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Cyril Darkcloud · 11-03-2002, 12:40 PM

ELSEWHERE -- Beyond and beneath the fields we know so well

It is called by the gamers of these boards ‘the Underdark’ and to some extent the name is true for a vast sunless region of caverns and tunnels stretches beneath the surface of the forums. But a greater and deeper lightlessness lies beneath even these dark passageways, a lightlessness so ancient and cold that even the sunless Underdark seems a bright and sun-warmed world in comparison. Dead and forgotten threads lie here in the awkward and restless silence of unfinished conversations and stories whose telling had stopped before the end had been reached. The dead entombed here do not rest easily – indeed they do not rest at all for there has been among them these many years one whose has fed upon the night-time terrors of the dreaming dead. However, the silence of this strange netherworld has been shattered by screams for days now as a living nightmare has come to claim the hag who haunts the nightmares of the dead. It is her voice, hoarse with screamed terror that has been lifted in a tragic vocal accompaniment to these silent nightmares -- for while great is the evil of the hag, greater by far is that of the Ru’ah ha’mot’tah, the Wind that Devours, the Breathing of Death.

Zhydo’rah

It fills her now, the terrible laughing Wind. It moves within her and with each breath she exhales its violent mirth into the air around her. She who had feasted so long on the night terrors of others is now herself surrendered to a Whispered Nightmare whose appetite has no ending. There is no resisting the power of the whispered breath of the grave, days of futile screaming have taught her this. The whispers promise things now, however – power, terrible power to surface the terrors of other minds, power and a wealth of feasting upon rare and tortured souls. And so she is doubly enslaved for even were the might of the Devourer removed, its offer is too attractive to refuse. Her wrinkled and blackened skin thrills in anticipation and the burning glow returns to her eyes. She rises and speaks, her throat hoarse and burning from the screams of these last days. The syllables she utters pollute even the stale and death filled air of the tomb. It is a sickening and filthy form of speech whose notes form a strange parody of song. There is a stretching within the air followed by dancing flames and the stink of brimstone and a great steed with a coat like coal and a mane of thick and angry fire stands within the burial chamber.

ooc: The second part of the above post is copied from Tavern by the Creek IV. With the introduction of Zhydo’rah, the main villains are now in place.

11-03-2002, 12:40 PM	#159
Cyril Darkcloud Lord Soth Join Date: February 7, 2002 Location: New York Posts: 1,980	ELSEWHERE -- Beyond and beneath the fields we know so well It is called by the gamers of these boards ‘the Underdark’ and to some extent the name is true for a vast sunless region of caverns and tunnels stretches beneath the surface of the forums. But a greater and deeper lightlessness lies beneath even these dark passageways, a lightlessness so ancient and cold that even the sunless Underdark seems a bright and sun-warmed world in comparison. Dead and forgotten threads lie here in the awkward and restless silence of unfinished conversations and stories whose telling had stopped before the end had been reached. The dead entombed here do not rest easily – indeed they do not rest at all for there has been among them these many years one whose has fed upon the night-time terrors of the dreaming dead. However, the silence of this strange netherworld has been shattered by screams for days now as a living nightmare has come to claim the hag who haunts the nightmares of the dead. It is her voice, hoarse with screamed terror that has been lifted in a tragic vocal accompaniment to these silent nightmares -- for while great is the evil of the hag, greater by far is that of the Ru’ah ha’mot’tah, the Wind that Devours, the Breathing of Death. Zhydo’rah It fills her now, the terrible laughing Wind. It moves within her and with each breath she exhales its violent mirth into the air around her. She who had feasted so long on the night terrors of others is now herself surrendered to a Whispered Nightmare whose appetite has no ending. There is no resisting the power of the whispered breath of the grave, days of futile screaming have taught her this. The whispers promise things now, however – power, terrible power to surface the terrors of other minds, power and a wealth of feasting upon rare and tortured souls. And so she is doubly enslaved for even were the might of the Devourer removed, its offer is too attractive to refuse. Her wrinkled and blackened skin thrills in anticipation and the burning glow returns to her eyes. She rises and speaks, her throat hoarse and burning from the screams of these last days. The syllables she utters pollute even the stale and death filled air of the tomb. It is a sickening and filthy form of speech whose notes form a strange parody of song. There is a stretching within the air followed by dancing flames and the stink of brimstone and a great steed with a coat like coal and a mane of thick and angry fire stands within the burial chamber. ooc: The second part of the above post is copied from Tavern by the Creek IV. With the introduction of Zhydo’rah, the main villains are now in place.