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Old 06-25-2001, 03:51 PM   #321
Symbol of Cyric

Join Date: March 17, 2001
Location: England
Posts: 1,160
Meanwhile, how long had Wah been captured? Two days? Three? He can't remember.

The light glisters off his sweating forehead as a single drop snakes its way down into his trembling chin. He looks left and stares at the huge bloodstain which had dried overnight.

The wizards were cruel.

There was something about this anti-magic collar. It didn't seem to fit properly and it keep snagging against Wah's ears. A loud clang silenced the area and Wah huddled as the large figure approached.

"It is time", he murmured. "Perhaps it won't be so clean this time." (hehe)

Dragging the collar, the Arch Lich is rushed to a table where the dark wizard gestures. Immediately a young guy steps slowly and motions for Wah to lie down onto the table.

The Wizard reaches for a dagger. He stabs Wah's to the right of his chest.


"Don't make this harder for yourself", he whispered. He stabs again.


Laughing loudly, the wizard seemed satisfied with his work. His student however, keep an open eye out on the fire - which burned healthily behind the blooded table.

The wizard raised his hands again...........but suddenly he was pushed into the flames. He reels back in time to see his student's betrayal!!

"I don't have time to explain", he whispered. "Follow me!!"

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Old 06-25-2001, 03:52 PM   #322
Symbol of Cyric

Join Date: March 17, 2001
Location: England
Posts: 1,160
PS - Lord Shield, I think its time for a new thread?

Getting deep into the 300s already.
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Old 06-25-2001, 04:15 PM   #323
Gwhanos, Lord Of Evil

Posts: n/a
A cloaked figure walks in.
With gloved hands, he pays for a drink and a meal of steak, and potatoes, and peas. He sits down at a table.
Everybody noticed the way he dressed; He wore a black cloak, with purple robes.
His hands were in black gloves, and he had a shrill low voice as he said thank you to Mel for the meal and the drink.
His voice was also muffled, and when he sat down, he had a evil look in his seemingly red eyes. He saw some other patrons playing darts, so he decide to join them. They sneered "Hey look Robie Boy is up to BAT!!!! HAHAHAHAHA! Can ye hit bullseye Robie? Huh Robie Boy? You probably dont have darts where you came from!" They laughed, and the cloaked man turned around, and reached into his robes to pull out some daggers. People were gettin scared, but, the cloaked man just made an x shape with his arms, and flung the daggers behind him. PHUNK! the daggers hit the board..... making a perfect pentagram circle and all. He said to the patrons: "Top that!" in his usual shrill and low voice.
The other guys were freaked out about what they just saw. They also noticed 10 daggers were in his hand when he threw them; but then they saw a dwarf trying to take his food and then PHUNK! the dagger just missed the dwarfs hand. That dwarf never stole again. He sits back down, and begins to eat.

Will the real cheesy lich stop using timestop, stop using time stop, YEAH BABY! :1diablo:
Old 06-25-2001, 04:20 PM   #324
Thoth - Egyptian God of Wisdom

Join Date: March 1, 2001
Location: NC
Age: 32
Posts: 2,890
OOC: Uh, Gwhanos , if you haven't noticed, we are all in a dungeon, just getting out of our own cells, with collars on our necks. So why would your character be in the bar?
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Old 06-25-2001, 04:27 PM   #325
Bruce The Aussie
Fzoul Chembryl

Join Date: March 2, 2001
Location: Chaotica (london,england)
Age: 32
Posts: 1,798
Artemis walks up to Slaughter Margin. "you got a spare dagger on you? i usually have one on me but, hey, i just had everything stolen from me." artemis stands patiently waiting for an answer.

Death is the way of the ninja, luckely i'm not a ninja
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Old 06-25-2001, 04:52 PM   #326
Gwhanos, Lord Of Evil

Posts: n/a
The robed man was asked tons of times "who are you and why are you here?"
He just ignored them and continued to eat. Some of them created diversions to get his attention, but the water on his head sure ticked him off and he stood up. He then pulled out a misterious bottle that had eerie black liquid in it.
"This is Ragra'il Dezrocoal! This fine potion can give u the power to wish or become anything! This is a perment potion, and only I, Yestrix, know its formula! As I said, it IS permenent, and I cannot reverse its changes. Im no thief, but this is a good alchemy practice. I have tried out this potion, from a simple beggar that stole for his own survival (from Gwhanos's Garden)..... I will now show you what I look like........... (whips off the cloaks and robes)
He has become a thin beggar, with pale white skin. Any Diviners can see through this form. For, I, Yestrix, am no god, or an equilvilent to them, I just wished for power and the ability to polymorph to a beggar. If I go into my real form, I shall be able to be a dragon, (about Firkraag's age) and that dragon can polymorph back the beggar or the true form. (notice i didnt say that i could transform into IAMINVINCIBLEMAN) But, I am weak to Cold and Acid. In my true form, I have this....... does a wierd warp polymorph back stage Ahhh... It feels good to be myself again....... The only thing special i have in my true form is that i have strength of 22, and con of 18. My dex is 15. Everything else is 12. I have a flaming skull for a head, a black cape, and a black suit of armor covering my body. These gauntlets? they just do extra fire damage. I am basically a flame warrior prince. Meaning, I have a superior strength and con to the average commoner or adventuror (that no player made) I have fire giant strength, and a two handed flame sword that does 10 fire damage each time my +3 hits you. Note: I didnt make my stats all 25's and I did my playing here legimently. The dragon, is a red one.

Will the real cheesy lich stop using timestop, stop using time stop, YEAH BABY! :1diablo:
Old 06-25-2001, 04:53 PM   #327
Lord Shield

Posts: n/a
ok guys, can any further posts be mad in BG2 Bar 6 - The Undiscovered Beer, please? thanks!!

In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is pimp.
Old 06-25-2001, 05:18 PM   #328
White Dragon

Join Date: April 1, 2001
Location: UK
Age: 38
Posts: 1,893
Tancred turns to look at the elvish newcomer. Pain and sadness choke any words he might have said; it takes the paladin a few seconds to marshal his thoughts and manage to speak as the party carries on down the corridor.



The four travellers had wandered for what seemed an age, tracking their elusive quarry. From Baldur's Gate to Tethyr, from Athkatla to Waterdeep, from Waterdeep north again; and after all that time, they had clung to the trail, ever gaining, a battle fought against weariness and the powers of their foe. But a wizard, no matter how powerful, cannot keep running and casting and teleporting away for ever; and one on his trail can pounce upon him when he is weak. Thus it was now; the mage they sought was tired from battles with Orcish bandits and Amnish soldiers, and could do nothing but run for his life.
As they made their way up the rocky slopes of the mountains that stretched before them, the sun caught one final glimpse of the four travel-stained adventurers. Leading the way was a short, weasel-featured man, almost covered by his cloak that seemed to blend into the surroundings. He nonchalantly carried a crossbow in one hand, and a serrated dagger hung loose at his belt; but he made nary a sound as he crept from slope to slope.
Some distance behind, a thin, rather sickly-looking figure followed. A carroty patch of red hair perched on top of his head, and the glasses perched upon his nose gave him the look of a librarian or a curator rather than an adventurer. The grey robes and heavy hood he wore bespoke his status, however, and the staff he carried fairly glowed with power.
Behind the mage strode a powerful figure, dressed in priestly robes that barely covered his muscular frame. His eyes were a piercing blue, and he held his massive mace nonchalantly in one hand as if it were no more than a twig. He walked with the complete self-assurance only one who is close to a God can feel. The symbols of Helm were embroidered upon his robes.
The three men were followed by a figure stranger still. She was a woman, clad in armour of gleaming silver and hefting a sword that glowed with golden light. Her hair was close-cropped and hazel, but her green eyes held the serenity of saints. Her tabard was white, displaying the twin symbols of the heart and the flame upon her chest, and her steps were light, but measured. She scanned the horizon, alert.
Their own thoughts were interrupted when the thief to the fore held up his hand, motioning them to approach quietly.
"I'll be reckonin' yon mage came this way a'sure, milady," the thief commented, his hand pointing out the trail ahead. "Dust an' grime disturbed, and not by the wind - like a robe's sweep. The imnprint of a staff on the mud up ahead. Methinks we go it slow from hereon in."
"We have no time to slow up now, Brondwyn!" the priest had no qualms of showing his temper. "Thoth may outdistance us yet! We must hurry!"
The mage shook his head, lowering his eyes as his gaze met that of the fuming priest. "I fear that path. Running full tilt towards a mage of great power such as Thoth is folly. Exhausted and drained he may well be, but we must not underestimate him. If he knows we are upon him he can defend himself, lay traps, flee all the faster. No, Thomis, I agree with Brondwyn."
The three men turned their heads to the woman. She spoke, her voice a quiet but measured tone. "Said well, Diocletian. We shall take Thoth by surprise. Thomis, restrain yourself until the moment is right."

The campfire in the valley drew the four like moths. Each of them tasted elation, fear and uncertainty, swallowing their emotions like bitter pills. There could be no doubt as to their course of action. The apprehension or death of such a criminal as Thoth over-ruled all necessities or frailties; the chase had lasted for two years, and none of them would dare turn aside now.
Not when they were so close.
The four crept towards the fire, hardly daring to breathe. Brondwyn cursed every slip and scuttle of rocky scree, while Thomis and Diocletian shook with the tension of the journey down each slope. Inch by inch they crept across the bracken and old hedge that nestled in the valley floor, ever closer to their target.
A figure stood at the fire, his back to them. Red robes embroidered with golden sigils hung about his shoulders, and an almost visible aura of power surrounded the man. His stance was that of a man who has taken ten paces, and now is ready to turn and fire; his hands were by his sides, his back straight. He spoke.
"Finally! You have no idea how many squirrels I've had to kill to entertain myself until you reached me!"
The four adventurers were taken aback. He knew they were there. His face was rooted to the fire, they had made no sound; and yet he knew.
"Well, now that you're here, we can begin. This ends tonight. No more looking over my shoulder. No more undignified flight. Tired I may be, but I hardly need my full powers to crush bugs like you."
Truori drew her blade, the sword gleaming like the sun. "Karnas Thoth, you will face the judgement of Amn or die!"
"Hardly." The mage turned, his handsome, oddly youthful face smirking like a cat. "You just don't see how futile all of this is, holy-girl. No-one, especially a rag-tag bunch of no-hopers like this, can beat ME!"
Brondwyn leaped from the shadows, crossbow ready. A bolt flew across towards the mage, but in an instant shimmering globes of power surrounded the rogue spellcaster, slapping the bolt out of the air. The mage's smirk widened.
"Let it begin!"
And with that, mortal combat was joined.
Incantations filled the air as Diocletian, Truori and Thomis called upon their own powers. Brondwyn was already racing towards the mage with blurring speed, shortsword in hand. He struck once, twice at the wizard, but each thrust was countered by the shimmering barrier of force between the thief and his target. Karnas' spell finished, and out of thin air a black, smoking sword appeared, slashing toward the thief as if wielded by an invisible swordsman. Brondwyn ducked the furious assault, parrying desperately with a second shortsword from his belt.
Karnas growled as the barriers around him were weakened. His eyes turned towards the red-haired mage already beginning another spell, as the priest and the paladin charged, swords swinging and battlecries echoing from peak to peak. A gesture, and shimmering bolts of power scorched the air as they streaked towards the mage, impacting against some invisible barrier around him.
Truori and Thomis swung with their weapons before Karnas had time to create a counterspell. The sword and the mace left no impression upon the mage's defences, but a second spell from Diocletian saw the shimmering walls of energy disappear into thin air. Thomis cried out in triumph, swinging again for the mage's head, but Karnas simply stepped back into a glowing door that formed behind him. Thomis' swing simply passed through thin air as the mocking laughter of the disappeared mage faded.
There was a cry of pain, and the two warriors looked behind them to see Diocletian fighting for his life, his arm already dripping blood. A second sword, blacker than the night sky, smote blows that threatened to split his staff as the feeble scholar defended himself. Truori cursed as she and Thomis ran to aid the ailing mage.
The sword was fast, blindingly so. So intent was it upon the life of the young sorceror that it did not react to the two fighters until Thomis' mace fairly knocked it from the air. It rose almost immediately, sweeping toward the priest's head, but blocked by Truori's own blade. The sound of steel upon steel rang out as the priest's mace again smote the sword, breaking against the flat of the blade with such force and anger that the sword snapped in two, fading as the two halves fell to the floor. Thomis grinned at the thankful mage.
"Next time, Dio -"
The priest was cut short as an explosion of fire threw all three of them off their feet. Truori dived for ground, avoiding the worst of the searing flames, but she could hear an agonised scream from Thomis - and no sound at all from Diocletian. Hair smoking and skin raw, she got to her feet, seeking her foe.
His laughing drew her eyes to him =. He stood, still in the clearing, arms folded and unarmed. His eyes sparkled with amusement, and the smirk had gone nowhere.
"Ready for some more?"
Truori was already diving toward the mage as the fireball left his fingertips. The air above her again exploded into flame, but as it faded she was on her feet, sword swinging, her battlecry to Helm ready. She swung her sword at the mage's head, but there was a movement in his fingers - and a globe of light flew towards her, striking her a second before she reached the wizard. She tried to bring her sword around to slice off his head - but, with mounting dismay, realised she couldn't move. Her legs, arms, head and body were frozen in time, her sword a mere centimetre from Karnas' ear.
Karnas grinned. Truori struggled with the enchantment, but to no avail.
"You know," drawled the mage, slowly pacing around the immobile paladin, "I'm glad we have this little moment to ourselves. We've known of each other for quite some time, haven't we, my dear Foesmite? And I really would regret it if, at the last, I never got to tell you how beautiful I always thought you were."
Karnas completed his circle, coming again within Truori's field of vision. He held a small dagger in his right hand. "A shame you just keep on wanting to kill me, isn't it? Who knows what might have happened had we been friends..."
The smirk faded at last. Karnas' face was deadly serious.
"You know, it's been a long time since I killed someone with a dagger. And your lovely neck is so wonderfully exposed. I could kill you with a word - but why waste the breath?"
The dagger flashed toward her throat. In that instant, the feeling of failure, of the futile nature of her quest, struck Truori for the first time in her life. As the short blade arced towards her neck, her mind burbled out a desperate prayer to Helm, a prayer asking for forgiveness - forgiveness or a miracle.
The dagger stopped. Karnas' face was one of bafflement and shock as he looked down, and saw the short thief's arm gripping his own, and the thief's shortsword buried deep in his chest. Brondwyn was bleeding form several scratches and nicks in his black clothes, but his smile was fierce and Karnas' surprise was total.
The mage mouthed the words to a spell, but the syllables remained drowned in his rising blood as he toppled to the ground.
Brondwyn turned to look at the immobile Paladin.
"Well, 'tis done. 'Tis a shame I brought no christmas decorations to hang on ye, no?"

The spell eventually wore off, allowing Truori to see to Thomis and Diocletian. Both of them were weak and scarred, but they lived. The four companions looked at each other in that breathless moment when realisation dawned upon them of the end of their quest. The four of them had made ready to sleep by Karnas' campfire when Diocletian gave a scream.
The others had come running to where Diocletian stood, watching the body of Karnas as it began decaying and changing at an alarming rate. Before their eyes, the mage they had killed was becoming a Lich, a sorcerous cadaver with incredible powers. They had realised then that Karnas Thoth had made preparations for his death; preparations that would see him rise once more to cause havoc.
Diocletian, however, had a plan. For three days he tried to break the enchantment upon Karnas' body without success, so strong was the dead mage. Thomis had prayed and blessed the body in the hope of rendering it impossible to reanimate, but there was no effect; Karnas' magic outstripped even Thomis' beseechings to the gods.
It was with desperation that the heroes found a solution upon the fifth day. Diocletian read from one of his dwindled collection of scrolls on the eve of that day, summoning a powerful djinn to aid them. With the djinn's assistance, Thomis and Diocletian worked together in a bizarre attempt at a counterspell; to try and transfer the soul of the dead mage, not back into his body, but into a different magical receptacle - namely, Truori's sword.
The spirit of the mage was furious to discover he had been bound, but none of his spells would work while he was trapped thus. However, the binding was not total, for Thomis and Diocletian had not been powerful enough to remake the enchantment completely. Conditions had to be set, to necessitate the Djinni's help. The sword would be bound to Truori, and to her bloodline, and the mage would remain trapped until the Foesmite line had been extinguished - or until all trace of evil left the mage and he became a servant of good. A highly unlikely prospect, but one that Truori herself had insisted upon, making it clear to the mage that should he ever prove worthy of life, he would get it.


"That woman," Tancred went on, "was Truori Foesmite, a great paladin of the Order of the Radiant Heart - and my great grandmother. Her legacy - her sword - has been with the family for generations, and we have been the custodians of that powerful mage for so long. It was her dying wish that all effort should be made to turn Karnas Thoth to good, and in some ways he was getting there. The wisdom of experience, and seeing the world from outside, as it were, did the soul of the mage good. He learned things like duty, and compassion, and the simple joy of life, even if he has not truly grasped their meaning yet. More than that, he has glimpsed death, and what hell lay there in wait for him. He was willing to do anything to avoid that fate."
Tears well up in the Paladin's eyes again. "And someone's taken that away. Helm's eyes, he was so close. I - I wish he wasn't -"
Noises up ahead break the Paladin out of his narrative reverie. Those too busy listening to him whirl around, startled. In the darkness, shuffling and growling can be heard...
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