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Caesar IV Heaven » Forums » Story Archives » The Silver Chalice
Topic Subject:The Silver Chalice
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Eminence Grise
posted 07-12-00 05:11 ET (US)         
This is the third part of the story of Wendolin, Thoren and their companions.

Cast of Characters
Benson - Benson has traveled extensively never staying in one place to long but often revisiting many of the places he passes through. He prefers to be in nature and tends to befriend animals wherever he goes. He is tend to be a loner and even in when traveling with groups tries to find way to spend time alone. He does not make friends easily but is very loyal if you gain his friendship.
Eme-Redser - the current alias of Wintersong, the Elven Queen. She is in the guise of a mysterious stranger. She wears trousers, a long shirt, and a long, bulky cloak. All of her clothing is muted green and brown. She carries a large bundle of things, all wrapped in a mysterious fabric that no one has seen before. She rides a beautiful horse, one that is warm cream in color, and whose mane and tail are a rich chocolate color. The horse's name is R'edaine, the meaning of which is undisclosed at present. Eme-Redser is an unknown entity at present, and her guise of The Elven Queen is also unknown at this time. She has the ability to disappear at will, and her other diverse talents will be revealed as the story progresses.
Gillandra - High Priestess of Coranmaire. Mysterious character - fights for good over evil. Known throughout the realm for magical healing and spiritual abilities. Soothing voice. Wear's a deep purple and white gown, and long silver cloak, showing her coat of arms on the back. Rides a silver-grey mare named Misty. Worships at the temples of Eir. Also has a pack-horse, carrying essential supplies.
Jayhawk - Wandering minstrel, troubadour, tall (6'4") slender, dark haired, sea green eyes, that seem to be able to change colour. Plays a 12 stringed lute, with fair competence. Has travelled the realms extensively and has an incredile knowledge of lore and myth. Some of his travels have been with Chunky. There may be more to him than meets the eye. Rides a black stallion by the name of Aran.
Lysette - Daughter of King Damodred, who sold her in to slavery to a cruel traveler she came to know as her "master." Has survival skills like any road-wise child, but is relatively innocent at heart. During the Quest for the Cloak, she spent 5 years in an alternate future and has now set her mind on marrying Thoren.
Rides Leeta, her chestnut mare, given to her by Thoren.
Thoren of Torvald - Norseman from the Lodge of Torvald. Torvald came into his heritage as his father was slain on the Towerfields. When he entered Torvold he found out his throne was usurped by Mordred, who's champion he defeated in single combat, thus regaining his throne.
Gruff and somewhat belligerent exterior hides a thoughtful, sometimes sensitive nature. Skilled in long sword, battle axe, short bow and knife. Unusual ancestry. Some say he is descendant from Roman and Norse stock. Rides Vorth, his Norse-bred stallion.
Wendolin - Clonmaire County Palladin. Somewhat of a mystic, experienced traveller, adventurous by nature. Friend to kings, noblemen and townsfolk of all races and types, but prefers the company of travellers. Fights for Right. Wears a long black dress made out enchanted material,
which may look like a fine gossamer web, but is in fact as hard as steel. Wears a ruby-red cloak, with deep purple & gold trim. Jet black hair - dark eyes, pale face. Also wears a magical ring on her right hand - amethyst in colour, it seems to glow when danger is near. Rides a gold coloured horse named Whispering. Close friend of Gillandra the High Priestess. Has prowess in sword and mace, and carries a golden shield.

The Quest

The Silver Chalice has been liberated from the evil mage Zordemon the Black[/b]. The party is now on it's way to the Candscent Creek in order to find the Sacred Springs with which water, once poured on the Chalice, the Hill People can be restored.

Wendolin's New Map

Quest Part 1

Quest Part 2
Updated character descriptions...

[This message has been edited by Jayhawk (edited 07-13-2000).]

Civis Romanus
posted 09-05-00 21:37 ET (US)     101 / 147       
Jayhawk: the english/american idiom or slang expression for 'waiting' isn't "kick our heels for a few days". The correct expression is "cool our heels for a few days". One "kicks up his heels" when engaged in dancing or similar activity. (I guess I just couldn't resist teasing. You allow me so very few opportunities.)

Ishaius: Thoren would be happy to be a paladin; but Jayhawk as a necromancer? Not the Jayhawk I know. Glad to know all is well with you.

MRed: Hi! Happy to see you posting again, even if in and out of the door again so quickly.


"So where have you two been?" asked Thoren with a look of pretended disapproval.

"We've been to see the Necromancer," replied Lysette brightly.

"So... and did you see him?" said Thoren, expression changing to more serious interest from playful pretending.

"No... He was busy it seems," answered Lysette. "But we will see him in five days," she added.

"Well what are we going to do for the next five days?" wondered Thoren out loud.

"I know!" exclaimed Lysette. "Let's go shopping!"

"For five whole days!?" asked Thoren in some alarm.

"No silly, just for today," said Lysette. "Wait here, I'll get Eme-Redser and any of the others who want to go."

Jayhawk and Thoren watched Lysette bound up the stairs to the guest rooms intending to roust the others out of their reverie, their rooms, their inn and into the market.

Thoren shook his head and looked at Jayhawk. "What do you do with a girl like that?" asked the Norseman proverbially.

"Marry her, I suspect," replied Jayhawk.

Thoren laughed. Something he rarely does. "I guess you're right, Minstrel. If only these Realms and their endless problems would give us the chance."

Jayhawk nodded in understanding. "Patience, Thoren. If all goes well, I believe you are not too far away from realizing your wish."

Then Lysette reappeared leading some, but not all of the companions down the stairs. She hooked one arm in Jayhawk's and the other in Thoren's arm and escorted, almost drew them both outside, the others following behind. "Now where did you say that market was, Minstrel?" she asked.

[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 09-05-2000).]

posted 09-07-00 01:07 ET (US)     102 / 147       
MRed is still working millions of hours a week and going to school full time, and right now she is battling a cold, flu, and myriad other diseases which her children very kindly brought home from school and gave them all to her...... Kiya, her most humble servant
Civis Romanus
posted 09-08-00 11:04 ET (US)     103 / 147       
Sure is quiet here.
posted 09-08-00 14:49 ET (US)     104 / 147       
school has me real busy. I have a post I will do sometime soon. It is just finding the time.
Caesar Ishaius
posted 09-08-00 16:54 ET (US)     105 / 147       
Hello again!
I made Jayhawk a Necromancer because he can't be a barbarian- they don't have magic powers. And I don't see Jayhawk as a sorceress, so Necromancer is the only thing left.
I can't really think right now about something to write
Civis Romanus
posted 09-09-00 14:05 ET (US)     106 / 147       
I will be away from the PC for awhile and may have very little chance of posting to this story until around the 18th of September. Keep it going if you would and I'll return to it as soon as possible.


Lysette led a reluctant Thoren by the hand past stall after stall in the city's marketplace. She excitedly pointed out items of interest, pretty silks, trinkets of gold and silver, and lovely carved statuettes. Jayhawk followed behind with Chunky at his side and Benson and Ronen in the wings. Eme-Redser had declined and chosen to seek herbs, some familiar, some new and unknown, with a friend she discovered living in the city.

Lysette stopped to feel the silky smoothness of an intricately woven scarf. "So lovely, Thoren. Here, feel this."

Thoren reached across and touched the material. He conceded it indeed had a lovely feel.

Lysette looked further down the row of apparel stalls. Her eyes suddenly opened in sheer delight and she squealed in a way only a young woman can who has just seen the object of dreams. Thoren's arm nearly exited its socket as Lysette took off at a near run to a stall three places down.

There she pointed to a long dress in white silk with touches of blue and pink. "It's my size too!" she said in a voice driven by excitement. "Thoren... That's my wedding dress! Please... I must have it for the wedding!"

Thoren sighed. "But Lysette, I have no coin. Remember, the Dark Elves took it with my weapons." Lysette's eyes lost their lustre and her face fell. "Yes, Thoren. That is true. I forgot. It is so lovely." She lowered her eyes and the hint of a tear showed in the corner of one eye.

The calm, soothing voice of the minstrel interrupted the girl's unhappiness. "Maybe I can help... I believe I shall be called upon to provide a wedding gift. Propriety says present it at the time of the wedding. Necessity suggests I present it now. Would you accept this lovely gown as my gift to you, Lysette?"

Her eyes lit up anew. She looked at Thoren. He smiled and said nothing. Jayhawk knew the answer was yes. "Please now. Give me a moment to work out a purchase with the merchant." He shooed them both away and out of earshot. Lysette's heart leaped with joy when she saw the agreed to price in coin pass from Jayhawk's hands to the merchant and the carefully wrapped dress pass into the minstrel's hands in return. Beside herself, she rushed over, stretched out on her toes and gave the tall minstrel a warm kiss on the cheek.

Chunky and Ronen laughed at her joyful antics and at the minstrel's obvious embarrassed delight. Benson on the other hand began to feel uneasy as a strange feeling of foreboding entered his subconscious. He couldn't quite put his mind's finger on the cause, but something in his senses said beware. He looked around cautiously but so as not to convey suspicion that he sensed a danger.

The five slender figures in hooded cloaks standing farther down the row of stalls took minimal notice of Benson. Their attention was focussed on the tall minstrel, the girl and the blond Norseman conversing with them both. The knobs on the hilts of their swords made small round protrusions on their cloaks where the material flowed down and past their hips. The five Dark Elves waited for their chance to strike.

Caesar Ishaius
posted 09-09-00 16:08 ET (US)     107 / 147       
Ok see you Civis! (Where are you going?)

One Dark Elf was an archer. The other four were warriors. The four Elves walked in the direction of the Norseman as if trying to go and look for things where Lysette saw the wedding dress.

Benson saw the acrcher taking out his bow, and amring it with an arrow. Benson quickly yelled "Watch out Thoren those are dark elves!" and lifted his big sword while running toward the archer. He pointed his sword at the archer and before the archer could do anything Benson hit him with one great swing, which cut the archer's stomach. He fell on the ground crying for help. The four warriors took out their swords, giving Jayhawk enough time to take Lysette and he wedding dress away from the battle area.

The man who sold Lysette the dress also took out a sword ready to defend himself if needed. Ronen took out his long war sword and started attacking one of the elves. Benson came to help too and two Elves by taking out another sword and cutting the two elves at the same time. Ronen finally got an open chance and stick his word in the Elf's ribs.

Thoren lifted his sword and started defending himself from the Elf. He waited untill they will get their swords crossed and then he grabbed the Elf's sword handel, and hit him hard on the face with his fist. The Elf was stunned and fell back to the ground. He dropped his sword while falling. Thoren pointed his sword at the Dark Elf's neck.

"Who are you?" He asked, while catching his breath

Eminence Grise
posted 09-11-00 08:51 ET (US)     108 / 147       
Hmmm, Benson with a sword...he actually prefers a bow, I believe, but I think he'll forgive you.
But Civis, didn't you know that's a Realms expression

"Just hold it right there" a dark voice sounded behind Thoren.

As he looked up he saw half a dozen bowmen arranged around him wearing the black and silver tabard of the City. A few dozen heavily armed zombies were close and had taken his his friends under guard. A swarthy guard captain looked him up and down. The elf used Thoren's momentary distraction to give him a vicious knee in the groin.
The startled Norseman let go of the creatures hand and folded over. The elf on ther other hand rolled backward and disappeared underneath one of the market stalls as half a dozen arrows caressed the air where he had been a moment ago.

"Okay, you're under arrest for disturbing the peace, " the Captain announced as his troops rounded up the others and pulled Thoren to his feet.
"But..." Thoren started.

"Thoren!" Lysette yelled as she ran towards her friend, only to be halted by a few guards.
"Your grace" Jayhawk said as he swept a bow.
"I believe my friends are somewhat innocent of this disturbance. I dare say it was forced upon them."
"I can vouch for that!" the shopkeeper added.

The guard captain looked him over, craning his neck a bit as he got up to the minstrel's face.
"I'm taking them in first. We will question them and any bystanders later. I advise you to take the lady with you, If she makes a scene we need to lock her up as well. My master does not like this kind of disturbances."
At a signal his troops gathered the fallen and strongarmed Thoren and his friends with him.

Lysette looked at Jayhawk. Tears brimming in her eyes.
"I guess we should visit the Necromancer again" he said.

Caesar Ishaius
posted 09-11-00 09:49 ET (US)     109 / 147       
Well I hope he will. I never knew. Well I am going now somewhere, but I will be back and I very hope to see that there is the number 109 is written under "Replies" in this post!
posted 09-11-00 20:58 ET (US)     110 / 147       
I do go for the bow first but I do use a sword now and them so it's ok
Caesar Ishaius
posted 09-12-00 10:16 ET (US)     111 / 147       
Hmmm... I did mean to see 110 replies... I am not stupid... I know how to do math
Eminence Grise
posted 09-14-00 04:45 ET (US)     112 / 147       
Lysette and Jayhawk were granted audience early the next morning. They entered the palace where a vizier attached himself to the two of them and walked them through the hallways. After a whille they entered a large hall, with two row of undead gaurdsmen on either side.

Large doors, bronze with reliefs, ended the hallway. Four brawny men pulled them open and a low gong sounded as another servant swing the decorated log on it's chains agains the bronze face.

"Jayhawk, Lord of Elsinore and the Lady Lysette of Torvold" a deep basso voice announced. It's tones merged with the sound of the gong and send shivers up Lysette's spine.

She looked at the minstrel and wondered.
"Elsinore...? Now where would that be? and what did the man mean by Lord" However, the minstrel eyes were on the dias in front of him and he didn't seem to be aware of her curiosity.

The room was large, large enough to hold the banquet hall in Torvold three, four times over. A double colonade of dark marble pillars held up the sides. Dark armoured, undead guards filled the gaps between the pillars. The hall smelled of incense a the dry musty smell of a long forgotten tomb.

The dias was 4 steps up an on it stood a throne, carved from bone. The skull that framed it seemed that of a large lizard.
"Could it be a dragon's skull?" Lysette wondered, then her gaze fell upon the norseman and his friends that were placed to the side of the dias, held by a pair of unmoving guards.
"Thoren" she whispered.

"You may proceed," the vizier said and stepped backwards. The minstrel took a step forward and swept a grandiose bow to the man seated in the chair. Lysette curtsied and looked at the necromancer.

He was an old man, with skin the colour of vellum, a few wisps of white hair escaped the confines of the elaborately jeweled headdress. His body was swathed in jeweled and embroidered silk, the long wide sleeves dropped almost to the ground. His hands were narrow, not much more than skin and bone birdclaws.

"Who...approaches me?" the old man wheezed, then coughed. His pale eyes focused on the pair in front of him.
" of the spirit folk. Ha...aven't I seen you before?" His gaze shifted to Lysette.
"And a gi..irl. A pretty girl."

His smile took a hundred years of his age and made him seem a boy. Lysette could imagine him at the height of his power, strong and bold, with never a thought for the ages that followed.

"Wha...what bring you here, my pretty?"
Lysette hesitated for a moment, then at a slight nod from the minstrel spoke.
"I've come for my husband."

Civis Romanus
posted 09-17-00 11:50 ET (US)     113 / 147       
Back again....

"It...It seems your husband was the center of some unpleasantness yesterday in the market."

Lysette drew herself up to the full level of her diminuitive heighth. "He was attacked by Dark Elves, your Excellency, as were the others. He was forced to defend himself."

"Dark...Dark elves you say? There are no Dark Elves here."

"There are now, your Excellency."

The old man lifted an elongated bony finger and motioned to the Captain to come to the dias. The Captain leaned in to listen closely to the Necromancer's whispered words. The Captain replied, nodding his head.

"It seems, young lady, that the Captain agrees with you. His men search for the escaped elf even now, but with no immediate success. I do not approve of sword play and violence in my city. We live peaceful lives here...and they were peaceful until now. I suspect the sooner you are all gone from here, the sooner peace will return."

The Necromancer motioned to the prisoners. "Free them. They are not at fault." The guards immediately began to untie the bonds that held the prisoners hands behind their backs.

"Thank you, your Excellency," said Thoren as he joined his betrothed before the Necromancer. Benson and the others lined up behind Jayhawk, Lysette and Thoren.

"And now, Lord Jayhawk of Elsinore, as to your business here..."

[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 09-17-2000).]

Civis Romanus
posted 09-18-00 20:09 ET (US)     114 / 147       
Hi! Anyone there?
Eminence Grise
posted 09-19-00 05:18 ET (US)     115 / 147       
Yep, I'm here. I just got stuck in a bunch of meetings yesterday...
Nice to have you back, though, had a good trip?
BTW. I think we have a deadline, as I will be going on a four week holiday as of October 9th we might want to try and wrap it up before that date.

Jayhawk swept a low bow for the ancient king. Eleskander nodded. The minstrel realised the Necromancer had grown old, a lot older than the last time they had met. His power still seeemed to glow strong, but there were more dim spots in there than it used to be, a darkness was warped through it, like a cancer. It seemed time had finally managed to wear a chink in the Necromancer's armour.

Eleskander had ruled Sar Dalaam for centuries, his power had kept it whole, sane during the wars that had ravaged the continent. Now the man seemed closer to death than ever before. He had, however, lost his fear for it. How much longer he would last the minstrel didn't know. He did know the city would fall into disruption once the old man would die.

"So...o, young man, " the Necromancer said, his voice wavering.
"I've seen you before haven't I? Last time you were here was...a mortal lifespan ago. You look well," he added, genuine fondness in his voice.
"I don't think it has been quite as long, Lord Eleskander" Jayhawk replied.
"Ha...ave you been in town long? No, you've been here long enough for your companions to get into trouble. I told you last time to visit me immediately, why didn't you?"
"I asked to see you, but your chamberlain decided I should wait."

The old man looked at his vizir, who gulped audibly.
"Rassham, I've told you this man should be admitted to me immediately...didn't I? Or...I...I didn't did I? I asked your predecessor..."
Eleskander looked towards the ceiling and mumbled,
"Oh time, have I really cheated you too long."

Jayhawk took a step forward and gently touched the old man's hand.
"My lord?"
"Oh...oh yes. There you are. Evil times with dark elves prowling my streets.
They wouldn't do that when you were here last. They wouldn't dare.
You had a request?"
"I would like to see your library. I need to look at the Tome of Zalander. It may have bearing on the dark elves and Askhane's involvement."
"Certainly boy, Rassham, show my friend to the library."
He patted Jayhawk's hand.
"Go now, boy."

Jayhawk bowed again, stepped down and turned round to his friends. Lysette had never seen his face look so sad before, then it schooled itself and took on it's usual somewhat aloof expression.

"Please follow me?" the chamberlain said.

Civis Romanus
posted 09-19-00 15:53 ET (US)     116 / 147       
Yes indeed! It was a good trip. If you want any pointers on touring the Redwood Forests of California look me up.

We are agreed on a wrap up by October the 9th. Suggest we bypass overdoing the trip back to Torvald. Let's try a literary trick that get's us to Madrigold in one post. However, I shall defer the revelation of what's in the Tome of Zalander to you. Next stop... The Tome


Under the chamberlain's watchful eye, Jayhawk and the others walked along the ranks of shelved books in the library of the Necromancer.

Thoren could make no sense of the order in which the books were stored. "Chamberlain, how does one find anything in this library," he said with a hint of confusion mixed with frustration.

"If you have knowledge of the book you seek, you will find it here. The book shall beckon to you from its place of storage."

Thoren frowned. "I feel no such beckoning."

"You have no knowledge of the book."

"Shhhhh" whispered Lysette. "Let Jayhawk concentrate, if you will, begging the Chamberlain's pardon for the interruption." She flashed him a dazzling smile. The chamberlain felt increased warmth beneath his ceremonial robes. A delightfully pretty woman she is, he thought. The Norseman is indeed fortunate. He glanced at Thoren with new respect. He may not be a sorceror, but he must have some other powerful magic to have and hold this lovely woman. The chamberlain sighed and turned his attention to Jayhawk once more.

Jayhawk hesitated in his step once, then twice. He looked towards a shelf immediately to his right. He turned and strode directly towards the shelf. Now before the books, he reached up and took from its place a 2-inch thick leather bound book of slightly larger than typical size. He hurried to a nearby table and laid the book down on its back. Leaning over he blew a layer of accumulated dust off the somewhat obscured title on the cover.

Nested within a bevy of runes was the title of the text:


Jayhawk said to no one in particular, "We have found what we seek. The answer is here." He sat down in a chair and opened the book to the first page...

[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 09-19-2000).]

Eminence Grise
posted 09-21-00 06:34 ET (US)     117 / 147       
A small whirlwind appeared on top of the book, dust poured from it's pages. Those gathered took a step back except for the minstrel. He blew gently into the whirlwind which reshaped it self and something started to glow in it's heart. The glow expanded and formed a silverised mirror suspended in a cloud of smoke.

Where there should be a reflection of the minstrel there was the face of a haughty looking man, with a neatly trimmed beard and a jaunty cap on his straight black hair. His eyes were pools of shadow. His lips were moving, but no sound could be heard.

The minstrel ignored the mirror and rifled the volume til he found a section he was looking for. As he turned pages, the face in the mirror seemed to flicker then stabelise as he focused on a single page. Jayhawks hand moved aside the mirror and suddenly a voice could be heard. It's language was an arcane variety of what was spoken in Sar Dalaam, however, if one concentrated the words could be made out.

"...and so it will come to pass in the year of the Screaming Phoenix, that the Lords of Dread will walk the world once more. The Lord Askhane whill be foremost and first among them and he will lay waste to the lands of the West. And once the strongholds of the Norse have fallen his power will be strong enough to call his brothers to his feet. At his shoulder stands one whose death was witnessed, yet she will be his instrument of victory and the Dark Ones have rissen from their barrows to do her bidding.

The Darkness will fall and Man shall perish once the Halls of Tor are conquered. Yet in this Darkness there is light as the Child of Tor will bring with him his boon companions: The Lady and the Raven. The Archer and the Healer. The Warrior and the Angel. These will carry the Blade of Absalom into the Heart of Darkness to face She who Died.

Theirs is a chance in thousands, but should they vanquish the Dead, the Dread will be tempered until the next Conjuntion of the Rogue Star and the Phoenix..."

Civis Romanus
posted 09-21-00 15:55 ET (US)     118 / 147       
Please... A moment of silence is requested in memory of my hard drive and the two-thirds completed Caesar III military career residing thereon. Both shall occupy a common grave in the local landfill. May they rest in peace. I know, I know... back it up next time. *sniff*

Oh well, looks like I'll have to slaughter barbarians, and elephants (sorry Incontinentia) and carthaginians once again. Maybe this won't be so bad afterall.


Jayhawk waved his hand before the mirror without touching it and the mirror collapsed into the form of the whirlwind once more, then shrank and disappeared into the opened book on the table before Jayhawk. The minstrel slowly closed the book. "We have our answer," he said.

The expressions on the faces of the others varied from puzzlement to concentrated thought to stunned surprise. Thoren was the first to move. He sought a nearby chair pulled it to the table across from Jayhawk and sat down on it heavily. "I think I understand most, but not all of what I just heard."

"What do you think it said?" asked Jayhawk.

The Child of Tor is me. I will attempt to return to Torvald and break the siege by She Who Died. This must be referring to Ragnhild. Those with me will be the Lady, who must by Lysette; the Archer, who must be Benson; the Warrior, who must be Chunky; But the others I cannot fathom. Who is the Raven, the Healer and the Angel (at his mentioning the Angel, Thoren looked quizzically at Jayhawk. The Minstrel looked back with eyes saying "carefull now"). The Norseman continued to discuss the Raven and Healer, but not the Angel.

"Gillandra was a healer with her salves and potions, but she is off with Wendolin. Is this who is being referred to as the Healer. Then there is Eme-Redser. Could she be this Healer? But the Raven... I know no such person, unless it is Ronen. Why whould he be called the Raven?"

Thoren continued his ramblings. "Then the matter of the sword. Is the Blade of Absalom something new we must find, or is it the sword we buried in the mountain to prevent its being captured by Zordemon and his minions? So many questions."

"There are answers to your questions, Thoren," replied Jayhawk. "Some can be deciphered today, here, right in this library. There are others that can only be answered in the future."

Chunky spoke up next. "Does this mean Thoren and we shall defeat the witch and send Lord Ashkane back to his realm?"

Jayhawk looked at him with saddened eyes. "It means Thoren and we shall try. It does not mean any of us shall succeed... or even survive the attempt."

[This message has been edited by Civis Romanus (edited 09-21-2000).]

Eminence Grise
posted 09-22-00 06:12 ET (US)     119 / 147       
"You are mistaken about me being the Warrior, " Chunky said in the silence that had fallen.

He held out his hand and turned the silver band on his ring finger showing the dark stone that was set in it. The light caught the raven carved in its face.
Thoren lifted an eyebrow.
"The Raven?"
Chunky shrugged.
"I am the last scion of the House of the Raven."
Lysette looked at him with wonder in her eyes.
"...but the last Lord of Raven died a hundred and fifty years ago. He was killed by the dragon Flametongue and died without issue."
"He had issue, " Chunky answered.
"He loved and was loved in return by his father's Huntsmaster's daughter. However, with the Ravenhold destroyed by Flametongue, there was not much use claiming it for the child." He shrugged, then smiled.
"As for the Angel, they must be referring to Jayhawk's angelic voice."

"The Healer must be referring to Eme-Redser, " Lysette spoke, "as for the Warrior, it must be Ronan."
She looked at the youth.
Ronan's eyes burned fiercely in his too pale face.
"If this is my destiny then I won't let you down. This must be the path the gods put my feet upon and why I met up with you in the first place.
I will fight with you against Evil."

At that moment the Librarian returned and handed the minstrel another tomb. This one was full yard long and covered in reddish scaled skin.
"I couldn't help overhearing you mention the Sword of Absalom, Yareesh mentions it in his Travelogica."
He flicked the pages until he found the passage he was looking for.
"...deepe within ye Murkysh Swampe, Northe of Gardathey remains ye Tower of Abshaloom. Ye aulde warrior had taken this as his abode, yet long since he hath dyed."

"He goes on to describe the way the tower looked and the time it took him to travel from here to Gardathey, which is now called Gardat in Saetherwold." the librarian concluded.

Jayhawk thanked the man and asked the Vizir to bid the necromancer goodbye. Then he turned to his friends.
"We need to leave at dawn."

They followed the Vizir back to the entrance of the palace where he bid them fair winds. As they were standing there the undead warriors standing guard suddenly collapsed. The Vizir turned away from then and ran off.

"What..?" Thoren started to ask.
Jayhawk looked at him and for a moment Thoren saw pain there.
"The Necromancer is dead or dying. His power is returning to it's source, his servants still as the power leaves them. Come."

All through the city they saw the undead, some turned to dust, others broken apart. The least old corpses had only just started to wither. People ran around in panic, while human guardsmen were vainly trying to restore some semblance of order.

Then a piercing cry sounded form the highest palace tower, taken up by the prayer-guides in the various prayer towers, flowing outward like ripples in a pond.
Jayhawk stopped to listen.

"He's dead, the dark elves have murdered him. We can't wait until tomorrow, we must leave now."

Eminence Grise
posted 09-22-00 06:22 ET (US)     120 / 147       
Sorry to hear about the harddisk, Civis.
Luck with take two (or three or four )
Civis Romanus
posted 09-22-00 16:01 ET (US)     121 / 147       
A familiar face greeted them within the tavern's serving place. Lysette hurried over to greet her elven mentor. Eme-Redser was just as happy to see the young woman as she was to see the others as they entered the tavern.

But Lysette's joy was short lived. In the middle of her hug she saw lying on the floor behind the serving bar the lifeless body of O'Leary. She slowly released Eme-Redser, joy fading to sorrow. She really liked the undead proprietor of the tavern. Now he was gone too, as were the other undead in the city of the Necromancer.

"Quickly, gather your things," said Jayhawk. We haven't a moment to lose." Though soft spoken, the tall minstrel's voice at times carried a subtle strength that demanded obedience of all within earshot. His voice carried that strength today. The others responded immediately.

Very soon they were ready to travel. Jayhawk took a moment to relate their experiences to Eme-Redser as he waited for all to gather. She understood quickly what had happened and where they were soon to go. It was the manner of travel that surprised her.

"Do as I say without question," began Jayhawk when they were once again gathered together on the street before the tavern. "There is more in the tomes that I didn't tell you. One of these things is a spell cast by the Angel that I can imitate and repeat. It will get us to Safaervold and away from this place. But you must follow my instructions completely or it won't happen. Are you ready?"

At the words "by the Angel" Both Thoren and Eme-Redser lifted an eyebrow and looked quizzically at Jayhawk. He ignored them and continued. "Press your arms by your sides and do not touch each other. Close your eyes and imagine you are a bird in flight. Think nothing except the words "Gardath in Safaervold". Repeat them over and over again."
They did as they were told.

Eyes closed, they did not see the Minstrel raise his arms and cross them on his chest. They did not see his eyes change to green, then gold, then brightly flash with mixed hues of green, gold and a touch of red. They did not feel any sensation at all.

Then a soft voice said, "You may open your eyes now."

They beheld not the city of the Necromancer, but the edges of the village called Gardath. They were indeed in Safaervold. Ronan made as if to ask how, but held his question back after one glance from the Minstrel. "So," said Jayhawk. "It seems to work for us as well. That is indeed fortunate. I am glad I remembered it correctly." Without further word he began to walk into Gardath. It was Eme-Redser who raised a note of caution just as they began to walk down the main street through the town.

"Caution, I sense the presence of elves here. I do not know their kind. Beware, Minstrel..." she said.

Caesar Ishaius
posted 09-24-00 10:32 ET (US)     122 / 147       
Hello I am back. I had a lot of stuff to do so I couldn't respond. I have some questions: Is Jayhawk an archangel (you know, the angels that fight) or just a normal angel? Does Ronen know that Jayhawk is an angel?
BTW- My character in Diablo2 (Ronen) is now level 51, and he is "Lord Ronen". I'm happy to see you returned from your trip Civis, but I have to ask you: Do you still play Caesar3?? Oh an does Abshaloom suposed to be someone Jewish? his name sounds like that.

Jayhawk looked to the at Ronen while they walked in the streets. Ronen was amazed from Gardath. He used to live in a small village near and oasis in the desert.
Suddenly they heard a voice of a woman.
"Help us! Dark elves are attacking!"
Thoren stopped her. She didn't wait for him to ask anything and pointed to a shop. As they approched the shop they saw a man with an arrow stuck at his neck flying from the shop, smashing the front window. Thoren and Ronen took out their weapons while benson took out his bow and armed it with an arrow. "Cover me" Thoren whispered while he kicked the door and charged in. He randomly swung his sword. Soon it was stopped by another sword of a dark elf. Another Dark elf was going to hit Thoren's neck, but Ronen quickly ran in forward and slashed the elf's neck. Benson shot an arrow to the elf archer, but missed. Benson quickly took out a dagger, aimed it, and threw it toward the elf archer. The dagger cut through the archer's hand making him drop, stunned to the floor. Thoren continued killing elves, untill they reached the arcer... (oh man this is making me feel De-Ja-Vu.. )

posted 09-25-00 00:41 ET (US)     123 / 147       
Oh, this is awesome.....! Jayhawk and Civis, the descriptions are sooooo vivid! Civis, Sorry to hear of your loss....time will heal... Go, guys!

Eme-Redser and the rest of the group held back, waiting to see what was going to happen inside the shop.

Eme-Redser quickly checked her bag, making sure that she had all of the supplies that she needed, in case she was called upon to administer aid. She was satisfied with what she found, and looked once again upon the fighting.........

posted 09-25-00 01:12 ET (US)     124 / 147       
As the companions reached the fallen archer the door of the shop slammed shut and they found themselves stranded and surrounded by dark elves, all with a sinister smile on their faces and bloodlust in their eyes. It was a stand off as the companions gathered around to cover each other and elves circled them like a pack of ravenous wolves. Thoren stood at the ready sword gripped. His body was a coiled spring waiting for its moment. Ronen was standing a gripping his sword while he clinched his other hand slowly and rhythmically. He look a little puzzled at the quick change of the battle.

Chunky retuned the glair of the eves as he served the room sizing up his enemy. They were out numbered 4 or 5 to one he noted. He knew he could hold his end. He also had no doubts about Thoren or Benson but he took a quick glance at Ronen could this young pup pass this baptism of fire he wondered. The though left as quick as it had come as he watched his enemy waiting to see who would make the first move.

Meanwhile Benson surveyed the enemy as he gripped his long sword in one hand and his short sword in the other. He returned the stared of the elves with a stone mask revealing nothing of what he was thinking. Who would make the first move he wandered? He saw Thoren to his right and Ronen to his left and could feel the presence of Chunky to his back. He wandered if he should make the first move or wait and let someone else make the move.

The room was silent even the sounds of breathing seen to be devoured by the silence. No one moved. Every one seemed to be paralyzed by the moment until.....

Eminence Grise
posted 09-25-00 05:30 ET (US)     125 / 147       
Ish, no-one knows Jayhawk's an angel. Some suspect he's more than the minstrel he seems to be, but teh suspicion doesn't stick. He's using a glamour to hide what should not be seen, only the golden glow in his eyes give him away at times, but people will forget that almost as soon as they see them.
He'll not be directly responsible for the taking of lives, for such is the suffereance of the gods that allow him to walk the earths.

Do note that the word 'angel' is just a title, a word used to describe a supernatural power on the side of what we would call good.

Lastly, Absalom is not supposed to be Jewish, as there is no such thing as "Jewish" in these Realms, however, you're right as to where that is I took the name from

Contrary to Benson's expectations, young Ronan was the first to move. His body seemed to flow from stillness into movement almost too fluid for a mortal. His first move swept the sword-and-a-half he was wielding up and sideways while his body lunged forward. As the motion reached the top of it's arc three elves lay dead or dying on the floor of the room.

Chunky and Thoren had moved only seconds after Ronen. The Norseman's long sword decapitated one elf and stabbed the next in the throat, while the last Lord of the Ravenhold jabbed his sword inside the face plate of an elf that was about to come inside Benson's guard. The hunter flicked his shorter weapon and took the elf in the chest.

Ronen in the mean time moved forward his blade shaping a figure eight of woven steel in the air before him, several more elves lay where they had fallen.

"He'll do, " Benson thought as his own weapons sought and found exposed flesh. The clang of steel on steel, the muffled thumps of bodies falling and a gasping for breath filled the room as the four warriors dispatched the dark elven strike force.

As the last dark elf bit the dust Ronen fell to his knees. At first Benson thought the young man was wounded, but none of the blood and gore that covered his arms, face and surcoat was his own. Ronen's sword stabbed the ground and his head bent in prayer. Thoren looked at Chunky, who shrugged.
In a soft voice the young paladin prayed for the souls of those he and his friends had slain. Then he rose, his face still pale underneath the grime.
"They are dead and we have prevailed. Surely the gods mus be with us in this venture."
"One should hope so, " Benson grumbled under his breath.

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