Scarab was based in Freeport on the Solusek Ro server. The Jade Tiger Inn was our base of operations... in fact, Dinaden even bought the place.
We were a good-aligned guild, believing firming in the values of honor, loyalty, and valor. It took a long time and a hard debate before we opened our doors to "evil" races, and even then they had to renounce their evil ways.
Scarab struck a medium balance between gaming and roleplaying in EverQuest. In true Scarab fashion we constantly held RP get-togethers, guild meetings, player quests, trade fairs, wars, and many other RP events to break the monotony of the "grind" that so frequently accompanies online games.
Guild Structure
Guildmasters -- Lord and Lady Hawke, Jayfoot Bloomrose, Maska, Corvax Arcanium (acting GM)
Masters of Admissions -- Jayfoot Bloomrose, Gyst Starblayze
Inner Circle -- It was during our EQ times that we instituted biannual Inner Circle elections. Also, we established our pattern of an Inner Circle that governs the guild out-of-game while an in-game Guildmaster and officers handle in-game affairs.
Recruitment
Recruitment in EQ was "like a hazing from hell." All recruits underwent a Recruit Quest, whether it be a task of collecting newbie items from various continents (i.e. Jumjum Juice) or the even worse concoctions of Gyst's deranged imagination. Indeed, we truly ought to pity all of Scarab's EQ recruits.
Jayfoot and Gyst served as Masters of Admissions... and their names were held in fear by all who sought admittance. But on the other hand, Gyst and Jayfoot were probably just as scared by people who wanted to join.
EverQuest was filled with countless Scarab memories... including all those innocent bystanders who heard us shout "HAIL SCARAB" every time we entered a zone. If you weren't with us in EQ, you missed out... but at least you can enjoy our memories here. And if you were in EQ with us, submit your own memories and help our history grow to do the Scarab legacy justice!
EverQuest was filled with countless Scarab memories... including all those innocent bystanders who heard us shout "HAIL SCARAB" every time we entered a zone.* If you weren't with us in EQ, you missed out... but at least you can enjoy our memories here. And if you were in EQ with us, submit your own memories and help our history grow to do the Scarab legacy justice!
* I remember during the first few days of EQ, see people running around yelling "Hail SCARAB!" and thinking "wtf is up with these guys and the bugs in E commons..."
I remember Guk farming in eq1 when we camped for shiny metalic robes for like most of a week and err some fool wizard bound in a spot that got trainied and lost like half a level before he wizzed up and dc'd
There were unintentional 15 frog trains in Lower Guk. There were *intentional* 30 frog trains in Lower Guk for AE stun/nuking carnage.
Mmmmm... Mass AE-killing all of lower Guk with Calanctus and the gang...
Everybody remembers the first time they stepped foot into the Planes. What a thrilling rush it was! Here are some of our greatest plane memories:
SCARAB planes raids were how Blackrabbit was born. I PLed her in 2 weeks flat from the teens to 47 because we only had Jayfoot as a rogue and he wasn't always on, so CR's were nigh impossible. After an exhausting all-nighter the night before our hate raid, Bunny hit 47 and I crashed out in bed for a few hours before the evening of the raid.
Sallapus showed me around for a few minutes before disappearing, and that was that... endless CRs began for the Rabbit.
I remember MANY a plane raid spent as the resident CR-whore after that. Smiling Fear, Hate, some expeditions to HS, no worries, send the Bunny in!
I loved racing Luman in Fear and Hate dragging corpses after wipes.
My best memory.
Fear run. Ranger pulling. Everyone laughing so hard cuz everyone kept yelling Ranger down. One of the pulls I decide to try and snare the mob just before it would beat on said ranger (believe it was maska at the time). Dead gorilla ignores everyone and walks slowly over to said druid and dead in two swings.
No biggie, next pull I figure I just timed it wrong. Tried snare again. Dead yet again and it was either Maska or Kyliar that yelled out "Who moved the RANGER DOWN KEY to the DRUID??
I also liked my first hate raid... I won a pair of boots by default since the only other warrior had them already.
I have the best all time planes screenshot...from Hate...shows Horamir the cleric holding a spear (which clerics cant equip) and having a tail (which not many dwarves have), hard to explain, but the pic is awesome.
I remember the hate and fear runs. I learned how to cr mostly from BR too. Lot of fun and fond memories that. I recall how difficult it was at first working around the first two walls. As we got better we finally where able to work our way in and go upstairs.
Fear raids doing the initial assault team to get a foot hold and getting to the safespot. Of course they took out the "safe" spot eventually.
Here's an old briefing that I wrote to prep the folks who volunteered to help run a recruit quest back in EQ 1.
If anyone wants to post first-hand accounts of how the quest actually turned out, please do!
Behold... the Recruit Quest is here!
by Gystypoo Questmeister posted 11/2/00 7:40:40 PM
That's right Mousketeers! It's almost time for the brand spanking new Recruit Quest of Honor, Valor, and Loyalty! I know many of you have been anxiously awaiting the details, so here they are!
When: The quest will take place on the night of either Friday, November 10, or Saturday, November 11, depending on the schedules of the quest character volunteers.
What: The quest is designed to give the recruits a memorable experience that will show them what being in Scarab is all about, as well as to give us a chance to see the recruits firsthand in action.
Who: All recruits who have passed their Question and Answer test will be invited to attend. All full members of Scarab are invited to harass, er, help test them.
Why: Because it's FUN!
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for... the official quest briefing! Feel free to leave comments in reply, but if you'd like to volunteer to play as a quest character please reply to my other post on this board regarding role casting. Thanks.
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I (Gystypoo Questmeister) will personally serve as the quest overseer to manage and coordinate the quest events as the quest progresses. IC members and various full-member volunteers will be playing the parts of various quest characters with whom the recruits will interact throughout the quest.
The quest requires the recruits to be on a relatively good alignment with good race factions. If the recruits are unable to enter good-race places like Surefall Glade, Qeynos, and Erudin without being attacked, they must either miss out on the quest or use an alternate character with good faction standings.
The quest will begin on the top of the stone bridge tower in North Karana. We can provide transportation to North Karana beforehand, but it will be the recruits' responsibility to be present in NK when the quest begins.
I will address the recruits and present them each with a rather obscure and difficult question in the form of a small quiz. Each will give me an answer (which will mostly likely be incorrect) and I will tell them the correct answer. The purpose of this quick quiz is not to test their knowledge, but rather put them in the proper mindset for the rest of the quest. When they begin, they will be confident in their ability to succeed since they have aced the Q & A part of their recruitment with flying colors... However, when immediately they are given a difficult question that they cannot answer they will become aware that this quest might be more challenging than they had expected. If they respond incorrectly, they will feel like they must "catch up" during the rest of the quest, thus inspiring them to compete as fiercely and energetically as possible.
After the brief warm-up quiz, I will tell the recruits of an old Erudite who has served Scarab diligently for many years. Over this time, he has become a close and trusted friend to the entire guild. Recently, Scarab has received word that he requests our assistance in a small matter, and Scarab has decided to entrust this great responsibility with the recruits. The recruits are instructed to meet with this erudite in Surefall Glade and tend to his requests.
The recruits will then begin traveling to Surefall Glade and their first test will begin. We will watch the recruits to see how they travel and work. They might split up and race to Surefall Glade thinking that the first recruit to complete the quest will "win." However, ideally they will group and travel together, helping each other in their common goal.
When they arrive in Surefall Glade and find the Erudite, he will tell them that his brother is having some serious trouble and wishes to make a burnt offering to Quellious in the Temple of the Tranquil in Erudin. He will give each recruit a different gem and instruct them to visit the Temple of Life in Qeynos, have the gem blessed for the sacrifice, and then deliver it to his brother in Erudin and attend to his needs.
When the recruits arrive in Qeynos, they will be tested yet again without even knowing it. I will announce to the guild that I am looking for blue diamonds and I'll request that if anyone sees anyone auctioning them, please let me know. In Qeynos, one of the quest characters will be casually auctioning blue diamonds. This will test the recruits' Guild Awareness. If they pay attention to the guild spam during their quest, they will hopefully contact me about the blue diamonds.
In addition, a quest character in Qeynos will shout requesting a bind at the gate. This will test the recruits' general helpful attitude. Hopefully the recruits will respond to the request and give the quest character a bind. All non-caster recruits will be considered exempt from this test and it will not be held against them.
As you can see, many of the tests the recruits will face are subtle and indirect, thus letting us see how they act when they don't know they are being watched. Many aspects of this quest are designed along this concept to help us get a true image of what the recruits are really like.
When the recruits arrive in the Temple of Life they will meet another quest character who will accept their gems, cast a blessing spell, and then return the blessed gems to the recruits to take to Erudin. While this happens, another quest character will approach the recruits and request their help in an urgent matter of life and death in his family. The recruits will be faced with the decision of delaying their quest to help a stranger or to ignore his plea for help and continue the quest.
Hopefully they will choose to help the man in trouble. He will lead the recruits to the Qeynos Arena where his brother is being attacked by a vicious and corrupt gangster. The recruits will dispatch with the gangster and save the life of the man's brother. The brother will thank them and explain that he had joined the gangster's mob several weeks ago and was employed in spying on key people in the city and reporting information to the corrupt mob. However, when the mob made plans to assassinate a visiting gnomish dignitary, he tried to leave the mob and of course the mob had to hunt him down and try to kill him so he couldn't divulge any information about the mob. Now that he owes his life to the recruits, he offers to assist them in any way he possibly can and insists that he is an expert on all the whereabouts of the people of Qeynos.
The recruits will bid the two brothers farewell and continue on their journey to Erudin because they have no use for the man's knowledge... at the moment anyway...
The recruits will take the boat to Erudin. When they arrive, there will be a quest character on the docks quietly asking for help getting around the city because he is old and has poor eyesight (like all Erudites). If the recruits run past him without noticing him, they will find the Temple of Quellious empty. However, if they help the man, he will lead them to the Temple of Quellious and then tell them that he is the brother of the Erudite in Surefall Glade... the same person the recruits are looking for. The recruits will give their blessed gems to the Erudite and he will offer a sacrifice to Quellious and pray for the safe return of his lost daughter. He will tell the recruits that his young daughter had left Erudin a few days ago to Qeynos and has not been heard from since. He fears the worst and begs the recruits to look for her.
At this time, the recruits will be faced with another choice. Someone on the guildsay will announce that we are going on an impromptu raid of the Hole that night and that everyone who is available should report to Tox Forest to get ready. The recruits are ideally situated right next to Tox Forest, so they are faced with the decision to abandon the quest before recovering the Erudite's daughter and to join the rest of the guild in the Hole, or to continue diligently in their quest. Scarab won't actually be hunting in the Hole, but they will act like they are planning for it (i.e. arranging teleports, etc).
If/when the recruits decide to help recover the lost daughter, they will return to Qeynos and contact their new "friend" who they helped rescue. Since he has been spying on the people of Qeynos, he will know that the daughter has gotten lost in the Qeynos Catacombs.
The recruits must then search the Qeynos Catacombs for the lost daughter. She will not be hidden too deeply in the catacombs due to the high-level NPCs in the zone, but she will be in a position that will be moderately challenging for the recruits to find her. The daughter will be the stereotypical snobbish erudite brat, and she will be a pain to deal with as the recruits try to escort her safely out of the catacombs.
When they safely arrive back in Qeynos, the daughter will insist upon taking a bath in the Temple of Life's waters and she will command the recruits to find her lost necklace amulet that had been stolen by a rogue when she arrived in Qeynos. She will tell them the name of the rogue so it won't be too difficult for the recruits to locate him in Qeynos. The recruits will confront the rogue and ask him to return the amulet. He will show the amulet in the trade window (just a regular "Silver Amulet") and tell the recruits that he will give it to them if they will eliminate a pesky paladin who has been bothering the rogue for some time... thus providing another dilemma. Should the recruits kill an innocent paladin, or should they let him live and risk not completing the quest?
Hopefully the recruits will refuse to slay an innocent paladin but will instead go to the local gem shop and buy the Erudite girl a new Silver Amulet. When they deliver the new Amulet to the girl, the quest is over, and there is much rejoicing!
Throughout the quest I will keep a close eye on the progress and actions of each recruit. After the quest, I will write up an objective report on each recruit outlining with tests in the quest he/she passed, failed, or was exempt from. I'll submit these reports to the IC to help them evaluate their firsthand observations they acquired while they interacted with the recruits during the quest. Of course, the results of the quest and/or my written reports are only to be used to assist the IC in their decisions, and by no means do I assert that they are to be the conclusive means of judging the recruits. I'll let the IC take them for what they are worth.
Also, if there is enough volunteer response from the guild (more people want to participate than there are available positions), I have a few rough plans for a fun and silly post-quest reception to congradulate the recruits on a job well done. More info on this subject will be posted later if there is enough enthusiasm from the guild as a whole.
In the end, I believe this quest will be a rich and memorable experience that will fill the hearts of minds of the recruits with a greater sense of what it means to be Scarab. If you have any comments on this rough outline, please let me know.
Hail Scarab!
I remember the sewers of Qeynos and some very scared low level characters. I also remember some green spam that was intended to scare the bejeebus outta the rookies (and it was effective too...)
As I recall, we were supposed to meet them in the sewers and the high levels were supposedly attacked by something UGLY and wiped out. None of this actually happened, it was just over the guild channel. Then we "forgot" about the recruits in all the chaos, even thought they had to find a lost guildmate in the sewers. It got creepy.
Ah, good times...
The following is a summary of the guild Scarab’s first official Tuesday Night Quest. The quest took place on Tuesday, August 3rd, 1999.
This story consists of accounts by Gyst Starblayze, Dadilie Emathren, Dornen Fellison and Russof the rogue. The accounts were compiled and edited by Gyst Starblayze.
No one knew exactly where it came from.
The High Elven Magi had studied it for years, but they could never discern its origin, let alone harness its powers. The stone was donated to the Magi of Felwithe many decades ago by a traveling band of adventurers. They claimed they knew nothing of its origin, and they departed as suddenly as they came.
So the High Elves set to work. For many generations, the elite members of the highest magi circles studied the strange stone in an attempt to harness its great powers.
To the common observer, the stone looked like an ordinary quartz crystal, but upon a more detailed inspection it soon became obvious that the stone was unique. It contained great powers, that much was certain. The only mystery that remained was how to harness and control these powers. This is where the High Elves failed.
They named it the Soul Stone, although it’s hard to tell why. And the Soul Stone baffled them all.
At least, it did until Meela came along.
Meela was no one particularly special, but she had a unique talent that made all the difference. At the time, she was very young… only in her thirteenth year. Being a High Elf born in Felwithe, at a very young age she began her training in the ways of the Enchanters. It was during this time, merely by a stroke of fate, that she encountered the Soul Stone while it was being studied in the great marble spires of Felwithe.
After several experiments, it became apparent that Meela had a knack for controlling the Soul Stone. She could harness its powers far better than anyone else ever could. There was no explanation for this – she wasn’t highly trained, and she had very little experience. But the fact remained. She could do what no one else ever could.
And thus it began.
Meela spent a few years with the High Elves in Felwithe, but they made little progress. Although Meela could control the Soul Stone better than anyone else, she was still unable to use it for much productive use. And so it was decided that Meela should continue her training among the great minds of the Erudites. Perhaps a different perspective would unlock some of the mysteries of the Soul Stone. It was worth a try.
The existence of the Soul Stone caught the attention of many great minds from all across Norrath. They all were curious about how this strange stone could be used. They also feared it. Many feared that it would usher in great evil, and others feared the power it could bring to its user. It was the High Elves’ solemn desire to unlock the Soul Stone’s powers before it could fall into the wrong hands. So, action had to be taken quickly.
Shortly after her thirteenth birthday, Meela set out from her home and began her long trek to Erudin.
However, news of her powers and the power of the Soul Stone preceded her. News spreads quickly among the forces of evil, and Meela’s journey was not to be a successful one. Meela had a long way to travel, and the forces of darkness immediately set out to intercept her.
Meela crossed the Ocean of Tears on a very unnerving boat ride, but she finally reached dry land safely. As she looked at her surroundings in the human city of Freeport, she thought to herself “How can my brother stand to live in this dump?”
Meela’s brother Zeviuos, a fortuneteller by trade, had been living in the Freeport area for quite some time. He was several years older than Meela and would often write letters to his family back in Felwithe. Because of these letters, Meela had some knowledge about what to expect on this new continent. After refreshing her supplies, Meela decided to set out on her long journey immediately. She wished she could speak with her brother before leaving, but even if he were in town rather than roaming the countryside with gypsies, she would likely be mugged and beaten by the local scoundrels before she would be able to find him.
She made the final preparations and quickly resumed her journey.
Meela tried to follow her written travel guide, but she quickly became very lost. The travel guide stated that just outside the gates of Freeport was a lush commonland filled with rolling hills and trees. It mentioned nothing about a desert, but that’s exactly where Meela found herself when she stepped out of Freeport.
Confused and disoriented, she found some shelter in a tunnel in the mountains. Deep within the tunnel she discovered a lair of a swashbuckler, and she decided to ask him for help. Overhearing her plea for help, a human offered his services. He had a strange look in his eye – not the look of one who says what he means, but, being desperate, Meela chose to trust him.
This was her tragic mistake. The human, a shadow knight by the name of Virten, led her to the opposite end of the tunnel. Once there, she was promptly attacked by Virten’s mob of followers. They captured her, bound her tight cords, and put her under a powerful spell that made her powerless to resist.
“Now, elf, you will assist me. I have big plans for this stone, and you are going to help me.” Virten smirked at Meela and waved his hand in a signal to his gang. This was the last thing Meela saw before all was black.
When Meela regained consciousness, the evil mob was crossing a wide land of trees and hills before coming to a murky forest. They pressed their way into the fog, dragging Meela along with them.
Meela was powerless to resist, at least for the time being. However, fate presented Meela with an opportunity to escape. While travelling in the foggy woods, Virten’s evil band was attacked by a host of undead creatures. Meela used this distraction as her chance to escape. As soon as her captors were occupied, she ran deep into the darkness.
Meela’s heart was pounding, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before she was discovered again. However, she used her judgement and formulated a plan. Meela knew what was at stake. Virten wanted the Soul Stone, but he needed Meela’s powers to control it. The Soul Stone was useless to him without her. Therefore, in a sacrifice to save the causes of good, she pulled a small dagger from her robe and slit her throat.
Meela assumed her soul was still bound to her home in Felwithe, but, much to her dismay, this was not the case. Upon her death, her soul floated through oblivion and returned to where it was bound – a strange and horrifying place! Apparently, while she was unconscious, her captors bound her soul to a distant city abounding in evil.
Meela awoke from her rebirth and looked around. She gasped when she beheld a strange and evil city situated in a swamp. A troll guard strutted over to her, sniffed her, and said “Oh guddy! I git an elfie for my dinnur!”
Meela jumped up and ran deep into the swamp until the Troll had lost her trail. After wandering around in fear for many hours, she came to an eerie entrance guarded by frogmen. The frogmen didn’t seem hostile, so she entered their lair and did the only thing she could – call to her brother for help…
The day had been a good one for business. Zeviuos thoroughly enjoyed Freeport. It seemed to have a never-ending reserve of people – people who are willing to spend their money. Zeviuos had sold more fortune-tellings on that day than he ever had. He was in a good mood, and he thanked Tunare for his success.
‘Twas only mid afternoon, but Zeviuos decided to share his joy with others by giving away free fortune-tellings. He sat upon the stage of the Theater of the Tranquil and called out to passing travelers. He saw a tall magician striding by and recognized him from earlier in the day. He had called to the magician that morning and offered to tell his fortune, but the mage shook his head, chuckled a bit, said “I make my own fortune, but thanks for the offer,” and continued on his way. Zeviuos decided to try again.
“Friend mage, won’t you stop by for a brief moment? I’ll read you your fortune free of charge, if you will give me the pleasure.”
The mage stopped and considered Zeviuos’ offer. He had placed all his money in the Freeport Vault, but since the fortuneteller seemed insistent and demanded no pay, he consented. The magician was on his way to meet with his friends at the West Gate of Freeport, but he didn’t want to let this opportunity pass him by. He sat down at the base of the stage and listened to the fortuneteller’s words.
“Tell me your name, friend mage,” Zeviuos said.
The magician looked at him shrewdly. “No, you tell me.”
“Ah ha! You are a wise one, sire Starblayze. Gyst is your name, and a noble one at that!”
Gyst Starblayze smiled. He was impressed. This teller didn’t disappoint him like so many other wandering fools had. He beckoned Zeviuos to wait a moment before continuing. Gyst unveiled a necklace from under his robe. Embedded within the shimmering pieces of metal was a clear blue stone that flickered with a strange light. Gyst spoke into the stone, and his words rang through dozens of similar stones carried by his friends in the mighty guild Scarab.
“Hail Scarab!” he said. “I have a wonderful thing to show you! If you are in the Freeport area, please come quickly to the Theater of the Tranquil! Something unusual is in store for us tonight!” Little did Gyst know, his words were amazingly prophetic.
Scelia wiped the sweat from her brow. She had been hiding crouched on the hot theater roof for half a day. Her orders were clear, take the fortuneteller, Zeviuos, quietly without anyone seeing and bring him to the assigned destination. She scowled. This was not her way, she preferred things out in the open, a real challenge instead of this skulking around, but she had been paid handsomely in advanced so she had kept her word, but the stupid fortuneteller was never alone. People from all over Freeport waited in line to see him on the stage below. Finally, with more than half the day gone there looked like there might be a break. A young mage was having his fortune told and there was no one else around. When he left she would make her move. Just then she saw the mage clasp at something hanging from his neck and she cringed. A guildstone! He must be in a guild. In just a few moments, a crowd of people gathered around the stage. Damn, Scarabs!
Scelia recognized a few of them, their code of lawful good behavior made her sick. Nearly twenty of them had arrived. This was going to get complicated. The fortuneteller finished with the mage and began telling the fortune of another, a runt of a man, named Jayfoot.
Scelia's legs ached but she daren't move now. Her only hope was that none of them would decide to get curious and explore the theater or it would be all over. Now, she could only bide her time and wait until they all moved on.
“I'm going to have to get a lot more money when I deliver this guy,” she thought. The fortuneteller droned on, extolling the virtues of the ugly Halfling, then stopped in mid sentence. Zeviuos seemed to be having some sort of vision.
Suddenly he shouted out in fear and began talking about his sister, Meela, being in trouble. Scelia's brow furrowed. She had heard her employer talk about this girl. That was why they wanted the brother, so he couldn't get help for her. Scelia knew that kidnapping him would be impossible now with all these witnesses. The only way would be to kill him outright before he had the chance to tell them any more. Jayfoot issued a few quick orders and a portion of the group departed. With only a few remaining in the theater, Scelia decided to make her more. Quickly she stood up and jumped down from the ledge, sword drawn. She looked around menacingly calculating her odds and pointed her sword at Zeviuos. "So you thought you could hide from us, huh? Bad choice!" she growled. She took a step closer to him, "Now, move or die!" Quicker than she would have imagined, Zeviuos leapt from the stage and began to run. She took chase. Closing the gap in short order, Scelia swiped at the fortuneteller with her sword and caught a glancing blow on his side. She knew the Scarabs were on her tail and if they caught up to her she wouldn't have a chance so she doubled her efforts.
“He must die!” was her only thought. Years of mercenary experience kept her ahead of the Scarab pack and close enough to Zeviuos to continue attacking him. For a while it looked like the mage might fall to her sword, but he was clever, he staggered into the town arena and Scelia found herself trapped. With no way out of the area except for a blocked door, she was quickly surrounded. Something raked her back with a burn she had never felt before. She turned around to see her attacker. It was that disgusting little Halfling, Jayfoot, with a magical weapon in his hand. The pain from the weapon was bad but the magic from the weapon sent Scelia screaming in agony as she dropped to the ground.
Her last thoughts, oddly, were of her husband. She wondered if this was the pain that he had felt when he was slain in battle. They had made a great mercenary team, Scelia and her husband. They were almost legend!
Suddenly she hoped there was an afterlife. As life ebbed from her body she hoped they would be reunited in death to reach glory together in battle once more.
While Jayfoot bravely led his small group of Scarabs in the defense of Zeviuos, the other members of Scarab rushed toward the lair of the frogloks – Guk. Zeviuos’ vision of Meela gave the Scarabs the clue that Meela was hiding among strange frogmen. The guild Scarab had been to Guk many times before, therefore they knew where Meela was located, roughly. But Guk was a big place, and finding Meela would not be easily done as hordes of frogloks swarm around the invading Scarabs.
After a long journey across the hot desert, roughly a dozen Scarabs fought their way out of the swamp of Innothule and into the lair of the frogmen. Their shouts to Meela echoed through the eerie corridors, but no answer came from Meela. However, the Scarabs did get a response from the frogloks, but ‘twas not a welcome one.
Meela shivered. She didn’t know if it was from fear or from of the cold. She’d been hiding among the frogmen for what seemed like ages, and each passing moment grew more difficult to bear. Echoes of their horrid croaking grew louder all the time.
Meela hunched down behind a small group of toadstools that cast an unnerving glow of light across the room. She waited, but she didn’t know what for. Her only hope was that her brother would rescue her, but that seemed impossible. She didn’t even know where she was. And so she waited, shivering in the eerie glow of the fungus, with only her heartbeat and the howls of the frogmen to keep her company.
But then she suddenly had more reason to be worried. A great ruckus echoed through the corridors. It sounded like a hundred warriors in glorious battle. The clang of metal reverberated through the air, and it was complemented by the howling and croaking of countless frogmen springing into action. The frogmen rushed to the defense of their home, and great sounds of battle swelled across Guk.
Meela knew she was doomed for sure. The invading army would not stand a chance against the frogmen, and the frogmen would quickly hunt Meela down and slay her to avenge the deaths of their fallen comrades. Suddenly things became deathly silent.
“Meela? Are you here?” The voice rang across the walls and pierced Meela’s ears.
Caradin, a noble monk of Scarab called to Meela once again, but he received no reply. “We’ve come to help you. You are safe with us, Meela!”
Meela shuddered at the words. How similar they were to the words Virten spoke right before he captured her. Perhaps if she kept quiet, they would go away. Meela sealed her lips and tried to breathe as smoothly as possible.
“We’ve been sent by Veviuos, your brother, Meela. We’re here to rescue you!” Caradin continued to shout.
Veviuos? How did they know about him? Meela’s mind raced and her heart pounded. Perhaps they are telling the truth. She had to find out, but did she dare risk giving away her location?
“You keep saying ‘we are here to help you.’ Who is ‘we’?” Meela spoke as she summoned every once of courage in her soul. Her faint voice barely reached the ears of the Scarabs.
“We are the mighty guild Scarab, sent by your brother in Freeport to come to your aid! We are here to help you, but we don’t know where you are.” Caradin shouted. “Please tell us where you are, Meela. We can’t hold off these frogloks forever!”
“If you are such a mighty guild, why do I only hear one of you?” Meela became very suspicious, but her suspicions were put to rest when at least a dozen other voices echoed to her ears. There were many voices, some male, and some female. Yet, they all held words of comfort, and Meela soon felt that Tunare had guided these adventurers to her aid.
Meela didn’t know exactly where she was, but she the told the Scarabs that she was at the top of a waterfall overlooking a circular wooden bridge. It didn’t take the Scarabs long to find her after that, and several of them quickly scrambled to the top of the waterfall. Meela was startled by their rush toward her, and when the first person heaved himself over the ledge that created the waterfall, Meela screamed in horror. The man was a human, and he look very similar to the evil man that had captured Meela.
Meela knew her doom was upon her, so she ran wildly and jumped off the waterfall into the pool below. Swimming past her confused rescuers, she found another waterfall that emptied into the pool, hid behind it, and ascended to the other ledge. It took a short while for the group of Scarabs to see what happened, but they eventually tracked her down again. This time, when they approached her, Meela had nowhere to run, so she just curled up in a tight ball and trembled.
Then, a warm hand touched Meela and a comforting voice spoke. Meela glanced up, but she didn’t see what she expected. Instead of seeing the face of a horrible and evil human, she saw the kind face of a caring woodland elf. Kyliar Nightwind lifted Meela to her feet, explained to her that she had nothing to be afraid of, and began escorting her out of the lair of Guk.
Zeviuos bent down and rummaged through the items on Scelia’s warm corpse in the Freeport Arena. Aside from the common money pouches, Zeviuos could only find one thing of interest on the body. He removed a folded parchment from Scelia’s clothing and opened it. The writing was faded and stained deeply with Scelia’s blood to the point that they could no longer read it. Zeviuos’ instincts told him that the parchment was important, and he asked the Jayfoot’s group if they could make heads or tails of the parchment.
Unfortunately, none of them could. However, they recalled a memory from earlier in the night when a wandering wizard approached them in the Theater of the Tranquil. Zalbar the Mad, as he was known, was trying to sell his services. He claimed to be an expert of deciphering illegible documents and interpreting strange writings. However, at the time, the Scarab group had no need of his services, so they sent him on his way.
Now though, they earnestly sought the assistance of this travelling wizard. They searched the streets of Freeport until they found him, and through no small effort they finally convinced Zalbar to inspect the strange parchment from Scelia’s corpse.
After being paid for his services, Zalbar told the group that the parchment was a simple map of High Keep that was located in Highpass Hold. Perhaps the map indicated a hideout of some sort. Scelia, the dead warrior, was obviously working for some greater force of evil, and perhaps this map was the key to the evil’s location.
Upon receiving this new information, Jayfoot decided to investigate. He commanded his group to follow him to Highpass Hold, and he beckoned Zeviuos to accompany them. As they set out on their journey, the voices of their victorious guildmates rang across their guildstones. Meela had been found!
Jayfoot’s group moved swiftly across the land, and soon they were in the Kithicor Woods on their way to the Highpass canyon. In their rush, they nearly trampled over a wandering traveler, and they continued hurriedly along their way. The traveler picked himself up and shouted to the group asking them why they were in such a hurry.
“We are heading to Highpass to unravel a great mystery,” they shouted back.
The traveler truly loved adventures, and he wanted to help the group find their success, despite the fact that they nearly trampled him on the trail. He ran toward the sounds of their voices and told them of a strange event that had happened to him recently in those woods.
During his wanderings, he stumbled upon a band of people rummaging through a female corpse. As he approached, the group scrambled to pick up the corpse and they promptly disappeared into the darkness. Finding this somewhat odd behavior, the traveler decided to investigate. He surveyed the scene and found a small rod of chipped bone lying on the ground where the group had been.
He picked up the rod and inspected it. He’d seen such instruments before, and he knew that such rods were used to help locate corpses. He placed the rod in his pack and continued on his journey in search of pine needles.
Intrigued by this tale, a member of Jayfoot’s group asked the traveler if he could look at the rod. The traveler, pleased that his story sparked their interest, gladly submitted the rod for their inspection. Upon the rod, etched into the bone, there was an inscription: ‘Property of Jaggedge of Rivervale.’
Without further delay, Jayfoot thanked the traveler for his information, and the group departed to Rivervale. They could only hope that this Jaggedge fellow would have some valuable information…
The Guk rescue party led Meela safely through the swamp of Innothule. Upon entering the Southern Desert of Ro, they encouraged Meela to come with them to Highpass to rendezvous with Jayfoot. However, Meela decided that now was the time to tell them everything. They had no idea what was at stake, so Meela began her tale.
She told them about the Soul Stone and her mission to Erudin. She related all the events from the time she stepped foot into the Faydark until the time she escaped from the evil man and hid in Guk. As the tale unfolded, the Scarabs grew tense. They all felt the pressure that was upon them to restore the Soul Stone to Meela before her captor could use it for the cause of darkness. But they didn’t know where to begin.
Meela tried to remember where they were when she had escaped. The land was foreign to her, and she was under the spell of Virten, but she managed to remember crossing a green plain with many rolling hills, passing through a mountain canyon, and entering a murky forest on the other side. It was in that forest where the undead horde attacked Virten’s gang and where Meela’s death occurred.
Many in the Scarab group thought of the Kithicor Woods, but there was some disagreement among them. It was decided that they would head toward Kithicor and Meela would guide them along the way. The journey was mostly uneventful, but with the aid of magical spells it was over relatively quickly. The entire group met at the entrance to Kithicor and Meela confirmed that she was led through that canyon shortly before she died.
The air in Kithicor was pungent, as always. Kitsu the bard closed his eyes any began singing an unearthly song that sounded like nothing Meela had ever heard before.
“I don’t sense it anywhere,” he said. “Meela, your corpse is not in this forest. Are you sure this is the right place?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it.” Meela’s face grew pale. “If it’s not here, the Evil One must have found it. He now possesses the Soul Stone! Whatever will we do?” Slight traces of tears formed in Meela’s eyes, but her newly found friends would not let her get discouraged.
“You captor was here recently. He may still be nearby. Let’s try to track him down. It’s at least worth a try.”
“Yes, you are wise!” Meela exclaimed! “Tunare has truly blessed me by sending you to my aid. Tell me, is there a nearby settlement that we can visit to ask the locals for information?”
Within moments the party was on its way to the Halfling town of Rivervale.
Within a few more moments they had stopped again.
A traveler, claiming that he was lost, stopped the group on their way to Rivervale. He praised the gods that he had found other people and he began to introduce himself.
His name was Karadoth and he’d spend the past several days wandering around the Kithicor woods. He’d been trying to create a potion, but he needed a special form of pine needles as his final ingredient. When he heard that such pine needles were sold at a small settlement of cabins in the Kithicor Woods, he set out to look for the settlement, but it wasn’t long until he became very lost.
He begged the Scarab group to help him, but they were in a terrible rush.
Meela considered the group of her rescuers and said “Oh, can’t we spare just a few souls to help this poor man out? I have more than enough help as it is. Please, do not leave this man to wander for who know how much longer.”
And so it was. A small group left the main party to escort Karadoth to the settlement of cabins while the rest proceeded to Rivervale to rendezvous with Jayfoot’s group.
Rivervale was bustling with activity, as usual. The Scarabs had already spread out and begun inquiring the locals for information when Meela arrived. There was a very joyous reunion when Meela was reunited with Zeviuos. Meela jumped for joy and smiled more brightly than Zeviuos had ever seen. At last she was safe once more. She was with her brother and in the company of dozens of friendly and noble adventurers who had sacrificed their time to rescuing and protecting her.
Meela sat down, took a few deep breaths, and tried to ascertain their current status. She asks her new Scarab friends if they’d made any progress yet. They had found several leads and were currently investigating them, but Meela couldn’t keep the details of them straight. There was apparenly a rogue named Jaggedge, a local smuggler or scoundrel of some sort, who was causing Jayfoot quite a bit of trouble. It was all very confusing to Meela, so she just smiled and thanked Tunare for her guidance.
The tale of Jaggedge has been lost to time... our deepest apolgies
Meela wasn’t the only one confused. A rogue approached the group and asked what all the commotion was about. The rogue was greeted very warmly by the Scarabs, who apparently called him Russof. When the story of the recent events was told to him, Russof asked if he could be of any assistance. After all, he was a rogue, and perhaps he could make a little headway with this Jaggedge fellow. Meela also thought she heard Russof mention that Jaggedge was his former employer.
Just then, Jayfoot came storming down from the Fool’s Gold building and marched over to the group. “Come along, there is nothing more for us here,” he said. “Off to Highpass we go!”
Once again, when the group entered Highpass Hold, they immediately began inquiring people for information. Meela spied a fair High Elf sitting in meditation near the entrance of the pass. She politely aroused him and asked him for assistance. “Excuse me, fair elf, but could you please tell me if you know of a group – a human and a few barbarians – that have come through here recently?”
The High Elf’s eyes twinkled. He smiled and said that not only did he know what group she was referring to, but he also knew where they are hiding in the Kithicor Woods.
Meela was overjoyed. She beckoned to her group to follow, and the High Elf led them once more into the dark woods of Kithicor. As they walked along, the High Elf introduced himself. His name was Branar, and he had stumbled upon the group that Meela sought at a previously deserted cabin.
As they journeyed, evil struck. Meela suddenly came to a halt, but her since everyone in her group was ahead of her, they didn’t notice. Meela’s eyes glazed over and her skin grew somewhat pale. Her lips softly voiced the words “Yes master, I must obey.” She slowly turned around and headed back toward the canyon to Highpass.
Meanwhile, Branar led the Scarabs to a deserted cabin. They looked at their surroundings as they waited for the last of the group to arrive. Suddenly, out of the darkness, two huge forms lunged into view, and shimmers of light flashed from their shiny weapons. Two barbarians with teeth bared in menacing snarls and armor glimmering in the moonlight rushed towards the group of Scarabs and engaged them in fierce combat.
Branar’s gracefully smooth High Elven skin suddenly began to change colors. His magically deceptive cloak of illusion ended, revealing his true identity -- a horridly evil dark elf enchanter! The Scarabs sprang into action. They were ambushed, and they fought fiercely for their very survival.
The younger and less experienced barbarian slashed at Jayfoot, while his much superior companion attacked Selgus Truefist. In the fury of the battle, Branar was quickly slain, and the younger barbarian soon found himself being vanquished by Jayfoot’s cunning tactics. Before Jayfoot could cast the final blow, the barbarian wailed about his pitiful fate and cursed the soul of Virten for this doom.
“You killed Deschain!” the other barbarian howled. “You’ll get no such pleasure from me!” He increased his attacks, painfully wounding Selgus. Yet Selgus fought on. With his companions granting him heals, Selgus would not give up. It soon became clear to the barbarian that he could not win. Virten’s mob had been all but destroyed, and Virten was nowhere to be found – the coward must have fled, he thought. Upon noticing that Virten, and therefore all hope of being paid, was gone, the barbarian gave up the fight.
He put aside his hatred toward the Scarab and turned it against Virten. After all, mercenary hatred is easily swayed. Enraged that Virten would abandon his own gang, the barbarian (by the name of Kelleton) informed the Scarabs that Virten most likely fled to the eastern plains of Karana, where he had yet another secret hideout.
After healing all the remaining wounds, the Scarabs – despite their aching feet – began to head toward Eastern Karana. It was at this time that they noticed that Meela was not among them. Perhaps something terrible happened to her in the battle. Perhaps she had gotten lost in the forest. None of them knew what to do. But then they remembered. Virten! He must be behind Meela’s disappearance. They ran with all haste to the eastern plains of Karana.
While the battle was raging in Kithicor, a small detachment of skilled adventures continued to scout out the Highpass area. Russof and Zeviuos followed the prudent lead of Sir Peabodi le Sinclaire. They approached the gates of High Keep, a fortress amid the high canyon walls, as sounds from the battle in Kithicor rang across their guildstones. As they rounded a bend, Russof suddenly stopped and listened intently. His ears twitched in response to the slightest sound.
Russof’s body stiffened. He suddenly spun around and grabbed Jaggedge by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground.
“What are you doing following us, runt?” he demanded.
The group began interrogating the shady character, but they were interrupted when a local paladin mistook Sir Peabodi as someone else of poor reputation and began attacking him. Sir Peabodi, not wanting to harm this confused paladin, made his exit from the Highpass area. During the confusion, Jaggedge slipped back into the shadows, but Russof had a feeling that they hadn’t seen the last of him.
The Scarab adventures rushed with the speed of wolves into the eastern Karana plains. Upon their exit from Highpass, they began running down the cliff-side ramp where they confronted Meela’s “Evil One” – Virten. They suddenly came to a halt and considered the situation.
Meela stood next to Virten, and she had a strange, far-off look in her eyes. Zeviuos called out to her, but she didn’t hear him… or, if she did, she didn’t acknowledge it. Virten stood casually only a few feet away from the cliff. He laughed wickedly at the Scarabs and insulted everything that they stood for.
After a brief exchange of insults, Virten shouted, “Bah, I’ve had enough of this meaningless chatter! I must continue my plans. Too bad none of you will be around to see it!”
“Choose your words wisely, Virten,” someone in the crowd said. “They may be your last.”
“Ha! You think you’ve got the best of me, don’t you, fools? You think that your numbers and strength are greater than my own! Bah! I laugh at your ignorance! Now, it is time for your eyes to be opened… it is time for you to truly witness my power!”
Virten pulled a palm-sized translucent stone from his bag, fingered it lightly, and firmly placed it in Meela’s hands. The stone immediately began to glow. Meela’s eyes sparkled with an unearthly light, and suddenly strange clouds began to form overhead.
“Now, fools, behold my power!” Virten bellowed. “Behold the power of the Soul Stone!” Strange magical sparks began flying around Meela and thunder boomed from the strangely reddish clouds above.
It was at this point when Zeviuos arrived at the scene. He was not a fast runner because he had spent most of his days sitting under a fortune-telling tent. Also, his Spirit of Wolf faded a tad prematurely, so Zeviuos was left to catch up with the group through his own strength. He arrived at the scene slightly late, and he quickly tried to see what was going on. Not knowing exactly what was happening, he rushed through the crowd to Meela, who was surrounded by strange fiery magical streaks.
Not knowing whom the human was beside her who was doing all the shouting, and not really caring about it, he embraced the spellbound Meela with a loving hug. This action caught Virten off guard, and the sudden act of compassion broke Virten’s bond of hate over Meela.
Meela blinked forcefully, as if she had just awaken from a deep slumber, and dropped the Soul Stone to the ground. The reddish clouds suddenly flashed with a brilliant light, and for a very brief moment, Virten was enveloped in a flashy glow. Then all was silent.
Meela stumbled a bit, but Zeviuos held her upright. She bent down and picked up the Soul Stone from the ground. As she stood up, she noticed Virten and jumped backwards in fright. “He’s the evil one! He was the one that captured me!” She pointed her finger wildly at Virten, who strangely seemed to be staring into nothingness.
Virten was motionless. He hadn’t moved since he was struck by the flashy glow. The vacant look in his eyes and his dry lips indicated that he was deeply removed from consciousness. The Scarabs didn’t know what to think of it. Were there problems over, or were greater evils still ahead?
Suddenly, in a brilliant burst a light, a portal flashed open around Virten and immediately closed. Virten was gone.
In the silence that followed, each individual was left to ponder the meaning of this strange event. Meela insisted that Tunare herself snatched Virten’s soul up. Others didn’t know what to think.
But one thing was certain, the Soul Stone was safely returned to Meela!
Meela thanked the Scarabs deeply for their noble service, and she and Zeviuos walked together down the cliff-side ramp to a lodge in the plains to spend the night.
Where the Scarabs went is unknown. They likely went their separate ways spreading more of their good deeds and proclaiming their standards through noble examples.
With the Soul Stone returned, they all could sleep in comfort that night…
I remember the night well. The night when my guild rescued Meela from the depths of Guk, unraveled a deep mystery, and confronted several evil foes was indeed a night that will be remembered throughout the ages.
I was there from the beginning. In fact, if Zeviuos hadn’t read my fortune when he did, perhaps Scarab never would have been involved. Perhaps fate caused me to take that different path through the Theater of the Tranquil on my way from the bank to meet my friends. Perhaps we were meant to help Meela…
Although I’ve never been accused of being a preacher, I wouldn’t set aside the notion of divine intervention on that night. Meela certainly thinks Tunare guided us, and I’m certain that Mithaniel Marr had his eye on us that night.
But why? I had a deep feeling it was more than just doing a good deed. I felt that night had more significance. I didn’t know why I felt that way, but I intended to find out.
Upon the following dawn, I left my lodging at the break of day and began my journey toward the Eastern Plains of Karana. Zeviuos and Meela had planned on staying in a lodge in those plains, and I hoped to intercept them before they continued their journey.
Fortunately, they were staying at their lodging for an extra day to recuperate from the previous night’s event before continuing. I met them at their lodging and had a lovely meal with them. Throughout my stay, Meela was constantly thanking my guild for their services and praising Tunare for her protection.
Late that night, only twenty and four hours after Virten’s mysterious disappearance, and when Meela was sound asleep, I pulled Zeviuos over and had a more personal discussion with him about his feelings concerning the recent events.
All his life, Zeviuos had longed to be an Oracle to Tunare. He studied diligently, but being an oracle required more than studies. It was a gift, not a skill. So, the closest thing to realizing his dream was to become a fortune-teller. And, if I might add, Zeviuos made the best fortune-teller I’ve ever seen.
Because of this, I inquired Zeviuos for his “professional” opinion on the matter. During the day when Meela was around, he spoke only words of comfort and joy, but I could tell he was hiding something. I asked him what it was, and I don’t quite know what to make of his response.
I was especially concerned about what happened to Virten, and if he was truly no longer a concern. In my experience, people don’t just fall into a trance and disappear. I didn’t know what to make of the matter, and neither did Zeviuos. However, Zeviuos did know something…
Meela insisted that Tunare had snatched Virten’s soul from this realm and destroyed him for his evil doings. However, Zeviuos, with all his wisdom and clairvoyance, assured me all his experience and inspiration had told him that the god who snatched away Virten was not Tunare…
-- Gyst Starblayze
Tons of amazing people joined Scarab during our stay in EverQuest... and Scarab has been forever changed as a result (I'll leave it up to the reader to determine what kind of change it has been).
Take a look at our stories about how we joined... or submit your own!
Aerithanna DarkDesire
Already traveled through numerous dimensions, Aerithanna the lone dark knight is reborn into a new land, the world of Solusek Ro. She leaves all her memories and friends behind in other worlds, continuing her journey in her search for the ultimate power that unites good and evil. Originally born in Neriak on the distant world of Nameless, Aerithanna was raised in the Shadow Knight guild. Having no parent nor any relative, she was destinted to be one of the greatest shadow knight to bring pride to Neriak. However, as 15th season Aerithanna entered Oasis of Marr for the first time in mission to search of her lost comrade Vexal, she encountered Bruel the singing bard and Sali the knowledgeable druid. For the first time Aerithanna felt she has a family due to Burel and Sali care for the lone shadow knight. Their search of Vexal finally extended to the land of the Froglocks, the Guk. Its in the Guk dungeon where they found Vexal has laid dead with his Dark Reaver still holding tightly in his hand. Aerithanna swore the revenge, however, Vexal's body reveals the clue of his killer. The killer is no stranger but the commanding shadow knight of the Dark Guild himself, Marell NightStalker. Knowing now Vexal has laid victim of an interal power struggle, Aerithanna has given up any hope in the force of darkness. Knowing he has no chance to fight the Guild alone, Aerithanna decided to join the Champions of Honor, where Burel and Sali belong. As time goes by, light and dark forces clash again and again on Nameless, but with light force out numbered by their dark counter parts, the Champions of Honor was defeated once and for all in the gruesome battle of North Ro desert. Aerithanna and Sali are few survivors of battle, while Burel unfortunately perished. Exiled and fleeing from her dark brothers and sisters, Aerithanna knows the only way she can gain the strength to defeat the evil is to unite her force of dark side with the power of the light, and she has been on search for that force ever since. One day, while journeying to the temple of Marr for a chance to speak with the priests within, Aerithanna was stooped by a old erudite wizard Fann. Fann has heard of the Story of Aerithanna and told her that the only way to find and unite the force of light and darkness is to start over in a whole New World and serve in the power of light. Aerithanna has been too deep into the darkness in the world of Nameless, and starting over in other world will erase that doomed past and perhaps bring new life to her. Agreeing giving up all her power and back to a child again, Fann summon a temporal gate of time and space, and transfer Aerithanna to a New World. So Aerithanna entered realm of Solusek Ro and lives her incarnation yet again. Having been wielding her entrusted Nasthar Great Sword alone for quite a while, she met up with a great Wood Elf druid Kelagry in the Southern Plain of Karana, after a gruesome and fierce battle with the occupants of the Avaik city. Eventually a great friendship has grown and the duo saved each other's life numerous times across the land of Norah. Now both take part in the mighty force of the Scarab, the sisterly love strengthen the already wonderful guild.
Everlyn MoonDelight
For every shadow knight that wields great sword seeking blood in battle, there must be also a forgiving angel to balance the agony and hatred brought by the dark knight. Everlyn was a just a normal human girl born in Freeport. One day, while in her trip to fishing villiage in the Desert of South Ro, a group of charmed undead surrounded Everlyn. Behind the evil creations of the dark side is the rouge Dark Elf necromancer Vanarth. Vanarth had been banished from Neriak for years due to his discussing practice of sacrificing his own Dark Elf sisters for creation of his own evil power. Unknown to Everlyn, Vanarth has discovered an ancient scroll, which calls for sacrifice for a particular family line of human girl, the family of unmatched clerical power. All of Vanarth clues had pointed him to Everlyn. According to the scroll, Vanarth will gain so much favor with long forgotten King of the undead, who will grant him great power of necromancy unknown to the world. As Everlyn was knocked unconscious and carried to Vanarth's secret alter of blood, the lone shadow knight Aerithanna happened to witness the awful kidnap. Recently passing through Neriak and enraged by of Vanarth awful deed, the dark knight, although can careless about scarification of a human, decide to take revenge for the dark elf girls who perished due to Vanarth's evil deed. With unsuspicious Vanarth busying planning the sacrifice ceremony way from the site, Aerithanna alone launched a surprised attack against Vanarth's undead creations. As Aerithaana's great sword chopped down the lifeless bones of the last skeleton, Vanarth returned to the ceremonial site found Everlyn already rescued, and a calm and fearsome avenger awaits him. Without help of his summoned undead, Aerithanna's swift blows again and again interrupted Vanarth's casting of hatred and suffering. Finally the once great necromancer fell on the feet of the lone traveling shadow knight. Still unconscious, Everlyn was taken by Aerithanna to her friend Kelagry's care. Not wanting have anything further to do with the human, Aerithanna left alone continuing her quest for balance. As Everlyn awaken, under the care of kind druid Kelagry, she was told what have happened. From The scroll Vanarth dropped, Everlyn learned about her great ancestry that she did not know about. Now a follower of Mathanial Marr, Everlyn has shown her great healing power where no human cleric have possess, and starts her own quest for history of her own ancestry.
Rinnoa
Everything comes in a surprise. When Rinnoa was just a little girl, she always enjoyed the bard tales about far away kingdom and epic battles, never she imagined that she will be part of the tale soon. As a young girl living in West Freeport, Rinnoa always played with other kids outside of the gate area, overlooked malitia making sure no harm will be done to them. Its until not long ago, evil necromancers invited the gate area and start to slaughter the malitia guards. One afternoon, Rinnoa was coming out the gate in search for some bat wings, she found all the malitia guards lied dead on the ground, before she knows it, she was already surrounded by numerous orcs who finally dared to move close to the gate without the guards presence. Suddenly the temperature air roses near Rinnoa, as she still stunned in place, a fire elemental quickly wiped out the orc gathering at no time. A warm voice behind Rinnoa said, "little girl, are you doing alright?" As Rinnoa turns around a smiley face an awesomely dressed enchanter stood before her. Rinnoa was still stunned from the near death experience. The enchanter said, "Oh well little girl, it seems like you are still shaken up' hmm, let me see, take this to protect yourself and as my present for you for friendship. My name is Calanctus of the Scarab. Perhaps one day you might need my assistance. Remember the name well. Farewell then little girl." As Rinnoa received a Bamboo Bo stick from Calanctus, the great enchanter faded into the dark with his gating spell. Upon returning home, Rinnoa asked around about what is the gift she has received, and turned out to be a good monkly weapon. Rinnoa thought to herself, "Perhaps it's a sign, a sign that I shall becomes one of the greatest fighter of the world." Armed with the stick and a big dream, Rinnoa joined the local monk guild and start her training. Still young and inexperienced, Rinnoa has displayed some awesome fighting skills as a monk of bright future. "Perhaps one day I will meet Calanctus again, and one day I will belong to the mighty Scarab."
Anador awoke to the warm sunlight that was streaming through the window. Just like any other day, he dressed himself quickly and headed into the kitchen for breakfast. But today wasn't just another day. Today was the day where he would petition to join the ranks of rangers of Surefall Glade.
Anador's mother smiled as he entered the kitchen looking for food. But there was an unusual twinkle in her eye that he noticed. Something was up but he didn't want to spoil her surprise in anyway by asking. Anador ate quickly to hasten his trip to Surefall Glade from Qeynos. Finishing his meal as fast as he could, he kissed his mother on the cheek and headed towards the door. "Wish my luck, mother!" said Anador with enthusiasm. She smiled and winked as if she knew something he didn't... but he paid no attention to it and headed off to Surefall.
As he left the safety of the gates and guards, Anador placed his hand on the hilt of his long sword. He found it in the attic among the odds and ends his mother was saving. It was quite old but of fine make. Probably an elven smith considering the fact that it was so light and well balanced, yet was sharp as a razor blade. He always wondered how and where his mother got this sword but he was glad nonetheless.
Even though the paved road to Surefall is occasionally patrolled by the Qeynos guards, it still wasn't all that safe. There are gnolls who try to ambush anyone who dare walk upon "their" lands. Though they were a threat, they've been pushed back to Blackburrow by the citizens of Qeynos. But they do tend to get a bit bloodthirsty and come out from their lair to cause havoc in Qeynos Hills.
The trip to Surefall Glades was uneventful. The guards patrolling seems to have scared most off the gnolls away back into Blackburrow during the day. Anador paused for a moment to gather himself up so that he would look worthy to speak to Hager Sureshot. "Hold there stranger," stated one of the guards who stood in front of the path into Surefall. "What is your business here," queried the guard. Anador replied trying to sound as official as possible, "I am here to speak with Hager Sureshot. I am here to join the ranks of trackers and rangers of Surefall." The guards looked at each other for a second then made enough room for Anador to pass between them. "Whew... made it this far," Anador thought to himself.
As he entered Surefall Glades, Anador felt at ease and calm. There was something about this land that soothed his soul. Walking along the path, he could see Hager immediately. Though Anador has never seen Hager before, he could tell that this was the man who trained other rangers. Walking up as confidently as he could, he cleared his throat to get Hager�s attention.
"State your business here young one," said Hager without even turning around to face Anador. A bit taken back by Hager�s comment and statement, Anador spoke up. "I've come to join the ranks of rangers who were trained by you." At that statement, Hager did turn to face Anador and looked him over. "What is your name son?" asked Hager. "Anador, sir. Anador Nightwind," replied Anador as he tried to snap to attention to impress Hager. "Uhmmmm. I don't remember any Anador�s in the recent invitations. Where is your note? You do understand that I try under invitation only, right?" said Hager in a questioning tone.
"I do know that it's by invitation only but I can prove myself that I'm ready to join your ranks! I can shoot a bow as well as any trained marksman!" With that statement, Anador pulled an arrow from his quiver to his bow to fire at the target that Hager was practicing on. He stuck a bullseye with one shot. "I can take care of myself in the wild as the captain of the guards in Qeynos will tell you! I've brought in more than my share of gnoll scalps!" stated Anador proudly.
Hager looked at the shot made by Anador and looked as if he was sizing him up. "I'm sorry son," said Hager "but the rules are the rules. It is by invitation only or if another ranger will vouch that you have the ability to become one of us. There are no exceptions to these rules. Even you, Anador." And at with those words, Anador�s shoulders slumped in knowledge that he would not be welcome till the invitation came or someone would vouch for him. Anador silently picked up his bow and turned towards the exit when a voice came out from the shadows...
"I will vouch for him."
Anador turned towards where the voice came from. Out of the shadows came a wood elf. Wearing green armor signifying that he was wearing Ivy Etched Armor... armor that is only given to rangers who are accomplished enough to quest for the components demanded by the rangers in Kithicor. Walking with as much confidence as even Hager when he moves, this elf starts walking towards Hager. They clasps their hands as if they're old friends and starts speaking to each other.
"KYLIAR! You haven't been around these parts in a long long time! What brings you back here?" roared Hager with a huge smile on his face. The elf replied, "It has been awhile Hager. And what brings me here is Anador. I'm here to vouch for him." With a questioning look, Hager looked at the elf and asked, "Why? What is your relation to him..." His voice trailing off, Hager did a double take and nodded in understanding. "I will begin his training Hager. Please add his name to the scrolls and I'll make sure he is well trained and prepared to be one of us," stated Kyliar as he shook Hager�s hand again and turned towards Anador. "Come with me young one. Your training begins." And the elf began walking towards the path to outside of Surefall Glades. Stunned and his mouth agape, Anador turned to bow to Hager and ran after this elf.
Anador started rattling questions to Kyliar as they walked down the path towards Qeynos. "Who are you? Why did you help me back there? Not that I'm complaining or anything! Do I know you or something?" Yet Kyliar doesn't reply and continues to walk towards Qeynos. Just as the gates into Qeynos becomes visible, Anador runs in front of Kyliar to stop him. "Who are you?" asks Anador again. Kyliar, finally stopped looks into Anador�s eyes and a smile begins to form on his face. "My name... my name is Kyliar. Kyliar Nightwind," states the elf. Anador looks puzzled for a moment then replies, "Nightwind? But my mother told me that that was the surname that my father..." Kyliar looks up at Anador with a bigger smile. "Father?"
At the local tavern, Kyliar steers toward a table in the corner that's away from the crowd. Anador follows, still in shock, trying to avoid bumping into people, chairs and tables. Kyliar was silent the rest of the way into Qeynos and he finally speaks after they sit down. "I'm sure you have many questions and I'll try to answer them now. You see, I met your mother a long time ago. When I was just beginning to learn the ropes of becoming a ranger. But I learned everything I could from Masyn Trueshot, the guildmaster of rangers in Kelethin, so I traveled East to Surefall Glades to continue on with my training here. To learn other tactics and skills that is quite different from what I learned in Kelethin." Kyliar pauses to motion for a barmaid to bring some drinks for the two.
"Now," continues Kyliar after the drinks arrive, "I met your mother while training in Surefall. I truly did care for her and I spent a good year with her while training. But I did tell her that I would have to leave after the training is complete. She understood. And kept a secret from me. That secret being you. I guess she knew that I would not have left if I knew. But she wrote me this letter a month ago. Stating that she gave birth to my child and that he was following in my footsteps. I was stunned, I did not know what to say or do. So I made my way here as soon as I could. Your mother told me that you already started your way towards Surefall Glades when I arrived this morning. So I followed... and here I am. And I'm here to say for awhile. To begin your training... and to settle down for a bit."
Quiet but nodding in understanding, Anador looked towards his father. "You know... I sort of understand. I do not want to really leave mother but... there is this call for me to travel and see the world," says Anador. Kyliar just smiles and grins. "Well, let's head home... son. Your training will begin tomorrow."
While on his way home, Anador thinks to himself... "I will train hard and learn. I will be as good of a ranger as my father. No... Better!" With that, a grin forms on Anador. "Today was truly a wonderful day," Anador whispers to himself.
Name: Andrak DeCorellia
Class: Paladin
Race: Half-Elf
Height: 5'9
Weight: 202
Eyes: Blue Eyes
Hair: Black Hair
Alignment: Lawful Good
Andrak's Story
I was raised outside of Freeport in the commonlands by my Uncle and Aunt who took care of me after my parents disappearence.
When I was growing up, I always wondered where my parents had vanished too. all I knew was that my Father was a Paladin and My Mother a Druid.
One day while I was tending to my studies a group of undead attacked the farm. My Uncle and I were able to barely defeat them. When we searched the corpses I discovered a parchment detailing a plan to take all of Norrath and that for some reason i was a danger to this plan.
So I set out to discover what was going on and to stop it if I could
About five weeks after I set out I met Javanno who showed me the ropes and then introduced me to the Scarab Leader's, Lord and Lady Hawke, who have become as a family to me. I would give my Life for Scarab if I had to. Since then I have started gaining strength and knowledge in the lands we roam.
I'm a black sheep, that's the most polite way to put it.
I come from a wealthy family in Qeynos, grew up playing with Antonious Bayle's children. My family, the Ironforge family, is a proud family in Qeynos, the makers of most of the fine weapons available in the shops there. In fact, the family is also in the jewel business, selling precious jewels to all who can afford them. It was a lucrative business and my parents provided well for me. I was an apprentice in the crafts of my family, learning the basics of smithing, but it just never was a profession that suited me.
I was lost, not knowing the plan that Bristlebane held for me, only knowing that my family's business was not a business I cared to undertake. That all changed when I found the craft of song. My parents immediately forbade me from dabbling in the the pleasures and powers of music. When I did not stop, I was punished. This couldn't dissaude me either. After many long years of argument and strife, my parents finally decided to give me their acceptance of my chosen field at least that is what I they told me at the time.
I've since learned that my parents made a bad guess. They thought it was youthful rebellion, it wasn't. They also thought I would outgrow my love for drums and lutes and singing and travelling to dangerous places, I didn't. Finally, after many years of practice and love of my craft, my parents decided I wouldn't outgrow my love. This was the day they called me into the estate and took my name from me. My room was cleared and my possessions were burned in the family forge. My parents sent me away and told me never to return unless I was willing to forgo the ways of the bard. This is something I could not do at the time and something that I do not believe I will ever be able to do.
I was banished from the estate with nowhere to go. I'd finally discovered Bristlebane's plan for me, but now I had no family to share it with, no family to share my joy. The League of Antonican Bards took me in and continued to teach me. They became my family and I flourished. I learned new songs at astonishing speed and charmed many creatures both beautiful and grotesque to my will. I was given the name Dirgemaker, with the promise that one day, if I could prove myself, my name could be Dirgemaster, the name of the bard that founded the League in the days before my grandfather was born.
Proving myself became my obsession. I wanted to learn the ways of the master bard and prove myself worthy of the name Dirgemaster, but the more obsessed I became the harder it became to master new skills and the more I missed my old family. I went many years saddened by my obsession and my lost family.
My attitude changed when one day Bristlebane sent me a vision. He showed me that it was possible to regain my family and gain the ways of the master bard. With renewed hope, I have set out to earn the name Dirgemaster and to win my family back. I do not yet know what I must do to win these rewards, as Bristlebane likes to keep many secrets, but I travel the world searching and learning new things so that one day, Bristlebane's glory can light the path.
That path was further illuminated recently when my God sent me a vision of great grandeur. His message was clear, his orders were beyond question. I was to find an honorable family, one that showed valor and honor in its actions, one that was loyal to its members. I was told to find that family and to ask to join its ranks. I was told to become a loyal member of that family and to help whenever my song or blade was needed. After much searching, I have found that family and it is called Scarab.
I've done as my God has demanded and asked to join the family. Now I will set out to remain loyal to the Scarab cause for the glory of Bristlebane, the glory of Ironforge, and the continued glory of Scarab.
All hail Scarab!!
Anthem Dirgemaker
Name: Sir Astur il'Ayan
Race: Dwarf
Class: Cleric
Sex: Male
Astur's Story
Il'Ayan . . . the name holds in it the story of generations, of battles lost, of wars victorious, of heroes and heroines past and present and yet to come. Its meaning is simple, yet weighs far more heavily on them that bears it. 'The Holy' 'tis the meaning in the more vulgar Common Tongue, but 'tis a name given by the ancients as they battled Innoruuk and his foul hoard.
'Haps I should be startin' from the beginning of me tale. Pull up yer chair and get out yer best Ginesh, stoke up yer pipe and listen to me do the talkin' at ye for a while.
Me name in the ancient Elven is Astur il'Ayan, or in yer Common tongue 'Star of the Holy.' I'll be tellin' a tale of a war long ago, of days when the gods walked among us, when the ancients fought for their lives and Norrath was a place of sheer and utter beauty. If ye haven't figured it out by now, I'm speaking of the time of the Elders and the War of Takish-Hiz.
Takish-Hiz was the fairest of cities, or so I've been told. Twas a splendor to behold and the children of Tunare were beautiful beyond words. Even Brell Serilis himself was tempted by a young Elven maiden, such was their beauty! This caused Innoruuk's evil heart to be enraged with jealousy and so began the War of Takish-Hiz.
Me fadder's fadders could not stand idly by while the bloody bastard Innoruuk took over, and so began the fight! The battle raged for what seemed ages and despite the valiant deaths of many and the help of me family, Innoruuk was able to capture the king and queen of Takish-Hiz through his deceit.
It was because of valor in this battle and the aid of their holy powers from Brell that me family was given the name of which we are now known. It weighs heavy on me heart, however, that we were unable to defeat Innoruuk and the race of Teir'Dal were born. To this day I be wearing the Guise of the Deceiver in tribute to the brave fallen King and Queen of Takish-Hiz, for it is from their deformed and twisted souls that Innoruuk created the Teir'Dal.
Twas not only the name, however, that has passed from generation to generation. Me healin' arts have been a gift from Brell and me family has been truly blessed from his hand to help others. If ever yer in need, ye just be givin' me a call!
Astur il'Ayan, Servant of Brell
Priest of SCARAB
Name: Biggle Ratsbane
Race: Gnome
Class: Enchanter
Sex: Male
Age: 167 years
Height: 3' 1"
Weight: 42 lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: White
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Biggle's Story
Biggle's lil' Story Prelude:
No one is quite sure where Biggle originated, although he is rather quick to tell you one of three interesting stories...none of which can be proven as true or untrue. One thing is for certain though, none of them are the same and they all conflict. In the past few decades it has been confirmed he did in fact sucessfully complete a strict rehabilitation course at the Erudian Home For the Mentally Insane...Although their standards and procedures are currently under reveiw.
Biggle's lil' Story:
Back in the day...before the Monkies (Humans) infested our great land their was a time of great suffering and pain. The Inkies (Drow) were at war with the Snobs (High Elves) and the youthful Dirt Faeries (Wood Elves) were runnin amok in chaos and disorder. Many years would come ta pass before the naked apes would spread their influence on the battle fields..for they like the stupid Big Dum-Dum Stoopid Heads (Orges and Trolls) were mere pups. We being the intelligent folk we were, decided to not interevene...The Stumps (Dwarves) and Hamsters (Hobbits a.k.a. Halflings) were a wild bunch though...esp. the Dwarven warriors...Oh what a sight they were...although mind yee they were still Demi-Gnomes but there's someting about watching a fellow "shorty" lobbing off kneecaps that just makes ya want to cheer! And dem furry-foots are even better at poking the tall ones ones in the behind den we are!
Well over the years the battles raged on...The High Elves were simply not numerous enough to deal with the onslaught of the Inkies...something to do with some odd mating ritual i believe i was told once...and although the dwarves were more then happy to assist in lobbing off knee-caps the Halflings were another story. While some of them were hold and righteous, others were evil and deceitful...so needless to say they were a bit unreliable...and as i stated before we gnomes just didn't care. Sure there were the powerful mercenaries, but fer every one of them was an equally powerful and currupt Necromancer Gnome. And i tell ya they fought with much more heart then the mercenaries did that i tell ya. In this time of Dismay the Orges and Trolls were growing in power. The Orges who had once been a great kingdom were now stupider then ever. But they had power..and although they had many struggles within their society they were still able to organize not only themselves but the equally stupid Trolls...Well it was not pretty. The big fat uglies marched on towards battle...but what they did not relize was at dis time those naked apes in freeport had come to power. Living that close to the evil of Innoruuk which was festering in the Nektulos Forest had hardened them...and they grew stronger and stronger from the infux of monkies from the Qeynos area. And together with the Barbarians....oh what a sight indeed!! They crushed the Big Dum-Dum Stoopid's quickly. What they did not relize though was that the Orges and Trolls had created a diversion, and that their main forces were marching on Freeport itself with the Inkies!!!! And even worse currupt Necros and Shadow Knights exsisted within their very ranks!!! Oh the horrors that played out that day were not pretty indeed...it was quite nasty.
The battle raged on at the front gates of Freeport...from every possible angle where the sounds of screams, battle-cries, and gushy thuds as limbs flew about. The monkies got back to defend their town just in time, and fer a breif moment it looked as though they might just overcome. Now keep in mind me's seen lots o' horrible things...but this by far was the worst...up from the crumbling groud rose a giant disfigured beast. Ears not quite and long and beautiful as me own...but rather lanky and twisted. The foul beast must have stood 60 stores high! And when he let out his cackle i knew it could only be one person...or God rather. Yells and cheers arose from the battle feild as the inkies chanted his name...All at once like a bunch of drones his name sung out "Innoruuk!!!, Innoruukk!!!" and in an instant me blood chilled. With the wave of his hand monkies fell left and right...as he sucked their life force chuckling and laughing. At his feet the swarm of drow gathered together...feeding off his essence, and regaining their powers. It trully was a sad sight, me may not be very fond of the naked apes..but most of them are an honorable bunch..and i could not stand to watch them slain in such a mannor.
As the battle raged on i took a particular interest in a near-by mountain...it appeared to shift and move...methinks to meself this cannot be good...and the earth began to quake...Up from what just was a mountain appeared Cazic Thule himself...the God of war!!! He appeared enraged...for his Orges were being misled by these evil beings...yet at the same time his excitement got to him, in a fit of rage he began slicing down mortals left and right...there went an Orge, there went a Human, there went an Inkie...he didn't seem to care, and to tell you the truth neither did i, population control if ya ask me hehe. Well anyhow Innoruuk did not like this much...methinks the foul beast is a bit of a control freak, and he concentrated his efforts on Cazic...now don't get me wrong, ol' Cazic is a force to be reckoned with...but a great many of his powers were striped from him when he abused them..and he was no match for Innoruuk's might. Cazic fell to his knees but before Innoruuk could drain his lifeforce into himself Cazic chopped his own head off! To the ground it fell...crushed at least 40 mortals and made a real neat sound as the groud shook!. Innoruuk turned in a crazed look towards the City of Freeport..and his eyes lit up then faded just as quickly...for out of the corner of his eyes stood a tranquil being, maybe half his size with a peaceful little smile on his peaceful little face. "Who are you!!!" commanded Innoruuk, his eyes aflare and spittle flying from his mouth. "I am Rocet Nife and i have come to destroy you". Innoruuk laughed with glee, "Ahh yes i know of you, but you cannot match my might and i will consume your soul!" Rocet smiled...gotta admire that "little" guy he must have a bit o' Gnome in him. He spoke very softly ...so calmly that for a minute all fighting ceased...as if he very word were so sacred nobody...not even the Big Smelly Dum-Dum Stoopids would dare raise a sword. And he said to "Innoruuk, no i cannot defeat you, and i dare not try...i said i was here to destroy you" Innoruuk again laughed and battle raged on, Rocet winked and from the sky dropped another mountain of a God...methinks his name was Mr. Marr or something like that. Made all the monkies rather happy i must say. Well this Mr. Marr charged right at Innoruuk...ignoring all the little inkies trying to poke and tickle him with thier weapons and spells. He hacked away at Innoruuk..with speed and skill unmatched. And Innoruuk sucked away at his lifeforce mending his wounds as fast as that Mr. Marr fellow could make em...It did seem as though Innoruuk had the upper hand. But he fergot one thing....That silly little God with the silly little smile on his face. He began to dance around in glee healing Mr. Marr...Now this certainly would have been the end of Innoruuk...but along come another God!!!! I do believe i knew this one, his name was fizzlethrope or something along those lines. God of theives methinks...but anyhow this little weasel runs up and starts jabbing at Rocet Nife! Then Innoruuk steps back, casts a powerful spell..and up pops the undead corpse of the God Cazic Thule!
At this point me starts to get very worried. What does this mean?? What will become of the rest of Norrath if this foul beast wins. Well ya know great minds think alike...and from the docks of East Freeport i heard a sound i will never forget....a horde of drunken Dwarfs singing war songs and clanging their weapons...My what a sight it was seeing those wild lil' boogers charge into battle...axes swinging and beards a wagging. Like a Hill Giant on a bad day they plowed through the crowd of Inkies headed straight for Innoruuk...He had depleted much of his powers on that Mr. Marr fellow who continued to hack away at him dispite his many wounds. And if that wasn't enough all around the battlefield appeared thousands of elves...High Elves came from nowhere...as if some magical force had just teleported them in..and i'll be darned if out from the near-by trees and bushes popped a herd of Wood Elves. The battle that ensued was quite awesome...and every now and then i'd notice Gnome or two run by giggling and pouncing. Dwarven clerics took Rocet's place healing Mr. Marr as he was busy with that pesky King of Theives. The Elves quickly dispatch Cazic's undead corpse and cheered victory...but it was all too soon. The Inkies had been reduced to half their numbers...but a great many Powerful Necromancers remained...as did many Monkies and Gnomes who were loyal to Innoruuk. Up from the groud sprang fallen warriors from both sides, and their skellital remains cackled much like the evil laugh of Innoruuk himself. A war that should have been nearly over....had just begun.
It was then i noticed a group of well organized peoples...surrounding a Monkey and a stubby Dwarf...looked like a couple, and rather odd one me thought to meself. In their eyes burned a fire that could not be...umm put out. yeah that's it. Well this group of fine Warriors and Mages seemed to work together so well...and that interesting Dwarf was killing undead left and right...at will it seemed. The Monkey didn't appear as wise as his Dwarven mate...and rushed into battle like a madman..kinda admirable for a naked ape methinks. Well what this noble Paladin lacked in Wisdom he more then made up for in strength...With this special sword he seemed to have a connection with he tore through Inkies like butter...it was rather amusing...and all around him his guild fought with the same honor and valor that he did. Some of them fell in battle..which was understandable considering the odds...but the sheer force of this fighting machine was amazing. I even noticed a handsome Gnome or two among their ranks helping out their much less able Demi-Gnome friends...For we all know the backbone of any good fighting machine is the Gnomes that hold it all together.
But anyhow enough about them, lets focus on me. Now as i stated before it had turned out to be quite a battle..the Gods and mortals battled on...and once again Evil seemed to take the upper hand...Soon as the King of Theives had slain Rocet, Innoruuk drained his lifeforce..killing his ally to replenish his strength. He trully is an evil little weasel methinks...and although at this point i had been a mere spectator i felt the time for action was upon us. I quitely sat down and began to meditate while the battle raged on. All around me i heard the sound of weapons clanging and flesh being torn..and the occasional dishonorable cry of pain as fallen warriors hit the ground. I stood up furious...consumed by the hate which Innoruuk was feeding off of on the battle feild. But i gathered me wits...after all i am a Gnome hehe. I focused all my energy on Innoruuk and with what almost killed me sent a surge of magic at him...which lowered his naturall magical resists. He screamed in pain and confusion...looked around, and his eyes found me. I must say i was a tad bit frightened...i may be a Gnome but i can still die. With what was left of my powers i sent a bolt of energy at him which knocked him off his feet! That Mr. Marr fellow swung his mighty sword down and lobbed off Innoruuk's head...Then he picked up Rocet's fallen corpse and as quickly as he had appeared away he vanished. The Inkies were terrified...but still they fought on. Luckily for everyone else there...i took out at least half of the unclean heathens. And i was quite the Hero. Everyone cheered my name and boosted me on their shoulders and really made much more of a fuss then i deserved...granted i single handedly defeated Innoruuk and destroyed his army of Inkies, but it was nothing no other good Gnome would have done ya know. The fine guild which had battled so bravely..known as Scarab...promptly invited me to join their ranks.....That's my story and i'm sticking to it =)
Biggle's lil' Story-Conclusion:
Reports have it that on the day of this great battle Biggle was quietly resting at home, and he in fact met Scarab one day while attempting to pick LauChann's pockets. To this day he denies such accusations as "hogwash".
I started playing then and joined in either really late 99 or somewhere in 2000. I don't remember. I do remember the jerk who suckered me into 'meeting just another person or two' and then 'just coming to play in a guild group' and then 'just joining the guild.'
*glares at Calanctus*
Blackrabbit
Name: Sir Borgu Bladesong
Race: Human
Class: Bard
Sex: Male
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 180
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Dark brown
Borgu's Story
You wish to hear my tale? Unlike the ballads I perform, it is not a glamorous story of adventure and high romance. It is a tale which gives me no joy in the telling.
It's true my father was a great elven warrior. He earned a minor barony and a castle of his own by distinguishing himself against the orcs in Crushbone. He married and had a son named Sirmaliki, my brother.
I am the product of a tryst with a human girl who worked in the castle kitchens. Her name was Jehanna.
My mother was a proud woman and she demanded that I be recognized as an heir. To protect his good name, my father denied everything and cast us out of the castle. In her anger she gave me his name, Borgu, so he would know and remember.
It's not easy raising a child when you are human in the elven lands so we came to Freeport. Jehanna eked out a meager existence for us as a barmaid in the northern part of the city. I spent much of my young life in that pub, doing chores and trying to avoid the fights which would often break out.
Many interesting people came to the pub, but it was the performers who enthralled me the most. One, a bard named Tellnyar, took a special interest in me. In his spare time he would teach me about music, for he saw in me some talent. Sometimes, when my mother was elsewhere, he would also show me swordplay. He knew well the dangers of the world and wanted me prepared.
Day turned into night, nights into days, and I grew. I became strong in song and weaponry and was soon a Bard in my own right. I earned a living by performing at the pub and other establishments around the city.
Life was fine, I was popular with the public and especially the ladies! My mother had also found happiness with a nice tailor fellow who lived nearby. Everything seemed to be going well. Then, with no warning, evil reared its ugly head.
One night I was performing at the pub. My mother and the tailor had come and were enjoying the music. I was getting ready to play a new somg I wrote when a chill entered the air and silence gripped the patrons.
The door to the pub opened and a High Elf dressed in full armour entered. He had three or four figures with him, their features covered by heavy robes. He scanned the crowd until his gaze fell upon my mother. She turned pale at his visage, for he was my father. He leered at her and said "You are coming with me. All that has ever been mine will be mine again."
He moved across the bar in a blur and grabbed her arm. The creatures with him removed their cloaks and revealed themselves. They were foul Ghouls! My father laughed and said "She is mine! Do not follow or you will die!"
I leaped to her defense and was caught instantly by the throat. He looked me in the eyes and said "Because you are my son, I will spare your life. If I see you again, I will drink your blood." His eyes started to glow and I became dizzy. The last thing I saw before passing out were the fangs that sat in his mouth like rusty knives in a slaughterhouse.
When I awakened, I found myself in a hospice with minor injuries. Others in the pub were not so lucky. In trying to save my mother many were slain, including the tailor whose throat was torn and his blood drained.
On that day my life changed. I vowed to find my mother, save her if possible, or end her misery if not. Tellnyar introduced me to a militant group of bards who called themselves Bladesong. They wrote and performed music specifically for the enhancement of battle and the destruction of evil. I joined them and trained in the ways of a Battlebard. They taught me all they could, at the end saying "The road is the best teacher. Go now and fight evil where you see it. When you reach the Bard rank of twenty you may adopt the surname of Bladesong. You will know then that you are ready to find your mother."
I now toil at developing myself for the day I enter Mistmoore. I am aided by a guild of adventurers known as SCARAB. They are helping me in my development and will help me when I again meet my mother and father.
Name: Bren Silverhammer
Class: Cleric
Race: Dwarf
Age: 23
Height: 4'9
Weight: 210
Eyes: Hunter Green
Hair: Reddish/Brown
Alignment: Lawful Good
Bren's Story
Character Description: At first glance one might tend to overlook the small powerfully built dwarf, but one look at those fierce deep green eyes often causes one to stop and rethink his choices carefully. Especially if those choices are less than honorable. Another thing that becomes apparent once you are around him for awhile is that this dwarf has a sense of humor, something that is usually lacking in a dwarf. However his quick wit and good humor has gotten him out of more than one tight situation or at least distracted his opponent long enough to get the first strike in which is sometimes the difference between life and death.
Biography: It was a beautiful day, birds were singing and the trees were just the proper shade of auburn, it was going to be a glorious wedding. Bren brushed at his tunic nervously glancing again at the candle burning on the dresser than would keep track of the fast approaching hour. Dwarves from all over (not to mention quite a few elves) had been arriving since before sundown the previous day and it had been some job trying to find space for everyone.
Thoughts and rumors of war to the north were spreading, but today it seemed to have little effect on the guests for most chatted gaily amongst themselves while helping themselves to the ever abundant feast that had been spread out on the rough hewn tables placed beneath the oaks down by the river. Bren's father Bgeorn was rushing around making sure his guests had enough of this or that for it was his strongest desire that not only was this to be a great wedding but he hoped also to renew trade with some of the neighboring dwarves from the towns upriver. Trading had been somewhat slow since the rumors of battle as close as twinforks had spread and that could prove disastrous to Bren's merchant father.
Soon the music that signaled the beginning of the ceremony was heard and everyone started finding their appropriate places. Bren and his father took their positions and turned expectantly towards where the bride would make her entrance. Oh if only mother could've been here Bren said to his father, she would have loved this. Alas Bren's mother had died 2 summers before from the fever and it was that incident that had made him decide to study with Krewe the local healer, after only 2 yrs Bren was fast becoming a cleric of some reputation and Krewe was constantly urgeing the youngster to take up and go to Freeport where he could further his training among the various talents that lay in that far away city. But alas it was apparently not to be, 'cause here he was about to be married to one of the most beautiful girls in the village. There she was making her way down the aisle toward him, he could hardly remember a time when he hadn't loved Selene it seemed as if she had always been there. Bren heard the music of the elves in the background as well as the murmur of approval from the guests but suddenly all seemed to go in slow motion, the sky darkened and there arose a wail like that of a thousand dead screaming at once there was a great rush of wind and a giant shape dropped from the sky like a felled tree. It was a nightmare come alive as dwarfs and elves scrambled for weapons that were now it seemed way too far from hand. Dwarves male and female alike reacted however like a people who have been fighting for a thousand thousand years and soon axes were in hand and bucklers and shields strapped into place, elven long bows hummed with fierce determination having little effect on the gigantic wurm that had rudely interrupted the event. The dragon made his way along the stone pavers that had lined the bride's path only moments before, intent on reaching the bride and her maidens at the end of it. But these are dwarves we are talking about not sniveling human females so when the dragon reached the group he was met with a barrage of axe and swordstrokes as well as a few arrows. The wurm reared up to its full height letting out a tremendous scream and let loose a stream of acid heat that immediately obliterated everything in its path dwarf, elf or tree included.
Bren stared awestruck by the spectacle he had just witnessed and only had a split second to react before being buried beneath a swarm of burnt and mutilated bodies. Bren awoke sometime later to the smell of burnt flesh, it made him sick so he retched, uncontrollable tears welling up in his dwarven green eyes as memories came flooding back to him. He forced himself to rise and look around at the carnage and retched again. Several were moving now among the wounded and dying giving aide where they could and a prayer where it was to late. Numbly he started doing the same and before long the faces became as one long nightmare that the jovial dwarf knew he would be a long time forgetting. Then hecame upon the torn remains of his father broken and bleeding lying amongst the pavers of the walk. "Father", Bren said kneeling down beside him "Let me help you" Bren said most urgently. "Nay, Bren, my time is past my son, it is up to you know to go and take revenge for my death and to avenge those that have perished today" and with those words Bgeorn breathed his last. Bren gently closed the eyes of his dead father then cradling him in his arms he carried the man away and buried him 'neath the tree next to where his mother lay.
Later the next day after some order had been restored to the community Bren set about packing his things and getting ready to leave. Jorn one of Bren's closest friends came in and asked where he was headed. "I must go north" Bren replied, "for that is where my destiny lies. The dragon has fled to the north and my love was never found among the bodies. He came for some reason what I cannot say but I must go to find this devil beast and ascertain whether Selene still lives and even if she does not honor demands that I avenge the death of my father and all those that died here yesterday."
And with those words spoken Bren slung his pack onto his shoulder and picked up his war hammer, and headed north away from the place he had called home since birth to discover strange new things and travel distant lands, but that my friends is a story best told another time.
Name: Sir Briggs BlazeRose
Race: Barbarian
Class: Warrior
Sex: Male
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 350 lbs
Eyes: Bluish Green
Hair: Brown, shoulder length
Facial Hair: Mustache and Beard
Known Body Marks: Birthmark which looks like a Dragon's Claw clutching a rose. He always wears a silver chain with a pendant of a dragon's claw clutching a rose shaped orb under his armor.
Alignment: He walks the Path of Neutrality.
...A deep drum sounds slowly in the background...
Between the time when the oceans drank Atlantis, and the rise of the sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of. And onto this, Calanctus, destined to bear the Staff of the Serpent, strode across a troubled land. It is I, his chronicler, who alone can tell thee of his saga. Let me tell you of the days of high adventure...
My first experience with Scarab came through introductions made by my good friend (in real life) Selgus back in the days of Everquest I. I believe that was about 4-5 months after EQ had gone live.
Hawke and Ldyhawke ran the guild in those days and my contemporaries (in no particular order) included Cloudy, Boann and Abira, Kyliar, Gwern, Kelagry, Dinadin, Yoldie, Senaby, Glolfandil, Ravenn and Shadowbane. If you recognize all these names, you are indeed an elder member.
I played as a wizard by profession and went by the name Saderion. It was enjoyable, but as time and tide changes, so did my interests. I tried several classes, and eventually settled with playing an enchanter, and so Calanctus was born. I stayed with Calanctus til the venerable level of 65 before finally taking a boat into the far west (Tolkien style) to other lands and greater adventures.
Those were interesting times to say the least. There was plenty of rat/snake/orc-slaying. There was camping days on end out in OOT for a single drop to get a pair of Jboots. There was corpse looting and corpse dragging. There was DeLeveling. There was Powerleveling 15 levels in 10 minutes Tumpy Tonics Style. There were unintentional 15 frog trains in Lower Guk. There were *intentional* 30 frog trains in Lower Guk for AE stun/nuking carnage. There were naked iron gnome races. And of course, there was plenty of "Drama" to fill the off times.
Calanctus
Caradin was left on the doorstep of the Ashen House. The Masters of The Ashen Order assumed that his parents wanted him to learn the monastic ways of tranquility.
Caradin never heard from his parents and he never had any unknown visitors. Caradin learned ways of Quellious under Puab Closk, Master of The Ashen Order. Closk taught Caradin for some 18 seasons to be calm, forgiving, and to seek the tranquil solutions to his problems and situations. Throughout the training Closk noticed that although Caradin mastered his teachings well, he always seemed somewhat distant. Puab could tell that there were outside influences in Caradin's thought processes. Caradin's work for these first 18 seasons of his life consisted of back-breaking farming in the fields of The Ashen House. Planting, tending, and harvesting crops was his life. It was hard work that yielded many lessons in life and Caradin had grown to be a very wise monk as a result. But yet, Caradin could feel something strange inside him. Something just did not feel right but he could not pinpoint what it was.
Caradin made a drastic change, going against Closk's will. Caradin wished for a new profession, he had grown weary of farming. There were many young Ashen Order monks to keep up the farm, he felt he could do more. Caradin began to hire himself out to the public at large as a Peace Keeper. Individuals or even families would pay to have Caradin maintain a specific environment. Caradin enjoyed his new work, it was quite lucrative and it also provided a great change from the farm work he grew up with. Sometimes Caradin would work all through the night into the next morning. This was very different from farming from sunup to sundown. Caradin got great personal satisfaction from his new employment. He liked assisting people find the right area they needed to be in, or directing a delivery for one of his jobs. To be able to put in a hard days work and get paid with money was a great thing to Caradin but the part he enjoyed the most was when he was involved in a confrontation with people. Maybe an individual had to much Elven wine and was a bit too rowdy or maybe a party of Dwarves wanted access to a celebration they were not invited to (everyone knows of a dwarfs' love of spirits and celebrations) and Caradin got to exercise his physical prowess in order to control the situation and insure compliance with the Host's rules. These situations seemed to give Caradin greater inner bliss than he had ever known. They seemed to scratch the itch festering inside him. All those seasons of farming that feeling of unknown had grown into a craving, a restless state that eased when confronted with a situation that required a more physical solution.
Caradin could make no sense of these developments. The fact that a monk of Quellious could be so satisfied from violence puzzled him, he turned back to Closk for guidance. Puab offered no answers to Caradin but he vowed to help his young student and support him further in his efforts to discover the answers he searched for. The apparent fact that Caradin had violent tendencies like the warriors he had seen in the cities around Norrath was a difficult starting point for his Knowledge Quest. Caradin has some creed, unknown to him, festering inside him? The QUEST continues...
Name: Cazora Charmcaster
Race: High Elf
Class: Enchantress
Sex: Female
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 145 lbs
Eyes: Emerald Green
Hair: Deep Red
Distinguishing Features: Beauty mark near her lips
Cazora Charmcaster's Story
Cazora's origins are unknown and mysterious. As an infant, she was found by a small group of Karanas gypsies and taken in and raised as one of their own, even though the human gypsies didn't normally associate with high elves. They sensed something very special and magical about her. As she grew into childhood, she became exceptionally beautiful, intelligent, and extremely charismatic. She took a natural interest in the art of enchantment and showed enormous potential. By the time she was 12 years old, she had learned all the gypsies knew. Not wanting to hold her potential back, they brought her to Felwithe and presented her to the enchanter's guild there. The guildmaster, Kinool Goldsinger, immediately recognized her potential and accepted her with welcome arms. Her guardian mother, Silspin, left the gypsies to open a jewelcraft shop near the beautiful fishing ponds and to take care of Cazora. In a few short weeks, she grew in powers far exceeding students several years older than her. The gypsies had taught her something that is difficult to learn in academic arenas -- that was resourcefulness, and a key to being a powerful enchantress, and that gave her an edge.
During the next four years, Cazora grew into an extremely beautiful women and had made many friends. During the same time, Silspin had taught her all the secrets of jewelcraft. Cazora enjoyed this trade immensely; her high charisma and beauty combined with her skills caused her to become the perfect jeweler. Word of mouth got around about her talent, and it wasn't long before travelers would come from abroad just to get jewelry from her. Meeting so many adventurers and hearing about their stories caused her to desire to be a great adventurer. She made great many friends and became closer to a special guild of adventurers known as Scarab. Their ideals and values matched hers perfectly, so she decided it was time to move on.
CURRENT Moving to Freeport to the HQ of Scarab, she began adventuring with fellow members, many of them having quests of her own to pursue, all of which, are for bettering society and smiting evil. Cazora enjoys helping people above all. Early on in her adventuring days, she focused more on making her group better with magical buffs as well as equipping them with fine jewelry. It wasn't long though, when she quickly mastered the art of controlling battles with a large variety of mind controlling methods. Her fellow adventurers came to respect her as an important person (because she was so frail and beautiful, they felt more of a need to protect her than focus on the battles in the early days). They eventually learned that she could prevent stuff from attacking her or anyone else, better than anyone else could, and was instrumental in allowing the group to fight battles 2 or 3 times the normal size.
As her reputation in jewelry became world known, she began to earn enough money to help acquire difficult items for fellow guild members. This aspect has been viewed as acts of generosity, however, her intentions were purely in the vein of helping others out. In groups where others understand how she fights, everyone tends to relax a bit, as she entertains them with jokes and various "scare pranks", probably to keep them on their toes! She also thoroughly enjoys shapeshifting for entertainment purposes, especially at parties, or near the end of a long hunt when fatigue starts to set in.
One of her goals is to find out her origins, who her real parents were and why she ended up in the hands of her gypsy founders as an infant. She has no knowledge of any past, however, she senses that Kinool Goldsinger knows something, even though he has never mentioned anything. Perhaps one day, she will find out, but in the meantime, she is happy to adventure and learn about the world. Without Scarab, she wouldn't have this kind of happiness and fulfillment.
BELIEFS Cazora is one of the few enchanters to worship Mithaniel Marr. Most enchanters follow the goddess of love, Erollosi Marr. Perhaps it had to do with the valorous upbringing and her strong beliefs of justice. She values life and freedom above all else, with happiness as a close second. She despises those who would deprive others of them, and will treat such people the way they treat others.
Name: Corvax Arcanium
Race: High Elf
Class: Wizard
Sex: Male
Height: 180cm
Weight: 140 Lbs
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Flint Grey
Corvax's Story
Corvax was the first-born son of Gilthas Arcanium, General of the 3rd Army of Felwithe and leader of the infamous Mountain death clan wars, and was born shortly after the discovery of the new continent known as Kunark. Corvax lead an uneventful childhood, being groomed for a life in the military with a pre-ordained commission already in place courtesy of his father's position in the military. All this, however, changed towards the end of the war as a strange malignment befell the once strong youth and left him crippled, a shell of his former self. Clerics were gathered from all corners of the explored world but none could cure this strange ailment and the once strong noble youth was left as a pale skinned living skeleton. Light was shed on this incident later on when it came to be discovered that a particularly strong Goblin Shaman towards the end of the war had cursed Gilthas and although strong talismans protected him himself the same could not be said for his son Corvax who bore the brunt of this extremely nasty curse.
His body crippled but his mind racing, the young Corvax turned his energies from practicing sword and shield to exercising his mind and exploring the sometimes-dark paths of magic. Upon exploring the realms of magic the path of wizardry was chosen, as the ease of travel would benefit the weak youth. Finding him a willing student, the wizard's guild in Felwithe soon found the young Corvax a constant occupant. When not studying he could be found swimming the lake outside, trying to strengthen his weakened frame.
Feeling confident in his new arcane powers and being sounder of limb, Corvax decided to put his skills to the test and join the ever-constant battle against the encroaching Orcs of the Crushbone Clan. Early battles fared poorly for the young wizard as his early battle training left the young man trying to combat the Orcs with Power and Weapons rather than guile and magic. After many painful lessons needing much clerical attention, the young wizard met with a group lead by Dolgo Baldfeet and calling themselves his Deputies. A proud yet small group, the deputies attracted Corvax with their informal structure and desire for adventure. During his time in the deputies Corvax made many friends, and having made a significant effort against the Crushbone Orcs travelled to The Oasis of Marr to practise his arts on the plague of reptilians that was the bane of the area.
It was at about this time a young elven enchantress by the name of Alixmaree caught the eye of Corvax when it wasn't stuck in a book in the constant study of the arcane. The friendship grew over time with Alixmaree aiding the young Corvax where possible and even giving him the mighty talisman of Muggok, which he still wields to this day. Shortly after this time Corvax travelled the world further, finally taking up the quest against evil in the southern plains of Karana at the same time 2 other things happened, and Alixmaree having caught his eye just disappeared. A heartbroken Corvax was then asked to lead the Deputies, as many battle scars needed time to heal on Dolgos frail halfling frame. While battling the strange bird-like creatures that had made their home in these lands Corvax met a healer by the name of Qyen, another elf from his homelands and one gifted with magics of healing and warding. With the continued absence of Alixmaree, Corvax vented his anger and frustration on the Aviak birdmen while his friendship grew with the healer called Qyen. Many moons passed and Qyen moved to the Kunark to continue his quest while Corvax, still harbouring mistrust for the continent that caused his malady, stayed behind to help quell the uprising of the TesMak gnolls. Finally plucking up the courage to heed his friend's calling, Corvax boarded the boat and travelled the oceans to the newly formed outpost of Firiona Vie. Finding his friend Qyen in the mountains of the new frontier, Corvax soon met many members of Qyen's guild called SCARAB. Time passed and Corvax's arcane powers grew, leading him to pass up leadership of the Deputies to his good friend Thistlefoot.
At around this time a young elven Magician approached Corvax on a visit to his homeland. She was called Luxy and wished to learn further the ways of the arcane. Corvax gladly tutored her and taught his willing student all he could. As time passed and Luxy started to fill the void left since Alixmaree's departure, friendship turned to love and shortly thereafter they where married in his hometown of Felwithe with his old friend Qyen presiding and his hunting partner Ravenn by his side.
Shortly after this joyous occasion Gilthas was called out of his semi-retirement to head up an exploratory force to venture to the newly discovered lands of Velious (found by the Ak'anon gnomes who seem to have nothing better to do than tinker with clockworks and explore). After a rushed trip buying supplies and furs, Gilthas waved goodbye to his family and negotiated travel permits for him and the party on the Gnomish icebreaker. The Elven High Council kept the family up to date with Stories of Gilthas's progress until one fateful day some 2 months into the exploration, when the couriers stopped arriving. Two moons passed and Corvax decided to take matter into his own hands, after the second party sent by the High Council turned up nothing. Out of pure frustration Corvax bid farewell to his wife and mother and set off to seek tales or trace of his father in the distant snow covered realm of Velious.
Name: Cybele
Class: Warrior
Race: Human
Gender: Female
Height: 5'6"
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown
Weight: 130 Description:Cybele has an extreme dislike for all undead. She has a tattoo of an axe and one of the Scarab dragon on her upper left arm.
Cybele's Story
*** Hail. Well met!
My name is Cybele. You may have seen me once or twice before... I am afraid I keep a rather low profile...except in battle that is. I love to fight!
Ah... So you are wondering what my tale is?
Well, I was a fighter and a Scarab before I could even walk. 'Tis true! Ozwyn found me early one fall morning in the Freeport Arena. The shrill screeches of quarreling rats had caught his attention. He followed the sound though the rows of bleachers. When he spotted me, I was standing over the bodies of three giant rats. I was only two years old. I was dirty and scratched and my knuckles were bleeding, but Ozwyn always said I had the biggest grin he'd ever seen stretching across my face.
Ozwyn was hardly the type to raise a young child so he handed me over to Cain Darkmore for training. For many happy years, I spent every day in the halls of the Warrior's Guild in Freeport. The memories of my childhood antics soon faded into dim tales told by firelight on long autumn evenings. Then one morning I decided to explore Norrath on my own.
I was wandering aimlessly through the Commonlands when I heard a cry for help. I looked over my shoulder and saw something that made my blood boil. A creature had died and found a way to come back to life. Now its reanimated form was chasing down a child. The boy was running towards the guards, but I could tell that he was not going to reach them in time.
With a growl, I leaped into action--kicking and taunting the foul reincarnation until it forgot the child completely and turned on me. I smiled and with a mighty blow, the skeleton crumpled. Its limbs clanked to the ground making the most delightful sound! I laughed and gave the pile of bones a final kick, scattering the pieces everywhere. I turned to tend to the lad's wounds and found another skeleton standing over the boy's unconscious form. Rage filled me as I struck down this second abomination.
That was my first meeting with the undead....
From that moment on I have hated all Undead with a passion. They should not be allowed to walk the face of Norrath. They were taken from the living world because they were not worthy. They are not worthy. They have no right to come back and walk above ground.
Aye, It may be a bit harsh, but that is the way of things. All is not pretty and easy in Norrath. Rallos Zek teaches that we all must struggle to survive. To live. And if we die, then we die. And we will die well! But to come back again... to try to force your way back into the world of all that lives... Ack! Foul!!!!! Those twisted souls stuck between the living and the non! They have placed a stain upon Norrath. A stain which will not be erased until every Undead creature is punished and sent back to the void of beyond!
Ever since that first fateful meeting in the Commonlands, I have been on a journey to rid Norrath of this taint. Cain Darkmore could not understand my passion and so I left the safety of the Warrior's Hall to seek out the man who had first found me.
When I met Ozwyn again, I learned that he had helped to form a guild called Scarab. I quickly found myself a loyal member of their guild - fighting to promote honor and valor....
I joined SCARAB back in the Everquest Days. I was with Jayfoot when he started in UO and watched him play for hours. When the guild moved to Everquest, I created my own character, Dadilie. While I no longer play on-line I've helped host Scarabfest every year its been in Atlanta. I look forward to many years to come with SCARAB!
Name: Dadilien Emathren
Race: High Elf
Class: Enchantress
Sex: Female
Dadilie's Story
Growing up in beloved Felwithe was beautiful. My life was full of harmony and love. My parents showered me with gifts and we spent long hours playing in our elegant home. I never stepped foot outside Felwithe and as far as I knew neither had they. They were my constant companions and playmates.
When I reached my 12th summer I was sent to explore our faire city on my own, a rite of passage of types. My life has never been the same. The city seemed so large on my own. I quickly became afraid of everything I saw. Spire and towers I had visited often with my parents now seemed ominous and threatening. Overcome with emotion I ran blindly through the streets to escape my fears and found myself in the temple of Erollisi Marr. In a heart beat my fears were gone and a feeling of love and serenity filled me. I had found the power and light of love.
Through Erollisi I learned I should use my loving upbringing to give me power and spread the light of love where ever I went. When I returned home, I shared my experience with my parents. They were not happy. They were both Wizards by profession and the arts they studied could be harsh. They had hoped I would follow in their foot steps and study to be a wizard myself. But, it was clear just by looking at me that I followed the light of love and would not be a wizard. So they bade me discover which vocation would be for me.
I learned what I could, though many of the guilds I entered would not tell me much without a parent's recommendation. Day after day I searched the towers of Felwithe with little success. I was at a loss until one day exhausted and ready to give up I took a seat on a comfortable looking bench. From nowhere I heard a voice, "You look tired my dear, let me assist you" Flashes of light engulfed me and I felt stronger. I looked around but could not see anyone. I thought mayhaps it was someone invisible speaking, but before I could ask the voice said, "I'll bet you never had a bench make you strong before."
Well as you can imagine I bolted off the bench and stared at it in wide-eyed terror.
It spoke again, "do not be frightened child, I am known as Zithroth. I am an Enchanter. This is just one of many forms I can take." Then right in front of my eyes the Bench turned into a Beautiful High Elf Man. "You see. It is an illusion." He waved his arms and then turned into something I had never seen before. He shrunk in size and became stout. An ugly little thing with big hairy feet wearing a grin."I can become a halfling, or a gnome, or a human, almost any of the sentient races."
I stared at him blankly, "A ....wh-what or a what?" I hesitated. I had never heard those words before and felt anxious looking at the little man in front of me. This creature was completely foreign to me. I was scared and nervous but also intrigued.
As Zithroth's voice issued from the form in front of me I felt that what I was about to hear would change the course of my life forever. "Beyond these beautiful walls," Zithroth began, "there are other beings, not just creatures great and small but other thinking, feeling beings, that are like us yet different many ways." He reach up his stubby hand and said, "Come Dadilie, it is time your eyes were opened..."
I studied with Zithroth for 5 years and learned many things, languages, spells, and even how to handle a two handed staff. But, I was most interested to learn about the other races that inhabited our world. My parents never referred to anything outside our gates except to say there were just animals out there. I yearned to meet these beings.
The day finally came. My master Zithroth approach me and said, "I can teach you no more until you have passed beyond the gates of our city and honed the skills you have learned." he handed me a pack filled with food and drink.
Tears welled in my eyes, " I am afraid" I squeaked. "Draw on the power of love, from you mother, your father, your friends and me. Use your knowledge and skill and you will do well. "He hugged me then and I felt love surge through me. My fear began to abate. "Now," he straightened his robes, " go and learn. When you are ready, travel to Freeport, across the Ocean of Tears. There you will find colleagues of mine who will continue your training." With that he cast a spell and I felt protected. Then he cast another spell and he changed form into a frightening sight, an Ogre (I had learned). He giggled, "Let's see how your classmates react to a surprise attack", and he lumbered off.
At the beginning I didn't go far from the gate. Fear overwhelmed me. Every creature seemed vile and aggressive. I was attacked by snakes and bats. At first I instilled fear in them and ran to the safety of the gate and the guards, but soon I gained courage and managed to club a snake with my staff. I had recalled my teacher's advice to go to Freeport, but I knew I would not have enough money to buy the food I needed for the trip. I looked down at the dead snake at my feet. Didn't I see snake skin gloves for sale at the local merchant shop. Maybe they could use a snake's skin. I pulled out a small eating knife and swallowing down a wave of nausea, attempted to skin the creature. It wasn't a very good job but I managed to get it all off in one piece.
I rolled it up and ran as quickly as I could to the merchant. She was very friendly and gave me 9 copper for it. I was thrilled. I would be able to make my way to Freeport after all. Not only did she say she would buy more snakeskins but anything else I could harvest from the beasties. I was overwhelmed. For the first time in my life I was self-supporting and self-sufficient.
I became a hunting machine, practicing my spell skills as well as my staff skills, using every part of the creatures I killed for food and money for water. In what seemed like no time I had earned enough money to make my way to Freeport.
On my journey I saw beings and creatures a plenty. I must have looked like a babe, staring at all the strange sights. When I finally reached the dock at the Ocean of Tears, my breath caught in my throat. The ocean was huge! Never ending, it looked like it fell off the edge of the earth in the distance. I was afraid. When the boat arrived I didn't want to board. I let others pass and began to back away. Then I heard a jovial voice say, "You're going the wrong way if you want to get to Freeport". I looked around but didn't see anyone. Again, the voice said, " It'll be another day before the boat comes again". I honed in on the voice and looked down. "Zithroth" I exclaimed. I reach down gave the halfling a bear hug. "You came to see me off".
"Uhh, I appreciate the hug young lady but I am afraid I am not who you think I am. My name is Jayfoot Bloomrose of the High Council of SCARAB." He beamed.
My face must have turned three shades of red as I replied, " I beg your pardon sir, you look just like a form my master took on". "Ahh so that explains it, I didn't recognize that name and there are few of my people that would travel this far abroad." "Are you traveling to Freeport?" he asked, " Or have you just come all this way to see the ocean". I hesitated. Freeport. It's what I had come to want so badly. But to leave the familiarity and safety of my home and cross this never ending ocean."Well I was going to but I don't see Freeport across the water only the edge of the earth" I managed to mumble. Would he think me a dolt? Would he look at me in disdain?
Jayfoot only giggled softly as he patiently explained, "Freeport is there,just over the horizon. I know because I came from there and beyond. There is nothing to fear friend. Hop aboard and I shall enlighten you about Freeport,the continent, my homeland, and the great guild of SCARAB." He reached up his stubby hand and said, "Come milady, it is time your eyes were opened..."
Name: Deidden Proudfoot
Class: Cleric
Race: Halfling
Age: 32
Height: 4'9
Weight: 210
Hair: Blonde
Facial Hair: Beard
Tatoos or distingishing marks: Troll symbol on right arm.
Deidden's Story
Distingishing Traits:
Likes to talk in the third person sometimes. Refers to the Sun and the Moon as Yellow and White Face. (Is paranoid that the Sun is always spying on him, and the Moon is simply a reflection of the Sun). Likes to bash things.
General History:
The life of Deidden, begins not in the safe haven known as Rivervale, but in the vast swamps of Innothule. Here, Deidden, as a small baby, is found by several Trolls all alone, save a basket to protect the child. The Trolls, wondering how and why this child was found in the swamp, took it back to Grobb, thinking it would be great food to snack on. One of the Trolls, obviously standing out as the leader of the pack, took the child to the village Shaman, and showed their new found snack. The Shaman, looking anxiously, took the child away from the Trolls, and told them that he was a boon from their patron deity, Rallos Zek. That meaning the child would one day grow up, and be a good basher. The Trolls were excited at the new prospect, and celebrated the night away by dancing around a fire, while eating the legs of the frogs from Guk.
Several years later, the Trolls of Grobb felt that the child needed to start fighting in order to become a 'great basher'. They sent of the child into the Feerrott to bash some snakes heads in. The Trolls marvelled at the boy's skill, and later called him: 'lil'basher.' Most of the Trolls were surprised that the child did not grow very tall, and was concerned about his health. So once again they sent him to the Shaman, where he was examined once again. The Shaman lifted up the boy, turned him upside down, shaked him a few times and then dropped him. The Elder concluded that the boy was a runt, an ugly Gook as they say. The Trolls accepted this, and went on their bashing way.
Several more years passed, and the call for good bashing rose again. And so they took lil'basher out to the Southern Desert of Ro, to bash some orcs heads in. Lil'basher bashed the orcs really well, but something went wrong. Dervish Cutthroats didn't like the presence of the Trolls, and so they attacked the Trolls, while raiding the orcish camp. Lil'basher was lost in the confusion, and had his head bashed in with a good swipe from a Dervish bandit. Hours have passed, and eventually a small group of Halflings encountered the camp. They spotted the injured Halfling, and took him immediately to the comfort of Rivervale. There the Halfling was given a proper name of Deidden, and was sent to the Church of Mischief where he was raised until he became an Adult. There in the care of the Church, Deidden became a Cleric, and found valour in his ways.
However all was not well in Rivervale. A few Halflings felt that Deidden was more of a Troll than a Halfling. And so he was expelled from the city, until he could prove that he was a HALFLING in all the sence of the word. Deidden, feeling rejected, drifted for many days until he arrived at the city of Freeport. To his surprise, the guards accepted his presence, and so he was welcomed into the huge city. There, Deidden met up with several members of Scarab. Even though the Halfling talked somewhat of a Troll, the humans accepted him, and invited him for membership into the fair guild. He was told to do a small quest to get in, and so he set himself out to complete it. So the rest, as we all say, is History. Eventually Deidden became a full member, and baked lots of edible goo and fish fillets to keep the guild from starving.
Name: Dinaden Gahalantine
Race: Barbarian
Class: Warrior
Sex: Male
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 282 lbs
Eyes: Black, 1 eye patch
Hair: Black
Age: 33
Skills:
Dinaden is master of many combat skills, and it particularly adept at 2 handed slashing and dodging. A master blacksmith, Dinaden has now largely abandoned his family's occupation (but more on that later). A veteran of the pub as well as the field of battle, Dinaden always runs to the nearest source of Honey mead and makes sure to max out the essential skill of alcohol tolerance to celebrate the acquisition of each successive level of experience. He has recently tried his hand at archery, the brewing of fine beers, and binding the wounds of injured adventurers, but he has far to go on these paths before he will reach an acceptably high level of expertise.
Appearance, mannerisms, equipment:
Dinaden is in many ways a typical barbarian in appearance--tall, muscular, long hair braided in the back; yet he also has a quiet grace about his movements, and a relatively neat appearance that hints at a past rooted in pursuits other than brawling and barbarous culture. Dinaden's hair is not as light as many of his Northern brothers, nor as wild and unkempt. He has a neatly trimmed goatee and a simple hair braid that he keeps tucked up in his helm most of the time. Although he enjoys the rough company of the road and the tavern, Dinaden is suspiciously vain about his hair for a barbarian, constantly adjusting it after every battle and maintaining its jet black shine with oils and potions gathered in his wide travels across Norrath.
Dinaden is a couple inches shorter than the average barbarian and quite a bit more nimble (or at least he likes to think so). Even so, Dinaden towers over most of the other smaller adventurers he comes across, and finds many human and elven merchants rather apprehensive of his large size (although this fear is somewhat ameliorated by his fame as a monster slayer and all around nice guy). In his early adventuring days, Dinaden favored a leather kilt and traditional polar bear cap in the manner of his homeland, the Northlands, but has now come around to the necessity of placing skillfully wrought pieces of steel (go go Crafted armor) between him and the harsh world we call Norrath. From an early age, Dinaden was exposed to a wide variety of jewelry in the shamanistic style so prevalent in the Northlands, and since his wide journeys in the last few years, Dinaden has gained an appreciation for the various gold and silver trinkets of the various peoples of Norrath, and is regularly seen wearing both bone and string necklaces interspersed with goblin teeth as well as simple onyx ear studs and, of late, a short, intricate necklace of silver adorned with a single, glowing black pearl.
Throughout his adventuring days, Dinaden has favored axes, though also acknowledges the keen efficiency of a decent sword, as introduced to him by Caedyien, a gruff but generous dwarf who gave him his first sword, a 2 handed blade that was sized for barbarians. His first weapon was a small, rusty old battle-axe, which the young Dinaden affectionately cared for until finding the rather clumsy axes of the Minotaurs. After these, he turned to the 2 handed sword Caedyien had given him, a weapon of the finest steel. Soon after, Dinaden took to the road with the skillfully wrought and rather shiny golden colored halberd, given him on his induction into Lord Hrothgoomba's Knights of the Crimson Poodle, an order of men who had done service to Hrothgoomba. Presently, Dinaden's beloved Langesaxe of the Wolves, given him as reward for tracking down the infamous criminal Paglan, splits swing time with his Silvery 2 handed War Axe, which he is quite attached to and is currently pondering an appropriate moniker (maybe "Gobbo," since it came from Perma Gobs).
In the recent past, Dinaden has taken several day long layovers in Freeport or Rivervale, bolstered by the essential honey mead, and has been seen to participate in decidedly un-barbarian activities such as reading the Freeport City News as well as scholarly treatises on the latest magical and scientific research being conducted in Felwithe and Erudin. Although he comprehends little of the complex mathematics involved, a natural curiosity intrigues Dinaden into the inner workings of the Universe. Some younger adventuring friends speculate that Dinaden is growing tired of the harsh life of adventuring and, having accumulated enough wealth to retire on, is showing signs of slowing down, maybe retiring in another year or two. Dinaden vehemently denies such rumors, claiming "I'm gonna chop till I drop," which, while being a rather trite barbarian clich', is also probably true.
Life History, Short Version:
The Gahalantine family has been a family of craftsmen and artisans for as many generations as anyone in the Northlands can remember. When Dinaden was but a lad of 10, Dinaden's parents left Halas to travel Norrath in hopes of bettering the family business. In recent years, Halas had become glutted with young smiths, and Bandin, Dinaden's father, stubbornly made up his mind that business would improve in lands less cluttered with fellow smiths. For the next few years, the Gahalantine's traveled to all parts of Antonica, selling their high quality wears and generally enjoying life.
When Dinaden was 19 and Bandin was advanced in years, Dinaden struck out on his own, traveling Norrath and selling his own version of the family's heritage. One day, riding upon the path on his trusty horse Ni(!), he happened upon a man lying broken and bleeding at the side of the road. Dinaden jumped off Ni to see if anything could be done to save the man's life. Seeing Dinaden's approach, the man gestured weakly toward his throat. Horrified, Dinaden saw that the man's throat had been torn and slashed by some vicious beast. The man's breath came ragged and shallow, and blood was steadily streaming out of his many wounds. Dinaden desperately dove into his backpack, dug out an armor buffing cloth, and pressed it to the man's throat. Miraculously, the bleeding soon subsided and the man drifted off to unconsciousness, breathing somewhat easier.
After nursing the man back to health, the man introduced himself as Betrand. Betrand was an adventurer, a man who traveled the world seeking fame and fortune through his wits and his sword. Dinaden was entranced by Betrand's stories of adventure, beautiful maidens, and gold coins spilling like water out of an overflowing purse. After restoring Betrand to full health and repairing his armor, Dinaden bid Betrand a wistful farewell, as Betrand had grown restless and sought to return to his wanderings. Dinaden now considered which way his life would lead. The once sturdy market for Dinaden's banded armor had, truth to tell, dried up, and so Dinaden decided that day that he, like Betrand, would take up sword and travel Norrath to seek his fortune.
The next day, having forgot to purchase a weapon, Dinaden strode eagerly away from the familiar gates of Freeport and promptly got lost. Fifteen minutes after this, he was attacked by a skeleton. Somehow, Dinaden was not surprised by this, for was this not what "adventuring" was all about? Luckily for Dinaden, he was carrying his smithing hammer, which he thought he would skillfully used to smash the skeleton to pieces. The skeleton had other ideas. Attacking soundlessly, the skeleton leaped upon Dinaden with surprising speed. Out of the corner of his eye, Dinaden saw the glint of a weapon, then - agony. The skeleton had swung the axe directly into the right side of Dinaden's head. Screaming with fury, Dinaden proceeded to smash the skel to pieces with his smithing hammer. If Dinaden had been thinking clearly at the time, he would have reflected that he should have done this initially and skipped in intervening step of combat. However, at the time, Dinaden was not thinking clearly but rather bleeding profusely. He managed to stagger back to Freeport, where a kindly passing cleric healed his wounds. Dinaden bought an eyepatch. The shopkeeper was rather insulted as Dinaden slammed down the coins in payment and broke the display case, but wisely he said nothing but "um, thank you, come again."
Since those early days, Dinaden has traveled the length and breadth of Norrath, from Erudin to Felwithe, From Permafrost to Cazic Thule. He met many fine friends, and joined the band of adventurers known as the Norrath War College. Sadly, due to the incessant squabbling of the NWC leadership, the NWC permanently parted ways, and Dinaden was once again on his own. After a banquet honoring the famous paladin Cloudx Mistwraever at Highkeep one night, (to which Dinaden was invited on account of his being "friends" with Princess Lenya) Dinaden met a cleric named Ozwyn. Impressed by Ozwyn's knowledge of healing and the local political scene, Dinaden soon fought at Ozwyn's side at the behest of the Lord of Highkeep, who admonished all willing adventurers to "clean out those damned pickclaw goblins once and for all from my cellar." In Ozwyn, Dinaden found a new friend, and one day, after a particularly nasty battle, Dinaden noticed the tattoo that Ozwyn sported. Explaining that it was a mark of his band of adventurers, Scarab, Ozwyn described Scarab to Dinaden. Dinaden had heard of Scarab, and knew of their honorable reputation. Dinaden thought them a likely group with which he could share his future journeys.
Soon after, Dinaden met Borgu, a bard of Scarab. Borgu sang of Scarab's exploits and code of honor, and Dinaden was impressed, for not every adventurer Dinaden had met had bothered to look at Norrath and their place in it in such an honest and vituous manner. Dinaden if he might join the Scarabs in their adventures, and was told to seek out Jayfoot, a reclusive halfling. Traveling to Rivervale, Dinaden found Jayfoot and asked of joining Scarab. Jayfoot was impressed by Dinaden's appearance, but he knew that a fine appearance could hide an evil or immature nature. Stroking his chin, Jayfoot suggested seeking out other members of Scarab. Dinaden did so, meeting Lord Hawke and his wife LadyHawke and many other Scarab members, first in the frenzied battle against the pickclaw hordes in the cellar of Highkeep, and later at a more relaxed yet enthusiastic Scarab party in the Ocean of Tears. And so, Dinaden's story goes on to today as he seeks the open road, fine adventures, and stout companions to share them with.
It was summer 1999, and my wife and I were playing EQ, in a guild called The Imperial Order. We allied with Scarab for the Bashin Order games, and started to regularly hunt with y'all. About that time, IO went through some drama and didn't survive it (I had been #2 in IO at that time) and Hawke and I had become very good friends. He quietly asked me if I was leaving IO and when I replied it wouldn't bother me, he offered to tag me Scarab. I accepted and was tagged (with my wife) at Highkeep that very night.
Less than a month later Scarab had their second RL meet in Atlantic City and Leigh and I, being newlyweds and childless, decided to go meet all these people we gamed with. The rest, as they say, is history. I met all the Scarabs, especially Jayfoot and his wife, who it turned out lived only 30 minutes away in the Northeast Atlanta suburbs. We started spending a lot more time with them and eventually bought the house up the street, and the concept of Scarabfest was born that next spring, 2000.
So after 7 years, not a founder, but not a newb, I'm still as happy today with my online family as I was 7 years ago. We're stronger, more stable, and more mature (I prefer that to simply saying "we're a bunch of old-ass gamers").
Name: Sir Dolvin Brightblade
Race: Human
Class: Paladin
Sex: Male
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 220 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Dolvin's Story
The story of Dolvin is unlike many other stories. Rather than come from a poor, broken home, Dolvin grew up amidst the cool breezes of the Ocean of Tears. His parents were rich merchants of Freeport, and would frequently make trading visits all over Antonica. Rather than keep his son safely in their oceanfront castle, his father would take Dolvin along, showing him the safest way to travel from city to city, showing him what to avoid.
His father also furthered his education by enrolling him at the Temple of Marr's religious academy for non-clerical studies, declaring that "every young man needs a solid spiritual foundation." And so Dolvin grew up among the clerics and holy knights of Marr, studying the ways of Honor, Valor, Justice, and Sacrifice. As he reached adulthood, he found himself drawn more and more not to the mere studies of spirituality, but the exercising of those studies through combating evil.
Rather than be upset with his desire to become a holy Paladin of Marr, his parents supported his decision. Dolvin committed his life from then on to be in service to others. Joining the Knights of Truth in a solemn ceremony, his parents were pleased to see him continue in his training, and eventually he was posted to Rivervale to secure Misty Thicket from all manner of evil that would threaten the peaceful and carefree populace. Daily, Dolvin would venture forth to do battle with goblins and orcs, and repeatedly braced the goblin chieftain Mooto in his lair.
Over time, he became involved with first the Imperial Order, and now with Scarab. Through guild membership he continues to spread Mithaniel Marr's message of Honor, Valor, and Loyalty to all he comes in contact with. As he approaches his final passage to knighthood and the gaining of the 20th circle, Dolvin revels in the strength of his sword, his knowledge of the countryside, and the faithfulness of his friends to get him through the world around him.
Name: Dornen Dreamwarden
Class: Monk
Race: Human
Height: 5'9"
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Black
Age: 18
Physical Description
Dornen is a young man of average height (approximately 5' 9"), however because of his physical build and calm bearing he can leave the impression of being shorter and stouter than he actually is. He is slender and has a whipcord-like appearance rather than bulky muscles. It is immediately apparent to all that he is in peak physical condition. However as a late bloomer physically, at age 18 Dornen has yet to grow into his full stature. He has slightly curly black hair, which he keeps short for easy care and to prevent an opponent from being able to grab it in a fight. His face is almost always calm and his rather large rounded eyes and penetrating gaze lend him a wizened look beyond his young age. While standing still or meditating in a lotus position, he appears ageless and immovable. Like a hunting cat, he is capable of transitioning from complete rest to extreme action in the blink of an eye and opponents often make the mistake of thinking his placid appearance denotes an unprepared target. Many creatures have found this to be untrue.
Goals/Beliefs
Dornen's strongest motivation in life is to explore, discover, and understand as much as he can about his body, mind, and spirit. By doing this, he believes he will come closer to understanding all that Norrath has to offer, whether live or inanimate. He strives to perfect the union of his body, mind, and spirit at all times and use this knowledge to further his understanding of the world and the beings around him.
Traits and Behavior
Dornen is a driven personality devoted to achieving his goals. He is a very happy and cheerful person around those he trusts and admires and he is generous to the point of extravagance due to the fact that he has very little concept of the value of money in and of itself. He is the kind of person that would give anyone asking for help whatever he had at the time, whether it was a few coppers or several platinum bars. His self-knowledge makes him a realist as well as honest with himself and others. He tends to be very practical in his approach to problem solving which is not to say he lacks imagination, as imagination is essential in developing mentally and spiritually. Dornen tries to avoid extremes of passion and is generally level headed. Others consider him secretive, although this probably stems from his belief that lessons learned through self-examination and development are far more valuable than those taught by another. With all of that that said, Dornen is an 18-year-old human boy, raised entirely in the company of his brother monks and has only recently been exposed to the fairer sex. While considerate and respectful, he is sometimes over anxious about developing friendships with the women that he meets. He has a quick,dry sense of humor, and was considered sarcastic, but good-hearted by his brother monks.
He is proud of his martial abilities, and holds others who are skilled mentally, physically, and spiritually in reverence. Therefore, he admires most skilled adventurers, whether they are warriors, holy men, or practitioners of the magical arts, for their devotion and high levels of development. He does believe however, that only through the ways of a dedicated monk can all of these abilities be brought into harmony and lead to a full understanding of the world and its inhabitants. His determination to increase his knowledge and ability has a definite affect on his adventuring habits. In his search for perfection of form, he will often battle creatures of the same type many times in order to fully understand their nature and incorporate it with his own, including creatures that would otherwise appear harmless.
In battle with a group, he prefers to be in the forefront of the battle as this gives him the best opportunity to learn about his opponents first hand. He seems to have an innate grasp of group tactics because of his training with the brothers of his Order. He trusts and relies on others with him to either heal his wounds in battle or break his current foe's concentration. He is by no means careless in battle, as his loyalty to his friends is equal to his drive for perfection. He will not hesitate though, to test his abilities alone if his companions are unavailable. In the end, he believe sthat with meditation and consideration, all actions lead to a greater understanding of the world.
Dornen is amazed and grateful for any magic that can increase his abilities. He uses each instance as a reaffirmation of how much more it is possible for him to improve. He believes that these spells tap into power that is dormant in all of us. And, would scoff at the idea that these spells enhance anything beyond that achievable with dedication and practice. He sees the magic-user and shaman's abilities to bring this out in others as stemming from their in-depth knowledge of the mind and spirit. A type of knowledge that he realizes he will never equal because of his attempt at integration of mind, body, and spirit.
While dedicated to Quellious, Dornen is the type of worshipper who embodies his God's ideals rather than preaching them. His worship consists of becoming the ideal himself, and in that way spreading the beliefs and ideas of his chosen God. He leaves the preaching to Quellious' capable clerics and paladins.
Past History
Other than the fact that Dornen was raised by the Monks of Quellious, he has never spoken of his early years to anyone. Perhaps he will come to trust in his new guildmates enough to write or tell the tale in the coming months.
Dornen encountered SCARAB on the first day out of his abbey home of 18years. After many hunts and a testing period supervised by Lord Hawke, Dornen was initiated as a full Scarab member on May 18th, 1999. He hunts regularly with Gyst, Emry Lynn, Dadilie, Caradin, and Grimden and hopes to add Zephina the Druid to his regular band of adventurers.
Name: Edwin Rodriguez
Class: Warrior
Race: Barbarian
Height: 6'2
Weight: 205
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Edwin's Story
For as long as he could remember, Edwin was always getting in trouble with his family. They lived in a bright wooden cottage built into the side of a tall mountain. In the distance Edwin could see the lights from Halas, his home city.
Before he was born, his grandparents had rejected the upbringing of the barbarian way. Choosing instead to promote the mind and soul. Edwin often heard tales of an Erudite cleric whom had met his grandfather at an early age, and often brought the barbarian books in secret. The Barbarian soon began to publicly protest the ways of the body, and called for the development of the mind. The leaders of the clans in Hala's decided that this was not the way of the barbarian, and they cast Edwin's grandparents out of Halas, bringing dishonor upon them.
They quickly built the house where Edwin and his parents now reside. They lived in peace, reading books and building their minds and spirits, never returning to Halas. In the many years to follow, their bodies slowly changed, they lost physical strength, and gained more intelligence as they grew older.
Edwin's father was born there, it was obvious that the years of isolation and the abandonment of the physical training of the barbarian race had taken its toll on the child. The young barbarian was small, but even at an early age showed great intelligence, perhaps the most intelligent a barbarian to ever be born.
They raised his father in the quiet sheltered shadow of Halas. With each year Edwin's father became less a barbarian. On the eve of Edwin's father's 16th birthday, the Erudite Cleric came to visit, and with him came his daughter. A young and very intelligent Erudite.
Edwin's mother was the perfect Erudite, highly intelligent and civilized. They lived in the shack, and continued to advance the mind. Edwin's grandparents died soon after they were married. A few years later, Edwin was born.
As expected, he was scrawny compared to barbarian standards, but something in his eyes worried his father, he had always been taught of his true barbaric heritage, and in the young Edwin's eyes burned a hunger for battle.
Edwin grew like a tree, tall, yet his mothers frail genes kept him from becoming muscular, that didn't stop his hunger for battle, and Edwin often crept off to hunt small animals with a wood axe. This practice was scorned by his parents, and they often made him return to his studies.
Edwin would sit for hours, daydreaming about glorious and honorable battles like he had read about, but his barbaric blood kept him full of energy. on the eve of his 12th birthday, Edwin asked his father about the city called Halas.
"Father, why can't we go there?" Edwin asked
"They are afraid of us, son" His father answered, lifting his head from a book.
"Why?" Edwin asked, confused.
"They fear us because we are smart, and all their great strength and barbaric ways cannot help them read or understand. That is why we want you to study hard, and forget that silly hunting nonsense" His father said, while his Erudite mother nodded in agreement.
Edwin did not say any more, but for some reason his parents words made him angry.
Late that night, when his parents were asleep, he packed a few belongings and headed to Halas. he arrived before sunrise, and passed through the gates to find two massive guards staring at him.
"Nice robes, girl!" One guard laughed, pointing at the erudite robes that Edwin wore.
"What's wrong with my.." Edwin started, then he saw that both guards wore great kilts, with tunics of bear skin.
"Go back to where ever you belong girl" The other guard said.
Edwin began to get angry, a rage built inside him and he lashed out, swinging at one of the guards. The guard reacted, and the world went black around Edwin.
He awoke to find himself in a bed. His head hurt like never before, and one eye was swollen shut.
"A fine mess, boy," A gruff voice said from somewhere to his right.
Edwin turned his head to find a large man sitting next to him.
"Wha.. What Happened" Edwin choked out.
"Great Halas!" the man exclaimed, "you sound like an Erud."
"My mother is an Erud" Edwin explained, running his hand over his swollen and bruised eye. "What happened to me"
"You attacked a guard, I have heard stories of a barbarian man with an Erud wife living out in the wilds. I never knew they had a child." The man said, rubbing his chin in thought. "It makes sense, you are definitely a mixture of the two!" He added.
Edwin sat up in bed, "My father is no barbarian, my grandparents raised him as a weak man, and they forced me to study their damned books! It has made me weak!!" He explained.
The man seemed almost amused, looking at Edwin thoughtfully. "You definitely have the spirit of our people boy" he said. "You can't stay here though, your families name is dishonored, and the legend of the betrayal of your grandparents will follow you."
Edwin sat back in thought. "How can I regain my honor, I want to learn the ways of my people, here in Halas." He asked the man.
"Well now, Honor and courage and strength in battle is what wins respect around here boy." The man scoffed, "Getting slapped like a woman by a guard is NOT the way to gain respect back."
The man looked over the scrawny but tall boy. "You will never get anywhere unless you build up some meat on your bones" The man added, getting up. "Sleep here tonight, in the morning you will ride with me to Freeport, along the way I will help you strengthen yourself."
Edwin did just that. In the morning he slipped into the merchants wagon headed for Freeport, as they left the city he said a silent vow to one day return as a great and mighty warrior, and bring honor to his name.
Edwin spent the next several years traveling with the merchant. Edwin worked hard for the man, and was able to strengthen himself up some, but his Erudite genes would never allow him to grow as strong as a barbarian his age.
On the eve of his 16th birthday, The merchant died in his sleep, and the merchants wife decided to head home to Halas to live out her life in peace. To Edwin she left him a sword, and swore that she would defend his name to any who asked. Edwin was grateful, and stayed in freeport, confident that he was ready to start his quest to regain his honor.
The next morning Edwin set out into the lands known as the west gate hunting area. There he found some rats and snakes, and slayed them. His heart and soul seemed to find comfort in each sword stroke, Yes, Edwin knew he was a Barbarian at heart. Here on the battleground no one scoffed him, in fact, he found himself to be one of the biggest warriors around, although he knew he was tiny compared to the other citizens of Halas.
After a few hours Edwin felt confident that he was on his path to being a great warrior, and decided with arrogance that the bats and snakes were no challenge to him, (even though he had taken quite a few bites in the few hours) and so he headed deeper out, into an area known as the commonlands.
Edwin was surveying the area when without warning a sharp pain caused his leg to buckle, and Edwin fell. From behind him a stealthy black wolf had snuck up and sunk his fangs into the leg of the aspiring warrior.
Edwin's heart raced, He slashed wildly with the sword, but his skills were too low, and the wolf too quick. The wolf jumped on Edwin's chest, and sunk its fangs into his shoulder, Edwin fought back a scream, and tried to wrestle the beast off of him, but the blood was flowing, and Edwin's strength was faltering.
Suddenly a sharp scream of steel cutting the air was heard, then replaced with steel slicing into the hide of the wolf. The wolf yipped in pain, and turned to face its attacker, but just as quickly a second swing of the mystery sword brought an end to the wolfs life.
Edwin grasped his bleeding shoulder, and stood, finding himself face to face with a human nearly his size in height. but more muscular.
"Are you alright friend," The man asked in a deep yet soft voice.
Edwin was embarrassed, and outraged at the simple wolf besting him.
"How dare you kill my prey" Edwin shouted without thinking.
The man was slightly taken aback, yet recovered quickly. "Of course, forgive me, I didn't realize that even as you bled with the monster having you in its death lock that you were you the victor. Good day friend."
"Do not call me friend!" Edwin screamed "I am the mighty barbarian warrior, Edwin of Halas."
The man looked at him, his expression becoming stern. "you might be Edwin of Halas, and you might be a barbarian, but you are not a mighty warrior."
Edwin sighed, the rage inside him quieting. "Yes, you are right, I want so badly to be."
At this point the man laughed. "Well then, my young friend, all you need is practice, and the virtue of honor, loyalty, and valor will show you the way. My name is Hawke, and I have a friend who can teach you to use that blade. He lives in Kaladim. Go there and practice, when you have learned all he can teach you, return to me, and you can join our guild, it is called Scarab, and we fight for Honor, Loyalty, and Valor.
Edwin took the mans advice, and knew that his service in Scarab would bring honor to his name, and he was happy to have a purpose. Scarab was indeed a noble cause, and Edwin could not have asked for more.
Edwin spent two years with the Dwarven warriors of Kaladin, learning the art of combat. He occasionally thought of his parents, and hoped that one day, after he returned to Halas a proud and honorable member of Scarab, his parents would re-join him.
On the eve of his 18th birthday, wiser and more skilled, Edwin set sail for Freeport, ready to join Scarab, and begin his quest.
Name: Emry Lynn
Class: Rogue
Race: Wood-elf
Height: 5'2
Weight: 93
Eyes: Green/Brown
Hair: Red/Brown
Emry Lynn's Story
It was a sunny fall morning just outside of Trinsic. The land of Brittania was quiet as always in that area. No monsters spwaned near there; however recently a panther had been killing all the chickens on the locals farms. Galvin and Kyna Lynn's farm had just lost all their chickens that night.
Galvin took his daughter by the arm and hobbled down the lane towards the town. "Emry." He said in a strong voice. "You must go and find this panther and kill it. We can not afford to this loss. That panther hide will give us enough to buy some chickens to replace those we just lost. Go now, and take my bow with you."
"Father, you are far better at tracking than I am."
"Yes, but your skills will serve you well enough. Just go quickly, and return safely."
Emry Lynn hugged her father and waved back towards the house where she knew her mother was watching. "Alright. I will go."
It was nearing midday, and Emry was still on the panther's track though it was at least an hour old. "This is taking to long. That wicked cat will be long gone from here. I better head back."
Just then she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. She spun to her right and came face to face with a grizzly bear.
"Oh no!" she gasped as she turned and ran, loading her father's bow as he had taught her many years ago. Emry could feel the bear beathing down her neck as she dogded around a large tree. She turned and fired, hitting the grizzly in the leg. Quickly she reloaded and fired again. This time her aim was true and the bear fell back with a mighty thump.
Emry breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled out her knife to skin the beast.
A few hours later, Emry Lynn started back towards home. "I may not have found that panther, but Father should be happy. This skin will sell for more than a panther's and now we have food for weeks!"
As she got closer to her home she sensed that something was wrong. "I should hear father chopping wood by now." Emry quickened her pace. The woods were in dead silence. Emry dropped her load and ran to her house. She threw open the front door and froze in horror. The kitchen was in utter chaos and there in the center was the body of her mother slit in two. When Emry recovered, she searched for her father. She found him lying at the base of a tree with his axe still implanted in his skull. Emry dragged his body back to the house and placed it next to her mother. She look around and found everything gone. The killers had even stollen Kyna's sewing kit.
With a sad heart, Emry Lynn took a torch and set her childhood home a-blaze. She wrapped the bear skin around herself and headed north.
As she travelled north, Emry Lynn heard stories of a guild which fought for Honor and Justice, Scarab. She learned that this guild was lead by two very kind and noble people, Lord and Lady Hawke, but it was the name of one of their followers which gave Emry hope, Ozwyn. Emry remembered her father telling her stories of a travelling cleric, Ozwyn, who had helped her family fight off bandits when Galvin and Kyna had first moved into Brittania.
Emry meet Ozwyn of Scarab and joined the guild. Soon after, she travelled with Scarab to the land of Norrath where Emry built a house in the trees of Greater Faydark. She now studies the arts of the rogue and uses her skills and familiarity with the woods to help those lost in the forests surrounding Greater Faydark.
Name: Emry Lynn
Race: Barbarian
Class: Shaman
Sex: Female
Height: 6'5"
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Frost Green
Hair: Midnight Snow
Distinguishing Marks: Mammoth tattoo on upper right arm
Emry Lynn's Story
Leaning my chair back to the wall, I order a tall mug of Elven Ale. A little Dwarf lass enters the Inn and the warm breeze she lets in brushes my arm. I look down at the bruise there, which is still sore from the fight I was in this morning. It is swollen and purple to the point that I can barely make out the year-old tattoo of a Mammoth.
The lad rushes back with my ale and I notice that for one so small he is not all that unpleasant to look at. Smiling, I lean forward and take a long pull from the mug. Suddenly, the events of the past year wash over me.
It was nearing the time of the Great Mammoth Hunt, and I was grudgingly looking forward to this year's events. This year's Great Hunt was special. It marked the coming of my tenth summer. Soon I would have to choose my path in life. My parents had starting training me in the arts of war when I was only two summers old. When I would come home with tales of the success of the small bands I lead, their faces would glow and they would tell me that I would grow up to be a fine warrior. They were delighted by my growing enthusiasm for the Great Mammoth Hunts. I looked forward to the Hunts each year because I could spend more time with my grandmother, and I could see the Mammoths up close. But I enjoyed being with Grandmother most of all. Grandmother was a powerful shaman. She went on all the Great Mammoth Hunts and would heal those who were injured during the long battles. At night before I would go to bed, she would tell me long stories of past Mammoth Hunts. Some of the stories got to be very gruesome. I loved to hear the tales of when she and Grandfather would take Father out on hunting trips when he was my age. It was funny to think of my father as being a young lad stumbling behind Grandfather.
I order another ale, and as the lad leaves, I allow the memories to sweep me away again.
Grandmother had died just after the third Great Mammoth Hunt of my ninth summer. Since the age of six summers, Grandmother had been the only one who understood my love of the Mammoths. That day when I was six, I had been out on the edge of the plains leading a small hunting band. We were tracking Ice Goblin Whelps when a herd of Mammoths walked passed us. The others ran, but I stayed and saw how tenderly the mother Mammoth led her calves safely away from me. I ran back and told Grandmother about the Mammoths and she laughed and smiled down at me. After that, Grandmother called me over to her home often and would tell Mother that I was running errands for her so that I could watch the mother Mammoths tend their calves at dusk. Mother never seemed to mind as long as I came back with a few pelts for her to sew with. During those trips, I would sit on the hillside looking out over the plains and watch the Mammoths stroll by. Then, at night, I would run back and tell Grandmother all about what I had seen. In later years, when I had grown enough to fight Snow Wolves and Orc Mountaineers, I braved the plains and would run with the Mammoth Calves. I was always cautious during these times, telling the guards in the passes that I was out gathering supplies for Grandmother. And many times I really was gathering the rare grasses that grow out on the plains or collecting pelts from wolves or melting the lard from a Snow Leopard. When I would return with these supplies, Grandmother would tell me about them and their powers.
But that time had passed, and Grandmother was gone.
Now, the Great Mammoth Hunt was nearing again and I found myself not looking forward to it with a kind of dread. Before Grandmother fell ill and died, I was bouncing with anticipation for soon I would choose my path in life. Now I was not sure. I felt as though I had no hope left. The only joy I found was with the Mammoths. For many long weeks I had dreaded the coming of the Mammoth Hunt. Then I discovered that some part of me was looking forward to the event. I had never been in battle with one before and this year I would be allowed to participate. Suddenly, I was eager to fight one-to become one with the Mammoths in battle. And I had laughed as I remembered the stories that Grandmother had told me about past Hunts.
A sly smile pulls at the corners of my mouth.
That was the day my life changed. I raced home and told my parents that I was not going to be a warrior. They were very upset. They couldn't understand why I would ever want to give up the life of a warrior. I told them that I wanted to be a shaman. They asked me if I had received a sign welcoming me to the shaman path. I looked down at my feet and told them that I had not. They laughed and called me a foolish child for thinking that I would ever be a shaman. I ran from them and hid out on the plains. I lived there alone and every day I watched over the Mammoths. Then one night I had a strange dream and awoke with a soreness in my left arm. When the morning came I was amazed to find a tattoo of a Mammoth right where the soreness originated. I was stunned by this, but then decided that it was a sign to return to Halas and participate in the Great Mammoth Hunt.
When I arrived the next day, I received a cold welcome. My parents didn't talk to me, and only a few of my friends even appeared to be happy to see me. Never the less I was allowed to attend the Hunt.
On the second night of the Hunt, a Mammoth Calf wondered into the camp. Everyone else was asleep, but I could not sleep so I sat on a hillside and watched over the plains. Then I looked back down on the camp and saw the Mammoth Calf. I stared at it in disbelief for I had never seen this Calf. Slowly, I stood up and walked carefully down the hillside. I walked up to the Calf. He stared down at me and was not afraid. I walked around him and saw a big gash on his left flank. Just looking at it the wound made me wince. Then something from deep inside me welled up and flowed from me to the injured Calf. My hands moved in mystic patterns and ancient words whose meanings have long been forgotten poured out from me. I feel to the ground exhausted. It took he a few minutes to regain my strength. Then, together we walked out of the camp and never looked back.
Many months later, I meet up with a short little woman named Siren of the Imperial Order. She and her companions lead me to a town called Freeport. We had many adventures along the way, and although I enjoyed my time with them, I knew my place was elsewhere. I said farewell to my Imperial Order friends and wandered around the town, all the time I felt as though I had seen some of the buildings before. That night, as I stood outside an armory, I met some members of a guild called Scarab. I knew instantly that my place was with Scarab and that with this group of people I could led a happy life fighting for honor, loyalty, and valor.
I smile and think, and I was right. Then, I laugh out loud as I see the dripping wet outline of one of my guildmates enter the Inn. Obviously he forgot where the dock ends....again. Rocking the chair back again, I order us a round of Elven Ale thinking about how much better it is than the Fish Beer I use to drink in Halas.
Fishie: Fishie Salmonicus
Class: Magician
Race: Gnome
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Unknown
Fishie's Story
After numerous requests, our senior editor Kilgore Trout has managed to get an exclusive interview with Fishie Salmonicus, the noted but mysterious mage.
Salmonicus had several glasses of elvish wine as they chatted in the back room of the Jade Tiger. Dressed in his trademark red robe with a cranky looking earth elemental patrolling behind him, Mr. Salmonicus seemed to be in a jolly mood, although occasionally he looked back at the entrance as though expecting someone. Up close, Salmonicus appears youthful, although there is a hint of weariness in his eyes that may betray his true age. Some flashes of Fishie’s surprising history were uncovered in our conversation with the normally reclusive magician.
K.T. - Thanks for agreeing to sit down for a few minutes with us, Mr. Salmonicus. Before we get started, I know everyone wants to know how did a gnome get a name like Fishie?
F.S. - Hehehe that’s a long story. Suffice it to say as a child I had a fascination with water. This was unusual in Ak’Anon where most gnomes view water as a means to power our Clockworks and for the occasional bath. After one near drowning, my father, a local tinkerer, gave me that nickname, and I guess it stuck. By the way, you may call me Fishie.
K.T. - Little is known about your past. Care to tell our readers more?
F.S. - I had a pretty unremarkable childhood. My family was loving and caring, we had enough to eat, nothing special. I had a lonely childhood though as my interests were different than many of the gnomish children and I was always getting into trouble in one manner or another. Why, I remember one of my first spells! I had been eating some batwing crunchies and was about to cast the spell and knocked one of the bat wings into the conjuring bowl and inadvertently made an undead pet. Was pretty scandalous in those days and that was even before the Necro Wars.
K.T. - The Necro Wars? Why that was over 300 years ago!
F.S. - (smiling) Aye, I may not be as young as I look.. I left home during the Necro Wars as blacksmith for the Clockworks Brigade. We were dispatched to Lesser Faydark to try to block the passage to Mistmoore and prevent the influx of necromancers into the Steamfont Mountains. That was when I first met Galston the magician.
K.T. - you knew Galston the magician? I thought he was a legend in some old tale.
F.S. - He was real. He took me in as an apprentice after my unit was lost in the Battle of Mistmoore. It was from Galston that I started my quest to unearth the secrets of the arcane arts from the elder ages. After he died at the hand of a treacherous shadowknight, I knew that I had almost given up my search until during a chance encounter at an inn, I ran into some of the Guild Scarab members who demonstrated what true valor, honesty and loyalty are all about. That random encounter renewed my zest for life and provided me with direction. Before I had been aimlessly researching the lost secrets for my personal gain. Now I have a greater purpose: that of aiding my brothers and sisters in their quest to rid this land of evil and....
Editor’s note: at this point the interview was interrupted as a dark figure in chainmail burst into the room and promptly dispatched the famous mage’s pet while shouting something about a missing spellbook. While our reporter’s attention was on the unfortunate pet’s slaughter, Fishie disappeared and seconds later the shadowknight disintegrated into a pulpy mass as thousands of knives appeared out of a cloud of mist. Our shaken reporter looked for the missing Fishie but apparently the interview was over and the gnome had returned to his search for the lost magical secrets of the Ancients.
Name: Frostfyre Shadowdancer
Race: Barbarian
Class: Shaman
Sex: Male
Height : 6'7"
Weight: 305
Eye color: Ice Blue
Hair color: Snow Blonde
Frostfyre's Story
Special Characteristics
Barbarian tribal tattoos across chest, in tribal colors of Blood Red and Sky Blue.
Scars across face from upper left forehead to lower right cheek
Self made tattoo of a Kodiak on left hand
Self made tattoo of a Serpent on right hand
Facial Hair: goatee with turned up mustache
History
In the meandering wastes of the frozen tundra that is the province of Halas, a young male stares across the open plain. His parent had told him of other places, other people, but he had met none, save the wandering few nomadic travelers that appear so rarely in the inaccessible land that is Everfrost. In his heart, he knows the truth of his parent’s words when they tell him he is too young at 15 summers to be longing for adventure. He had taken vows to follow in his father’s footsteps as the Clan Shaman, but had yet to receive the "Calling", as all Shamans must.
His father is the current Shaman to Clan Souwnkatu, and is revered throughout the land as a wise and honorable man. Frostbringer, Frostfyre’s father, being a Clan Elder and advisor to the Clan Chief has gained quite a reputation around Halas and the surrounding areas. Frostbringer became famous by almost defeating a brigade of Gnolls as they attempted a raid on Frostfyre’s clan. With the Clan Chief critically wounded, Frostbringer led a charge that defeated the Gnoll raiders, and then led a frenzied Barbarian horde into the Gnoll home cave where they were virtually wiped out by the blood-mad Barbarians.
Frostfyre’s mother, Crystalgaze, is also a powerful Shaman in her own right. Where Frostbringer’s art is one of mostly offensive spells, Crystalgaze’s talents are solely in the vein of healing. As her family was destroyed violently by Ice Goblins when she was young, she has dedicated her life to the healing arts. It was Crystalgaze that brought the Clan Chief back from near death during the Gnoll raid. It was after that raid that the two powerful Shamans met. The result of that union produced their only son, Frostfyre.
As a child, while other younglings were playing, Frostfyre was taught the fine art of war by his father, the art of healing by his mother. When others were swimming in the lake that separates Halas from Everfrost. Frostfyre was on hunting trips with his father or on long journeys with his mother to garner special herbs for defensive spells. He also learned the art of stealth and stealing from an acquaintance, unknown to his parents. This acquaintance, a Rogue whom Frostfyre had saved by slitting the throat of a Gnoll using the Moonwing technique his father had taught him, was so grateful that while in Halas, he taught the Barbarian youngling how to sneak (as best as a Barbarian could) and hide.
By his fifteenth summer (please realize that due to it’s location, an Everfrost summer comes only once every 5 human years), young Frostfyre had learned all he could, he supposed. All of the spells had been memorized, but he could not call them into fruition, as he had not received "The Calling." This "Calling" is a period every Shaman goes through when the spellcasting ability comes forth. His family became quite concerned, as most Shamans get "The Call" around their thirteenth or fourteenth summer. Frostfyre began to wonder if he really was intended by the gods of the Six hammers to be a Shaman, after all.
It was in this, his fifteenth summer, that Frostfyre met another barbarian youngling, a female. Her name, as was the tradition in her Clan to be named after both her parents, was Chillseeker, and a vibrant Barbarian Warrior was she. Her outgoing personality was in sharp contrast to Snowshaow’s own gruff but likable ways. Where Frostfyre was wary and distrustful, she was open and inviting. Chillseeker was yin to Frostfyre’s yang, and from the day he met her, he found she never left his thoughts. She was visiting from her Clan on a supply expedition to Halas, her mother an old friend of Frostfyre’s mother. The two younglings spent much time together while their mother remembered old times, and when in came time for them to leave, Frostfyre was heartbroken, as was Chillseeker. They had fallen in love, a tragic and unexpected turn of events, as Chillseeker’s marriage to another had already been arranged according to her Clan’s traditions.
Chillseeker and her party were scheduled to leave in 12 hours. The Barbarian younglings crept away into the snow to be together for a short time, most likely the last time. Frostfyre built a makeshift ice shelter and a small fire inside, mostly for light, as both had grown used to the cold many years ago. When they again appeared at the home of Frostfyre’s parents, there was a gleam in the eyes of the two star-crossed lovers that the adults could not quite comprehend.
As Chillseeker’s expedition started off, Frostfyre’s mood grew darker. He was watching the only being, other than his parents, that he ever loved, leave him and there seemed nothing he could do about it. As he watched them leave, a strange feeling came over him. A burning from deep inside, a fire welling up from the deepest part of his soul. He could not watch her leave, he must do SOMETHING. As his frustration grew, so did the feeling, as if to tear him apart.
"Chillseeker!!!" roared Frostfyre at the top of his lungs, the pain burning through his skin, threatening to explode and destroy Frostfyre in it’s ferocity. "ARRRGGHHH! Esto Natuck Raknsi!!" The words came from his lips without thought, his hands gesturing as if in spasm. A bolt of fire struck the mountainside opposite the expedition with such force and heat it caused a huge portion of the icy mountainside to melt and crash into the valley in front of them.
Now this was a complete shock to everyone in attendance. Frostfyre couldn’t believe he had finally gotten "The Call." His parents couldn’t believe the power his latent talent had exhibited. Chillseeker’s mother couldn’t believe they would have to chart a new course around the mountain. Chillseeker couldn’t believe he had done this for her.
The two younglings made their feelings for each other known to their parents. Unfortunately, their parents were stern in the traditions of their Clans, and mandated that they be separated at once, and should never see each other again. Soon Chillseeker and her party left, and Frostfyre was adrift in his misery. He set about planning to use his abilities to find her, and together they would run away to Freeport or some other great city and be happy.
Two months later, the news came. A Gnoll war party had wiped out Chillseeker’s expedition on its journey homeward, and all were dead. All. That word rang in Frostfyre’s ears for days. All. All….All.
Ignoring his mother’s pleas, Frostfyre geared himself for a trip to the Gnoll homeland to avenge Chillseeker’s death. His father, while not wanting to see his son die, but also understanding what feelings were driving him, gave him his blessing as a warrior, and gave Frostfyre the two handed warhammer, named Skullcrusher, passed down for generations in his family. He had become a man. Taking his supplies and his newfound abilities, Frostfyre set forth to kill as many Gnolls as possible and destroy their homeland, or die in the trying.
Using his innate Sense of Direction, Frostfyre soon found the Gnoll Cave. He had killed many monsters on the way, using his Shaman powers as well as his extraordinary strength and healing abilities. He was well on his way to the lair of the murdering Gnolls. Once at the huge maw that is the mouth of the Gnoll Cave, Frostfyre paused and pondered what he was about to do. His heart was filled with trepidation and fear, yet also filled with anticipation for the fight to begin. He entered the Cave.
Two Gnoll guards at the entrance. Frostfyre surprised them, and disposed of them with a minimum of noise and damage to him. Upon entering, he found the total darkness disconcerting. Having not planned for this, he kept his back to the wall and crept forward. He traveled what seemed an eternity until a light caught his attention. This seemed to be the start of the Gnoll "civilization." He readied Skullcrusher and continued on. He heard a raging battle, and hurried along the semi-dark tunnel to where the sounds originated. What he saw amazed and delighted him.
There was a band of warriors already in the Gnoll base camp, fighting the vermin and doing very well. Then, an avalanche of Gnolls appeared from all sides. A trap! The crafty Gnolls had lured the brave warrior party to their deaths. Frostfyre could not stand by and watch a massacre. Before the Gnolls could attack, Frostfyre spied their leader and poured all his magical energy into one massive spell. "Arturk Bandmot Frakju!" cried Frostfyre, then ran headfirst into a pack of the deadly monsters, swinging his mighty warhammer, crushing skulls and breaking bodies. He hoped he was able to buy at least some time for the brave warriors to escape. Having lost their leader did cause the Gnolls to lose concentration, but the pack into which he had so blindly run was closing in on Frostfyre, though his kill count was rising by the second. There were just too many of them.
A scrawny Gnoll guard lunged at him, but he merely dodged and destroyed the guard with one swing of Skullcrusher. This movement, however, left him open to attack. A rather large Gnoll hit him from behind. Others jumped on and began to pummel him, scratching his face and body with their razor-sharp claws. Frostfyre began to pray to The Six Hammers that he might be allowed to sit at the Table of the Brave in the hereafter, when an incredible thing happened. An opening appeared in the mass of Gnoll attackers. The vile beasts began to run, screaming in pain and confusion. Frostfyre’s last conscious thought was "Now, I’m really in danger."
Upon awakening, back near the mouth of the Gnoll cave, but a safe distance away, Frostfyre found himself almost totally wrapped in bandages. He was being tended to by someone he could not see because his eyes were covered as well. A hand touched his bandaged face, and Frostfyre grabbed and squeezed with his barbarian strength.
"Ahhhh…please, my brave, young Barbarian, release thy grip, I mean you no harm."said a calm, reassuring female voice.
"Who are you?" asked the young Barbarian. "A friend," said his healer, "a friend to any in need. A friend to any brave enough to give a band of strangers enough time to regroup by throwing himself headlong into a score of evil Gnolls without considering the consequences to himself. My name is Lady Hawke. Lord Hawke, myself and our companions are the group you aided, and we are in debt to you."
" I thank thee, Lady Hawke for rescuing me from certain death. My name be Frostfyre of Clan Souwnkatu. What about the Gnolls?"
" The Gnolls, heavily damaged when you killed their chief, retreated from us and escaped into the nether reaches of the mountain. Never fear, though, there are far fewer Gnolls in existence today than there were yesterday. You should be proud, young Shaman, as thy powers and prowess bely thy youth."
"Once again I thank thee, milady. Where art thee bound? What plans hast thou and Lord Hawke for the future? Is yours a band of raiders, or pirates, or missionaries?"
A soft laugh."Nay, my friend, we are in the process of creating a Guild of noble beings such as yourself. We have been transported to this plane by an unseen force and plan to make our mark in this world. We will band together under the banner of Honor, Loyalty, and Valor to fight evil and bring justice to this plane as we have before on other planes of existence."
"I know not of what you speak, Lady Hawke, as I am a simple ma…young man. I do, however believe in the truth of your words and wish to join you, if I may."
"Lord Hawke and I have already spoken of this and thy bravery and honor has already been put to the test of death. We would be glad to have you, but have you no family, no friends left behind you?"
"My family does not expect me back, though I will tell them I live. They will understand. Of my friends, it was a friend’s death I was attempting to avenge by coming here. It would be my privilege to join your guild."
"Speak no more," said Lady Hawke, "thou hast already been made a member of our Guild. We travel to Freeport to establish ourselves and begin the battle against evil. We shall call our guild Scarab and you shall be a member of this family hereafter. What say thee, Frostfyre, Barbarian Shaman of Scarab? "
"Milady, I say…Hail Scarab!!!
Name: Geaedin Greywolf
Race: Human
Class: Rogue
Sex: Male
Age: 23 years
Height: 6'
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Brown
Alignment: Lawful Good
Geaedin's Story
It was a warm evening, despite the rain falling on the wooden planks that make up the Freeport wharf, there were not many people about, all indoors away from the rain, huddled round a pint or two of mead like most decent folk did at this time of the night. Not so for Geaedin, he sat on the docks, legs dangling over the edge, staring out into the expanse of sea dreading the hours to come. Soon it would be time to go out thieving, he didn’t like doing it but he didn’t know anything else, he had been doing this for as long as he can remember (besides Molly would slit his throat if he didn’t do it). With a sigh he got up and pulled his coat around him and set off towards the northern part of the city.
His job tonight involved breaking into a room at the Jade tiger inn, word had been round that a wealthy merchant was staying there and a healthy stash could be acquired. The sound of merriment wafted out of the inn as he approached, good, it was busy and the wine seemed to be flowing, it made his job that much more simple. He stepped through the door, and recognised the merchant sitting in the middle of the room from the size of his belly and the number of people round him making him feel the lord of the land to gain his favour. He smiled and made his way to the stairs at the back of the room, the upper corridors were deserted, even better, and found the room that the contact said held the stash. Looking up and down the corridor one more time he got to work with the lockpick, it didn’t take long, the door was quite old, as was the lock, he quietly slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dark, the candles having burnt out, so he pulled a fire beetles eye out of his coat pocket which illuminated the room just enough for him to get to work.
Just as he was about to start, he heard one of the floorboards creak outside the door and with a crash the door was kicked through. He rolled forward and turned round to face his attackers and found at least five men standing at the entrance to the room. The odds were not good, and Geaedin always played the odds, and so with a final smile he chucked the eye he held in his hand at his assailants and jumped through the window. The room was on the second floor but he knew that outside that particular window was a patch of grass that would soften his fall somewhat. It still hurt though, he thought he had twisted his ankle, but he picked himself up and starting running down the road towards the docks.
He heard the sound of pursuit, there was no way he would outrun them with his injury, so he slipped into a dark alley and hid. The pursuers ran by, oblivious to the man hiding round the next corner, by now his ankle was killing, it looked swollen but he was not sure if it was broken or not. He hobbled along, clinging to the wall, but it was hopeless, he knew he couldn’t make it, so he propped himself up against a wall and looked round for someone who could help him, but the streets were empty, empty except for a man striding purposefully in the middle of the road heading towards where he had come from. Geaedin recognised the man, he was a member of the guild Scarab, a guild he knew were honest and noble and so would definitely help him.
"Hail friend," said Geaedin.
"Hail," came the reply.
"Dismal evening isn’t it?" Geaedin said jovially.
"Aye, tis that," the man said.
"I hate to bother you but I seem to have twisted my ankle on the way to the docks to meet some friends of mine, we are hoping to catch the late boat over to Butcherblock and if I don’t hurry I shall miss it and the next boat isn’t until the morning."
"Let me see," said the man, and before Geaedin could object, the man bent down to inspect his leg.
Before Geaedin knew it the man was muttering some incantation under his breath and the pain in his leg vanished, so did the swelling. He tested the leg by standing on it and it felt as right as rain, he stared at the man in astonishment and before he could mutter a "thank you" the man said, "Take care friend and know that you always have friends at Scarab if you wish to abandon your current way of life, and live a true and noble existence." And the man was off, Geaedin stared at the space he occupied in the street dumbfounded, the words 'how did he know?' going through his mind, after a while the words changed to 'Why did he bother to help me!'.
Geaedin made it back to the hideout and got quite a rollicking for not going through with the job, then spent about a week lost in thought, just thinking about the incident and the man. Eventually he found himself standing round Freeport looking for this man, and when Geaedin did see him, again striding purposefully down the road, he moved to talk to him knowing that his life was about to change forever...
Name: Glolfandil Songweaver
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Bard
Sex: Male
Height : Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eye color: Unknown
Hair color: Unknown
Glolfandil's Story
In Freeport did Glolfandil awake crying and wet,
A child of love, perhaps of foolish love his parents tread.
His father ancient in his days was a warrior human reared,
Burly strong from northern reaches, his sword hung always near.
His mother, an elf from wooded realm afar,
Sang with golden voice and magicked hands to her strings.
His father ventured far and wide till alas one day
He returned not but in young son's dreams and wishes.
His mother raised him well, as well as she could,
But son was always learning from local men though try, as she should,
Right from wrong and Good and Strong to he she learned him.
Learn he did, how to play the string and even to carry a note and to sing,
For magicks, he learned, was in his voice and venturing in his blood.
When of age young, tender as it was, Mother had him pledged.
Pledged to the Bardic Guild, its teachers and poets and plebes.
Long he studied the songs of old and songs of magicks.
Till in his mind they never escape, and he grasps even the minors.
His mind wandered afar for his father still, for long ago
Had mother sailed west to Dedadel, the elvish land untold.
Had father died dragon fighting or been slain by a friend?
Never would he know les he left safety for the outlands.
The Lord and Lady Hawke, in Blue and Grey, Freeport entered.
And in their glory and strong companions it was easy to see;
He knew he must leave his cot and meal for the greater glory rendered.
So his old practice weapon (a gift from dad) he slung on belt
And ran to meet the parade ahead and bowed his head, on knee knelt;
"Scarab I give thee my heart and blade and neither shall break,
Til honor and valor and loyalty won or on gory blade am I felled!"
Name: Gulder Ospar
Race: Dwarf
Class: Cleric
Height: 4'1
Weight: 150
Eyes: Blue Eyes
Hair: Black Hair
Alignment: Lawful Good
Portrait by: Gyst Starblayze
Gulder's Story
Gulder Ospar was born in a small village they called Drevlin. This was not a Dwarven village as you might expect a Dwarf like Gulder to grow up in, but rather a community of many races. This particular village, made up of some 20 residence, actually seemed more like a family with the whole of them gathering around a bondfire near center of town one evening every week for spirits, dance and celebration.
Gulder learned about his culture and heritage from his father, Ghinn, who owned a forge just ouside of town. Ghinn was the finest smith in all the land. The quality of his weapons and armor were of such high caliber they were sought out by the most talented and wealthy warriors. Through the years Gulder became very proficient at the craft of smithery, and also in the ways of using these weapons in combat. The life of a smith was satisfying, but was not to be his destiny...
Gulders mother died shorty after his birth. He knew very little of her as it pained his father greatly to speak of her. One special night as this family gathered around the bondfire, Gulder found out the truth behind this village, and the truth about his mother. This night was the 20th aniversary of the victory of "The Great War". It turnes out that the residence of this village are the last remanents of the war party that claimed the final victory for the powers of light. They formed this village to live out their lives in peace and honor those who died in battle fighting for the cause of righteousness. All, are masters of their craft.. Wizards, Warriors, Rangers, Magicians, Driuds, Bards, Paladins and yes ... Clerics.
Atana was one of the most honored participants of the war. Not because of the many minions of evil she helped destroy, but because of the many souls she saved through her powers of healing. Gulder was very proud to hear that his mother played such an important role in that victory over the powers of darkness. He knew then, that this was the path chosen for him. His father wept when he heard the news of Gulders decision, they were not tears of sorrow, but tears of joy. What better way to honor his mother than to become a Cleric himself and help those in need.
Ghinn introduced Gulder to a human Cleric in the village named Danas. Danas was very old for a human, about 75 years of age, but looked barely over 40. He took Gulder in and began to teach him the rituals and ways of the Cleric. For seven years Gulder studied, practiced, and prayed. He had become quite proficiant at minor spells and was well on his way to becomming a great Cleric. One evening on that seventh year, Danas passed away in his sleep. Gulder had a dream that very night of a new and exciting place and had a vision of a huge Cleric hall in this place. How wonderfull this city looked in his dream.
Within the week, Gulder said his farewells to his friends and his father and went off in search of this strange and interesting city named Freeport in the land of Norrath. As he was looking over the map his father had given him he noticed an odd scribbling of letters on the side. They read "Scarab" and beside that were the names "Lord and Lady Hawke". Hmmm, curious, he though.
Many days had passed by and Gulder was beginning to wonder if he had made the right decision in leaving Drevlin. He continued onward, pondering this thought as much as Dwarves tend to ponder anyway, when he came across a small trail leading in his direction. Wonderfull!! he thought, as this was a sign he was getting close to his destination. He thanked Rodcet Nife for his guidence and began to pick up the pace a bit. Before long he was running full steam down the trail when........WHAMMM!!!
Gulder picked himself up off the ground and brushed his cloths off. He turned around to see what he tripped over and found that there seemed to be a rather large leg sticking out of a bush. "Hello" he called out to the bush. "Uhhggg" was all that replied. Gulder peeked his head through the shrubbery and saw a somewhat battered human laying face down in the dirt. He pulled the human out of the bush and leaned him against a tree. He was in very bad shape indeed. Gulder began casting, and after a few moments the humans eyes opened up. "Thank You" he said, "I would have slain that hill giant for sure if he hadn't hit me".......
"What's you name friend?".., "Gulder Ospar" he said proudly. "Well met Gulder Ospar, they call me Lord Hawke"... Gulder pulled out his map and looked at the names written on the side. He showed the map to Lord Hawke, who's eyes shifted back and forth from Gulder to the map. "Where did you get this map Gulder?", "My father gave it to me" he replied. "I haven't seen this map in 27 years, not since I left it with a good friend named Ghinn, who i fought with in the "Great War".
Gulder and Lord Hawke began to make the short trip to the city known as Freeport. On the way Lord Hawke told Gulder his story of the "Great War" and about a mighty guild in Freeport. That guild was named Scarab and was to be the place Gulder would call home.
I was involved with Scarab from late EQ beta (via a blip in history known as "Graconia"), but I didn't officially join until a few weeks after EQ's release in March '99. This is because "back in the day" the recruit quest involved getting Jumjum Juice, which could only be found in the dark (newbie) forests of Riverdale... and that wasn't the easiest thing for a young lil' elf like myself to get.
But, I got the jumjum, joined Scarab, and have been addicted to the stuff ever since. If Macedon were to reactive his account, the jumjum juice would probably still be in his bank box.
Name: JaVanno Kindlegrove
Race: Halfling
Class: Druid
Sex: Male
Height : 6'1"
Weight: 190
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Red
JaVanno's Story
In his early days he was a wanderer of sorts. JaVanno traveled from town to town frequenting the bars and finding ways to trick the locals into parting with thier cash. Luckily, he was tall and powerful and had a knack for not only starting brawls at the local taverns, but also winning them. And so, in this way, he managed to beat out a living on the road.
One particular morning, with a bad-hangover and a broken nose, he limped into Freeport. He sidled up to the bar and introduced himself to the patron as a "purveyor of tracts of land." The patron, Puab Closk, a guildmaster of the Order of the Monks, held no allusions about the nature of young JaVanno. He indeed knew that JaVanno was a common thug at best. Young JaVanno tried in vain to sell Puab what he called "the best darn farm in Ro." Amused yet irritated, Puab gruffly dismissed JaVanno.
Oh, good! An arrogant one! I enjoy beating the jum-jum out of the arrogant ones!" bemused JaVanno. Sadly, as JaVanno grabbed Puab's arm, he had no idea of what he was in for...
Later Puab, feeling guilty that perhaps he may have abused his power, carried the limp body of JaVanno back to his guild house in West Freeport. As he prayed to Queillos, he thought, "Well perhaps it is for the good. After all, he did have a nice left hook. Perhaps I shall train him and thus make atonement to Queillos by giving this man an honest trade."
JaVanno was not only impressed by skill with which Puab broke nearly every bone in his body, but also with the care and interest which Puab took in rehabilitating his broken limbs. Therefore, he stayed at the guild house in order to learn the ways and values of the Monk and devote himself to Queillos. One day, Puab approached him and said, "JaVanno, your time has come and I can teach you no longer...you must venture out into the world and bring glory upon our order!" So young JaVanno opened the door and found the nearest road.......
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkein
That road lead JaVanno to Scarab, and the rest is history...
Name: Sir Jayfoot Bloomrose
Race: Halfling
Class: Rogue
Sex: Male
Height: 3' 8"
Weight: 120 lb
Eyes: Black
Hair: Blond
Facial Hair: NONE
Jayfoot's Story
Jayfoot Bloomrose was born in Rivervale over 45 years ago. His parents were both farmers who enjoyed their life of tilling the soil. Jayfoot was always in inquisitive young man who would spend his days searching throughout Rivervale for something to do. He found it when the Fool's Gold was built in the center of town. At the Fool's Gold he learned what life was all about - Living life to its fullest and always take chances.
It was this desire to take chances that led this middle aged halfling to decide to see the world of Norrath. He traveled many years, learning to weild weapons and learning his mind was his most dangerous weapon. Jayfoot also learned to put the Halfling natural skills of hiding and walking quietly to good use. He became a usefull scout and adventurer especially when he learned that his inquisitve mind could quickly deduce where traps would be laid and how difficult locks could be undone.
It was during these journeys that he met Sir Gregor, a member of Scarab (a guild that favored valour, honor and truth). He spent many a day and night traveling with Gregor learning of these values and beginning to believe that this young paladin was correct. He traveled to Freeport with Gregor and met Lord and Lady Hawke who convinced him that the ideals of Scarab were things he strived for in his own life. Jayfoot became a recruit of Scarab and begin the rigerous training he would need if he was to truly become a full Guild member.
One of the toughest things for Jayfoot to overcome was his innate curiosity, things had a tendacy to fall into his hands. He still loves shiny jewels, beautiful weapons and more but he is beginning to realize that these items have owners and when he finds them on the floor or laying around that he should try to return them to their owners right away instead of putting it off till later.Jayfoot is very proud that the members of the Inner Council saw fit to invite a Halfling into the glorious ranks of Scarab and he hopes that this guild will further his life goals of having fun and taking chances.
Name: Kegan Wildheart
Race: Human
Class: Magician
Sex: Male
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Unknown
Kegan Wildheart's Story
Kegan Wildheart as he is called was not always known by this name. As a boy growing up he was known as Kegan Andrews. He grew up with his Mother, Kate, and Father, Johann, in a village named Surefall Glade. This village was mostly made up of Human and Halfelvs who practiced the Druid and Ranger ways of life. Johann, was, in fact a magician and was tolerated buy the local population only because of his great powers of summoning which were beneficial to everyone.
Johann was a simple man who enjoyed the peace and quite that was offered in the Glade. He would sit and read, always searching for ways to improve his skills and knowledge. Kegan was just the opposite. Since the age of 5 he showed great potential and was easily able to summon food and drink even before he began his training with his Father. Johann was very proud of his son's abilities but thought he should spend more time studying and less time treasure hunting.
By the time Kegan was 12 he could summon lesser elementalings who would roam the countryside with him in search of anything wonderful that might have been dropped by much more powerful and experienced adventurers. Sometimes he would come home with many items, some even magically enchanted and other times he would just come home tired and bruised. His mother would always patch him back up to health and his father would always punish him, usually by sending him off to his room with a dozen books or so. Kegan enjoyed this though as it was always fun to learn new spells and become more proficient and the ones he already knew. It was never as fun as treasure hunting though so usually by the next morning he would have read the books and learned the new spells. After showing his Father he actually had read the books and learned the new spells, usually it took about an hour, he would be off again.
Kate and Johann knew it would not be long before Kegan left on one of his treasure hunts and would not return. He had already become twice the magician of his Father and this place just didn't offer the excitement and challenges he needed or wanted. So on Kegan's 20th Birthday, Johann and Kate handed Kegan a backpack. Inside this backpack was a robe. Kegan's eyes gleamed, A Flowing Black Robe that had once belonged to a most powerful enchanter was now in his hands. His father had been keeping it for him since he was born although it looked like it had just been made. He gazed at it knowing it was the most powerful item he had ever possessed. He also knew it was his parents way of saying, You're Free.
Johann handed Kegan some reagents and a few Platinum pieces he had been saving and told him of a city far away. This city was known as Freeport and was a haven for brave adventurers and powerful spell casters. He told him of a Magician Guild Hall where he could find everything he needed including the training his father could not give. "You have a "Wild Heart" Kegan, it's time you followed it." said Johann. With that Kegan set off in search of this city called freeport.
The journey was much longer than Kegan expected and was beginning to wonder if he was headed in the right direction. He looked at his map, then up at the sky and continued on his way. He would summon a pet for company and only had a few skirmishes. The light was starting to fade away one day and Kegan began to make camp and summoned some food. He was about to lay down for the night when he heard shouts and hollers of battle in the distance. "Finally!" he thought "Some Action!" He got up and ran toward the noise. He began to see brilliant flashes of light and heard the clashing of swords. Quickly he summoned a pet and sent it off to battle hoping he would be of great help to those adventurers. He arrived at the battle just in time to see his pet demolished with a quick blow by the Hill Giant. A sudden feeling of worry came over him. "Who are these people who would fight a creature this strong" he thought to himself. "Stand Back" the party of adventurers shouted at him but his pride would not allow it. He began to cast his most powerful firbolt spell. The spell had very little effect on the Hill Giant and Kegan looked up just in time to see a giant fist smashing down upon him.........
"He's waking up" someone said. Kegan opened his eyes and saw a Paladin in shining armor standing over him. "Wha...Where... Who...What Happened?" said Kegan. "You were very lucky we had a Cleric with us young mage".. "Who are you?" said Kegan "I am Lord Hawke, Guildmaster of SCARAB and this is Lady Hawke, my wife, she is the one who saved you". Kegan sat up and was introduced to all the members of SCARAB. "You have shown great bravery mage, you have also shown great stupidity. Never attack a creature without knowing it's potential. Whats you name?".. Kegan began "Kegan Andr... Kegan Wildheart" he said proudly. "Well met Kegan Wildheart, I think with a little work you will make a fine Magician. Would you be interested in joining our family Kegan?" Without hesitation Kegan's eyes beamed and he said "Lord Hawke It would be my honor to join and adventure with SCARAB" he smiled brightly. This is what he had been searching for all along. A family of great adventurers and a place to call his own within this group.
Name: Kelagry Evenstar
Race: Wood-elf
Class: Druid
Age: 95
Sex: Female
Height: 4'10"
Weight: 90 lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: Red-brown with green "highlights"
Kelagry's Story
Prologue
It had been a long walk, but the dryad finally had come home. She stood in the center of her little grove of trees in Norrath's Greater Faydark and she breathed in the fresh scent of evergreens. From every branch and burrow, her forest companions had come to greet her. They loved and cherished the young dryad for the safety and love she gave them.
Kelagry had lived here in Kelethin all her life. She had been born of the soul-union between a wood sprite and an evergreen tree, as most dryads are. Contrary to popular belief, dryads are not bound to their home-trees; her tree was the result of that merge between sprite and plant. It held the essence of her mother and father; if her mother's spirit were to break away from the tree, it would grow weaker or stronger depending on how far from its other half it was. But Kelagry was not a wood nymph. She was a dryad, born of the union of nymph and tree. As such, she was free of the restrictions the wood sprites had. And glad of it, for Kelagry loved to roam.
Kelagry had already adventured over all of Faydwer, though her years were few for one of her kind. She was always happy to return home to her grove, but her wandering feet inevitably took her off again, usually sooner than she'd planned. This time, her homecoming was already being tempered with a desire to see more than Faydwer. The animals around her seemed to know it too, for the sounds they made were the soothing "please stay" sounds they made whenever they knew she was going away.
"Soon," Kelagry thought to herself. "Not today but soon. I will leave here for a time, and see the rest of this world."
Kelagry peeked around the trunk of the large tree she had taken refuge behind, trying to determine whether or not it was safe to come out. There was a Dark Elf out there... and with it was a hideous beast, a monster with no head or feet, just two trunklike arms that looked strong enough to break her in half. She didn't care to challenge either Dark Elf or beastie. She knew the elf had seen her, but she stayed still, hoping he wouldn't come after her. She had heard terrible things about Dark Elves. Stories of murder, blood, living sacrifice....
There was a nasty chuckle from in front of the tree. Kelagry heard a movement, and steeled herself for battle. There was no escaping it; she would have to fight this monster, to cleanse the world of his evil. She breathed deeply, counted to three, then jumped out from behind the tree and held her hands up to begin casting a spell...
And her hands dropped almost as fast as she'd flung them up.
The Dark Elf was sitting, quite unceremoniously, on his bottom in the dewy grass. He had an open book in his lap and seemed quite intent on his reading. The beast with him floated calmly in the air by it's master's side.
Kelagry put her hands on her hips. She cleared her throat. The Dark Elf looked up from his reading and seemed almost to blush (was that a hint of red on his dark-skinned cheeks?) as he closed his book and tucked it back into his pack. He stood quickly and gave her a funny, awkward bow.
Kelagry cocked one eyebrow. "Aren't you going to cast a spell or try to sacrifice me?"
The Dark Elf, if anything, looked taken aback. "Should I?"
The dryad almost chuckled at his bewildered expression. "Isn't that what your kind does?"
The Dark Elf guffawed. "So... shouldn't you be off making love to a tree?"
Kelagry scoffed. "I'm a dryad, not a wood sprite."
"Oh." He managed to convey that one syllable with a melody of meanings, the most prominent of which clearly hinted that he was feigning ignorance.
"Who's your, uh, friend there?" Kelagry asked, curiosity finally overcoming her.
The other elf looked around. "Oh, that? It's Jantik. It's an elemental. How about your... uh, friends?"
Kelagry was momentarily confused, then looked around to realize that as usual some of the creatures of the Commonlands had come to visit her. "They kind of... just come by to visit," she explained lamely.
There was another moment of awkward silence, then the Dark Elf stuck out his hand. "My name's Etsalon, of House Everhate."
Kelagry hesitated, then clasped hands with him. "I'm Kelagry."
"Are you new to the Commonlands?"
The dryad nodded. "Yes, I arrived here from Faydwer a few days ago."
"What do you do here?" Etsalon asked.
Kelagry considered. "I travel. Explore."
"Well... maybe we can explore together. I don't know much about this place myself. I just got here from Nektulos Forest." Etsalon gestured toward a dark, ominous-looking forest on the horizon.
Kelagry considered, slowly feeling her doubts fade away. This Dark Elf didn't seem like such a horrible person. He seemed... almost like her, in some ways. She slowly smiled. "I think that might be fun."
Etsalon smiled back.
***Kelagry's Years***
Kelagry and the Dark Elf Etsalon soon grew to become closer than friends. Through trials, hardships, battles, and long journeys they bonded to each other as kindred souls. Kelagry and Etsalon both learned to drop their previous prejudices, and life held many more lessons for them as well. Their travels found them learning to accept more and more people, and Kelagry in particular loved learning about new races and the occupations of those people.
Kelagry's first true friend was the Shadow Knight Aerithanna. They met during a long battle against the aviak bird-people in the southern Plains of Karana. The battle was long and vicious, but in the end the side of Good triumphed. Aerithanna decided to travel along with Kelagry and Etsalon, and this became the beginning of a relationship most undescribable. The wood elf and the dark elf bonded as would two sisters, for all that their skins were two different colors and they came from completely different worlds.
Along their travels they threesome also met with the Ogre brothers, Goliathh and Obadijah. Once again Kelagry's prejudices were turned around and upside down, for the two Ogres weren't evil at all. They were rather large and sometimes smelly, but underneath the ugly exterior their hearts were of gold. Three people turned into five people as they traveled from the southern plains to the maze of Cazic-Thule.
In Cazic-Thule, the group turned to fight against the worshippers of that evil god, the lizardmen. And yet another great friend was made on that journey. This time, Kelagry found a friend in someone from her own homeland. He was an enchanter named Calanctus, a high elf from Kelethin's neighboring city, Felwithe. Calanctus quickly became friends with Aerithanna, Etsalon, Goliathh, and Obadijah as well, and though their paths didn't always cross they all kept in contact with one another.
After they had ravaged the lizardmen in Cazic-Thule, Kelagry and Etsalon learned of a place called the Dreadlands. They journeyed there and again bumped into the enchanter Calanctus and a friend of his named Qyen. Both the high elves belonged to a guild named "Scarab," which seemed to be a guild made up all of close friends. By that time, Kelagry and Etsalon had joined their own guild, the Black Orchid Brigade. They'd met the Brigade during their times in southern Karana, and had made many friends there, most notably the cleric Korrupt, another cleric named Isildor, and a necromancer named Reklov. Kelagry had been given a position of officer in the Brigade, and although Calanctus had sometimes mentioned Scarab to Kelagry and Etsalon, they felt they belonged with their friends.
After a short stay in the Dreadlands, Kelagry and Etsalon met their friends Aerithanna, Goliathh, and Obadijah in an evil dungeon called Lower Guk, where they campaigned against froglok ghouls. Yet again they bumped into Calanctus, and he became a regular companion.
It was a long stay in Lower Guk, during which the friends became less and less content with their current guild. They began to seek more options. Kelagry in particular felt the strain. Aerithanna and Etsalon pledged to follow her where she went, but she didn't want to abandon the Black Orchid Brigade. The decision lay upon her shoulders and it was a heavy burden. Soon the pressure became too much though, and inner-guild strife had torn the Brigade apart. With heavy heart, Kelagry announced her resignation from the Brigade and turned her eyes forward to the future.
Still in Lower Guk, Kelagry, Etsalon, and Aerithanna were still close companions with Calanctus. With him, they met more and more Scarabs. They met the mage Cilien, and were re-acquainted with the cleric Qyen. They also met another enchanter by the name of Ainjel. More and more they spent time with the Scarabs, and they all learned to work together. Kelagry loved the adventure of the froglok dungeon. The more she spent time with the Scarabs, the more she felt comfortable with them.
Finally, Etsalon, Aerithanna, and Kelagry decided to try to become members of the guild they'd grown to be used to. They informed Calanctus of their choice, and he in turn let them know when and where the guild would be meeting, so that the threesome could get to know even more members.
Along with them came Obadijah; though Goliathh had found his niche some time back the good-natured ogre was still hunting for the right group of people. They all journeyed with Calanctus to Trakanon's Teeth, where they met the ranger Drue, a bard named Melescant, a warrior named Mescalen, and were re-introduced to Cilien.
After several weeks, they were finally introduced to Gyst Starblaze, and from there on they became members of Scarab.
To this day Kelagry remains committed to her sister-in-spirit Aerithanna, the lover of her heart, Etsalon, and her dearest friends Calanctus, Obadijah, Goliathh, and Qyen. She has more friends than she can name, and considers the whole of Scarab to be her family. She hasn't longed for her grove in the Faydark for quite a while, and may never long for it again as long as her friends remain so, and her sister and love are by her side.
Name: Kinaru Brightblade
Race: Wood Elf
Class: Bard
Sex: Female
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Chocolate
Hair: Auburn
Kinaru's Story
Well, you are curious about me, eh? I can assure you that it is not a glamorous or exciting story, but if you must know, sit close and let me share my life with you. I was born in Kelethin, city of the trees. It is an unusual city and easy to get lost in. But, I loved my time there.
I had a happy childhood for a brief time. My earliest memories are of my mother humming and baking pies in the kitchen. I remember her patiently teaching me to sew and at night she would sing beautiful songs as the family gathered around our large old stove to share our day. She had the most melodic and wonderful voice. And she was so beautiful when she sang. It was if her feet lifted right off the ground as she danced about our home, doing chores and teaching my siblings and I.
My father was a large man, stern but loving. He seemed to tower over my tiny form when he came close. I was hugged often by my father, as were my brother and sister. During the day, my father hunted and at night, as mom sang, he would carefully and expertly construct weapons to sell for a living. How beautiful they were! The bright, shiny blades and glorious decorative handles took my breath away. His work was regarded throughout the land as the best and hunters journeyed far to purchase my father’s weapons.
My siblings and I got along well and I loved playing and learning with them. My mother taught us to sing and sew. I remember her telling us once, "As long as you know a skill, you can survive and as long as you can sing you will be at peace."
My life changed when I was only nine years old. I had been very ill and had just started to recover when my parents had to suddenly leave for the Kithikor Woods where my grandmother lived. She had taken deathly ill and my parents felt the need to bring her back to Kelethin so they could take care of them. I, being as sick as I was, was left in the care of a neighbor.
My family never returned to Kelethin. Shortly after they started out, they were attacked by a band of renegade orcs. Their mangled and decayed bodies were found only because the neighbor taking care of me became worried when they didn’t return when planned. This turn of events also sent my grandmother over the edge. She died of a broken heart as soon as she heard the sad news. Even at the tender age of nine, I knew that my neighbor could not afford to take care of me and an orphanage or slavery were my only options if I stayed in Kelethin, the only place I had ever known.
So, I ran away. I wandered Norrath for a year or so until I found a little place called Rivervale. The halflings there immediately took me in and kept a watchful eye on me. In a little wooded area outside Rivervale is where I spent the next several years.. In Misty Thicket, I honed my battle skills by hunting young kodiaks and the goblins who were terrorizing the people of Rivervale.
From time to time, I journeyed to nearby Freeport. When I was a teenager, I had decided to make use of my musical ability that had been passed from my mother to me. Soon I joined the Bard’s guild in Freeport and played my instruments to passersby, in the hopes that they would give me money or food. It was not easy to survive, but I did it. Occasionally I played for visiting dignitaries and officials and these were fantastic paydays for me. I always saved my money for new songs and finer instruments. I rarely had time for fun.
I always returned to Misty, but as I grew older, the halflings began to nudge me out. They said I needed to see the world and visit far off places. I was content to stay right there, but eventually they convinced me and I left, with a heavy heart and many tears. At first, I returned to Kelethin, but it had been many years since I had been there and I did not like it. It was not as I remembered, but then again, nothing ever is. I had forgotten my way around the city and the elves seemed cold and unfriendly to me. I soon returned to Freeport and began to make my home there. I continued to play and sing for money and I also tailored clothing for extra cash. As I was sitting in North Freeport one day, playing my mandolin, a young man approached me. I wasn’t sure of what he wanted and I was slightly frightened, but he simply sat and listened. He sat there the entire day. As dusk fell, the young man finally introduced himself as Dolvin Brightblade, of Scarab. He was quite handsome and intriguing. He asked if I would like to go sit and talk with him and so I agreed. We shared a wonderful dinner of wine and fruit and I learned much about this fascinating man. He told me about his past, which was much different from mine, and about Scarab, the guild he had joined. "They are a second family to me," he said. Somewhere in my heart, I felt a sharp pang...I had wished for another loving family ever since mine had been murdered. Dolvin was very lucky, but he knew this and counted his blessings.
After our delightful evening, I really never expected to see this handsome stranger again. He was a Holy Knight in Scarab! I was a mere bard, with no roof over my head and no food most of the time. To my surprise, I saw him the next day as I was hunting in the Commonlands. I was thrilled. We spent the next several days together, almost inseparable. Dolvin taught me how to hunt more effectively, how to sing louder and clearer and even how to laugh again. That was something I had not done in ages.
Shortly after we met, Dolvin introduced me to his Scarab family and after I had proved myself, they accepted me as a full member! Finally, after years of lonliness and wondering if I would ever be loved again by a family, I had one! It is an amazing feeling and I am reminded every day of how lucky and blessed I am to have such a family.
So that is my story. Currently, I am working hard every day on my various skills. The Karanas are where I am spending my time lately, dodging griffons and ridding the land of gorge hounds and crag spiders. At last, mine is an enjoyable life and I would not let go of it for anything in the world.
Name: Lazaras
Race: Dwarf
Class: Paladin
Sex: Male
Height : 4'7"
Weight: 160
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Brown
Special Characteristics
Tattoo around left arm---"My Honor is my Life"
Scarab guild Tattoo on right arm.
Waist length beard swept back into belt
History
Lazaras was nearing his prime when he followed his brothers footsteps...Scarab
Lazaras was one the 4 children born in the hills of Kywath to Shara Firestone. He had a great early life, son of the village leader and great cleric, Flint Firestone. He grew up wresting with his older brothers and fighting about anything from doing chores to who was the bravest and strongest.
He was a little on the daring and sometimes foolish end so a little after his coming of age celebration his father took him to learn from the great cleric Allanon in the Shale Valley. He prospered at everything Allanon taught him, but after a couple years grew restless. Like most people his age he wanted to see the world, adventure, and become a hero!
He had been learning at the monastery for about 2 years when a messenger came into the chapel and asked to speak with Allanon, alone. Lazaras was just being curious and eavesdropping when he heard that there were a band of evil men; barbarians, trolls, and ogres, who were laying waste to the country side. The band was marching about a mile away and the spy told Allanon to be careful until they were gone. He knew the area better than any so Laz decided to go and spy on the army just to appease his curiosity.
In the middle of the night Laz snuck right up to the camp. He was just about to go back when he heard a noise just to the right of him. Right there, not 5 feet away was the biggest ogre chieftain he had ever seen. Laz drew his hammer, then thought better of it(after all, the ogre was about 3 times his size!) and crept home. He heard no more about the army for a couple of months.
About 6 months until his completion from the church another messenger came to see Allanon. This time Lazaras was called in. The messenger told that Laz's village was sacked by the band. They had no chance. They were a peaceful village of about only 100 miners and their wives and children. The village was hit in the dead of night, few got away. Laz lost a brother and sister and both parents...he was devastated.
Lazaras left the priesthood, since he was really only in it because he father wished it. He went back to his village to help the few survivors left. When he got there he saw a band of about 50 humans in full armor on horseback. He asked what was going on and Palin(his brother) told him the humans were going to track down the band and see if they could stop them. Laz couldn't understand it, after all, they were human. Why would the humans want to exact revenge for his village getting attacked? He thought about it and came to no good conclusion, so he decided to asked the humans. They said they and were honorbound to help those in need. Laz was in shock, he had always heard that humans could be good, but he had thought for the most part they were a crazy, honorless people. He decided that he was going to go along with the warriors. At first they wouldn't have anything to do with him. They said he would only slow them down. But then they found out the truth about dwarven stubborness. They gave in and Laz rode out with them that very day.
They rode for about 2 years, fighting evil and protecting the good. But they never found the band that sacked his village. Over those years Lazaras learned that the group he was with were warrior/clerics known as Paladines. They taught him honor and the use of his weapons. After a time they even grow to respect the dogged determination Lazaras showed. After being with the group for about 2 years Laz left the group, saying he had to go back to his village. He wanted to teach more about his ways and about honor, valor, and courage. Upon arriving at his village he found it was no longer there. The last survives had moved to other villages to start there lives over again. He wondered around for a time, always hoping that he would find that evil band that hit his village. To this day that band has never been found. Lazaras feels that maybe, if he would he followed the band in the first place, or killed the great ogre chieftain, maybe he could have saved his family and village. He eventually came across his brother and Lord Hawke chasing evil across the world.....He pledged his life to their cause and has never strayed to this day.
Name: Lilla
Race: Barbarian
Class: Shaman
Sex: Female
Height : 6' 4"
Weight: Secret
Eye color: Frost Green
Hair color: Snowfire Blonde
Favorite Colour: Frosty Peach
Favorite Food: Special Brownies
Lilla's Story
Special Characteristics
Claw marks from a Snow Lion, on upper left thigh Tattoo of a Snow Lion on the back of her neck
History
Lilla’s childhood was very happy, growing up in a warm loving family. She was a special child, her mother Almath was chief Medicine woman of her Clan, and very respected. Her father was the Great Shaman. But he was not the father she grew up with. Soon after becoming a chosen (selected to bear the Great Shaman’s child, a Clan tradition and Honor), she conceived then returned to her own Clan to chose a husband to take care of her and the special child. His name was Murtagh, he loved and cared for Lilla and her mother, keeping them safe and provided for.
When Lilla was born, her mother made her a small pouch. A Clan tradition, to be worn from a cord around her neck. The leather had been dyed a deep brownish red, with fine powdered red ochre mixed into the bear fat that had been used to cure the bearskin it was made from. Inside this pouch she placed a tiny relic, the holiest relic Almath possessed. She placed the pouch around Lilla’s neck, a Shaman child of the Six hammers.
Lilla loved foraging for plants and herbs, and was a quick learner. Her mother took her out often, teaching her the magical healing ways of a Medicine woman. Lilla learned how to make her own medicine pouches, and how to dry and preserve the exotic plants and flowers that grew around Everfrost.
It was during one of these outings, around her 10h summer, that Lilla always eager to find what lay just beyond the next hill became separated from the others. She was following a trail of pretty wildflowers, smiling as always, and lost in her own thoughts when she heard the roar.
She dropped her basket, her heart almost stopped when she saw the great white beast looking her direction. Looking around quickly she tried to find a place to run, but knew running would be hopeless against such a quick animal. Spotting a small crevice in the rocks near her, she climbed inside, tucking herself in as best she could.
The snow lion roared loudly, Lilla trembled at the sound and stared in hypnotized horror as the great cat snaked his paw, with sharp curved claws outstretched, into the small hole. Unable to get away, she watched the claw come at her and shrieked in pain as it sank into her left thigh, raking it with four deep parallel gashes. She had nowhere to go, and no weapon, her mind was spinning, she was fighting the panic that was starting to overcome her, when suddenly the cat backed away and left. She waited a couple of more hours, not sure that the cat was really gone. It was the warm welcoming sound of her family calling her name, searching for her that drew her out of hiding.
Home with her family, sitting around the warmth of the clan fire, Lilla told what had happened with the Lion and its sudden disappearance. Almath, who had been applying a soothing salve to the claw wounds paused. She looked at her daughter and explained the meaning of the attack. “The Snow Lion marked you,” she explained. “He is your totem animal. You were marked as a baby with his symbol, the tattoo that you have on the back of your neck. Now he has come to mark you himself. Be proud of the scars, and remember their meaning.”
That was many summers ago, Lilla was now a grown woman, and had proven herself a great Medicine woman. She would one day be the Shaman for her Clan, but until then she still had a lot to learn, and a quest to follow. She gently touched the scar on her thigh as she remembered her mother’s words.
Putting on her tunic and belt, she carefully arranged her medicine pouches. Some small, some large, each with its own special purpose. In one pouch she carried fresh brownies. A special recipe her mother had taught her.
It was the time of the gathering, when the clans all met to exchange greetings, and renew old ties. The gathering only happened once every seven years, and was a great cause for celebrating. Lilla was eagerly looking forward to this gathering. As a full Medicine woman now, she would be invited to join in the rituals and experience the new magics.
The journey took a couple of days, but Lilla and her clan made it easily. They were greeted by family and friends from other clans, and quickly made themselves at home as they set up camp. Several days passed, there were fighting competitions, as well as magical rituals. The sights and sounds filled Lilla with excitement, she loved new discoveries, and there were many to be found here. And tonight was going to be very special; she would experience her first vision quest.
The evening stars were bright, as Lilla and the other medicine women carried their small wooden bowls to the great Shaman, who filled each with a liquid mixture made from the rarest herbs in Everfrost. (Males had their own vision quest ceremonies separate from that of the women)
Lilla took her place by the fire with the other women, and carefully held the bowl with its precious liquid to her lips, and drank deeply. She soon felt a strange sense of distance, as though part of her was detached and watching from some other place. She felt a tickling sensation inside her brain, inside her mind. She sensed emotions alien to her, emotions not her own. With a shock, she realized someone was inside her head. In her mind she felt his thoughts, with her emotions, his feelings. But who was he, and what was he doing in her head? Her head was spinning with questions, she could not see a face, but yet she could feel his presence. Then suddenly an image came to her, that of a Snow Lion. Her heart pounded, her head spinning she felt the old fear come back, but then almost as suddenly it vanished as the Lion seemed to speak to her. Not in words but in a way that was deeper. Were the strange emotions and thoughts she was experiencing that of the lion? She asked herself, but no, it was not the lion it was someone else, but the connection was there none the less. (she did not realize at this time that it was her half brother that she had connected with) Gracefully the Lion turned to walk away. In the distance she saw a large Scarab, and the lion spoke to her, “seek out the one who can fulfill your quest, and the path that lays before you. Seek out Scarab, and follow their ways.”
The clan gathering was over; everyone was packed and heading back to his or her clan homes. Lilla could not shake the image of the Snow Lion she saw in her vision quest. She knew that it was important that she obey the lions message, but where to begin? Packing her small belongings, she kissed her family goodbye, and set out to follow the path, to find the Scarab the Lion told her about.
After many days of travel, and many adventures, she finally found herself in a strange land, in the city of Freeport. She heard stories of a great guild called Scarab, and she knew deep inside, this was where she was meant to be, this is where her totem had lead her. Eagerly she sought out Lord and Lady, and found her new home in Scarab.
Hail Scarab!!
Name: Sir Lochlan MacLean
Race: Half-Elf
Class: Bard
Sex: Male
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Unknown
Lochlan's Story
The caravan started in Ak'Anon and had stopped in Felwithe before Carilyne Wyndsong joined it in Kelethin. Carilyne and her family were musicians bound for the Harvest Festival at the Kaladim docks. The long drought had broken this year and a great joy had spread across Faydwer as crops grew tall and bountiful. The trip to the docks was quiet as the caravan was large and well-protected and after a stop at the dwarven capital, they arrived and began to setup their tents. The festival was the largest anyone could remember and the boats brought merchants and entertainers from as far as Erudin.
Carilyne had just finished her morning practice session and was wandering the maze of merchant tents that filled the area when she saw a particularly busy tent. Curious she walked over and saw a young smith crafting arms and armor. He was clearly quite gifted and the line for his goods wound around his small tent. Although he was dirty and sweaty from the work, she could tell has was a handsome man. He was working feverishly to keep up with the orders and the sound of his hammer was musical and magical. She found herself captivated like the others and the morning passed quickly. When he finally stopped for a break, he looked up and saw her. He smiled, grabbed a small piece of metal and quickly turned into a small tree sculpture that he offered to her. He introduced himself as Angus MacLean and asked if she would like have lunch, after he cleaned up. She accepted and after lunch they made plans to meet again in the evening. It was clear that were soul mates. They spent the evening together and decided to marry the next day as part of the festival climax.
They were married the next day and that evening conceived their first child. As a gift for his bride, Angus made a wonderful, lightweight tunic to protect her from harm. At dawn, they awoke and began to pack their things, they were unsure where they would go now that the festival was over, but they were happy and did not care. Most of the others were still sleeping off the great party, but Angus and Carilyne were eager to start their new life. As they packed his shop, they heard a low rumble coming from the hills. Angus looked out and saw an army of orcs racing down the hill towards the docks. The orcs set upon the guards and soon overwhelmed. The sounds of battle woke the revelers, but most were groggy and hung over. The orcs plowed into the masses killing without regard or remorse. Angus grabbed a sword and shield from his supplies and with Carilyne headed for the ship. The orcs were closer now and the screams echoed off the mountains. Angus and Carilyne jumped aboard the ship with a handful of others and set sail for Freeport.
The blood turned the sea red and the Ocean of Tears was born. You were born in Freeport as we recovered from the trip, and when you were old enough, we moved to this village in West Karana.
Young Lochlan, only 5, sat on his bed listening to his father's tale. After his father left, Lochlan remained awake late into the evening, finally he knew what he must do. He swore vengeance on the Orcs of Crushbone and all evil in the world. With his father's strength and his mother skill's he would become a bard, though he did not know this at the time. Lochlan trained hard from that day forward. Every evening as his brothers and sisters played, Lochlan would work on his swordmanship, singing all the while as was the custom in his family. They all sang all day, almost without thought. This was the gift that their mother bestowed upon all her children.
By his 10th birthday, Lochlan was the best swordsman in town and his heart was set upon becoming a warrior. A few years later, Lochlan traveled to Qeynos to sell his father's wares and test his skills against young adventurers from all across Norrath. It was here that he met Vhalen Nostrolo. Vhalen watched him compete and realized that Lochlan was a natural Bard. He offered Lochlan an apprenticeship on the spot. With mixed emotions, Lochlan accepted and begin to train in his new found career.
Lochlan's skills grew fast in Qeynos and the gnolls of Blackburrow substituted nicely for the orcs he hates so fiercely. Before long, Lochlan met others who shared his passion, honor, and valor. He would hunt with these folks many times and strong bonds of friendship were formed. From these bonds the Guild Scarab was born.
Lochlan then traveled to Freeport to meet the leaders of Scarab and pledge his loyalty to them, Here he also found the hated orcs. He spent many days slaying the Deathfist orcs and other evils, until he was ready to board the ship for Faydwer.
Lochlan arrived at the docks and was overcome with emotion. This was the place where his life started and so many had died. He spent two days here, grieving for the dead and writing songs in their honor. Then it was time to journey to Kelethin and pay his respects to his mother's parents and his own elven heritage. Then began the hunts, daily travels into Crushbone to slay the orcs. He would return each evening covered in blood, a little stronger, a little richer, and a little more hateful of the vile orcs. He would free what prisoners he could, but others would be left behind and that would fuel his hatred even more.
Lochlan's easygoing, kind nature hides his burning passion. His eyes and smile welcome you to the table like an old friend. He is always willing to help those in need and share what he has with his new family.
As I recall, I first learned of Scarab during beta by reading the forums. There I saw Hawke and others posting about things they where doing in game. This spiked my interest because it seemed that this was a close knit group of ppl that promoted a family atmosphere. During beta I didn't approach anyone however.
Once the game went live I made certain that I started playing on the same server "Solusek Ro". I started off playing a ranger named Masakado, but soon changed to my shaman named Luman. I refrained from approaching anyone to join Scarab right away. My choice in this was that I didn't feel right joining as a super low character level because I didn't want ppl to feel I was just looking for a handout. (understand I didn't fully understand what being a Scarab meant at this point) About a month + I finally approached a shaman female to inquire about joining Scarab. I appoligize for not remembering her name. I do know that her name started with a B and that it was not Boann and/or Abira, this was before they joined us. Shortly after I joined Scarab this female shaman left the game.
I remember having to do quests and being tested on the charter, history, and other aspects of what it meant to be a Scarab. It was a lot of fun.
EQ Biography
Name: Luman Icehawk
Race: Barbarian
Class: Shaman
Sex: Male
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 315 lbs
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Brown w/ close beard
Luman's Story
Hail and well met!
Here I will tell you of me beginnings in this world. Let it be known that I know not the identity of me father, and me poor mother is long dead. What I do be knowing of me younger years and history is not but hearsay, as it was passed to me by the man that took me in as his own. Though I do believe his work...Jinkus has not betrayed me trust in me lifetime.
I have been told that me mother was a fine warrior. She was greatly respected amongst me people for her many daring and heroic deeds. Once cold morning me mother set out with two companions to hunt mammoths. Their purpose was to be getting the village extra meat fer the winter that was expected to begin any day.
Nighttime fell and me mother and companions had yet to return. The next morning a search party was sent out. They found me mother barely alive with the help of a tamed wolf named Snowflake. With the aid of the healing powers of the Shamans of Halas, she survived. However, not all was well, she never regained her health as it once was.
She spoke of a mage they had stumbled upon near the frozen river. he was apparently in cohorts with the vile icegoblins and orcs of the region. Upon seein me mother and her party they attacked. Gilian dropped his weapons and fled like the coward he is. My people hunt fer this wretched excuse of a Barbarian to this day. Ivan stood and fought with everything he had, but was quickly overran by the foul beasts. Me mother was beaten down by the wizards powerful and evil magic's. He then had his way with her, and left her fer dead. By a stroke of luck, or by the will of the gods, the beasts of the tundra didn't come upon her before she was found by me people.
Thus, I was born into this world. Sadly me mother died within a couple of days of me birth. She died with me in her arms I am told, and the last word to escape her lips was Luman. It's not known what she was attempting to say, but it was decided that Luman would be my name. Although somewhat of a peculiar name amongst me people, I am fine by it. Perhaps I will learn the true meaning of me mothers last word in time. Me family name of Icehawk I took upon coming of age to honor me father's father. I am the last of that line.
As a youngster I aspired to be a great warrior as me mother once was, but me people are a superstitious of many things, and I quickly found that I was one of em. The warriors were hesitant to allow me amongst them, and in the end the leaders outright refused me.
Finally I turned to me adopted father Jinkus fer guidance. He told me that this had been foreseen, and the Tribunal had already decided to take me in as one their own.
Thus I became a shaman of me people. For many years me people looked at me with suspicion or indifferently at best. However, over time and proving meself by performing deeds in the interest of all, I have earned the respect, friendship, and trust of most.
A day came when me father approached me. He told me that it was time for me to venture out into the world as all shamans of our people must. I was to gain knowledge and wisdom in my travels, and bring this back to me guild to contribute to me people.
Thus I set out. I traveled from one end of the world to the next. I was surprised to find smatterings of me people all over. Yet try as I might, I couldn't find me place amongst them. That is until I me another shaman of my people, named Lilla, on her sojourn.
The kindness she extended me was beyond that which I had encountered in me previous travels. She spoke of a great family she had become a part of called SCARAB. I found that this SCARAB was a group of people from all walks of life that had come together to achieve a common goal, but more importantly together in the name of friendship.
Right away I knew that at last I had found me place in the world. Now I proudly serve SCARAB. Not as a servant out of obligation, but as a friend amongst friends, and a brother amongst brothers and sisters.
Hail SCARAB!
Luman Icehawk
Shaman of SCARAB
Name: Luxy Arcanium
Race: High Dark Elf
Class: Magician
Sex: Female
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 105
Eyes: Look into my eyes and tell me
Hair: Sandy Blond
Luxy's Story
My friends, I have very pale skin. Traditional of high elves, yes? It is also a not so traditional birthmark of evil dark elves. The tale be, that me mother was a wretched woman of many men. That is why me friends, I could never tell you the tale of me father. I all but do not know.
I was dropped at the borderline of the Commons between the Dark Elf home and Human home. I was just a baby then. Someone then picked me up, an orphan they called me. Dressed in nothing but the tattered robe my mother left me in and a stick in my young hand, I was not quite sure what to do with. These Humans, they picked me up, carried me to the enchanting city of Felwithe. They searched high and low for the couple I belonged to, to no avail. They then put my bassinet down at the entrance to the magic guild. Surely someone would find me and take care of me. The person who found me would know what to do with me. right? I was taken into a family of enchanters. My parent were Matricia and Morphatate Mystbane. The tale however gets worse. I had a sister, an EVIL sister, named Allixmaree Mystbane. She was an enchanter too, of the 20th season by the time I was brought to live with them. My parents, no matter how hard they tried could not teach me the science of being an Illusionist. I kept producing balls of fire and shards, and conjuring things they didn't understand. I was scolded and taunted by Allixmaree, for she was mastering her arts by then. Allixmaree could make beautiful jewels, and me, all I could do was make more rag clothes of spider silk.
I sat out on my own to learn more about the magic that was special to me. I was taken into a guild of magicians and given a book of magic. This book had spells in it that were unique only to me. These spells would teach me how to survive. They taught me how to fight for myself, how to meditate to my Gods when I got tired. My first kill was a bat. Then I tasted it, I tasted the blood. It pulsed through me like a running boil. It ran all through my blood and into my heart. I wanted to kill. I wanted revenge for all that had gone wrong in my life. I wanted revenge for everything that Allixmaree had ever done to me!!
I practiced more every day, and soon, I graduated to the 10th season of my magic works. I seen it, I hated it, Allixmaree was in love! I hated her, no one loved me. not like he loved her.. Corvax was so kind to her, she didn't deserve him!!! After all the cruel things that she had done to me.. I wanted him, it was the one sure way to hurt her, and I knew it! Corvax was very attentive to my young needs, teaching me where to advance my skills as a young magician, and even watching over me as I warded off many enemies. One day, I sent a conjured helper after Allixmaree and that was the last I saw of her. The more time passed, the more Corvax taught me to love as he did. That the disgust I felt, the boil in the blood, was toward the attacking creatures and not towards others who would bring no harm to me. Upon me entering into my 20th season of magic, Corvax asked me to marry him. I knew he was older in his practices than I, he was 30th season after all. Upon reaching my 25th season of magic, Corvax and I were married in the lovely town of Felwithe. There were others there from a family guild called Scarab. This would be the day I met many such as Qyen, Revenn, Shadowbane and others. Corvax belonged to this guild, but I did not yet feel confident enough in the skill of sharing myself to join with him.
I spent many seasons in the dungeons in High Pass Keep. Most of them, alone in the cellar, practicing my magic on Osargen, a prisoner. I would use my magic to make him disappear, and then I would meditate to myself, finding my inner self and finding the love.
When I finally aspired to return to the surface, I first found myself giving to groups while I practiced my magic on bigger thins. Now I aspire to give my love and friendship to Scarab. Both as a family member and loyal wife to my wonderful husband, Corvax!
Name: Malakite Ariakus
Race: Human
Class: Monk
Sex: Male
Height: 5'10''
Weight: 180
Malakite's Story
Born Markus Ariakis (Mar-kus Ah-rye-a-cus, Malakite was born in Freeport. His parents were not poor, but not rich. He led a fairly normal early childhood....He worked around the house, ran errands, studyed when he had time. Malakite, or Markus, was always studying. He desired information more than anything. He had dreams of traveling to the far off Faydwer, perhaps even to Odus among the Erudite people. He always had his nose in a book, or out walking among the commonlands, before the griffins came.
One day, Markus' father had to go cut wood out in the commonlands. While helping his father fell a tree, he noticed some movement in the bushes. He kept glancing out of the corner of his eye at it. Soon he thought it was just an animal, and concentrated on his work. All of the sudden, an arrow flew out from the bushes and pierced his father's shoulder . Markus recoiled, diving for the protection of a tree stump. His Father picked up the axe and swung at a dark object that was just emerging from the bushes. The Tier'Dal screamed in a high pitched voice as the blade bit deep into its leg. Markus became frightened, and ran as fast as he could to his father's aid. Markus was young, and not trained in the arts of fighting. The best he could come up with on such a short notice was a large stick. He swung down upon the Drow with all the force he could muster. The injured Dark Elf easily dodged it, but was caught unaware by the flat blade of his father's axe. The Elf was knocked unconcious... Markus' father and Markus tied the elf to a tree, and demanded to know what it wanted as soon as it awakened. The Drow spit at his father, cursing (obviously) in his own language. From his studies, Markus understood some of the words. he caught "necklace" "stolen" "death" and "human". Markus had no idea what the Tier'Dal meant, but his father obviously did.
His father became suddenly calm and cool, and slit the dark elf's throat. He told his son to go home, that he would return soon. Markus did as he was told, but arrived home to find his house in a mess. He searched the house, only to find his mother dying in the kitchen. His mother looked up at him and motioned him to come closer. She told him to remove the 2nd stone from the bottom of his fireplace, and then she passed away. Under the stone was a necklace, bright silver, with a piece of Malachite as the pendent. He felt an odd tingle from it. Markus did not know what to do. He knew if he stayed, whoever it was that was after them would come back to do a more thorough search. But he knew his father may be back at anytime. He couldn't leave a note as the infidel's might discover where he had gone. Markus decided to go to his Aunt's house in the East Commonlands. As he left his house, he got the odd feeling he was being watched, so he hurried along the streets, around corners, nearly running. As he rounded one corner, he slammed into a short, dark skinned creature. The drow quickly tackeled Markus and held a dagger to his throat. "Where is it?' The drow spat at him. Markus figured he ment the necklace, but said nothing. The Dark elf was about to kill him, when a guard rounded the corner. The evil swine clubbed him over the head quickly and carried him out to the pier where another Tier'Dal was waiting. They argued about what to do with Markus, when one got angry and threw him in the bay.
The guildmaster of the Monks found him washed up on the shore, with a nasty bump on his head. The Master took him to the Ashen Order, and nursed him back to health. Markus could remember nothing, not his name, not who his parents were, not ever where he lived. All he had was a small silver and malachite necklace with "Ariakis" engraved into the stone. The Master began calling Markus "Malakite", since his real name was not known. He trained for years with the Ashen Order, until he felt he needed to leave. He bid his Master farewell and headed out to Befallen, a dangerous dungeon where evil creatures reside.
"As I came into the darker parts of it, I noticed a lone halfling fighting a skeleton. I snuck up behind the skeleton and, trained as I was in hand-to-hand combat, threw my fist into its spine with such force as to shatter it. The halfling collapsed, weary from his battle. I asked if there was anything I could do, but the Halfling simply smiled and mumbled something. Suddenly, a strange blue aura surrounded him and it was apparent that the small person was feeling better. I introduced myself as Malakite, being the only name I had known for around 7 years. The Halfling smiled again and said " I am called JaVanno.". We talked for a while, and I came to learn that JaVanno was a member of a guild that was being formed. I was interested in knowing more, so I returned to the city and began asking around about it. Soon I was attempting the quests, and shortly thereafter presented my items to Lord Hawke himself and was accepted as a member."
Malakite started remembering his past long ago, but has decided to keep the name Malakite. He is determined to find out what happened to his Father, and avenge his mother's death. He still has the necklace, although he still does not know what it is.
Name: Sir Malvek
Race: Barbarian
Class: Shaman
Sex: Male
Height: unknown
Weight: unknown
Eyes: unknown
Hair: unknown
Malvek's Story
Malvek stood before the chessboard, Screaming Mace in hand, panting for air and bleeding from several spots. He hefted his gray shield and counted his wounds. It seemed that no matter how many of these undead pawns he smashed to bits, another would come to takes its place. Some would say it was a futile effort. Malvek generally didn't listen to such talk. Evil was evil. Marshalling up his energy, the large barbarian called forth to the winds and the soil to grant him mana for a spell. As his arms wove the invisible sigils taught to him by his Shaman teachers, he thought back to when it all began.
It was a particularly warm day in the high barren mountain peaks that young Malvek called home. The children of Halas were playing in the streets flinging snowballs at one another and slaying pretend polar bears with icicle swords. Most of those who had reached the proper age were already being placed into guilds so some of the revelers wore the tunics given to them by their masters. Malvek had just recently been introduced to the head of the Halas warrior guild though he was still a season from joining officially. Despite that, his family was quite proud that their young son would turn out to be a warrior (his older sister had discovered a knack for sewing which dismayed the long time warrior clan).
Malvek gave a killing blow to his first wooly mammoth and watched as it fell alongside the mountain of other imaginary creatures at his feet. As he peered about at the pretend carnage, he was struck from behind. The force was not great, but the shock sent him sprawling. The pale skinned boy (he had not yet earned his tattoos) now lay face first in the snow, the wet slush of a snowball melting down the back of his head. The laughter that reached his quickly reddening ears could only come from one boy, Tilset. Tilset had always been a little bigger, a little stronger, and a lot more arrogant. Being a season older he had begun his guild training just after the first snows. Now there he stood, laughing at Malvek's predicament.
"Hey Mal, you think they'll let ye into the Wolves?" laughed Tilset, "You better take up sewing like yer sister!"
Malvek's face reddened and he clutched at the snow beneath his clenched hands. Quickly he sprung up and with a fierce bellow hurled the snowball at his long time rival. Tilset unfortunately was further away than Malvek had judged. The snowball arced through the air and softly struck the snow a few feet in front Tilset who doubled over in laughter.
"Will ye even be able to hold a sword with that arm, Malvek?" He barely was able to get the words out through his guffaws.
This burned the young warrior-to-be more than ever. For years he had been on the sharp end of this prickly, arrogant youth's barbs. He grabbed another fist full of snow and prepared himself to not miss this time. He pictured Tilset laid out on his back, his face covered in frosty justice.
With another great yell he threw, his anger surging into his hands. As the sphere of snow and ice left his hand it flew much faster than Malvek had thought it would. In a heartbeat the icy missile sped forward in such a great rush that Malvek himself looked on in disbelief. By the time a second heartbeat could be counted, the packed snow flew straight into the face of the laughing Tilset and sent him sprawling.
All the children in the area stopped their make believe battles and looked on in wonder. Malvek approached the prone boy (who was most certainly unconscious) and looked down at him. Tilset's face was frosted white as if he'd been out hunting with his family for too long in the cold.
"MALVEK", yelled an elder's voice from behind him. Quickly Malvek stood up and began to protest. He had not gotten out his first syllable before being cautioned to stay quiet. The woman who approached him was Cyndl from Mac's Kilts. "Stay yer tongue lad, I saw the whole thing. She checked to make sure Tilset was not seriously hurt, which he wasn't, and had another child help him home to rest.
"I think we need to have a word with Warrior MacNaff about you young lad", she led a very sorry Malvek to The Pit where the warriors could be found practicing their art. Why was he the one in trouble? Tilset threw at him first!
Soon he was standing before Lysbeth McNaff. The imposing warrior gleamed in her noble armor, polished to a shine meant to inspire the new recruits and to give them a small lesson in humility. Cyndl was first to speak.
"Warrior McNaff, I understand that ye intend to bring this young lad into yer fold with the rest of the Wolves of the North." Cyndl was teaching Malvek's sister in the arts of creating patchwork, so she was privy to his near acceptance. "Before ye give him his tunic I think ye should think twice."
Malvek hung his head in shame. Before he had even had a chance to take his first lesson, his anger had proven him unworthy.
Lysbeth considered the young (almost) warrior and the seamstress that stood before her with a quizzical look. "What has he done that should make me reconsider this child, Cyndl? He comes from a warrior family, he is almost of age."
Cyndl then explained the fight and how Malvek had struck down the annoying Tilset (whom she agreed had started the exchange). After a moment she inched her way closer to Lysbeth until they were whispering back and forth just quiet enough that no matter how he tried, Malvek could not hear their conversation. Finally they parted and Lysbeth looked down at the boy who was awaiting news of his fate.
With an almost sorrowful look the shining warrior spoke to the boy. "Malvek, I am sorry but the Wolves of the North will not be able to accept you." The boy looked up with a crushed expression and began to plead his case. He was willing to do anything to make it up to them. They just had to take him, for his family's honor if for no other reason! Before he could continue, Warrior McNaff raised a finger and silenced his outburst. "Margyn McCann of the Shaman's guild can use ye however." She said this with a slight smile. Now the young barbarian was simply confused. "Cyndl witnessed yer exchange with the other boy and knows that ye did not hit him with a snowball. What struck him was an elemental force that some Shaman call a Frost Strike." Malvek searched his mind for the meaning of all of this. The warrior continued, "You have shown the ability to use the forces of nature to assist ye. That is something the Shaman of Justice will have to cultivate. I'm sure that ye will do well there, and bring glory unto Halas."
A few seasons later Malvek was a full Shaman with a number of victories to his name (and not a few embarrassing episodes as well). He had filled his spellbook with all the wondrous spells he could learn and afford at his age. He had fought off more bears, skeletons, goblins, and cowardly gnolls than he could count. He had killed his first polar bear a full cycle before that pompous Tilset, and he wore the helm that was made from it proudly (his sister had sewn it for him). He made sure to wear it often when Tilset was around.
While many of Malvek's kindred stayed within the range of Everfrost Peaks, this noble Shaman looked beyond. He heard the Bards in the taverns sing of far off lands and the dangers that lurked within. He was sung songs of evil which he could never have imagined (and were well beyond his ability to defeat) as well as songs of those who fought for loyalty and honor and the protection of the weak. Often these heroic songs would reverberate with a single name: Scarab. It seemed that wherever there was evil, a Scarab was there to counter it. Whenever a young adventurer struggled, a Scarab was there to assist. Soon he would frequent the taverns in hopes of hearing more tales of these brave adventurers and would constantly quiz the bards as to the veracity of the stories they sang. In the stories, they lived by a code that Malvek had always hoped he would live by as well. Soon the battle wizened, but still young, barbarian made a decision. He would explore the world and lend his arm to protect it from the evils that seemed to increase their fight with every waxing of the silver moon. He hoped that if his will and arm were of sufficient strength, that one day maybe he too would be allowed to fight for the noble Scarab.
He would not stay in Halas and the Everfrost Peaks, his mind was too full of far off lands and his soul desired to visit them all. As for his homeland in the mountains; they were well protected by the rest of his kin.
After making the arduous journey from his snowy homeland to Rivervale he met a Scarab by the name of Miri (just Miri, as she had not earned her last name yet). She gave him advice and told him what would be required if he meant to join with Scarab in their cause. From the stories he had heard, he knew that he would be a good Scarab. All he needed to do was convince them of this fact!
So he fought. He slew the orcs and goblins that had been harassing the good folk of Rivervale. He assisted those in need and never demanded payment for his services (though he certainly did not turn down donations, as he knew that his next range of spells would be expensive). He kept in touch with Jayfoot and Miri and asked often for their assessments.
Eventually Malvek had been allowed to become a recruit of Scarab and had been so for quite some time. Despite the elation at such and honor and opportunity, he was beginning to feel that he might never be allowed to join.
He eagerly attended Scarab's first birthday party at the Jade Tiger Inn of Freeport. While the others were getting ready for the festivities by drinking, catching up with old friends and drinking, Malvek stood in a corner in reverent awe. These brothers and sisters of Scarab were the legends come to life. Their weapons gleamed with magic. Their armor had been made from the hides of creatures that the youngster from Halas had thought were just legends. Their leader, Lord Hawke, bore a sword that when pulled from its sheath burned with the fire of the righteous. Malvek, being so young, had never laid eyes on most of Scarab's soldiers. They fought in the deepest of damp dungeons while Malvek fought just outside of towns where he could run to the guards for help. Seeing them seemed like a waking dream. They stood around and talked the talk of old friends and comrades in arms, not realizing that they were the idols of the tattooed barbarian in the corner.
Soon Jayfoot arrived and sought out Malvek. He told the lad that he had done well, and would ask him to recite the code of Scarab. Though he had it memorized, his excitement at being able to take the last step made him fumble somewhat, but not so much. Jayfoot then asked for everyone's attention and announced that the Shaman from Halas was the newest member of Scarab! The cheers and offers of fellowship from those who once were just songs in a tavern made the strong and battle scarred Shaman well up with tears (though he might not admit it today).
As the raucous party proceeded, Lord and Lady Hawke called members of Scarab forward and presented them with gifts that would be worth a king's ransom if brought to market. Needless to say, Malvek was quite surprised when Lady Hawke called him forward. He had been a full member of this illustrious group for but ten minutes and did not think that he would be included beyond his acceptance of Scarab's Code.
The Lady handed over a Screaming Mace (the same one he carries today) and told him to use it well. When they looked at his faded and ragged armor, they replaced it (what was it his Scarab cousin from Halas said? "I'll have no kinsman of mine wear leather armor"). The shaman tried to be firm, but it was so much more than he expected. Not the gifts, for he had never been one for objects. It was the acceptance and trust that they gave to him, the newest and certainly least experienced of their members, which touched him most. It would be a long, long time before this spellcaster would be able to fight on the same level as his new family, but they did not care. He was one of them.
As the light of the spell swirled around him, Malvek could feel his wounds healing. He was still sore, but he could fight. As the shimmering whirlpool of light faded he saw that another pawn had appeared to replace its fallen comrade. To its left was a skeletal knight! Once again the shield was brought to bear and the sigils of power were scryed into the cool night air. The little pawn was rooted to the spot, but the undead knight began to shamble its dry bones towards the caster who had interrupted a game of chess that no one understood. So the dance played itself out again. The mace screamed out its magic and the shield received another dent. A smile played itself over Malvek's lips as he thought of his adopted family and in a whispered voice spoke aloud for no one in particular: "For Scarab".
Name: Dame Miri Shadowbane
Race: Human
Class: Monk
Sex: Female
Height: 5'10"
Weight: never ask a lady her weight
Eyes: Sea grey
Hair: Ash brown
Miri's Story
I’ve been listening to a lot of the SCARAB stories, and it seems a common theme is early trauma. I’m no different. The story is short, because the topic is ugly: Mom was a Freeport dock whore, and my father was a sailor - don’t ask me which one - Mom had no idea.
So I grew up on the Freeport docks. Didn’t want to follow Mom’s way of life - mostly because I thought she was a loathsome b*tch (we fought all the time). By the time I was five I had left her and was running wild with a batch of young punks - well, thieves really. Taking what we wanted, getting into places no one else could, conning the rich and gentle-hearted, etc. Special note: Paladins are a push-over for the hungry young child routine! (Apologies to all the guild paladins, but it’s true.)
I’d also hang out around the Thieves’ Guild under the docks, picking up special tips and tricks from those older than I. One person I particularly remember was this little hobbit named Jayfoot. He was about my height, so I got him to show me some moves for short folk because there were things I just wasn’t big enough to do yet. While he taught me, he told me about this guild he was in - a sort of family thing. Noble and generous and all that. I pretty much ignored him at the time.
Well one day I got caught by the militia after a break-in went particularly wrong. Off I went to jail - a young ruffian girl in jail. It was NOT a good time, but we’ll leave it there.
Those of you who have never been there may not know that the city sends clerics and monks to the prisoners to try to counsel them, to reform their evil ways (whatever!). I pretty much ignored the clerics, but the monks fascinated me. The way they moved - I was in awe.
Eventually jail time ended, and I was released back onto the streets. I began stalking the monks (when I wasn’t busy stealing a living) because I liked to watch them practice. I started following this one monk in particular, because he looked the youngest of the bunch - I had never tried to cut a monk’s purse before, so I wanted to know if I could!
I couldn’t. I snuck up behind him and reached, and he disarmed and pinioned me before I had the slightest idea what was happening. Well I was thoroughly embarrassed and not a little angry, and struggled with all my strength until I realized that it was doing absolutely no good. And all the time this monk guy was just ... looking ... at me. Like he was judging my soul or something. At first I started calling him an arrogant son-of-a...but then I quieted. There was something ... compelling ... about the look on his face. Like the whole world could go to hell around him and he’d still have that look. I was fascinated.
Finally he shook his head, released one of my arms and marched me back to the Ashen Order. Imagine my surprise when he took me right upstairs to meet Puab Closk, and told him "I believe this one wants to join our Order, sir." I stammered something incoherent about ‘what-who-me’ while Puab looked at me the way this other monk had. He apparently agreed, for he nodded and the young monk led me away to the trainer and handed me over. I was so stunned I went along peacefully.
As the years flew by, I was continually amazed to learn how right this all felt. I grew to maturity (in any number of ways). But I was a monk without a purpose.
Then one day, while fishing down off the docks of Freeport waiting for the boat, I saw Jayfoot again. And I remembered what he had told me about SCARAB - the codes of Conduct and Chivalry, the family atmosphere and the love ... I realized in that instant that I had never had love, had never had a family. And I WANTED it, I suddenly realized, with all my breath and bone.
So I approached Jayfoot, and had him put in a good word for me with the Elders of the guild. Soon after that I contacted the Elders myself, and in time proved myself worthy of the great family they had built. Not that it’s always been easy! As the perennial youngster of the guild, (ok so I’m the family brat - want to make something of it?!) I’ve occasionally had to miss out on family trips, but by Marr! I'll get there someday!
Blessings of Quellious upon you all, my brethren!
Name: Nwalka Nightwolf
Race: Wood Elf
Class: Ranger
Sex: Male
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Unknown
Nwalka's Story
*You walk into a tavern in Kelethin, and notice a fierce battle hardened ranger sitting in the corner, relaxing, sharpening his blade, waiting for the next chance to rid Norrath of some more evil..*
*You approach this forester, ask to sit down beside him to have a drink and tell tales of battles*
*Nwalka Nightwolf, as he introduced himself to you, stares at you with his deep jade eyes, sometimes giving you fear, and sometimes giving you a sense of hope, that there are people still out in Norrath trying to cleanse it, Nwalka orders 2 ales and passes one on to you, and says... You ask him where hes from and how he got there and kindly he replies*
"Where could I start? It hasn’t been too long since I got here, Maesyn Trueshot found me in the forest when I was but an infant. He told me I was special, I had survived 8 months since birth alone in the forest, by Tunare!, I still had my umbilical cord attached when he found me. I suppose I am an orphan as Maesyn searched for my parents to no avail, he named me Nwalka or what humans might word as 'cruel' , *Nwalka chuckled as he took a gulp of elven wine*, probably because of the cruel infancy I had, but enough of that, Maesyn brought me to Kelethin, people stared at him for holding me in his arms, 'what would a respected ranger like him be doing with an orphan?', people said. I really don’t know why he took me in, but I am glad he did, just by looking at me he said I had the makings of one of Faydark’s Champions, a strong and powerful Ranger of Tunare. *Nwalka takes a deep breath and says*, Soo I began my training at the age of 3, by the time I was 7 I was killing orc centurions and pawns for Maesyn, gathering up food and water for the more experienced rangers who had to travel afar, I always wanted to be like them, to leave Kelethin and return victorious, and soon I suppose my dream came true.
I was in Crushbone, and in a heated battle with an orc legionnaire, it seemed like Tunare was calling and I was coming, the orc knocked me unconscious and was ready to deal the killing blow when stopped by the blade of one of the mightiest warriors in Norrath, Briggs, although he wasn’t so mighty back then *Nwalka laughed* But he saved my life that day; I awoke in Freeport, in the hall of a now perished order of whom Briggs was part of. Maesyn had not known that I was gone and was beginning to worry, as he thought that I was not ready to leave, he sent a few rangers to find me. I got to know Briggs and fought along aside him after I recovered from my near death experience, we became brothers forged in battle and bound by honour. The few years that passed are a blur to me, I have fought and destroyed many evils from this land, and one day out of the blue, Tunare called me, to join her in the Plane of Life, and just like that, I was gone from Norrath. I spent 4 years in the plane, helping my goddess do her work and protecting the extremely rare inhabitants that lived there. Again, out of the blue Tunare decided it was time for me to go back to Norrath once more. I awoke in Freeport with cloth garments to shield me from the elements and nothing more, I had my guild stone around my neck but it was broken in 2 pieces, the order I was once proud to be part of was now gone. I concentrated and focused my energy to my mind to search for my missing brothers and sisters, Bollun and Corazon were still in an order together and they quickly came to Freeport to meet me for my arrival, they gave me a few pieces of armour and a weapon and as soon as I could I headed for the swap of Innothule, to slay some Frogloks in Guk. I had learned that the order known once known as The Knights of Justice had now fallen, and their ex leader named Banegrivm, a man I once knew had changed for the worse...Bollun was the leader of the Knights of Sacrifice..a new order that arose from the ashes of the fallen Knights of Justice, I was promptly invited to join the Knights of Sacrifice and did, but shortly afterwards I found that things will never be the same and I must find purpose in this land..alone. I decided to go back to Kelethin, to find Maesyn as he had not seen me in a long time and I missed my home upon the trees. On my way back, fate once more put a life changing thing in my way, the man I looked up to and could still call brother and even father, Briggs had crossed paths with me once more, here I met him in the Butcherblock Mountains, with his wife, Morigane, a beautiful and powerful Druidess of Tunare. Briggs had grown in all ways, mind body and soul, he was fierce and I was surprised and overjoyed to see my brother, we talked about the happenings of the time I was gone, and of another order who had existed as long as the one we were once part of, but only it was better 10 fold, he directed me to the centre of operations of this order..in Freeport, as soon I as I got to Kelethin and met Maesyn I sent a carrier pigeon to the home of one of the most honourable families in Norrath... SCARAB. Faster then I began to wait I received word from Lord Hawke himself, a strong and just Paladin of Marr, who I am proud to call M’lord and brother. He directed me to Sir Jayfoot Bloomrose, the one who is in charge of finding souls brave and worthy enough to even try to become part of the family. Seeing as how Briggs, Kyliar, and Selgus all whom I call brother have become part of this family, I though to myself I should as well..it will be good to find a place I can call home and people to share my battles and bread with. I have met the most elite group of fighters and the most powerful mages in the land, and none compare to the fighting force that Scarab is today, from that day I fought along aside them as Jayfoot and Hawke and the other members of the Inner Council of Scarab watched me, testing me, seeing if I was worthy, a union of the order had be called out to be held in our centre of operations, Jayfoot decreed that it was time for my final test, letting me know that the sword was not the most important weapon but the mind was..Thank Tunare that under the pressure I passed this test along with my brothers Drue and Danador.. to this day I am with them fighting for a cause that will one day come true, that Norrath be purged of all evil and the lands be free of wrong doing..." *Just as Nwalka was going to order another ale a strong wind started to form and in a flash of lighting, Dremar, Drue, Rosey, Dornen, Caradin, Selgus, Briggs, Morigane, Hawke, LdyHawke, Cloudx, Sivadx, Fishie, and a few other of the Scarab members appeared in the tavern*
"Nwalka! Ye drunk we’ve got work to do! We have discovered that Sir Lucan in Freeport has fallen to the evils of Innoruuk and must pay for his wrong doing, sober up to battle ye crazy elf !!", Briggs said as he playfully smacked Nwalka in the back of the head, as the rest of the crew laughed.
*You still sit there amazed and unable to move as you take a look at the most powerful warriors, paladins, rangers, wizards and druids in the land standing there before you..*
*Nwalka gets up sighing and smiling taking one last gulp of ale and he tosses you a platinum piece and unsheathes his swords and says chuckling "Well my friend t’is been a pleasure making thy acquaintance but I must be off, farewell to thee!" You see him stand next to the group and just as fast as they got there they left, you sit there mouth open wide looking around for an explanation and sighing a breath of relief knowing now that Scarab is out there, fighting for justice, honour and the pursuit of ale (hehe couldnt resist)..and as the wind fades you hear "Death Before Dishonour..For the honour of SCARAB! BATTLE~!" *
You look at the barkeep and he shrugs and says "I don’t know he always comes here I’ve known him since he was but a child you can get used to it after it happens a few hundred times" He laughs and continues to clean the mess the Scarab made when coming there. 'Get used to it?' you think ,your mind spins in a thousand directions and you promptly faint thinking your going to quit this job of being the barkeep’s helper if this happens once more..
Name: Sallapus Shadowstalker
Class: Rogue
Race: Gnome
Sex: Male
Age: 103
Height: 3'4
Weight: 30 kg
Eyes: Greenish Blue
Hair: White (What's left of it)
Facial Hair: Well kept moustache
Distinguishing habit: likes to jump ALL the time (probably has something todo with being shorter than everyone)
Sallapus's Story
Growing up in Ak'Anon, I spent most of my life drudging the halls of Library Mechanamagica studying the ways of the wizard which bored me half to death(reading books for years on end does get old quick). I so much longed to get out and explore the world I lived in, but my parents, cousins to King Ak'Anon would not hear of it, and insisted on my staying in the library. Because of their stubbornness (we Gnomes can get that way) the only way for me to get out and explore was to sneak out of the library and stay unnoticed to everyone else (after all, everyone knew who I was after nearly burning down the library after one of my fire bolts that went astray, torched one of the clockworks) After doing this for some time, I came to find a home away from home in the Abbey of Deep Musing where I found many a good rogue that I came to learn a great deal from. Being home to quite a few clerics as well,it was quite nice to get rid of all the nicks and scratches I might have gotten from my nights adventures.
Seeing that I always loved a good practical joke, and getting into mischief was 2nd nature to me, becoming a rogue was a perfect fit. After wandering around the Steamfont Mountains for many a year adventuring with my rogue friends my eyes were opened to a whole new world when a couple of travelers from afar happened to visit. Upon their arriving in Steamfont,the Hawkes were interested in getting to the Abbey, for it was there that Lady Hawke had needed to travel to get one of her spells. I gladly escorted them, and en route to the abbey they told me of their pledge to rid Norrath of all that is evil and promote the virtues of Honor Valor and Loyalty through the guild they had formed which is well known throughout all Norrath as Scarab. Hearing of this potential for adventure and actually fighting for a good cause I was immediately hooked, and although I could not go with them when they had left, I had vowed that I would join them in their quest in Freeport as soon as possible.
After about a month, the time had come to bid farewell to Ak'Anon and come to terms with my parents who were glad to hear of the noble quest I was about to begin (finally realizing that I was not going to be a wizard they figured this was a lot better than just sneaking around town all the time). I then packed my bags and set out for Freeport with my trusty dagger, sewing kit (I had to read up on SOMETHING while trapped in the library and tailoring seemed to be the most interesting) and toolbox (all of us gnomes have tinkering on the mind, it's a curiosity thing). Thus beginning my lifelong quest which I continue to this day as a proud member of Scarab.
Name: Savatchio Daaven
Class: Monk
Race: Human
Sex: Male
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 153
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown/Black
Facial Hair: None
Savatchio's Story
"Tis a mistake, old friend."
Puab's words softly filled the room overlooking the Theater of the Tranquil. Outside morning exercises were taking place with all the learning members of the Ashen Order practicing their skills. Oddly enough, there were no onlookers today, which was not surprising to Puab though, considering what had happened two mornings before. Usually the practice was silent as the autumn, with the punches, strikes, and kicks sounding like the wind rushing through dead leaves. Yet, the occasionally taunt and chuckle was heard from a pair of recruits in the corner of the courtyard, just past the small bridge over the aqueduct. Puab's eyes focused on the two children, one determined and parsing his lips in frustration, the other smiling broadly, enjoying the sparring as a game. Asnod's words finally broke the silence of the room.
"He is an excellent test of the patience at the very least," Asnod remarked, smirking himself.
"I wonder if the boy is rubbing too much off of you," Puab retorted calmly.
Asnod ignored the remark, continuing his case, "The boy has great potential. His skills have developed faster than either you or I have estimated, and he continues to learn. He is easily 2 or 3 ranks better than any other recruit."
"All of your words ring with truth," Puab admitted. "But the boy cares not for our way of life, just for its power. I question not his skills, but his spirit."
Asnod pondered the words for a moment, and his own response as well. "The boy does not know what has happened. His past will not stain him."
Puab turned abruptly, his eyes narrowing in a rare display of agitation, "His past already has! You saw his outburst yourself! You cannot deny that it has changed his spirit and his karma."
Asnod nodded abashedly, his head lowered and his gaze fixed upon the floor. Puab pursed his lips and calmed himself, looking out the window again. The gleeful boy was dodging most of his partner's slower attacks. Puab sighed as he saw the truth of the matter. The boy had attacked a heckler two days ago, during the morning practice, breaking his arm. His partner now was holding back his attacks, fearful of angering the boy to a violent outburst. Puab had admonished and punished the boy in full view of the Order, but many still feared the savagery that they knew, and Puab himself knew, no punishment could abate.
"The boy was given to us in good faith," Asnod said. "I swore a bloodbind that I would look after him. I find your desire to dismiss him dishearteningly. It is a matter of perspective, master. You see his fire as a disruption, and I see it as a challenge."
Puab stared out into the calm waters of the aqueduct, knowing Asnod's words to be accurate for his feelings. "The boy does not follow the path. Quellios' principles and ways are alien to him and I fear they will be until his heart stills."
"Even more reason to teach him, Master," Asnod replied. "He needs to learn to control and calm his inner fire. To use his spirit to calm others. And only we can teach him."
A sharp whistle from the senior instructor brought all of the monks to a halt from their sparrings. Another whistle had them all curl up and sit upon the grass, descending into deep meditation. Soon all the monks were deep within themselves, except the boy who, though meditating, had an expression of irritation, even boredom.
"He lives for the battle, my friend," observed Puab. "He is everything Quellios is not."
Asnod frowned, "His bravery and loyalty is the most out of any of the other recruits. His mirth is appreciated by many, and almost all of the guild loves him heartily, despite his shortcomings. He will lay down his life for any of his fellows."
"The lives he seeks to lay down are only those of his enemies," answered Puab. "Anyone saved by his actions are by coincidence."
"That is not fair, Master," retorted Asnod, his voice raising in anger.
"The boy follows the Warlord, my friend." Puab's face soften, but his look was cold as he turned to regard Asnod.
Asnod's anger ran out of him with the declaration and Puab's stare. He bowed his head for several moments, before replying in a quiet but stern voice.
"Master, He is a worthy pupil in all respects. For many, the path of Tranquility is difficult, as it was for me. As it was for YOU, at a point! Would you have us abandon him at the point where he needs guidance and teaching the most? When the path of peace must be shown to him?"
Puab turned back to face the window, locking his gaze again on the young boy. Asnod's comments brought some memories flooding back to Puab, some statisfying, but mostly, haunting. He lowered his head, and closed his eyes, giving the appearance of a man, sentencing another to his fate.
"He may stay, and he will continue to learn," Puab stated. "But know this Asnod, the lessons he so desperately needs cannot be taught by you or me. Only by life. And only he can learn these lessons."
Puab paused several moments before finishing, "And life is a cruel instructor."
"That it is, Master. Thank you," Asnod replied. He turned and made his way downstairs to his selling area, preparing and arranging his goods for the guild members. Puab continued scrutinizing the boy, watching his face as he meditated upon his being. Puab suddenly had a strong urge to take the place of the boy, to see what his thoughts dwelled on and what his soul slept next to when the sun faded in the sky. As the monks stood up and quietly filed into the guild hall, Puab sighed heavily, feeling his memories bearing on him. Despite his difficulties with the path to Tranquility, he never savored the battle and bloodshed. But with the young boy, he was not so sure. He quietly closed the shutters and latched them.
"May Quellios' light shine upon the, Savat. I pray Rallos Zek not claim your spirit in his fires."
Name: Sir Sedrick McQuick
Race: Dwarf
Class: Paladin
Sex: Male
Height: 4'8"
Weight: 195 lbs
Eyes: Green
Hair: Red
Sedrick's Story
"That's a nasty bump!" This is my first memory,spoken by a human Paladin; Sir Peabodi LeSinclaire. He discovered my unconscious body while wandering the Butcherblock mountains. I had no recolection of who I was, what I was doing or what happened to me! Sir Peabodi gave me a "temporary" name; SEDRICK, then took me to the Paladin guild of Kaladim. He asked them to care for me and help me find my past, promising to return he continued on his travels of Norath.
After a couple of years with the Dwarven Paldins, learning the ways of good and honor, I still had no idea of true past. And decided to head off on my own holy quest; to rid the world of evil and find my family. On reaching Freeport city, I found my old friend Sir Peabodi, who took it upon himself to continue my training in the ways of the noble Paladin. Years of training and hunting led many on many adventures and to make several friends, but none so great as when Peabodi introduced me to his friends in the Guild Scarab. These adventurers took me into their fold with open arms, finally with a sense of family I can continue with the life I have built. With honor I would die to save a member of my new family....
Name: Sir Selgus Truefist
Race: Dwarf
Class: Paladin of Underfoot
Sex: Male
Age: 250 years
Height: 4' 6"
Weight: 350 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown
Selgus' Story
Selgus was raised in the prosperous clan holding of the Truefist, his father being the famous Hagnus Truefist, brewer extraordinare, and his mother Bertrude Truefist, a cleric of some renown. Hagnus always was at odds with his wife in private over her wandering adventures amongst the mountains of Butcher Block, healing the sick and fighting the encroaching goblins. However, Bertrude's father was the clan's chieftain, and she was his only child, so Hagnus had to live with her adventures as he stayed within the walls of the Truefist hold and brewed as his forefathers had before him for countless generations. As Selgus grew, he watched his mother on countless occasions prepare her armor and weapons for battle. Her kind face set in a hard mask as she oiled her well worn chainmail, and polish her warhammer. Her honey colored hair was plaited and tied tightly behind her head so as to not obscure her vision in the heat of battle. Whenever she saw her young son staring at her, she would smile, and his heart would soar with glee. Seeing her face set for battle scared young Selgus, his mother was always a warm and caring woman at home. But the tales he had heard of her in battle frightened him. In one such tale, she had faced a goblin wizard. She blinded the vile creature before it could finish its first incantation and promptly crushed its skull with her great hammer. Its scalp hung from a banner in the great hall. His heart swelled with pride when she came home with such trophies for the clan hall, and as he sat at the table for countless feasts in her honor. Always Hagnus was there, joyous his wife returned unscathed, yet always worry creased his brow. He feared for her safety, and secretly began to train as a warrior to try and help his wife in battle. Hagnus was big for a dwarf, nearly a full five feet in height and weighing well over 400 pounds, years of lifting full kegs of ale had made his muscles solid and his body had very little fat upon it, despite his love for his own products. As he clumsily struggled through warrior training unknown to his wife, Burtrude continued to hunt the goblins in the hills and gain in knowledge and power. Over time, Selgus grew to young manhood and began to secretly watch his father in his training. As much as he admired his mother for her healing powers, he was enthralled by the way his huge father moved with a sword well over his own height in his hands. His father had become skilled in the use of the two handed sword, and Selgus knew that was what he wanted to do when he grew older.
One day, Hagnus declared to his chieftain that he was prepared to go and assist his wife in the fight to clear the mountains of goblins. Old Khaladain knew his son-in-law had good intentions at heart and gifted the dwarf a full set of ancient chainmail to guard his hide, a suit he himself had worn as a younger dwarf. And so Hagnus began to serve alongside his wife, leaving his brewing business to his many siblings and cousins. As time wore on, husband and wife became a legendary team. As the years wore on, and Selgus' parents won many victories, old Khaladain passed on to the Halls of Brell Serilis, his mother becoming chieftaness. His father ruled beside her as her high counselor, as dwarven society does not have a title for the spouse of a clan ruler. The funeral for the venerable ruler was the most lavish in recent memory, with thousands attending, even King Stormhammer itself for it was whispered that the two had fought side by side in many a battle when they both were young and thin of beard.
As he grew of age, Selgus chose to begin training in the halls of the Knights of Underfoot in Kaladim to the delight of his parents, a happy medium between the professions of them both. They were saddened that he would be so far away, but they knew that was his decision.
As Selgus trained on, tales of his parent's exploits reached him, making him proud. He grew in skills quickly under the tutelage of the Underfoot Knights, quickly becoming the sharpest student in the halls.
One fateful day, word reached him that his clan hold was under siege by goblins. They had apparently learned to make war machines from some unscrupulous humans in Freeport and had begun to attack the dwarves in the one place they never could before. The call for a relief force was immediately sent out, and young Selgus promptly joined the forming army. Impatiently he waited as the army was provisioned and equipped, knowing that every minute meant he might not have a home to return to. He was issued a two handed axe and a set of ringmail. After an hour of adjustments at the smithy, Selgus was equipped for war. Training was stepped up for many of the younger dwarves, Selgus saw many a young warrior apprentice at the swording posts and marshaling grounds, some much younger than himself. In many of their faces, fear was writ plainly. As with all armies, rumors had been flying for the past two days, rumors telling of horrible war machines used by the vile goblins, and of ogre allies among them. After three days of preparations, the army set out at its fastest pace. Marching day and night, the army of five thousand warriors, paladins, clerics and rogue scouts made their way to the Truefist Hold, making the five day journey in only two.
As the dwarves crested a rise several leagues out from the Truefist Hold, they could see fires of the goblin army lighting the night in a dull angry red. By the scouts' count there were more than twenty-thousand. As the army drew into sight of the Hold, they could see the countless camp fires, small silhouettes darting in front of them from time to time. The army drew up and began getting into formation, though hungry and bone weary from their forced march. Large skins of heavy ale were passed about, each dwarf softly telling the man he passed the skin to his name and clan, as dwarves have done since time forgotten. As Selgus received the skin, he knew just by smelling it was his father's brew. He drank deeply, savoring the taste of something that took countless generations to perfect and praying to himself there would be many more to continue to do so, and passed to the next dwarf, telling him his name and clan. The dwarf looked at him sharply as he did so, knowing that Selgus' own family was the reason for this journey. As the entire army received the nourishing ale, for dwarven ale can be used as a meal for those traveling far and hard if need be, whispered orders were sent down the line by the general's runners, none other than Bulgar Ironbreaker. They were to draw up and 200 paces and loose arrows then charge. Slowly the army marched forward, the sound of their boots like thunder in the hills. The goblin camp below exploded into activity as the sentries first heard then caught sight of the approaching force. As the dwarves reached their mark, the paladins and warriors began drawing their bows. Clerics moved swiftly among the lines, blessing all they passed with spells from Brell himself, their droning incantations strangely comforting. At the sound of the horn, every dwarf with a bow loosed an arrow into the masses of seething goblins ahead of them. Quickly they re-nocked and loosed a second volley, dropping their bows and starting the charge. With war cries older than the hills themselves, the dwarven army roared towards the goblins slowly forming into ranks to receive the charge. Selgus' heart was pounding, fear gripped him, but his anger at these vile things was too great to be overcome by fear of death. A howling warcry was torn from his lips as he closed the gap of twenty paces across left ahead of him, raising his two handed axe above his head. The lines struck with a resounding clash as the two armies met, the cries of the combatants deafening. Selgus brought his axe down on the first goblin he saw, his sheer momentum cutting it in two. He bowled into the slain beast and waded into the fray, intent to cutting down every one of the greenskin vermin. He ducked the sword of a greenskinned whelp and removed its head from its shoulders in one swipe. Dodging and attacking, he tried desperately to see about himself. Suddenly he found himself face to face with an ogre! Stumbling back a step in shock, he nearly didn't get out of the way of the massive hammer the beast swung at him. Dodging for his life, Selgus desperately fought back. For agonizing minutes, he fought with all his might to simply avoid falling to this huge beast. Panting with exertion, Selgus fell to one knee. The ogre saw his chance to slay the pesky dwarf and raised his hammer high over his head to smash him to the earth. Selgus saw that he had one desperate chance to escape death and immediately swung his axe. The blade bit deep into the ogre's belly, causing it to stumble, howling in pain.
The ogre slowly collapsed on top of Selgus, pinning him to the ground and driving the axe still deeper into its own body. Gasping for breath, Selgus struggled beneath the massive ogre's corpse in an attempt to free himself. Already weakened by his fight with his now captor, Selgus knew he couldn't free himself. As he slowly blacked out from the pain, he could hear the cacophony of battle all around him as if from a great distance.
When Selgus awoke, he found himself still partly pinned beneath the ogre. It was morning, and all around himself he smelt death. As he heaved himself from beneath the ogre's arm and stood he saw the destruction that lay around him. As far as he could see lay dead goblins ogres and dwarves. A heavy mist filled with the stink of decay obscured everything farther than a few feet from view. He couldn't tell who had won, all he knew was the he was surrounded by the dead. Slowly making his was towards his family hold, he paused a moment to wrest an axe from a fallen dwarf's fingers, mumbling apologies to his brother in arms as he did. He left his coin purse in the dwarf's hand as payment and picked his way towards his home. As he slowly crossed the battlefield, he began seeing more and more dead goblins and ogres. The burnt out hulks of the goblin war machines jutted out of the battle field here and there, appearing as great fallen skeletal beasts. As Selgus made his way closer to the Hold, the clinging ground mist began to clear, letting his see farther towards his destination. Dozens of details of dwarves made their way through the field, extricating their fallen comrades from the piles of corpses. Selgus' heart soared, realizing that they had won!
He made his way towards the hold and stopped a dwarf bearing the tabard of the Knights of Underfoot standing guard out front.
" Ahhh... so we routed them eh?" Asked Selgus excitedly, "What of tha holding? how many survived?"
The much older dwarf looked into Selgus' eyes and simpy said, " Aye we won, but at a great cost. As fer the holdin, ye'd best see fer yerself."
He hurriedly made his way into the front gates, and dimly heard deep dwarven voices singing ancient funereal songs. Panic gripped Selgus then, for he knew songs such as those were only reserved for times of great sorrow. As he rushed into the hold, he could not help but notice the damage done by all the fighting. The great walls were damaged and in some places fallen completely. The gates themselves were smashed, one laying on the ground twisted and the other hung from one hinge, and Selgus knew that the goblins had battered them down. Anguish gripped his gut as he slowly reached the doors of the main hall. These too were smashed down. His face contorted in sorrow, he knew in his heart that his parents were dead. Rushing into the main dining hall, he saw general Bulgar and his officers, still covered in dirt and blood from the battle, standing in a line next to the main table. The signs of a great battle were all around him. In several places, the floor was stained with both goblin and dwarven blood and weapon scars were evident on many surfaces. Much of the furniture was smashed, yet the great feasting table appeared unscathed. Upon the great table, one that had seen many a great feast and joyous occasion but now held sorrow, lay two shrouded figures. The dwarves stopped singing when they caught sight of Selgus as tradition dictated. Bulgar called Selgus over.
"Come te where I stand lad, that ye may see what our ancient enemy has done,"growled the old dwarf in his harsh baritone.
Tears began streaming down the young dwarf's face as he slowly walked towards the general, his legs numb. As he drew next to the general, Bulgar nodded and two of his retainers drew back the shrouds over two of the figures. Slowly they made their way to each mound of cloth and removed the cover, that Selgus might see his family. The young dwarf saw his father's and mother's faces, and cried out in anguish, tearing at his beard.
"Do as tha laws say, boy. An' do it quickly fer yer kin deserve their rest." Growled Bulgar.
Clenching the axe in his hand, Selgus stepped up to his father's corpse. He looked into his dead face and remembered all the fond memories of youth, and slowly brought the axe to his father's beard. He carefully cut off one of the braids at the base and held it over his head. He stuffed one end into the collar of his armor, so that the long braid hung over his heart. He then stepped towards his mother's body. He remembered her kind eyes looking down at him on the eve before many a journey, and how she reassured him that Brell would bring her home safe. Once again he brought the axe up, and carefully cut one of her long plaits from her head. Again he repeated the traditional ritual and turned towards Bulgar. The retainers rewrapped his parents' bodies, and stepped to either side of Selgus.
Bulgar gripped Selgus by both his shoulders.
"This day will seem like tha worst o yer life lad, and well it should. But know ye that yer maither and faither sit aside Brell hisself. An' fight his battles in the Underfoot fer tha glory o his name. Tha' best way te remember them is te continue yer trainin and become tha best ye can.", rumbled the ancient dwarf, "Yer faither's sister Haeguna will assume control over tha Truefist hold now, as was dictated in tha laws o succession set down by Stormhammer. When yer ready, one day ye'll rule here as yer father would have wished. But many years and many sorrows lie afore ye. Would that I could help ye in yer pain, boy. But tha's somethin ye need te handle on yer own. Brell be with ye."
Numb with shock and grief, tears streaming freely down his face, Selgus nodded and went to his chambers in the upper floors. Too tired to think, he lay down fully armored and went to sleep. The next morning, he awoke to the sounds of horns calling assembly.
"Master Truefist, yer fellow knights call ye te return te tha hall o' tha Underfoot", stated a passing servant. Selgus grunted a reply and slowly pulled himself out of bed, his entire body in agony. He readjusted his armor, cinching it back into its proper fit, and placed his borrowed axe into his belt. He stiffly made his way down to the main hall, passing servant after servant busily repairing the damage done to the hold. As he entered the hall, he saw his aunt surrounded by servants, rapidly issuing orders. She was a huge woman, her massive arms pointing this way and that as she set her servants to their tasks. She wore a full suit of gleaming steel platemail, burnished to a mirror-like finish. A massive sword was strapped to her back and many of her retainers stood nearby, each one a woman warrior like their lady. Each looked dangerous, their hard eyes scanning all around themselves for danger. Catching sight of Selgus, she shoved her way out of the crowd and made her way to him, catching him up in a rough embrace.
"Brell be with ye lad, and yer kin look kindly on ye from his halls" she said softly in her gruff voice.
Releasing him and stepping back she held him at arm's length.
"Yer mother and father would be proud. I've heard tell of yer time on tha battlefield. Not bad... but next time go fer his legs from tha side" said his aunt, a small smile creased her weathered face.
Selgus nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say to his aunt, whom he hadn't seen in years.
"I'd best be going" he croaked, his throat tight with emotion as he once again thought of his parents, "Tha Underfoot knights await me."
"Aye lad, get yerself back te yer trainin. Best te be busy at times like this." his aunt replied, a knowing look in her eye.
With a final clasp on his shoulder, she gently pushed him towards the hall's main doors. As he walked towards them, several of his aunt's retainers gently patted him on the shoulder as he passed, murmuring their sympathies. As he passed through the great doors, a voice called him from behind. He turned and saw old Saganus rushing unsteadily towards him, his father's personal servant. He held a large bundle clutched awkwardly to his chest. The weathered dwarf thrust the package into Selgus' arms.
"This was yer father's, boy... best ye should have it. I know he'd no' want it any other way." rasped the ancient dwarf. His eyes wet with tears that pooled but did not run down his craggy face.
Selgus again nodded mutely, and clasped his once tutor's hand. Their eyes met and they knew it would be their last parting, as Saganus was very old, even by dwarven standards.
"I've served yer father's father and then yer father... one day I had hoped te serve ye as well. Seems Brell has other plans fer ye. Tho yer not a brewer, yer a damned fine lad. I know yer father smiles on ye from His halls." whispered the grey bearded dwarf.
A tear ran down Selgus' face as he nodded and once again continued on his way. As he walked with the heavy bundle, he unwrapped it, although he didn't need to to know what it was. It was his father's sword, a huge two hander nearly seven feet in length. He pulled the last of the cloth from it and leaned it against his shoulder. As he made his way across the courtyard, he saw that they had begun piling up the dead goblins in mounds for burning. Selgus' eye caught something in the closest one and walked over to it. He spied the ogre that had nearly killed him. Hefting his father's sword, he brought it up level with his face, similar to a duelist's salute. He studied the inscription engraved on the blade. It was in an ancient dwarven language he couldn't read, yet he already knew. It was his family history. Selgus raised the sword high above his head and brought it down sharply on the dead ogre's neck, nearly severing its massive head from its shoulders. He wrenched the blade free and once again brought it down, cleanly removing the head. He picked it up by its hair and held it even with his own eyes. Staring into its face he realized how little he feared its kind now, how little he feared death itself. Tying its hair onto his belt and letting it swing free at his side, he made his way to the column of Knights forming up nearby. The huge head bumping against his leg as he walked, his father's sword leaned at parade rest against his left shoulder, he marched to the commander and pounded his fist against his chest.
"Truefist, whole and ready te serve Brell, Captain" barked Selgus as he stood before his teacher.
The captain looked over at Selgus and smiled sadly.
"So ye made it eh? An ye've got a fine trophy te show fer it. Selgus, ye've lost more in tha past two days than most dwarves in a lifetime. Ye know ye will never see this place again, or at least not as ye remember it. Ye could stay here and serve alongside yer aunt, or ye can come with us and perhaps never come home. Are ye prepared te make that sacrifice, young dwarf?" said the captain in a hoarse whisper, his eyes searching Selgus' face.
Selgus met his mentor's stare and nodded grimly. He felt as if he had no other choice. He remembered his parent's pride when he had made his own choice and became a paladin candidate. How proud his father was when he chosen two handed weapons over the axe and shield. How his mother's face lit up when Selgus showed a great affinity for spellcasting, and deep understanding of divine texts. For him to turn back now would be to betray their memory and he would never do that. The captain nodded back and pointed towards the assembling company. Silently, Selgus marched over to his place in formation and waited with the rest of the paladin candidates for the call to march. His path was set, Brell had made his choice and he had chosen Selgus for his own. To fight for his people and defend his homeland. With pride in his step, he marched when the horn sounded. There was much to learn before he could properly set out to aid his people in their fight for survival against the encroaching evils. And learn he would. He touched the two braids hanging over his heart. He knew in his heart that his parents and his god were with him.
Name: Dame Seneby Truthsinger
Race: Human
Class: Paladin
Sex: Female
Height: Unknown
Weight: Unknown
Eyes: Unknown
Hair: Unknown
Seneby's Story
Seneby didn't always want to be a Paladin. As a small child she wanted the same things that all little girls want; to grow up & marry a charming prince & have many children while living in a castle. Sadly that dream was just like any other dream; a dream. Seneby's parents were tailors by nature & thus she learned some of the trade as part of her chores. The older she got the more chores she seemed to have & the less time to be a little girl; reality of life was slowly setting in.
Many Winters would pass with everyday like the last. When Seneby was ten during an unusually hot summer for Norrath strangers dressed in armored garments like none seen before by her came & took her father away. Later Seneby would learn that her father, a tailor by profession, had been called to serve in the Lord's infantry as an armorer. She never saw her father again afterwards. Later that same year soldiers from the same lord, a man they called Sir Lucan came & took many of the young girls away. Her older sister Amanda, among them. Seneby cried for days. Every few months the soldiers came for more girls; tribute to the lord they said half drunk with the stench of poor ale. None of the girls were ever seen or heard from again.
To protect Seneby her mother cut her hair & started dressing her as a boy. By her twelfth birthday no one in the village remembered Seneby the maiden, only Sen the boy. A year later the village was ransacked by the Deathfist orcs while Seneby was in Freeport selling her wares to the good people. She returned home only to find a massacre of broken & smashed bodies; her mother's was among them. It took her three days to build a funeral pyre to burn the dead, a final testament to their lives. By morning there was nothing left but ash.
Seneby wept for sometime after that not knowing if hours or days pasted she remained numb. Sometime later an old man with a funny walking stick approached the burned village. He was a cobbler who often traveled through here for a good night of rest while telling stories to all who'd buy him some sweet mead. He was shocked to say the least by his discovery; though no one would ever know if it was due to the loss of the village or his empty mead skin. His name was Old Man Mythanial & he took Seneby away from what was once her home, her hopes, & her dreams.
Seneby traveled with him for the next two years across the vast expanses of the common lands & the occasional journeys to trade with the gypsy folk in the karanas plains. He told her about the gods & all that was good in a man through great heroic stories. He taught her how to navigate via the stars & find her way through the densest of woods. Most of all the things he taught her that she'll never forget was the joys of fishing. They would stop & fish everywhere. He taught her tricks for catching the biggest fish & how to manage the fish population by location & season. He tried to show her how to cook but poor Seneby just wasn't fated to be a chef. Towards the end of her fifteenth summer it was getting very difficult to hide the fact that Seneby was a young women in bloom & so they stopped trying. With her fiery red hair, emerald eyes, & cute freckles she soon had more attention then she wanted. She was also growing restless, but as to why she could not say. Then one day when they were traveling through the common lands towards Freeport to ply their wares they were becosted by soldiers. They said that Seneby was to come with them or else for the lord required tribute from his peasants. Old Man Mythanial of course would have none of this. He would still be alive if he'd just been quiet. Poor Mythanial was no match for five trained soldiers, but he met his end in the noblest of fashion; he died trying to protect the one he loved.
Murdered before her eyes were too much to bare followed by unwanted hands attempting to fondle her in indecent ways. Something in her mind snapped & emotions held bottled up for so long broke free. With a flick of her wrist she brought up her fishing blade & stopped the motions of one man; forever. In a rage never felt before she attacked the stun soldiers & cut many of them good, but Seneby was just an untrained girl. These men were trained soldiers & minutes later her body showed it by the number of bruises & broken ribs. Being men without honor they had their way with her stealing her virtue & then beat her some more.
Left for dead she lied there for hours broken & battered. Shamed & violated. In her battered hazed mind she wondered if she would finally be reunited with her family? She no longer had hope. Her soul was as tattered as the flags that now fly over the dead ancient dwarven city of Befallen. Goodbye she said to the world through broken teeth & closed her swollen eyes for what seemed the last time.
In the foggy haze of that place that exists between life & death where time has no meaning & dreams do not occur she strayed for what seemed like eternity. Pain. More Pain. Pain everywhere. Pain all over her, all around her. Pain like the brightest light in the night sky; the pain of life. She awoke one day, or was it night? Her wounds where severe, but well healed. Time had passed, but how much? As fate would have it she was still alive. She couldn't move; she was bandaged quite well, as per an expert healer. Her eyes were no longer swollen & she was mildly surprised to find her teeth intact. After a few minutes a short, really short man sprouting a mane of grey black hair all over his face that ended in a beard & mustache nearly half his height entered the small room. He introduced himself as Tournevis, a dwarven cleric of Marr. He told his tale of how he had over heard some injured soldiers bragging about a wench they raped & left to die. Disgusted over their actions He was about to continue his travels when they made a toast over their dire deals. Now most people think that because dwarves are little that they don't represent a threat. Wrong; very wrong. By the time he was through with the soldiers the inn was half thrashed & many bottles lay broken along side of the thrashed soldiers. One by one he beat them into the ground as he asked his questions: Where? Why? Again & again his heavy fist raised & lowered with unequaled might. No patron there that night will surly ever risk the anger of a dwarf. He never said if he killed them & Seneby didn't ask. He told her how he had found her. After looking at her condition he told Seneby of his intensions to give a just funeral, after all she was just a human & hurt beyond his means to restore. Why should he care? He told Seneby that he would have left her to pass on to the next world, for no human would have aided him if there conditions were reversed, but in the end just couldn't do it. With all his might he called forth the powers of light & the stars themselves did answer; so he said. For one gleaming moment night became day & ethereal hands caressed Seneby from end to end making the worse of her wounds no more then scrapes. The next morning he made a bivouac & carried Seneby to his lodgings in an old abandoned stone ruins.
For several weeks did Seneby lie still, between life & death. For although her body had been healed her mind; nay, the very essence of her being lied fractured to it's core. Dreams that would never be flowed in & out of a place where dreams don't occur. Thoughts of family & friends now lost taunted & haunted her semi lucent moments. All through this time Tournevis kept watch over her & even fed her like a child he once had... Why do people have so many painful memories?
A few days later Seneby took her first few steps. It would be several months before she would move with the grace of her youth again. On one morning Tournevis had a visitor. A man in what was once gleaming plate armor now dirty & tarnished from many days riding. The knight introduced himself as Sir Dwain, a paladin of the holy Church of Marr & a follower of the Hall of Truth. He had been sent on a quest to find the granddaughter of one of their honored dead. In fact his motivation was a vision he had had many months ago of a young maiden with fiery red hair like the setting sun & eyes like the emerald drake. In a vision he was shown by a handmaiden of Marr the lost granddaughter of a once noble house believed to have perished several years back when her village was raided by Deathfist orcs. In his vision he was told that the maiden he seeks sit between three paths. One will lead her into despair & death. One will guide her into the hands of darkness where she will learn the ways of the shadow knight & become the most powerful agent of evil to be seen on Norrath in 5000 years. The last door would lead her into the path of light. A walkway made up of honor, valor, & loyalty. This path would be the hardest to follow & the easiest to be swayed from. The vision showed him that if Seneby became a paladin then one day when the paladins faced their darkest hour she would make the night like day. One path she will destroy them all & another she will save them. Perhaps...
So choosing his quest & getting the blessings of the Hall & the Church Sir Dwain began his search. Being that he was here he explained to Seneby who he was, but not who she was nor did he mention the visions. So follow him she did. On route they were accosted by a vila dark elf name Gix. At first he was going to leave them alone, too small of pray, but then Gix notice the red headed child. You see Gix had also had the same vision. Knowing the possible future he couldn't allow Seneby to live. Summoning forth a skeletal horror he attacked swift & without mercy. Sir Dwain caught unawares was barely able to throw Seneby out of the way before their enemies attacked.
As Sir Dwain slowly fell with a bone jarring blow Seneby barely had time to duck as Gix attacked her even as his skeletal horror continued to beat on the downed Paladin. Gix spoke to the maiden in sweet tone knowing the rewards he'd be given if he could bring her over to darkness, but the lass couldn't understand him. Oh well thought Gix as least he'd end the vision's predictions once & for all. As he prepared to cut down the maiden he noticed two things that suddenly didn't feel right. First the girl was showing no fear, & that almost scared Gix. Second the sound of shattered bones falling to the floor took him a few seconds to realize that his summoned skeletal nightmare had been dispatched. Quickly turning about he was run through by the living corpse that had once been Sir Dwain. The Paladin was seriously injured with blood everywhere & bits of bone visible through some of the wounds. Just as he had run Gix through he as soon fell over with a groan & collapsed. With a shriek Gix howled like a wounded animal & slowly cowered away. Seneby bent to aid the fallen knight, but it was too late. Bending low to hear him as he was dying he begged her to, as a final favor, bring a bundle of letters he had to the Hall of Truth in Freeport. Making her promise before expiring. Contained in the letters was his Testament of Truth & a few letters to other people whose names she knew nothing of. Minutes later with the dead knight strapped firmly to the horse she made her way to the city of Freeport.
Entering free port Seneby made her way to the Hall of truth where she presented the body of Sir Dwain, his letters, & her story to the Council. Three days later she was anointed a squire. Three years later at the nubile age of nineteen Seneby is knighted for completing the Test of Truth & awarded her very own Testament of Truth making her a full Paladin. The rest is only just the beginning...
Seneby the Brave
24th Circle of Marr
Tharian's parents Nathan Nelvane and Seliena Silvermoon met in a quiet little grove in a corner of the Blessed Realm of the Kithicor Woods. Nathan was traveling alone one morning on a holy pilgrimage to the temple of Mithaniel. There he was to take over the duties as the high priest. He heard the sound of a woman screaming in rage and went to investigate. Ahead in the clearing he saw twelve men tormenting a women dressed in forest garb. They had her above a pit and were taking brands from the fire and where driving them into her body. Nathan, being slow to anger and sure in his god, called their attention to himself and tried to persuade them from their evil intentions. The bandits, thinking him to be a defenseless traveler, taunted him about his ridiculous clothes. They then told him how they would kill him slowly over an open fire and feed him to the demon in the cave below. The bandits continued to laugh at him and said that they had already had this female ranger for payment to the beast as their monthly tribute, so they could afford to take their time with him. They then dropped the ranger into the pit and rushed towards him. This enraged Nathan and he called upon Mithaniel aid him. There was a flash of light from the morning sky, and when the light touched each of the bandits they burst into a roaring column of flame. Many tried to run but none escaped the ray of truth that burned their flesh and sent their souls to the deep realms of the Abyss.
Then there was a thunderous roar from within the pit followed by a female war cry of challenge. Nathan rushed toward the pit, and seeing the rangers weapons in a pile beside the pit slowed down enough to grab them. Without concern for his safety he dropped down into the pit. After a fall of about twenty feet he dropped the weapons and tumbled forward to absorb most of the impact. He stood up and was looking at the back of a hideous demon that stood over ten feet tall. Its skin was a green-red and it had wicked horns sticking out of all parts of its body, and it oozed a vile yellow liquid that melted all that it touched. He could just see the ranger dodging a vicious blow from the demon's horned hands. He grabbed the weapons and ran to the other side to face the demon. He raised up his holy symbol and called upon Mithaniel to give him strength and drive back the beast. While the demon hesitated the ranger grabbed her weapons, a short sword and a strange-looking sword that was slightly smaller then a bastard sword with metal triangles attached about halfway up the blade. Nathan was momentarily distracted by the beauty of this women and when their eyes met he knew that he could never love another.
The demon, seeing a weakness in his defenses, lunged forward with teeth bared and claws extended. So smitten was Nathan that he did not notice the approaching danger. The demon would have surely had him when the ranger became a blur of motion and thrust forward with the strange blade, driving the blade into the foul thing's chest. The demon's howl of pain and outrage snapped Nathan out of his trance and he began casting a spell to attempt to banish the beast. The ranger raised the strange blade into the air and it gave off a bright blue light that burned away the blood of the beast. She then took up a defensive stance in front of Nathan. The demon began another attack that the ranger barely managed to beat back. Just then Nathan finished his prayer and the demon was surrounded by a white light. The demon screamed as it was drawn towards a black portal that appeared behind it. The beast managed to grab a side of the pit and was pulling itself back out of the portal when the ranger's blade found one of its puss-filled eyes. The demon's scream could be heard as it was pulled into the portal and then portal slammed shot with a crack of thunder.
The ranger introduced herself as Seliena Silvermoon, a ranger of Kithicor woods. She told Nathan that she had been tracking down the cause of the disturbance to the balance of nature in this area when the bandits surrounded her and used some type of foul magic from a black book to hold her in place. She thanked him for his assistance and offered to guide him the rest of the way to the temple. Nathan agreed and went to give a short prayer for the damned souls when he came across the book that Seliena had mentioned. It was made of some type of black scaly skin with a brass image of a demon's horned head on the front. When he reached to pick it up a black tentacle lashed out and grabbed his hand. He had the feeling of something evil trying to invade his mind but was able to fight it off. He decided that a book this evil could not be left laying around so he tried to destroy it. All of his and Seliena's attempts failed and he decided to take this book to the temple and destroy it. The rest of their trip to the temple was uneventful and a great feast was held in his honor where he asked Seliena to join him. She agreed and they had a wonderful evening together. In all of the excitement Nathan forgot to mention the book and it was placed with the rest of his things in his chamber.
Over the next five years Nathan advanced his faith in leaps and bounds and his congregation went from a small showing of locals that numbered no more then forty to a vast fellowship of thousands. He was sought out by Kings and Queens for his wisdom and knowledge, bearing gifts of incredible value as donations, just to hear one of his sermons. He was offered the hand of many beautiful young daughters; even some of royal blood but he had eyes for only one. Nathan courted Seliena and finally convinced her to stay with him and be his wife. She even went so far as to give up her wandering ranger ways to spend more time with him. Even though she loved him more than life itself her heart was that of a caged wild animal and Nathan saw this and offered to give her anything she wished. Her simple request caught him totally by surprise, for she asked for a forge to be built in the small grove outside the temple so that she might find some freedom in the creation of beautiful things as many of her ancestors had in the days of long ago. A request was sent out throughout the land to find someone to build this wedding gift for his bride. One night after a long day of frustrating interviews to find just the right person to build this forge there was a knock upon his chamber door. When he answered the door he looked out to see not his chamberlain but an unlikely pair, one stocky dwarf and one fair-skinned elf. When asked how they got past his guards they both just looked at each other, smiled and introduced themselves as Galien Stormhammer and Semmeria Farlonia. After a brief interview, for a reason Nathan could not quite put his finger on, he knew they were the ones for the job.
The forge was completed in two months and the wedding scheduled for the following day. The ceremony was held at the temple with the grand high priest Balisor residing, with people from all over the nearby kingdoms and some from the far reaches of the all the known lands. After the ceremony and the reception that night Nathan led Seliena down the trail to the forge. When they came to the forge there was a soft silvery glow about it from the full moon shining down on it and Seliena began to weep with joy. The forge was a work of beauty and art in and of itself. It perfectly blended the requirements for the forging of any known works that only a dwarven mastersmith could have laid out; with the open airiness of an open glade in the forest during the spring and a sense of freedom that only an elven mastersmith and druid could capture. They laid in each other's arms under the stars with the moon shining down upon them as they made love to one another.
For the next three months life was heaven on earth for them both. Seliena worked in the forge turning out works of exceptional quality and beauty and Nathan with a new strength tackled the job of tending the temple and gaining even more worshippers for Mithaniel. Nathan did start to have very bad headaches any time would think about the missing evil book, the pain becoming so intense he was forced to his bed. When he would awake he would forget about the book for a time, when he did remember about it the headaches would start again....
The dwarf and elf even stayed on and taught Seliena many secret skills known only to them and ways to combine dwarven solidity and dependability with elven beauty and enchantments. Long did they toil on their separate joys but always found time for each other. Then Seliena found out that she was pregnant and things slowly began to change. Nathan started to have dark dreams of power where he ruled the kingdom instead of the foolish ones who had to seek him out for simple advice. He became more reclusive and started to shirk his responsibilities as high priest. When Seliena was around he was full of good cheer but when she was away at the forge the dark thoughts came more often. They plagued him day and night, day after day and finally he found its source. The book that he had found so long ago had hid itself under his bed and had slowly worked its way past his defenses. But by this time it was too late, the darkness was one with him and he was one with it. The book was called the Tome of Scorian and it had a will and mind of its own but it lacked a body to interact with the outside world. And now it had one, for it took over this once-good man and made him its own.
At this time Seliena was working in the forge when a chill went through her body and she had a vision from the god Mithaniel telling her that the man she loved was gone, replaced by an abomination calling himself Scorian. She was told to flee with Galien and Semmeria to the Nexius Mountain to the East and there seek out the dragon Belvan. She did as instructed and fled, taking only what she needed to survive and her ancestral blade the yarkbolka 'Tharigannia'. She made it to Mt. Nexius without incident or pursuit, for Scorian was still weak and a tiny bit of Nathan somehow survived the transformation. Scorian killed many on the night of his birth, using their blood and souls to gate in demons from the deepest depths of the Abyss. He then set them loose to kill and destroy more of Mithaniel's faithful. Some even turned their backs on the light and swore allegiance to Scorian and became his Dark Ones, all the more powerful for having made the transfer of their own choice. The one place where Scorian and his minions could not go was Seliena's forge for it was unsoiled by the book and they where held at bay by a silverish light anytime they tried to enter. Any that stepped too close were burned to cinders by the holy light. This enraged Scorian to no end and he sent assassins throughout the lands to find and kill Seliena, thinking that this would end the spell of protection that thwarted him at every turn.
Seliena was taken in by Belvan and given all she could want except the one thing she wanted most, the return of her husband. Their child was born at the exact time of dawn, a healthy boy who she named Talien Nelvane. He was born with a silver birthmark of a yarkbolka in the palm of each hand. At the same time an orphaned faire dragon egg under the care of the big-hearted drake hatched and a baby faire dragon that Belvan named Randor was born. Belvan's laughter shook the cavern that was his home as he declared the two 'clutch mates'. The two smiths approached Talien and began to sing in a song of blessing upon the babe, the deep rumbling voice of the dwarf and the elf's light melodious voice mixing into a heart-rending harmony. They sang of days long past, both the good and bad. How throughout the ages there comes a time when the balance swings once again in the endless dance of life. The song filled Seliena with great sadness and joy at the same time, for it gave her hope for her son's future. As they both came to a close they each took one of Talien's hands and with words long forgotten to man and beast, placed a blessing of great power upon him to protect him from magic, especially that of the demon that had destroyed his father.
With the dragon to protect them Seliena raised Talien for the next eight years in the ways of her ancestors. He grew at an incredible rate and by the age of seven was helping his mother at the forge. Throughout this time he was also given lessons by Belvan in the ways of the world around him - how one must be ever vigilant and on one's guard against the forces of evil. Talien spent many hours playing with Randor in the cave and as he grew older they began to sneak out and play on the slopes, and sometimes even to the valley below. One day when in the spring of his tenth year he and Randor where climbing down a slope into a hidden grotto with a small lake that was fed by a waterfall. Talien would often go here to think when his mind was troubled. Randor flew up to Talien and told him he saw someone on the other side of the waterfall. As they cautiously approached the stranger from above, Talien noticed another figure sneaking up on the first one. When he looked again he saw a bit of sunshine reflected off a wicked looking weapon in the hands of the second one. Talien reached down and grabbed a rock and with a silent prayer to Mithaniel threw the rock with all his might. The rock sailed across the grotto and struck the assassin in the back of the head, causing him to scream in pain. The first figure swung around and drew a gleaming long sword with one hand and a dagger with the other. Without the aid of surprise the second figure seemed to hesitate and started to back away from the first. This was the only opening the first needed and he drove his sword through his opponent's throat.
The victor looked up then and seeing Talien he lowered his hood revealing what appeared to be a man with some elven features. Randor flew down to the figure and landed on his shoulder. They began to speak back and forth in the elven tongue, then Randor flew up to Talien and told him that the figure was a half elven ranger named Nighthawk and he would like to thank Talien for saving his life. So Talien climbed down the rest of the way and approached the ranger. The ranger reached into his backpack and took out a roll of parchment and handed it to Talien telling him that it was a treasure map to an ancient treasure far to the south of this mountain. He also took off a gold and silver torc with blue gems from around his neck and said that legend has it that one must have this, the Torc of Melanna to get the treasure. Nighthawk said he must be off to track down the one who had sent this assassin and said farewell to his rescuers but that he would one day return to see them if he could. When they returned to the cave they were greeted by an evil sight. The place was completely destroyed: there was charred and melted rock all over. When they came closer they saw the body of the once-mighty Belvan pieced through the heart by an wicked looking spear. He searched through the rubble for hours but his mother was nowhere to be found, the only thing he could recover from the wreckage was his ancestral blade 'Tharigannia'.
He went over to the body of his dead teacher and friend Belvan. He prayed to Mithaniel and asked him to help his mother and to lay to rest the spirit of his friend. He then laid down on the hard rock and went into a troubled sleep. He had a vision from Mithaniel and it told him that he was brave and unselfish to think of others before himself and for this he was to be rewarded with a blessing that would enable him to learn the lessons that this life had to offer at a faster rate than normal. He also told him that help was on the way.
Unknown to Talien, his mother had been taken captive by a group of demons led by a chaos lord sent by Scorian. They took her to the glade where the forge was and prepared her for sacrifice. Scorian approached with an evil sacrificial dagger and was about to plunge it into her heart when the bit of Nathan that was left exerted itself and stayed his hand. She managed to escape her bonds as the two struggled for control and she ran for the forge, but just before she crossed the threshold to the forge the chaos lord sent a spear that pierced her body. She fell across the threshold and crawled to the anvil in the center of the forge. With her last breath she called upon Mithaniel to take her soul and instill it in this place that the evil about might never have it. An image of Mithaniel appeared and with tears in his immortal eyes he granted her request. The glow about the forge increase an hundredfold and many of Scorian's minions were destroyed before they could retreat to a safe distance. Scorian, now in full control, howled in frustration and pain from the silver light and with a word of power transported himself to his own fortress.
Talien awoke the next day to find Galien and Semmeria fixing breakfast over an open fire. The body of the dragon Belvan was gone and when he asked about it he was told that the body of the noble dragon deserved better then to be pinned to the wall like some trophy and had been laid to rest in the way of his kind. They took Talien and Randor off to Umbar, a human mastersmith just out side the city of Freeport. At first Umbar did not want to take on such a young apprentice, as he already had a fifteen year old one named Hamial. But while they were discussing his fate Talien wandered into the forge and noticed that the forge had been left unattended and a half finished sword was about to lose its temper because of it. He began to stoke the fire back up and worked the steel of the blade to prevent its ruin, even at this age he possessed a great strength for one so young. When Umbar heard the noise he rushed into the forge thinking that Hamial was overstepping his training, only to find Talien working the forge as one long familiar with it. The elf and dwarf just smiled at each other when Umbar agreed to take him on as his apprentice. This of course earned him the resentment of Hamial who up to this point in his training had only been allowed to stoke the furnace and do small works of iron.
For the next five years he put his heart and soul into learning as much as he could from the good master Umbar. He spent all day and some of the nights perfecting the lessons learned and rediscovered a few techniques that had been lost for the working of weapons. His success enraged Hamial and in the summer of Talien's sixteenth year Hamial devised a plan to rid himself forever of this pest. Hamial trapped the forge with engraving acids and oil so that it would explode when Talien went to stoke the forge the next morning. And the morning was to be a special one, Talien had just received his journeyman status and this would be his first work as a journeyman, but instead of heading straight for the forge he was distracted by a playful Randor who demanded attention. So it was that master Umbar stoked the forge and set off the trap instead of Talien and was killed. Hamial was caught and sent away to prison for his crimes, for earlier that night he had been out drinking and boasting of what he had done to get rid of the "pest" Talien.
With no place to go Talien wandered the lands, doing small smithing jobs to feed himself and Randor. He started to hear a voice in his head telling him to go to the temple of Mithaniel to the south. There he was taken in for a year's time and taught the rudimentary skills of a Paladin, but before he completed the training he was sent to the city of Freeport. There he was to report for duty in the heavy Cavalry to fight the growing threat of the Dark Lord Scorian.
Talien was put into a the 15th heavy Cavalry unit and trained in horse mounted combat which included: how to train a horse for combat, care for one and even trick riding. He also learned tactics, wilderness survival and how to use many weapons including: short bow, dagger, lance, javelin, spear, hammer and a specialized style of combat using his yarkbolka. Because of his quick learning and his ability to lead others he was given the rank of corporal and sent out to his first battle. In the battle of Woods End he led his small detachment in a flanking maneuver that forced the enemy to be trapped between a dense wooded area and a river. This earned him a promotion to Sergeant and he was singled out to be recruited into the Order of the Sun, a group of Paladins used as a shock force against the powerful evil threats that Scorian brought to bear. In the next battle his immediate superior was slain by an unlucky stoke from a bane's blade. Talien assumed command and drove back the group of banelings attacking the small town of Riverdale, and he was promoted to Lieutenant second grade. The battle to follow left him with a scar across his face from a minor demon's spear that he dispatched, and then drove the creature away sending many of them to the abyss personally. He was decorated for valor and heroism and sent to the forward lines to engage a larger force in a staying tactic until reinforcements could arrive. He successfully completed this mission with light casualties while handing out heavy losses to the enemy; and he was promoted to Lieutenant first grade and became well renowned for his skills and heroism.
Over the next two years he led his troops to many minor victories and it seemed as if Scorian's forces had been defeated. He was sent to engage a small force of orcs in Southern Ro. Things went well until a being astride a black demon horse appeared and opened a portal to the abyss allowing thousands of dark creatures to enter this realm. Talien's forces were quickly overrun and he was left for dead on the field. When he was awakened by Randor it was to a gruesome site, the entire city razed to the ground and all the sounding area reeking with the smell of dead bodies. A small patrol approached him and he was taken to high command to report what happened. After a sham of a trial he was accused of dereliction of duty and cast out in disgrace. Angered by the injustice of the trial where he had become a scapegoat, he began a search for something to give him the power to destroy Scorian.
He wandered for the next two years searching for something, anything, to aid him. His search finally led him to an evil temple deep in the dark elves' realm. After dispatching the demon guardian he found a black crystal skull on the altar. Here is where Talien turned his back on the god Mithaniel and took up the Black Skull of Power. For to use such an evil thing, a pact must be made with it himself. So in his search to stop evil he had become it..... For the next twenty years he served Kilengar and did many evil acts. He saw the very pits of hell and the deepest realms of the abyss and he was death incarnate to all he faced. One day Kilengar sent him to slay a female ranger that was troubling him. When Talien had tracked her down and cornered her he could not bring himself to slay her. She looked like his mother from a time that he could barley remember. But by staying his hand he had condemned himself to the wrath of Kilengar and he knew his time was limited. So he did the only good thing he knew he could and went to the crucible of time to destroy the Skull. To destroy it he had to jump into the crucible holding the skull. Mithaniel, seeing this act of redemption, took his soul before Kilengar could claim it and remade his soul in the Light. He has been given a chance that few ever receive and even fewer can live up to. For if he fails, his soul is Kilengar's to torment throughout the ages - but even worse are the memories that still haunt him from his dark past. So was Talien reborn as Tharian..........
Name: Ticarro Kinslayer
Class: Warrior
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 245
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Alignment: Neutral Good
Ticarro's Story
My childhood was uneventful... youngest son of a minor nobleman. And as the youngest son the chances of me holding title in House Aak'Sahn were very slim indeed. So it was decided at the age of 12 that I was to enter the priesthood, my father, being a noble pulled some strings and I was admitted into the Temple of Marr.
I spent 2 years as an acolyte, and when I proved more agile, and stronger than the other children did. (Not to mention a bit more of a temper) the priests requested the Hall of Truth take me on as a squire.
I had entered just like my hero Sir Lucan D'Lere! He was quite a Knight back then... Visiting our estate on a regular basis. I had never dreamed my life would be this exciting. (Sigh...)
2 years later I went to war. The Crusade of Tears... at the time we were just calling it the Goblin wars... the tears came later. 2 years I fought the goblin insurgence. Seeing what those foul beasts were capable of doing... makes me sick to this day. I learned to hate Goblins, really hate them... Mithaniel forgive me... but I digress.
By the age of 18, I was a battle hardened veteran and yet not even old enough to shave every day. Two years we fought the Goblin horde, and although we beat back their invasion... we never ever did get the upper hand.
It was two weeks after my 18th nameday when we received word from Freeport. I was just returning from patrol, to the entire army preparing to travel... it looked like a death pall had settled over the entire camp. There was not a smile to be seen, only hard grimaces, and looks of pain and determination. Panic began to rise in my throat when no one would talk to me let alone answer any questions as to what was going on. Finally, I searched out the Knight Captain... he was sitting outside his tent while squires were packing his gear. Head in his hands, at the sound of my approach he looked up at me and for a split second I saw anger and pure hatred there... so much so that it stopped me dead in my tracks... when I looked again, only pain. It was at that point that I REALLY knew fear... deep down in your toes, all alone, God forsaken.... FEAR. Never had any of the Goblin horde or atrocities make me feel like I did at the point.
"Ticarro" he said, "I've been waiting for you... come with me" and with that he stood, turned and entered his Tent. I don't remember how I got there, but I do remember being inside the tent... and that was my last lucid thought for a long time. Orcs had snuck into North Freeport and decimated the Hall of Truth killing all there... They had also killed every living soul left in the Temple of Marr. Actually they had laid waste to most of North Freeport, oh... but that wasn't the worst of it... not by a long shot. It seemed that West, and East Freeport escaped unscathed. Every Paladin left in Freeport fell before the Orcs.... But The Militia was able to fight off the same Orcs, with NO losses and no damage to property.
Oh... did I say the every Paladin was killed? Not true... One Survived... Sir Lucan D'Lere.
There was more... my head was ready to explode... but there was more. My brother and Heir to house Aak'Sahn was garrisoned in the Temple of Marr, and confirmed dead. On top of that, it seems that my entire family was visiting him that very week... all... confirmed dead. My mother... and two sisters... 16... and 12... all confirmed dead. There was more... Oh my GOD MITHANIEL MARR! Why hast thou forsaken me? There was more... A sympathizer had been captured... sympathizer? Militia sympathizer? no... This man was seen escorting the Orcs out of the tunnels beneath the city. Orc sympathizer? A HUMAN helping Orcs kill humans? There was more... What am I doing on my knees? Get UP! but there was more... The sympathizer's... no TRAITOR'S name was Joruun... Joruun Aak'Sahn... my father.
The rain was soothing, if cold... I was cold... cold and numb. Numb? how can it be raining in the tent? Mother... I'm... not in a tent... Brother... I'm not only not in a tent... but I'm no longer in camp... Sisters... on my knees again? What is wrong with my legs? Father? Never see them again... father.. Mithaniel... how could this be? father... What did I do to offend you my Lord? father... It was then in my weakness that he came to me...Mithaniel?... I will give you strength... Why hast thou?... I will keep you warm... Forsaken me?... I will NEVER forsake you... FATHER!!! Somewhere I felt Rallos Zek smile... and could have sworn Mithaniel Marr cried.
3 Knights had followed me for 2 days, never interfered... just watched, and waited. It was Rallos Zek that stood by my side as they cut the armor from my body. It was Rallos Zek that helped me into the peasant's tunic and pants, stripped of my house and guild colors. And it was Rallos Zek that rode by my side as they escorted me back to Freeport not a prisoner, yet never a word did they speak. And yet somewhere someone cried.
I will not go into the technicalities of what passed between my father and me when finally we did meet, no one will ever know that save us. But suffice it to say that I Ticarro Aak'Sahn of House Aak'Sahn willingly and of my own free will... executed my Father on my 19th nameday. And for the dishonor the traitor brought upon our house, and upon the Hall of Truth, and Temple of Marr. I... last surviving heir of House Aak'Sahn was stripped of all honors, titles, and colors. The name Aak'Sahn was stricken from all Hall of Truth and Temple of Marr records, and as a penance for the sins of my Father and my own patricide... I was given the name Kinslayer, and driven from the Hall. Somewhere someone cried.
Many years did I travel before I met the Hawkes... and although the way was difficult and tough, it was they that helped me return to Mithaniel Marr's side and put away my hate. No evidence was ever found against Sir Lucan D'lere, so he was not executed... he was stripped of all honors and titles and driven from the Hall. He now leads the very same Militia that fought off the Orcs with nary a scratch. I always said I wanted to be just like him... I have come too close for comfort. With Mithaniel Marr's and my new brother's and sister's help I shall return to the Hall of Truth, and have my come uppance with Lucan D'Lere. Somewhere someone laughs.
Name: Xarsis Riftwalker
Race: Human
Class: Wizard
Sex: Male
Height: 6'
Weight: 170
Eyes: Green
Hair: Black
Xarsis' Story
How it Began
It is dark and rainy, raining hard while I write this. I always had some innate abilities in my youth. It was that small amount of power that made me misunderstood. Lighting, what power. Could I control such power. I loved the rain. It was hard when I was young, They never understood, Human children rarely did, the master of the orphanage knew there was something "Different" about me, and he made it clear to the children that I was "Different". Children are very cruel, but I can't blame them, nor the adults that looked over us, they could not understand, and they feared what they did not understand. I had no friends to confide in really, so the day of the "incident" was especially cold and lonely. The children were being especially cruel that day, one of the Dirt balls meant for me broke the orphanage masters window, all the blame came down on me, I could not think , yelling, screaming at me, Un Just, Un Warranted, "Stop, It was not me!!" no one listened, Anger, Fear, RAGE. the last thing I heard him say "thunder? there are no clouds." In a Flash of light power and rage he was gone. It was me, I didn't know what was going to happen , I was afraid. Men in robes entered the small detention room I was held in, "How long child?" I didn't know what to answer. "when did you first know you were not the same, Little One?", "All my life sir." I looked in his eyes. I saw nothing but empathy, He knew my pain, "I will take him in my self" he said to the others, never taking his eyes from mine. As we were leaving the orphanage It began to rain "What a lovely day, isn't it Little One?". (to be continued)
The Scarab!
I was finished with my training, My mentor had sent me out to make a name for my self, I had mastered the starting arts of wizardry, and was ready to enter the world on my own, In my travels I met many a friend, people, while in the places of evil needed my assistance, wanted it. I grew to understand that friends were the most important people in your life, I heard of guilds and groups that join together and share friendship and information, and have events together, but never could I find one that fit my needs, I was growing in power and Strength of Magic, when one day I was searching out Items of power, and a barbarian friend of mine suggested that I speak with Ldyhawke, as she was able to create great jewelry of power. One day on my way to the vile pit of Unrest, I ran into her in what is called the Cauldron, she was with a group of fighters, I asked her about the jewelry she was very hospitable, one of the nicest persons I had met. I saw the guild tag she wore, "Scarab" I bid her farewell and went on my way, while In unrest I was invited into a group comprised of all scarab, excepting myself of course, They fought well and were all formidable warriors, but what made me think was how well they got along together, and they treated me like a friend right away, as if I was one of them. I started reading posts about them and their laws and ways, and decided that was where I wanted to be, I started the process of a recruit, I felt a little strange at first being a recruit as a wizard of the 25th circle. Not once was I treated as one. I one time thought to my self, what did A human Paladin see in a Dwarven Cleric, Then one day I was delivering a rare gift to Ldyhawke, when I saw her I went to bow before her, and she jumped up and hugged me (I had never been hugged by a dwarf before) I composed my self and finished my bow trying not smile too widely, I gave her the gift and she asked If I wanted payment , I did not, she was very kind and thankful, I at that time saw what Lord Hawke saw in her, and never again have I questioned any union. I knew I had made the right choice. I passed my entrance and I am now full Scarab. And I now have a Family of friends
In short, in EQ 1 Yoldie Laume was a member first of Eternal Warriors who folded after two members ran off with each other's wife/SO and guild fell apart. Since Yoldie really was growing up with the trollies and ogres of EQ, she joined the Bashin Ordur! until their demise - a piece of her heart still belongs to them.
Yoldie then went with a guild who asked her a few times to join them, Furious Pantaloons. It still was not the family Yoldie longed for. Along the youth of Yoldie, she had met Cloudy and Ozwyn from almost the start and had lots of fun with them - these two enticed Yoldie into playing more and more with SCARAB and WOW, she found a home in this family. Yoldie could be the socialite she wanted to be and make people laugh, listen to problems and bring a joy to their playing and their every day life, and just be who she really is. Dang, Yoldie would love a dime for every time she made a SCARAB member laugh because she could then afford to buy a house in Boca Raton, FL.
Yoldie
