Lye en' Maranwe...( We of Destiny )...played by invitation, only

[The Mad Dungeon Master]

Attention: Ulysses

On Watch in the Temple, on the south side of Ochik"

It isn't long after midnight when the Abbot, Kevor, approaches, his regularly solemn face seeming perplexed.As he passes, he motions for you to rise, and then guides you over to an alcove.

"This passing is complete," he says, his voice coming out like the rasp of dried leaves blown over leatherwork, "...but our task is not yet finished."He reaches into his sleeve, and removes a smaller scroll, tied with the all-too-familiar black black sealing band."I would that we could put this with the others, to rest, but it seems that there is some unfinished business."As you look, you note that while the cord is black, it has not been tied, merely laced around and back.You also notice that, unlike the others, he is using this one in gesticulation - usually the documents are treated respectfully, read, dealt with, and filed away - "laid to rest" by accounting terms, anyway.But not this one.

"It would appear that dark forces had a hand in this noble's death," he continues, trying to keep his voice low, "...and we've been charged with finding the responsible party."Before you can ask, he holds up a hand - silence.Ah, yes - silence.He then returns to his explanation."By 'dark forces', we don't mean the usual cloak-and-dagger affairs of mankind.No, rather - this time we mean something of a black magic variety - one that is apparently in the hands of a casual layman, and - what makes it more dangerous - is apparently easy to get access to.The wounds that this young man suffered weren't even close to fatal.Which is why, under further investigation, we managed to uncover some strange, dark, and fragmented metal, stuck for all the world like a dagger, through the wound, and his arm.It was as if he were fending off the blow - and the wound looks hardly big enough to inconvenience him.We checked for poisons - and if there were any being used, they have long sincec lost their traces now.No, we suspeect someone is playing with necromancy - again - and we need to get to the bottom of this."he finishes."Immediately." he adds, once again gesturing with the untied scroll for emphasis.

"Which is why I've decided to send you East, through the edge of NorthMark, toward Sybil Tarn.We have some evidence that the metal may have come from GreyMount - that dwarven surface-dwelling, if I remember correctly - and we think there may be more to it than that.But all we have right now are suspicions, and no hard facts.No evidence."He turns toward you again."That's where you come in."

It isn't long before you realize you've been released fully, and are expected to get as much of a good night's rest as you can before your departure tomorrow.And yes, you will carry two letters - the one he hands you now, giving you more details about the dark forces, and a letter of marque, allowing you to bring the offending party or parties to justice - either directly or with the aid of the government in jurisdiction."The Priests of Kelemvor" he summarizes, "...are not to be taken lightly."

OOC:> Welcome aboard, TetsuGroo!We're glad to see that you made it!!! [img]graemlins/happywave.gif[/img]

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[TetsuGroo]

I can't help but be a little disappointed. My first Solo Vigil, and not only does nothing happen, it gets ended early. Now to rest for I shall be on the road soon enough, without the comforts of my modest apartment here in the Abbey."Thank you master, as you command.I take the letters and tuck them safely in with my Death Certificate. Every priest carries the Death Certificate with him. It commemorates the moment we gave ourselves to Death's Embrace. All time past that on the certificate is borrowed from Kelemvor, to do his work.

Ulysses heads to the apartments to spend as much of the remaining night as he can asleep. He decides to break his fast in the morning and goes to bed hungry. When the first bells ring in the pre-dawn lightening of the sky, he rises and packs what travel gear he has, dons his armor and strolls in to the mess hall. After as big a breakfast as he can hold, he heads for the stables and calls for his horse, Mirador. Checking the cinching and saddlebags, he mounts and rides out, his mood pensive and his expression bland.

I have never been to GreyMount before. I have yet to have a chance to study their ways and rituals in things pertaining to Death. This will be exciting, I am sure. However, the ride past Sybil Tarn will surely prove to be interesting in the same day-ruining way that having a dragon find you interesting can be. I can think of no body of water about which I have heard more, and more varied, tales of. The lake can yield fish aplenty, and then swamp your skipjack with a sudden squall, drowning all aboard. Show gently lapping waves on a soothing beach and hide monsters in the depths. At least I won't have to take passage across her. I do not fear Death, but the many personalities of Sybil Tarn worry me.

And with those thoughts, Ulysses heads out of Ochik well before midmorning, heading east and a little north, cautiously eager to see what the road will hold for him today.

[Larry_OHF]

OOC>>>Roadrunner access is down in my area today, and I do not know when I will have it back. If I do not return this weekend, I will see you from work on Monday.

[fosferus]

Melif pauses to get his bearings in the unfamiliar surroundings of a human city. The humans seemed to lay out their cities like they did everything – willy nilly with no thought of the future. Their short lives gave birth to short sight.

A little thought followed by observation sent Melif and his companion northeast – toward the docks. Surely that is where the ‘Low Tide’ the bodyguard spoke of was nestled.

[Killing Spree]

(ooc: [img]tongue.gif[/img] No, I'm not going to stop and rest NOW! Belthil will take 2 steps out of the forest and see me! [img]graemlins/hehe.gif[/img] )

Azalii

Azalii grumbled a reply at her belly, then succumbed to munch on a few berries she'd collected earlier. She held out one of the small fruits to Ranarakt, who greedily swooped to his perch on her arm to snip at the meal. She could easily gather her own food in the wild, but she might as well deplete these supplies first and keep moving.
And move she must. Stopping here was something Belthil would do. She could still count the leaves of Ni'taure behind her! Onward, for now. No doubt there would be scouts or some such after her soon, and though her step was light and lost to the earth as soon as her foot recoiled, distance between her and the wood would be just one more factor to her side. One raindrop can decide if a man drowns, and one footstep can decide if I get caught!

[Larry_OHF]

Belthil

"Heru edhel, as I look around at your bedazzling display of artifacts and weaponry...I am quite overcome by it all! I am brought to you this day in order to better suit myself for the journey that lies ahead, as I have two tasks before me in a world that I know not. Certainly, I would hope to improve upon the garments that I wear, as I feel under-equipped. I currently wear mere thick cloth that is called "travelor's clothes." As for weapons...I am a bowman, and care not to replace the fine artwork of a bow that has been given to me by my father's mother. Yet, I am lacking in fine arrowheads. I am wondering if you would have some sort of supply for this archer".

Translation
Heru = Lord
edhel = elf
This is a phrase of respect to an elder elf whose position and power is not yet known.

[ 03-02-2003, 09:21 PM: Message edited by: Larry_OHF ]

[Larry_OHF]

OOC>>>Mr. MDM ?

[The Mad Dungeon Master]

OOC:>Sorry I haven't been back in a while - between the ice storm, loss of power (our power pole actually broke in half!), power restoration, missed work, made-up work, emergency service (mine to others), ice storm debris removal, and band practice, I've been quite a busy body!

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However, I have returned...

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[The Mad Dungeon Master]

Attention: Azalii

(Still) On The Outskirts Of Ni'Taure

It isn't long after breakfast that you hear an unfamiliar noise.The noise you hear has a rough, grunting quality to it, and it seems to echo (echo?) strangely across the edge of the hilly plains.Seemingly it wafts along, its source unseen, just beyond the next hill......or is that an echo, too?

The Sun has risen nearly another hour's station - so far so good.But some refreshing water would also hit the spot, right about now...

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[The Mad Dungeon Master]

Attention: Belthil

In the Armory's Great Hall, Well-Hidden Somewhere Underground...

The old elf looks down at his parchment, then looks back up at you, his old eyes squinting to focus on you properly."I suspect you might want to travel light - so we should see if any of the leatherworks here will fit you - yes - that would be prudent."He looks down at the parchment again, seeming lost in thought - or feebleminded - one or the other.Could he have forgotten you - standing right there?

A couple of seconds later, he looks back up, as if noticing you for the first time."Well," he asks, his voice getting a raspy edge to it, "Do you expect us to bring the armorer out here, or were you planning to go see what he has in store?"He eyes you expectantly, as if somehow weighing you......and what appeared to be a foggy stare now somehow contains traces of a knowing glimmer...

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