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 is at 65. You change? 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 small volume on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Knife_of_Dracart' scribed in faded purple 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
destroyed.
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
gone.
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
Dracart.
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
Palanthas.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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
annoyed.
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
curiously.
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 run..as 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
hopelessness."
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)
SSHHHTUNNNK!!!
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
memory.
'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
being.
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
that.
'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
kender.
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
life.
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
months.
"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
thought.
"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
{---
*clink*
The tip of the dagger tapped the granite railing of the balcony
again,
the sound carrying freakishly loud through the domed chamber.
*clink*
The gathering of knight, cleric and spellmaster stood quietly,
nervously
as the sound reverberated yet again.
*clink*
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
away.
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
knife."
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
apologies.
; 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
hands.
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
things...
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
time..
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
casually.
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
stolen.
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
important.
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
knife.....
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 air...flexed...as 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...
________ _______ ______ __
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The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD
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Astinus mentions 'We have had over 868 storytellers on Ansalon
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