Entry

Bleached stone rose from the street in a wall of sterile white. "I thought he said it wasn't guarded." Nox's low rumble of a voice was barely a whisper, and yet still quite audible in the night air. She stood a full two feet taller than any of the others, and toted a large club, that was more akin to a small tree. With it, she gestured to the two guards at either side of the large gate, and two others on the wall above.

"Think nothing of them," Vary's silky voice cooed from the darkness. "I'll put them to sleep, if you want to do the rest." He stepped softly out onto the cobbles and the sound of his pipes wafted across the aged stone. As the music caressed them, three guards toppled into mindless slumber, the fourth however, had rounded a corner of the wall and unwittingly removed himself from earshot. Ryddle darted out from among them, jumping and slipping her dagger into her teeth as she deftly found invisible imperfections in the stone to use as hand and footholds. Disappearing over the top of the wall, there was silence for a moment, and then a gurgle and the clatter of metal armour collapsing against stone. She reappeared a moment later, somehow covered in fresh blood.

"She's a gory little spit of vermin." Everyone gave silent ascent to Eclavidras' observation, and then went to work, permanently disabling the other guards. "Ilmaradrin, you go up with the rat. You two, come with me." Eclavidras opened the small door at the side of the broad gate, and stepped into the light of the guard tower. Three pairs of eyes looked up from their game of bones just in time to see the terror descend upon them. When Nox had finally managed to squeeze into the room, the bodies had already been searched for loot, and the female drow was making her way out into the main walk of the inner archives. The walk circled and overlooked three quarters of the giant room. To the right, it lead to a large double door, and to the left, around to a wide flight of pillared stairs. Banners hung from the ceiling, casting odd shadows in the light cast by the nearby braziers. Three more guards were within, apparently unaware of what had befallen their friends outside.

"Alarm!" The drow's dark aura had drastically changed the quality of light in the room and drawn the guards attention. Two bore arms while the third ran for a door in the far wall.

"Stop him!" Nox and the drow were engaged with the two defenders while Vary and Ryddle ran after the other. Leaping from the stairs, the Satyr staggered uncertainly and then closed the final feet, pushing the door closed even as the guard was opening it. Close on his heels, Ryddle bore down with her knives, leaping from the walkway above. Three more corpses joined their compatriots, and another five once the doors into the main guard room had been breached. The five creatures stood surveying the scene. Not yet a half hour in each other's company, they had efficiently dealt with fifteen guards, and after searching the store rooms, were making their way into the stone hallway that presumably lead down to the vault. A turn, and then forty feet brought them up against a flat wall barring their path. Eclavidras tapped it with the pommel of her sword. "It's not very thick, but it sounds quite solid." With a jerk of her head she motioned Ilmaradrin to find a way past it and he sullenly complied. As he checked the top and sides for weaknesses, down below, Ryddle was probing the surface. Her finger dipped into a small pentagonal recess, a click, the crash of a portcullis closing behind them, and the wall started to slowly advance toward them!

In later times, Ryddle would be sternly reminded of the virtue of taking everything she found on corpses. When she had felled the commander of the guards though, she thought nothing of the small, unadorned metallic ring he bore, having noticed that it had no shine to it whatsoever. For this, she now ran. Shrinking down in size, she slipped out of her armour and through the bars of the portcullis, scurrying across the hall as the grating sound of metal against stone echoed behind her. Nox pushed and battered at the wall, managing to slow it a little, and giving it a few dents that wouldn't soon be repaired. Ilmaradrin helped her, while Vary chose to batter the portcullis with kicks and swordblows. With the wall pressing them close enough together that the creatures could smell each other's fear, Ryddle slipped back in and stabbed the ring into the depression. The grinding stopped. The wall reluctantly retreated, and then slowly slid into the floor. Eclavidras closed her eyes. She was hoarse from screaming orders and her voice cracked a little as she hissed at Ryddle. "Next time," She paused for breath. "take everything."

The Gathering

A key turned, and in the gloom, a lock could be heard sliding open. Then silence. Despite their age and obvious coating of rust, the prison doors swung open noiselessly, and in stepped a short, cloaked figure. The two inmates were on their feet by now, and groping forward, found a parchment thrust into their hands. Nothing could be seen with any clarity, but as the magics began to stir, flaming letters appeared; bubbling and hissing on the page. It bade them thus.

"Follow the Light... I await you."

Then melding together like fluorescent quicksilver, they lifted into the air, illuminating their surroundings. The messenger was nowhere to be seen, and the satyr and Minotaur stood alone in the cool damp of the Waterdeep dungeon. They had been captured and imprisoned together for their failed attempts to impersonate other more "typical" races, and then beginning a brawl when entrance to an outlying pub had been denied. Here, they awaited sentencing, but being what they were, it was more likely they'd wind up as sport in the arenas. Whoever had found them had not only won their freedom, but their interest, so as the light began to waft away, they followed.

Near the city of the dead, Eclavidras was in her usual imperious mood. Holed up for three days, hiding, and why? She was a Paladin, after all, and where her sword found flesh, it was no stranger to the pact of slaughter that she was bound to. But by treachery her house had been slain, and she, along with her brother, had been the only two to escape Menzoberranzan. Now fugitives, and worse, hiding above ground! There seemed to be no safe places to rest. Her head silently jerked when the knock came at their door. "Ilmaradrin!" She hissed, and then began to speak in their secret Drow sign. The reluctance on his face was evident, but fearing his sister's wrath more than whatever could be on the other side of the door, Ilmaradrin went and cautiously opened it. "Males." came the spiteful hiss behind him. There was no one outside, and aside from a small breeze, nothing stirred in the dingy back alley that served as the street to their hovel. He turned to close the door and came face to face with the hilt of a dagger. A century flashed before his eyes before he realized that it was sticking in the door, holding a small parchment that fluttered quietly in the night air. He looked at his sister, and moments later, with their few meager possessions on their backs, they too followed the light.

They didn't have far to go. The orb darted here and there, but seemingly unaffected by the wind, and within a few minutes, they found themselves only a short mile away from their temporary home. The light slipped through a crack in the door to a larger building, and after looking around, they went inside. Having spent time on the plain of shadow, they were used to darkness, but what met them inside was almost oppressive. Shapes darted here and their as their eyes kept reassuring them that they would be adjusted in only another moment. Shuffling could be heard behind them, and as an orb of light passed between them, the sound of heavy hooves could be heard from behind. They met Nox and Vary's gaze with the same suspicion until a voice spoke. Rolling deeply through the room, it seemed to form the darkness into pictures of thought, as though the same tongue had some other Abyssal powers. "You have come at last. I am glad you didn't keep me waiting." The sound shifted upwards, and a clawed hand caught the orb, depositing it into a small jar as the speaker rose from his seat. "I need your talents, all of you. I have need of an artifact. This is my price for freeing you from prison..." In the darkness, steely black eyes cut through and looked at the two Drow. "...and I can pay any price, should you bring the artifact to me safely." The darkness only intensified the silence, making everyone jump when he continued. "Speed is of the essence. This relic must be retrieved tonight, and I have no one else I can request this of."
No further compulsion was necessary as the thought of riches and relics began to play across their minds. Eclavidras stepped forward. "What is it and where?"
A soft, amused snort caused the darkness to roil. "A parchment, kept in safe storage at the archives near the centre of the city. It is to be transported in the early morning, but before then, it is unguarded, and should pose no difficulty to get to." He paused, "At least, not for you."
The four eyed each other and then each nodded slightly. Eclavidras spoke again, "Very well, we accept your little 'job.'" The scorn in her voice was thinly masked, but the speaker seemed to pay no heed.
"Excellent. There is a fifth who shall accompany you. She does not speak, but has talents that you may find useful. Treat her well, and you will never fear treachery from her hand."
A rat crept from the shadows toward them, and slowly standing up on it's hind legs, grew into the form of a small, wiry girl in oversized armour. Her eyes, large with wonder. She chewed on a knuckle as she looked at each of the four, then, despite snorts and stamping, rushed forward and wrapped her arms half way around the Minotaur's stomach, sinking happily into it's fur.
"Her personality grew inward as she aged, yet her skill is exceptional. Now go, and return once you have the scroll."

Introductions made, all save Ryddle who stared and smiled dumbly at them all, they made their way into Waterdeep.

It's Storytime!

Hello everyone. I haven't known what to post for a while, so I figured I'd start writing down my story. This is the work of four people, and there may be others who contribute. We play out the story I create every couple weeks, and so it continually evolves based upon their choices and personalities. Anyway, we're a ways in, and I figured I'd share a bit of it with you all. This is by no means all of it... just the beginning in fact, so I hope you enjoy. God bless, everybody.

Hmmn... what to name it...

Well, the next riddle is written. It'll be several weeks before the guys can see it, but here tis anyway :) *grins* I was sitting in church today, and all of a sudden, the fourth dungeon came to me... yes... I can't keep up with them! The puzzles come too fast for me to write them all down! *grins* Mmn... the guys complained that the last one was too vague. So I hope this one's more obvious to any who know Faerun. Take care! Enjoy.

Verdant woods, their heady odours sigh,
Bound by liquid light and vap'rous waves,
Centred 'round a home for scamps and knaves,
Is the land where jagged peaks step high.

Boundless force will harken from the planes,
And centuries will crumble in its grasp,
High magic 'round about them as a clasp,
Six wishes failed, and sand; all that remains.

Where icy waters mix, find highest ground,
From safety, take a step between the teeth,
The waters part to show a way beneath,
Then closing, seal the path on which you're bound.

The guardian, once won, will grant the way,
And though the gullet beckons, stay behind,
Allow this lilting rhythm to remind,
For those that dwell here fear the light of day.

The thing you seek lies plainly past the door,
So find your nerve as tunnels sway and twist,
Its keeper hungers for this fated tryst,
One little bite, and pain is felt no more.

Dreaming of screaming...

...someone kicked me out of my mind. *smiles* Does it ever seem like you're on the outside? Seeing something you can never touch. Watching, and knowing that no one sees you, or even knows you're there. A song seems to be plaguing me lately... *goes to find the lyrics*

Love will abide, take things in stride
Sounds like good advice but there's no one at my side
And time washes clean love's wounds unseen
That's what someone told me but I don't know what it means.

Cause I've done everything I know to try and make you mine
And I think I'm gonna love you for a long long time

Caught in my fears
Blinking back the tears
I can't say you hurt me when you never let me near
And I never drew one response from you
All the while you fell all over girls you never knew
Cause I've done everything I know to try and make you mine
And I think it's gonna hurt me for a long long time

Wait for the day
You'll go away
Knowing that you warned me of the price I'd have to pay
And life's full of flaws
Who knows the cause?
Living in the memory of a love that never was
Cause I've done everything I know to try and change your mind
and I think I'm gonna miss you for a long long time
Cause I've done everything I know to try and make you mine
And I think I'm gonna love you for a long long time.

*reminds himself it's in God's hands and goes off to bed*

The Ice Keep

I don't know if any of you know, but I've begun mastering a game of Dungeons and Dragons for a small group. Anyhow, I'm big on puzzles, brain benders, and ways to tweak and tease those poor creatures who dare to show up on a bi-weekly basis *grins* My brother has requested that I post the riddle I composed for one of the adventures, and I think it'll be a good way to keep this blog alive... adding in the fantastic to my *coughs* quite mundane and average, every-day musings. *wonders how many of you have read the last post, since he only published it a couple minutes ago* Anyhow! Here's the riddle. I can't explain, or tell you the answer to it because I don't want the players to know the answer, so if you want to know, either show up for the game, or email me. Take care all. GB

Ye who with sturdy backbone doth t'spire,
And seek the kindling of fair Toril's fire,
Away! Swift climb the broken fangéd rook,
And chance grant what the ghostly filcher took.

Start at the nest of rocks and make ascent,
Hug shadows where the sun and moon are spent,
Then fall into the blue to reach it's top,
To find the water's edge where snowflakes stop.

Only this small warning give I thee,
Beware the eye that seeks again to see,
It's sphere turned red by tears born forth from hate,
Resist it's luring gaze or share it's fate.

"To my friends: My work is done. Why wait?"

I wonder if George Eastman found what he wanted. These past few weeks, I've been composing a suicide note. ...no, not for myself. *smiles gently* A note for culture, for civilization... for civility as a whole. If it had the chance to pass gracefully from us, instead of this slow, lingering death it now endures, what would it say? If common sense, familial affection, or honour had had voice before their demise, would they have voiced a complaint? Would they have summoned their last strength to protest the injustice forced upon them through the calloused nature of this self-satisfied world? Or being too full of sense, gentleness, and honour... would they have realized that no one would hear them anyway, and that it would be better just to save themselves the mockery and derision that a final instruction would garner? I'm not so sure, and in any case, it's a topic that's not generally discussed. (ergo, it should be, since it's not cliched yet :)
It would start with an expression of emptyness. Written simply, no long words, and no bribe attempts or blubbering. It would also be calm, written in a way that showed that they knew how final, and inevitable this step would be. No appology would be made, but also no accusation laid for the shameful way they'd been treated in life. Finished with a final expression of care, that those who remain might make a good way for themselves, and even possibly remember them fondly from time to time. Then with the last penstroke, allow the wind to blow away the last remnants of their already frail features. Ah yes, a fitting death for invaluable virtues. May they find peace at long last.

Why is it that whenever I sit down here my mind suddenly behaves? That I can never seem to express the torrent within me. *sighs* Or is it that I just don't think anyone would really listen? ...like today... someone asked me how I was. I said "I've been better." And without even lifting her head from the computer screen, in that singsong voice of hers, she said "Oh! That's gooood!" ...what's the point? ...I spent a half hour in raging meditation... talking, if not screaming to no one in particular, and that's all that's left... after all is said and done, the conclusion not only sums up the ideas found *in* the torrent of thought, but defines it so neatly from without... what *was* the point? I don't want this anymore. "Can I be somebody else for all the times I hate myself?" Yes... I realize I'm in darker moods more often in here than in real life... but... *smiles* no one's really listening anyway... it's all good.

L.O.L.

"Life Outa Luck"... Isn't it strange to think there could be those out there who've reached the end? Not a physical one... but... they've just been pushed down for the last time. Out of luck, last chance gone, hold your breath and close your eyes... thanks for coming. Reading through the Hitchiker's guide to the Galaxy, interestingly enough, has altered my view on life. Yes... Improbability Fields and Bistromathics are of course superb, but just think... what if... I'm *not* actually the most important thing in the universe? I mean honestly... to think of space as something so mind bogglingly big (and so on) that if you were to fully comprehend the enormity of it, the insignificance you would experience would be enough to crush all spirit and will within you. Then... holding that vision in one hand... zoom into a small speck of nothing in the other... magnify, and again... and a million times a million times again. And the universe you're now looking at in your other hand belongs to the person standing next to you. But... there's something odd here. No, the drapery doesn't clash... rather, they're not the centre of it; you are. And to weigh these two perspectives, one in each hand, really makes the mind flurr and glurry. ...an infintesimal nothing, (in the greater scheme of a mind bogglingly big (and so on) universe), and yet having the ability to be everything to someone else. An unexpected bit of luck. Another chance. A fresh breath and new sight. A new opportunity. What a fantastic opportunity for *us!* *smiles at the irony* What a marvelously made universe we live in!