OOC:<font color=skyblue>post away milord :D , and I will have a post up in tavern by saturday.... I am doing some research thru the old threads</font>

ooc: 2 whole hit points regained! Woohoo! :D

<font color=lightgreen>Syrathic HP:45/74

Syrathic looked at Dantes, still poring over his spellbook and sighed. "Looks like we still have a little bit before we're ready to go," he thought.

The Elf sat back down to wait. He only felt a little bit better than he had before, but he figured that it was better than nothing. His hands went to the purse, and he wondered how much money the jewels were worth, especially the ones that the others had left. He really wanted to buy some throwing knives, if available, and some healing potions. He was a bit under-equipped, but now was perhaps his best time to make things right. Hopefully, the Gnomes had stores that were well-stocked.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: Just moving things along so folks can do what the need to do in the gnome settlement over the weekend.</font>

<font color=thistle>The way grows narrow and small once more a short distance from the place of resting. Its turns are many as the passage bends sharply time and again in ways designed to frustrate the movement of larger beings. “There are places along the way where the passage might be sealed,” Cedrick explains as the group moves forward. The distance traveled is not long from endpoint to endpoint, but the winding way that is walked is long indeed. Long and tiring for those not of small size and as exhaustion makes its insistent presence felt in backs tired of bending and legs beginning to cramp from awkward movement, the way grows very tight and from behind a stone barrier a gnomish voice issues a challenge in one of the strange languages of this sunless world.

Cedrick speaks in answer and at what seems to be the faint singing of a note from a metal tuning fork the barrier moves aside. “Again, my friends,” the gnome smiles, “you shall need to squeeze yourselves through a small space. Be assured however, that there is some accommodation for those as large as yourselves to be found here.”</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: The party should be well received by the gnomes. Most basic supplies should be available for purchase as well as comfortable accommodations for resting.

Post away, folks! I’ll be back Sunday night. A great weekend to all [img]graemlins/happywave.gif[/img] </font>

<font color=silver>ooc: And the really scary thing is that was me being positively generous [img]graemlins/blueblink.gif[/img] </font>

<font color=silver>ooc: I'll have something up for you once I get back Sunday night, TAO. Enjoy the weekend.</font>

OOC>>>Well, at least we know we have two days of our lives left. I doubt much longer than that...but at least we have two days.
May Saturday last forever!!!!!!!!!!!

OOC>>>I suppose that everyone is afraid to initiate game due to not knowing what Cyril's rendering of the village is for these gnomes, therefore not wanting to step on his plans,,,you all hoped like I did that somebody would take the ball and run with it. Well...I guess that will be me, since I am the only one that can face Cyril's wrath if I am in error. [img]smile.gif[/img]

<font color=indianred>Brendon Grey 61/70

The party wormed their way through the entrance to the cavern that is the grounds for the gnomish village. It was larger than some of the adventurers had anticipated, and it all had a nice friendly atmosphere, with aromas of warm foods cooking and children playing. The senses were being teased as the party members strolled through the village, totally in delight and feeling that danger and death were years behind them.

Brendon separated himself from the group as he found a gnome sitting down upon the doorstep of his home, hammering out a dagger. He approcahed the gnome and spoke, hoping the little guy would understand him. "Excuse me, sir. Are you a Smith that I might buy weaponry and armor from?" To conclude his dialog and to ensure that the gnome was understanding him, Brendon took out one of his sapphires and held it out in his hand in a way that would hopefully imply trade, if that were the only language that could be spoken at this time. </font>

<font color=orchid>Anarrima Culurien 60/60

She could not believe what she was seeing! Suddenly, on a day like any other...a group of men and one woman with a lion entered the village! How they had gotten so far, and been granted this passage was beyond Anarrima's ability to understand. But here they were! She saw that they were very happy to be here, and were admiring the place with love. One human had turned to his own route as the rest were still looking around in awe and admiration for this meager village. Obviously, they had become quite homesick for being underground so long, and this was the closest thing to home that they might ever find for a long time to come. How long had it been for her? Too long, indeed, but now...this group of friendly-looking comrads might just be able to get her home. Anarrima started walking, trying not be appear too excited, and spoke to the first one she made eye contact with. Another elf. </font>

OOC>>>I am assuming that would be Syrathic, as I cannot remember the race of Dantes. Sorry!

<font color=silver>ooc: OK, Larry if you really wanna be worried, I can oblige [img]graemlins/blueblink.gif[/img] </font>

<font color=white>Terrakis</font>

<font color=gray>Long before the tales of Middle Earth found their way from Tolkien’s hand to the printed page H.P. Lovecraft scribed a tale of a world, a hidden and terribly ancient world lying hidden and terribly alive beneath the prosaic veneer of the mundane present. Years before the original Ravenloft module brought the strange and romantic nightmares of gothic horror into the ambient of 1st edition AD&D, a roleplaying game emerged out of the hidden terrors scribed in the tales of Lovecraft, a game that denied great combat skills to its heroes and in which advancement in knowledge and skill involved descent into madness in the face of horrors that could be resisted but not overcome. Such a game has no heroes whose fame will be sung only those who manage to survive for a time in the face of those things which tear the sanity away from minds which think too long about them.

Unrecognized and unnoticed by most IW members this strange game has been present within the roleplay forums, bringing but the briefest glimpse of Lovecraft’s mad universe to light before falling into quiet inactivity and dropping far below more actively posted threads. None ever acted to close off the open channel of horror within these threads and none ever explored the possibility that beneath the surface of a short-lived game may lurk a channel to a well-spring of terror, a terror hidden and horribly alive beneath the playful ambient of D&D inspired roleplaying.

None that is until Terrakis who has learned to pay careful attention to the whispers that live within the air underneath the Forums. The whispers have mentioned a most strange thing to him – lying deep and forgotten far below even the long buried blue boards is a strange yellow land, a land that had vanished before even the advent of the one called Larry whose might has given birth to the Giants of Shadow, a land whose long unspoken name has been spoken once more. The great change in the post count, a sign of no small power, was met with a stirring in a long forgotten roleplay thread and that stirring has grown great since the Unspoken has been brought to speech. The stirring has led them here to these slaughtered drow and their city placed as a barrier over the long hidden chamber where the great yellow sign marks the entrance to a long forgotten place.

Still they dig, his slaves, and still he waits for news of the yellow sign.</font>

<font color=silver>ooc: You gotta like villains who keep themselves busy [img]graemlins/thumbsup.gif[/img] </font>

<font color=indianred>For Brendon</font>

<font color=thistle>The gnome appraises the young man with a practiced eye. A sparkle in his eye he answers his visitor in his finest Undercommon. The sparkle in his eyes grows brighter at the young man’s puzzlement over the meaning of his words. Of course the gem has attracted his attention for it is a fine specimen.

As Cedrick has moved into the village in search of the clanleaders, Kellor steps forward to translate for Brendon. “He wonders why a bowman would be speaking with a smith and he is also very interested in the gem you carry.” Turning to Brendon, Kellor’s own eyes sparkle as he continues, “Now that I mention it ..... why are you speaking with a smith?” Laughing softly, a sound filled with relief after the tension of the last days, he adds, “What is it you are looking for?”</font>