:33 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart: The Blackwood Council (6) The gathered council examined the sand grain map, reveling in the attention to detail. Several muttered to themselves, taking note of some unidentified markers. A woman, beautiful but for the terrible scar that took his left eye spoke up, "Where shall you send us Highlord? But say the word and we shall be gone with the black wind." Highlord Trell smiled grimly at his protg, Captain Kestra Brine. The Nordmaarian woman was a skilled assassin, a true diamond in the rough. Luerk Trell had recruited her as a mere child, seeing to it that her training was complete, and difficult. But Captain Brine shode brightly, fueled by a deep passion to find approval. She owed her better life to Luerk, and she accepted it. Highlord Trell held up a hand, silencing the murmured of voices. Each guests pondered their fate, wondering where they would be asked to prove their worth. Some had already guessed it, but the unnamed markers accounted for all present and one extra. These ranged through the lands, from Taman Busuk to Ergoth and even Icereach. Luerk spoke once again, addressing the question at hand. "Indeed, I speak the words. Your attention to the map." Once again Highlord Trell reached into the pouch, but this time produced seven roughly carved miniatures. Each was unique, though simple in make. With little effort, Luerk also cast these on the table. Again the sand stirred, carrying each token to a marker. As the emblems slithered and slide across the sand, each guest found them bearing names. Highlord Trell called out names and posts, so that each token could be tracked and followed. Captain Kestra Brine, the young woman who had spoken, watched her token (a wickedly curved dagger) scurry into Palanthas. Latercomer Filbas Tragarus (a proudly war banner) saw his sail to Ergoth and Sancrist. He smiled smugly, as he was returning to his homeland. Colonel Than-Kar Salan (a dwarven hammer) also returned to his domain, the mountain kingdom of Thordbardin. The theiwar dwarf nodded solemnly, knowing his task would still be difficult. Lieutenant Darien Di Caela, a gruff looking Solamnic (and likewise a Solamnic shield) settled between Mirthas and Kothas, while a single token represented the twin conjurors Judicators Krythis and Lilith Krell. The half elven mages (crossed elven bows) scoffed as being assigned the simple area of Taman Busuk. But they understood that they?re talents required them to remain nearby. And lastly, the extra token bore the name of Highmaster Ayasana uth Matar. Her token remained in Neraka, though she might have made some comment at being left behind. Ayasana uth Matar, though a member of the blue dragonarmies, remained a confidant because of her connection to Highlord Saige. Lord Trell also knew her dragonmount would be instrumental into his plans. "Well then children, you?ve your tasks before you. Do not disappoint me." (OOC ... continued again.) Sender Luerk Date Fri Jan 2 10:58:06 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart: The Blackwood Council (7) Lord Trell saluted grimly, dismissing his guests. Some left quickly and quietly, hurrying to prepare. However, others remained to study the map, carefully plotting out their course. Luerk left the sand grain map lie, though he knew eventually the magic would fade. No matter, as the Highlord was wise enough to copy the plans to parchment. Each guest would find a smaller version in their chambers. Lord Trell?s own private hall was dominated by a full scale copy, with matching tokens as well. As Luerk passed along the table to retire, he stopped for a moment the look over his carefully laid plans. He swept the map, placing two fingers in two barren spots. From his pouch he retrieved more tokens. The first was a snake devouring a wolf, meant for Valas and Dante. He dropped the token lightly, and the sand carried the token away. The token followed the path the pair took, via the insignia Luerk had pressed to Valas. And finally, Luerk looked to Icereach. He removed his last token, two mighty horns. Luerk did not yet know who would be represented here, but the Queen guided his hand, and her servant would make themselves left known. Done, Luerk swept his hand over the grains which were blown away by an unfelt wind. As Lord Trell turned to leave, he was surprised to find the twins Krythis and Lilith. They saluted the Highlord and approached him. Krythis, a nervous twitchy man, spoke. "Forgive us Highlord, but where will you yourself be headed? Should the need arise, we must be able to contact you immediately." Luerk disliked Krythis, deeming his nervous nature to be a lack of courage and faith. But nonetheless, the conjouror?s talents could not be denied. But Lilith, Krythis' female counterpart, was another story Lord Trell was attracted the silent women, as she was the opposite of her brother. She was calm, with piercing eyes -- Luerk saw this as the mark of strength. To Krythis, Luerk replied. "The Queen bids me to see about her champion. Then, I must tend to the matter of meddling tower." Krythis inhaled sharply, fearful at the mention of the Conclave. "Then it is true? The Conclavians are to blame?" Luerk squinted at the man before answering. "Their involvement is undeniable. It was one magi who blundered the Knife away from us. Unfortunately, I was unable to gather much from the fool." Luerk sneered, remembering the broken corpse at the feet of the Emperor. "His body was ... beyond our power to repair. The Emperor is not a merciful man." With that, Luerk left the twins to their thoughts. (OOC: To note, the unnamed champion of Takhisis is Lars, as the set of stories here are in part connection to him. More to come, hopefully sooner rather than later.) (OOC: Also, please forgive any typos and such. It's late and I wrote this story rather quickly. Thanks!) Sender Rodin Date Fri Jan 2 16:36:52 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart "Just a glass of water please" Rodin said to the waitress as he took a glance around the common room of the Cracked Mug Inn near the outskirts of Wayreth Forest. Or rather near what would be outskirts of the Forest, because the Forest was nowhere to be seen. The off tune singing of the bard kept annoying Rodin, but it seemed that the few other people in the inn were enjoying it. Nodding to the waitress Rodin threw few of his last coppers on to the table as she brought him the water he had ordered. In reality the old elf hardly noticed the waitress, he was here on a mission. Rodin let his gaze wander around the inn looking for a suitable person. The inn was so close to Wayreth that some day a mage or an apprentice would pass through it. It was critical that he could deliver this message to the Tower. Once again he opened the small letter and read it to himself: To wizards and mages of High Sorcery. It has come to our attention that one of your mages has stolen a very powerful evil artifact from one of the monks of the Holy Order of Stars. If you know what artifact I am talking about, I request that we will meet or that at least a spokesman of the Conclave will be sent to hear what I have to say about this artifact. Fear not, for I am not going to demand you to return the artifact, but I have information about this artifact that you might not have and it is crucial that you hear what I have to say. I wish that meeting could be arranged as soon as possible, because I believe that you have no idea of how dangerous this artifact is. I am currently staying at Cracked Mug Inn. Rodin Greenleaf, Holy Order Light, Order of Majere, The protector of Majere's monastery. As he slipped the letter back to his pocket Rodin noticed a person that might fit his plans entering the common room. A man clad in red robes walked towards the table next to the fireplace and took a seat. As soon as the man took a seat Rodin arose and walked to his table. Without asking permission he took a seat for himself. "Who the hell?" the mages voice faltered as he felt knife pressed against his stomach under the table. "Now listen" Rodin hissed "I don't like doing this, but I must make sure that there are no misunderstanding between us. I will give you a letter to deliver to whoever leads the conclave, It can only be opened with mages from all three orders. Don't even bother trying to open this, because the sign has been blessed by a god. Deliver this or you will risk the wrath of all clerical orders of Ansalon. Do you understand!" he spoke quickly and as he heard the faltering "Yes" from the mage he was already leaving. Now everything he could hope for that the scared the mage enough to deliver the letter. Sender Xhanfest Date Sun Jan 4 17:09:31 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart/Rise of Wolf Clan The roar of the charging ogres dimmed the challenges of the human defenders. Fifty strong, the ogres charged the line of humans outside of the village. Screams from within the village could be heard, a faint blue glow emanating from within the town square. Tendrils of smoke wafted in the air, remains of the ogre's previous attack. Strewn among the ground were dozens of goblin corpses, victims of the Chieftan's decision of a grunt rush prior to the main attack. Yet the end result of their charge gave the advantage to the ogres. Weakened by the goblin assault, the defenders had little respite before the next wave hit. Xhanfest stood among his warriors, looking over each and every one of the Wolf Clan's mighty warriors. Long had he led this clan, waring with other clans had honed these warriors for the fighting they now faced. Leading the assault head on, he exhaulted in the chaos around him warriors tearing the human defenders apart with their blades, other ripping men limb from limb with their bare hands. This was the kind of thrill he lived for. As the music of battle whirled all around him, Xhanfest charged ahead of his clan, running straight for the heart of the town, where the woman and children wher being kept. He spotted the women and children hiding in the main hert of the village, cowering behind the flimsy wooden barricade erected to defend them against possible foes. Focusing his will on barricade, he drew an herb from a sack hanging from his belt, grinding it in his fingers he threw it at the house. Thin cracks popped into the energized air. Whisps of smoke traveled up from the base of the yert. He watched as the wood of the yert caught in his blue magical flame. He reached behind his back and wrapped one massive hand around the hilt of his bastard sword. Screams of women and children filled the air as the yert blazed with blue flame. Ogres poured into the town square, matts of flesh and hair covering their weapons, what remained of the town's defenders. Looking around at the devastation, satisfied Xhanfest strode over to one house off to the side of the village and ripped off the wooden door. Kneeling inside he began to search the house for any parchment. Whilst consumed with his search, commotion erupted from the village center. Ogres argued as a human survivor was found in a nearby abode. Hearing the commotion outside, Xhanfest withdrew from his search and walked over to two ogres holding a bloodied solamnic knight in between them, peering down at the wounded man he knew his injuries would claim the life of this one soon. Kneeling down to the knight, Xhanfest stretched one massive arm down and grasped the knight by the throat," Where is the order?" The knight's eyes glowed with a faint blue light, mirroring the Chieftan's very own. "Where is the order!", roared Xhanfest. Mumbling incoherently, the knight was thrown to the grown. Scrambling away from the giant ogre the knight did not make it a few inches before a massive booted foot smashed down against his knee, You know of which order I am speaking of human." Screaming in agony, the knight finally divulged the location of the order. Reaching up and unclasping his bastard sword, Xhanfest swung down, decapitating the knight. "My Wolves, we have a hunt." Fifty ogres roared as they surrounded their Chieftain. "Find these orders, there written of fancy white parchment. Ogres tore through the village looking for the orders their Chieftain commanded them to find. Finally, after hours of searching, one ogre returned bearing a white parchment roll. Breaking the seal, Xhanfest read through the orders furiously. Finished reading the parchment, he rolled his head back and roared into the air, summoning his clan. After the last of the ogres assembled, Xhanfest began telling them in ogrespeech of a knife lost by the Dragonarmies, and how so many are hunting for it. My clan, roared Xhanfest," We hunt now, for this human knife, in honor of our god, and our clan! The Wolf clan charged out of the ruined village heading for the first rumored location written on the parchment. Each one hungry for the hunt, yet Xhanfest had more than the hunt in his intentions for the knife. Sender Valas Date Wed Jan 7 13:05:06 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart (Because Im Going to Say Please) Valas Lynch stood quietly inside of the abandoned house staring hard at his latest source of information. A myriad swirl of thoughts were running through his head, most were just fleeting ideas on how to pose his line of questioning. The man himself was tied to a foul smelling chair, the last line of questioning had been rough. Stark fear was evident in his eyes and rigid posture. It was also evident in the growing puddle of blood and urine collecting at his feet. "Why show such loyalty for someone who would most likely leave you to this grim fate? Is it perhaps because you want this knife for yourself? Or do you fear your "Friends" more than you do me?" The man groaned slightly, he was barely clinging to consciousness. Valas cursed his draconian escort, cursed more Dante's lack of restraining them. Valas produced a small vial of harsh smelling herbs and liquids from one of the pockets in his cloak and dabbed it under the prisoner's nose. The man jerked awake, looking around the room in a dizzy manner. Valas hoped he wasnt brain damaged. The man slowly focussed upon Valas, hatred manifested itself as the man stared daggers right through him. Good Valas thought, still signs of defiance. Still coherent. A more dire form of questioning was necessary. Valas nodded over to the fireplace, drawing the man's line of vision there. A simple stoker lay gleaming red inside of it, next to it were the two draconian "escorts." They were wrapped tightly in many forms of cloth and covered in robes. "My comrades (using the term loosely) grow impatient, they wish to be off from this cursed place. Quite simply, I will begin cutting off various pieces of your body. That stoker is to stop the bleeding. I could keep you alive for a very long time, no one will recognize you after I am finished. Heroics bore me, you see. So you will tell me what you know, or I will begin feeding you pieces of your own anatomy. As you find yourself with less pieces, I will grow more tempted to toss whats left of you into Shoikan Grove. The undead that roam that place will devour your soul, and I will drink fine wine in memory to your stupidity." The man paled visibly, and the look Valas gave him showed in no uncertain terms he would keep his promise. "Now, tell me everything you know about this knife, who has been seen with it? What are the rumors as to it's powers?" Valas shot a cold look at Dante, who sat off at a table on the far side of the room eating his meal. Looking back at the man Valas unsheathed a knife that was serrated on one side and a fillet edge on the other. The man began sweating and finally, proving his intelligence, began to scream for help. Valas brought the blade about in a flash and cut one of the man's fingers off neatly. Blood spurted and Valas nodded for the stoker. One of the draconians snatched it up and brought it to Valas, whom pressed it against the wound with a sickening sizzle. The smell of burning meat and boiling blood filled the air. Valas passed the stoker off, turned to the man, grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked his head back to look into Valas' cold eyes. No one can hear you. We are in the housing district near Shoikan Grove. Perhaps you think me a liar. I will know what you know, and if you lie to me I will consign you to Chemosh and find another who is more cooperative. Sender Valas Date Wed Jan 7 13:29:48 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart (Because Im Going to Say Please-cont) The man squealed as the shock wore off and pain flooded his mind. He stared almost blankly at Valas, he had no choice but to look into the eyes of the man who promised something worse than death. Finally he began whimpering and blubbered something about the knife being said to drive people crazy. Valas was growing impatient, he had heard all of this already, but he waited as the man continued. The man stared right into Valas' eyes as if in a trance, and spoke of the people rumored to have been spotted with it. If rumors were to be believed, many various types were seen with it, the last of which was spotted by many Solamnic guards hailing out of Vingaard, they mentioned a mage rallying them to battle a single monk. Apparently the "Honor" of the Solamnic Knights was merely just a rumor as well. Valas cared little. The worst possible scenario had just unfolded before him. A mage was in possession of an artifact blade of real power. Valas closed his eyes for a second to burn all of this into his memory and still his chaotic thoughts. Staring once again at the man, Valas pulled his knife and stabbed him right above his adam's apple, striking his brain stem and mercifully killing the man fast. Things just took a turn for the worst and Valas decided that perhaps he should indeed make a report to this Luerk character. Valas did not like the idea of facing mages, he knew well their habits and motivations, and wanted nothing to do with them. They were too hard to track, too unpredictable. He motioned for the draconians to douse the house in potent liquor, and turned to Dante. "There is your information. I am done here. I will go make my report and you can decide what YOU are going to do next." Valas stalked off to an adjoining room to grab his gear, on the way back he wiped his blade off on the dead man's clothing and reseathed it. He walked out of the house, giving instructions to set the place ablaze when they were finished. He walked the shadows all the way to an unremarkable inn, bought a room for the night, and ate a large meal. After he finished, he wrote his report out, he pulled the insignia given to him by Luerk and touched it to the encased scroll. The scroll simply disappeared. Valas muttered something about wizards and began setting traps about the window and door. Keeping his blades close, he fell into a light sleep, alert as always... No dreams came to him, they never did. Sender Takhisis Date Wed Jan 7 23:07:35 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart The wind and rain whistled down the sides of the Khalkist mountains, and beat against the wings of Harkiel, the Ancient Red Dragon. On he flew amidst the lightning that flashed and cracked past his enormous head, ignoring the bolts, even when they struck his body. He could sense it. Onward it drew him, the taint of the Dark Queen heavy in the air as he flew. He could almost taste the knife. Forged by Dracart, imbued by Wyrllish, and finally quenched by Harkiel himself, it was crucial to the coming war. Up ahead, nestled in a small box canyon, he spotted the flare of human magic. Folding his wings, he dived swiftly, flaring his wings at the last moment to land. His impact with the earth caused the entire mountain to tremble, which pleased Harkiel. Rocks and grit flew into the air, as he looked towards the glimmer of magic. It was a small cave, hidden behind several boulders. Harkiel shattered the rocks with a word and stomped towards the cave. The canyon was narrow, and Harkiel was forced to shape shift into human form to avoid bringing down the mountains around him. He hated human form. The barrier shimmered and flared as the rain struck it. Harkiel paused for a moment, staring at the pitiful magic, analyzing it. Sneering slightly, he made a fist, and slammed into the barrier. Just once. The he struck the barrier, which shattered. Smiling grimly, Harkiel strode forward into the cave. The knife was there, all right. sitting in the dust like a forgotten children's toy. Harkiel scooped up the knife, and strode quickly back towards the entrance to the cave, already shifting back to his original form, shattering the cave with his magic as he walked out into the night. Airborne once more, knife clenched in his claw, Harkiel paused for a moment. He could feel the taint of the knife, feel its love of destruction seeping into him, mixing with his own evil. He wanted to destroy. Turning once more, he headed towards Palanthas. They would know fear this day. Sender Takhisis Date Fri Jan 9 04:24:25 2009 Subject Knife of Dracart: the search is over The air above Palanthas was cold as Harkiel limped through the air. For the first time in centuries, mortals had fought him, and indeed, caused serious damage. His right wing flapped, almost useless from the holes caused by arrows and spells. He felt pain, and it enraged him. More painful than the hurt wing was the feel of defeat. The mortals had not only hurt him, but they had driven him off before he could destroy signifigant parts of the city. The Knife of Dracart pulsed in the grip of his taloned claw, as he slowly turned, and flew towards Sanction. The mage would be happy to have his little knife back. And so, the Knife of Dracart was returned to the gathering forces of the Dragonarmies, where it was once more put to use, corrupting the eggs of the Good Dragons. And the Armies of Takhisis continued to grow... ________ _______ ______ __ /_ __/ /_ ___ / ____/ | / / __ \/ / / / / __ \/ _ \ / __/ / |/ / / / / / / / / / / / __/ / /___/ /| / /_/ /_/ /_/ /_/ /_/\___/ /_____/_/ |_/_____(_)

The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD

Astinus points to the massive wall of books behind him and bids you to make a selection.

Authors: All|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H|I|J|K|L|M|N|O|P|Q|R|S|T|U|V|W|X|Y|Z

Astinus sighs as he recants 'We saved 824 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'