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Messages - stormspirit
1
« on: June 05, 2007, 02:31:17 am »
The fact of the matter is its his ball to take, rarely do people leave the ball behind when the game is over. Clearly he feels that in addition to this his buddy was charging gate fee's and not telling him about it till very late in the game.
His work is his intellectual property, it was written by him and laboured on by him. Yes others became involved however like characters in a book, they do not take on possession of the lore created.
He has made his stand, agree or disagree with it it is his stand and that in itself is something that perhaps deserves respect and not active insults.
I think it unfair to construct a villian when really he is only standing up for his personal integrity as he views it. Not everyone has to agree with that view, but to condemn it is perhaps a very narrow focus indeed.
Good Luck Darkwulf with whatever you plan for the future.
2
« on: December 20, 2006, 06:09:50 am »
*Eldárwen wanders by and spies the note, stopping with a giggle she adds*
Ahh! You mean Celgar the potentiate. It seems leaving him in the halls of learning was a wise choice afterall.
3
« on: November 10, 2006, 12:30:40 pm »
Approved and Welcome.
The server address is west.layonara.com or you can find us listed in the Roleplay section of NWN Gamespy as Layonara Online - West The password is layoplayer
4
« on: November 05, 2006, 01:05:59 am »
Could you please expand this bio some. Also your friend wanted several things that are not supported here. As it is a wizard doesnt start the game with thieves cant. Elves however do start with an elven ear. If you wish a language other than elven you will need to write that into your bio detailing how you learnt it.
5
« on: November 04, 2006, 03:03:23 pm »
*tacked to the temple in rangers vale*
Esteemed servants of Aeridin,
I must humbly applaud the actions you have undertaken of the late, zeal and commitment untempered by the living spark of intelligence, driving you to deeds that can only be seen as forthright lunacy. Such devotion to your own extinction can only be seen as a fine thing, perhaps it is a new tenant of the lifegiver, one can only hope.
I have heard of your acts, both those that alienate old allies, causing time old alliances to fracture and fall to pieces, honest sacrifice on your part that was clearly misunderstood by those foolish others. How could any mistake such clear lessons of the lifegiver as torture...the logic eludes me...such folly.
Your recent work at Hurm was a marvel as well, I am told you took fine care of the sick who perhaps would not be sick at all without your acts. Still we are clearly all not busy enough so releasing a plague was an idea that would test your skills and give an otherwise pointless faith something to amuse themselves with. Im sure the fine folk of Hurm agree, they themselves needing to have numbers culled at the hands of inept healers and dragon illness both. Such dedication to principle regardless of cost! The lives lost are a small price to pay for such greater glory of the lifegiver!
So few others act so concisely to invite disaster, with such a flair for graceless acts and ill concieved action! So few seem to possess that spark of desire to cause woes to many, so pure that it cannot be misconstrued as anything else! I applaud you, your work, your zeal and hope that I myself can learn to better serve my lord in the light that you cast yours in. We should truly work more closely seeing as our goals to are so very similar!
My regards and thanks to your faith!
A devoted Corathite
6
« on: October 04, 2006, 02:22:19 pm »
Your summons voice command is /o s
7
« on: June 30, 2006, 04:29:05 am »
Fixed. Mith owes thanks to Kira and Voon for the decency they showed in his defence.....Many would have chuckled and kept walking.
8
« on: June 26, 2006, 01:06:41 am »
Bioware Name: Stormspirit-Pol
Character Name: Eldárwen Hilliaranane (29)
9
« on: May 29, 2006, 04:58:29 am »
Memories fly around the room, darkness that lingers and twists as soundless night spills forth from the blade, twisting around the room to hold me tight, vision fades to that of an earlier time, a time when my from was slighter and friends were closer, when reliance on both myself and others came easier but at higher cost, always higher in cost. Sight is replaced with visions, spills of shadow that form shapes long since forgotten to shadow forged steel.
....”The plane of shadows once more forms before me, darkness spilling around in shades of grey and black as I clutch twin blades in my hand carefully. This time however I am not alone, Shaori and Slyfoot, my two dearest friends are with me this time, friendship calling to them, and illness...a need to cure what takes Arabel now in storm.
For this time it is no simple pleasure trip to the Plane of Shadows, no seeking for seekings sake, Mother has sent us this time seeking the darkest hole, the purest form of negative energy. This place is known as deaths grip.....the focus of much of the negative energy that flows among the plane and beyond. She did not send us lightly, a disease spread by a half-orc in has Arabel in its grasp, a disease that tears humanity from the victim and turns them to mindless animalism. Slyfoot contracted the disease, and though this in itself was not the sole reason, to lose such a dear friend would have been enough reason to send us here in itself. We came to arrest the spread of the disease, to halt it. In order to manage this Mother needed the essence of this twisted place...an essence almost impossible to recover. Yet we of course had to try, for Slyfoots sake, and the many innocents that had already contracted the illness itself.
Of course no one can touch the grip with hands alone, its corruption more extreme than the disease itself. In order to collect the essence Mother forged a second sword, twin to I Linde Makil itself, dubbing it I Linde Makil Seler, the sister sword of the blade of sound. However this one was rather different, not built to focus sound into a confusing song of chaos, but collect from the grip and store the essence in the song quartz gathered at the focal point of the hilt. Once we had it we could return home once more, we just needed to find the grip, find it and then make our way out...
Such a thing was to be far more painful than we had thought, shadows assaulted us as soon as we walked forth, darkness of the worst kind that preyed on our fears and terrors, preyed on the dark points of our souls. Shaori fought with her daggers, points of light that she threw with deadly accuracy into shadowed bodies, Slyfoot with his huge blade and myself with the weave and twin swords. We had worked together so long, it seemed little could touch us, Shaori and I joined in perfect harmony of Sandcaller and second, magic flowing around her to strike her enemies while Slyfoot held the front line firmly from against all assault. The struggle was of course intense, the journey so incredibly hard that it seemed almost fruitless to continue at many points.
Wounds were to cover us, small and niggling at first but growing quickly into more than irritation, constant loss of blood that flew so fast and free, draining more than the simple fuel of life from body, but even more so from the soul. It seemed there was no congealing here, every wound taken wept, constant and sodden to leave trails of bloody spite where ever we were to walk. Even more than before shadows were to spill forth as we came closer and closer to the dark well that was the grip.
As it came into view it was much like the hells had all broken loose from moorings, wave after wave of night pounded into us, intense and unrelenting as waves and tides, beyond number or even a decent desire to count. Time became meaningless, moments stretched to eternity as blades rose and fell, a rhythm that had became more a routine of death, mechanical, practiced and well beyond reasoned response. Finally the tide slowed, the waves ceased. Daggers and swords dropped, The Weave in my hands sizzled finally to silence.
We were of course beyond spent, beyond the realms of any reasonable state of what could be called tired or even sane. The grip just before us we decided we could sit a moment, a small moment of time that would not be missed be any, not even ourselves. Shaori leaned against me, snuggling her halfling self into repose, lines of worry that were not usually apparent on her small face highlighted by the odd glow in the place. I assured her we were almost there, almost safe to go home once more with what we sought after. A small ruffle of her hair, a quick peck against sable locks...as her face filled with mischief looked to me...and changed from small flickers of amusement and secrets hidden to shock and pain.
Such a moment lost to memory, such a moment perhaps should have never been found. Her face in that moment was filled with surprise and remorse, pain and loss so profound that I could not fathom that singular moment of tear streaked pain.. It became an instant etched to eternity of mind, sweetness of form mingled with the startling revelation of sudden death.
A shadowy talon exited through her chest, tearing small heart to smaller pieces as she rested close to me. A singular shadow, a singular creature enough to bring loss so great that my heart could stand no more of it. I let the spirit of the place take me then, anger so pure in form that in moments the shadow was little more than inky pieces, unable to hold form. Tears mingled with rage, I never learnt...never rest here...never let down your guard, never ever let a moment of soft weakness take you or you will lose all you love to this stinking hole.
Momentarily my eyes were dragged back to her still and rapidly fading form, her eyes once so alive blanketed in the stillness of death before she finally faded. Nothing dead lasts long on the Plane of Shadows, almost a sort a time as anything good tends to last in this place. Anger filled me, or was it anger, was it mine? Inspired by the grip itself, or loss I cannot be sure. All that I am sure off is we were where we needed to be, and I could and would not waste a moment that was paid for by emptying my life.
In anger I jammed I Linde Makil Seler into the grip.
In anger the blade drank like a thirsty vampire at a hollow neck.
In response the liquid substance of the grip flared forth, splashing my sword, the hilt and the hand that held the thirsty blade, and with it came all the darkest dreams of self imaginable.
My soul twisted with the touch, the essence quickly absorbed by skin to rapidly become part of the whole, part of the darker portion of self that always lingers beneath the civilized veneer. The control that was usual to those of all sentient kind unbound as instinct warred with sense, a sooty patch where the grip touched appearing on my hand and rapidly spreading up my arm. I looked over to Slyfoot, rage warring with a plea for aid, desire to maim mixing with a a true need for help on my face.
It was only a few moments...a few moments before I collapsed in a pile....Memories..the few that I had of the trip were unpleasant Slyfoot traveled without purpose, without knowing where he needed to go, carrying me all the while. At times I regained consciousness, rabid and animal like he soon beat me back to oblivion....soon enough he needed tie me to insure that I did him no harm in the journey.
At the limits of Slyfoots strength we were to find sanctuary of a kind, a place that defied the Plane of Shadows completely and echoed a light into the place while seeming to absorb from all around, Slyfoot seemed to sense that this place could offer aid and at least some kind of relief to me, and so for the first time we entered the citadel of light.
What was the citadel? At the very least a mystery, at the most a cause of where we walked. It was something that was unanswered for my time there, and now none there are capable of answering. What was certain was the place was not of Layonara, or if it was then they people were from so long ago they no longer recalled the land, or the gods that watched over them. They were a people alone, insular by choice and only found when the need was greatest. Certainly our need was great., and as Slyfoot fought my bound and struggling form the inhabitants could clearly see such.
They took me from Slyfoot, ministering potion after potion till I was finally rendered blessedly unconscious. I awoke what must have been several days later, tended by a man with gentle hands, and a kind smile...though his brow seemed constantly furrowed in concern that I could not place. He was not old, though older than I was, yet the skill in healing he evidenced went well beyond the years that marked him. His voice was as soft and cultured as his hands, though at first he spoke to me sparingly.
The essence of the grip I could still feel burning inside, not gone yet due to the ministrations of the healers here subdued. Ideals of restraint, right and wrong that were burnt away replaced with artificial bounds of reason, supplied by the magic of the Citadel and this mans remarkable work. However, and he made this more than clear, the taint was spreading, even he, the most accomplished of the Citadels healers could do nothing for me. As long as I remained calm, the disease would not take me, as long as I kept anger at bay reason would remain held fast in magic. Yet my body would still fall victim to the poison working its will within, and sooner rather than later I would die from its effect, as all sentience was robbed from me and I needed to be laid to rest for the good of all. He was sympathetic as he pronounced the sentence of death, calm and filled with remorse but holding nothing of the truth back from me.
Slyfoot he informed me was no better off. Though the lack of time in the Plane of Shadows proper had arrested the disease he had contracted in Arabel, The Citadel was not beyond the touch of the clock, and Slyfoot had once more began to feel the affects. He too would soon die, his decay already more advanced than my own, yet somehow different as his body fell to the illness along with his mind. There was little he could do for either of us in truth, but make us comfortable and give us what joy we could have in the last time of life we had left to us. Not much, but perhaps enough to have at least a last passing grace. Darker intentions rebelled against this of course, darker thoughts that lurk beneath said they were lying...and did not want to offer a cure that they surely had. Suppression in magic came easy for now, the grip denied by Lucinda's touch.
Days passed and they were as happy as could be. I visited Slyfoot often, though he was never aware of the visits, the healers keeping him sedated beyond ability to recognize my presence. I hoped on some level he knew that I had at least come. I spent much time exploring the paths of The Citadel, being given swordless freedom to search and explore its many mysteries and secrets for myself. The trust itself was touching, either faith in their own magic or faith in my nature dispelling any concerns.
The place in itself was a wonder, many many devices of magic littering its halls, some that stabilized it in the Plane, others that gave it time over the usual timeless status of the Plane of Shadows. Some devices I was sure kept the native corrupted denizens of the place at bay, others I found seemed to have no reason to them at all. Like giant riddles they were, advanced beyond my own learning and not explaining themselves in function at all. Slowly the Healer reinforced the wards that held my sanity firm, slowly trust was built and my freedoms were increased, twin swords returned to me in would would perhaps in the end prove to be foolish faith, or gross overconfidence by those that dwelt in this place.
Days turned to a month, long discussions on the healing arts, some talks of Lucinda..whom they had never of, and of course ever lengthening discussions on magic dominated my days. Visits to Slyfoot slowly became less and less frequent as his condition deteriorated to that of a simple animalistic nature, his body reflecting the changes that were forcing evolution from within. It was hard for me to face him in such a state, even harder since I was well aware that my own condition would eventually end much like his own. It is ever hard to face the truth of ones own demise in another form. Though the magic held firm inside, my body showed the effects of the grip, the dark splotch that started on hand alone spreading infectiously slow further along my forearm, the pressure within increasing daily, demanding I give in to tendencies that surely were not my own. Or were they? It became increasingly hard to tell at times.
Days were to continue..yet one visit to Slyfoot finally showed truth of what needed be done, the truth of what would happen to me, the truth of what I did not want to be, not now and not ever. His condition had worsened, and now no sedation would hold him to place, firm ropes were all that kept him from rending any who came near to his form. Eyes that blazed forth all animal fury regarded me, cunning and powerful and beyond recognizing who I was at all.
To leave him this way struck me as wrong, he was no longer in there at all, the true Slyfoot had passed away months ago. A diseased husk was all the remained, one that had no right to defile memory of such a dear friends life. It was quick, Slyfoot howled at me much like the beast he had became Linde Makil sighed once, discordant sounds of grief that flowed from my soul and the blade both as bright melody fused metal pierced and silenced the heart.
A single tear was all that came, my own illness allowing for little more. He deserved his fate for carrying me to such a hopeless end in any case.....No...he had carried me here at cost to self...No he was selfish and came here for his own sake. I left all the thoughts be. My friend was dead, his reasons no longer mattered.
Alone now, not so much in company for Slyfoot had offered none, but the only one from far home in this place seemed to increase the darkness that dwelt within me. I became moody, though I hid this from my captors, I could not let them see such swings for they would surely put me to the sword. My explorations continued, mostly alone now. The strain of keeping a smiling and tempered face in company of those that would confine me for difference keeping me apart. It was on one of these solitary journeys I was to find the greatest secret of magic that the citadel held. A simple chamber, magnificent in its complexity and beautiful in its function, magic played about it like fallen leaves in autumn, surrounding its confines with a constant shower of light to weave graced eyes.
However the chamber was kept locked, only those who lead the Citadel able to open it. Yet this room, this simple chamber held my hope. The magic it held could undo all the disasters and create another chance, another history. Called the Chamber of Timeless past it had the capacity to move the interior through time, I could return and undo all that was done, make a new road that would allow my heart to live, if not my body.
I spent much time with the chamber, working out its secrets from the outside, working to understand its magic. Making plans to have access to it regardless of what the owners of the citadel were to say. Oddly as the dark mark of the grip spread, strength seemed to grow with it. I spent hours practicing with blades, stamina seemed to increase in every moment, agility and strength flowing endlessly from a soft well of suppressed anger. The grip was not sure a bad thing, it seemed to enhance as it advanced, from lithe to lightning I trained, the essence of the Plane of Shadows feeding my skills with endless devotion to the potential such training held.
It took several more weeks before I felt I was ready to ask to actually ask my mentor, perhaps he was a friend, perhaps he was not. Lately I had found them all watching me more carefully, much like some odd specimen that might turn around and bite them at any moment. My slow withdrawal from contact of course did little to help with this, the ever spreading stain that had consumed most of my arm a telltale sign of what was soon to come. Foolishly they left me with no restrictions, nor did they take blades from me. Perhaps they saw the joy I took in practice, or perhaps they were blind and naive. Whatever the reason it suited me well enough that they left me be.
The asking as I half expected did not go well, The Healer of the citadel firmly denying such a request, no matter what benefit it may bring to me, or what tragedy it may manage to avert. The Chamber has always been used only in one manner, to observe, not to change the past, nor to leave the one who traveled back in the past. Her believed the consequences themselves could simply be far to dire to be worth the risk.
Easy for him to say in truth, for all the people of this place were simply unaware of what loss truly was. Living in a nice insulated space, free from the ravages of hunger, no real needy and with a simple switch able to turn away the sway of time. Never having suffered they clearly had no empathy for those who must, for the people who must live in a reality that contains disasters and a far more challenging environment than their own. Callous not in cruelty, yet callous they were in a uncaring lack of understanding.
Empathy and the sharing of suffering is a valuable lesson to learn. One they had clearly neglected for far too long. It was little more than a twitch, a small movement that started the inevitable path, the torrents of blood to follow. The first lesson taught to a Healer who should by rights have understood, the value of life, the speed of its taking and the seconds that feel like an eternity as the red essence of awareness drips from sharp blade to pristine floors.
The second lesson was on the stairwell, guards that had no purpose learnt that no matter how peaceful life may seem threats dwell in shadows, and lurk in the dark. Magic binds them and swords take them, my own heartbeat becoming as dark pulse as the watchers threads fall cut. Complacent and foolish, fat without struggle.
Path set now the chamber beckons, deceptions not in my mind for a peaceful path to the chamber, a burning need to show these people the harsh reality that the dream they live in defies. The third lesson falls in sound and a spray of the grip. Not even the children are innocent, already guilty of a idle life they will spend denying the hurt of others.
So it went, one after the other, reason decreasing, less needed to inflict additional harm as I walked The Citadel of Light. The Chamber of Timeless Past became less a goal and more an eventuality, it seemed there were so many to spare from a fruitless and ultimately doomed existence, to many hearts beating in this place alone, no synchronization with others...no sympathetic existence.
The specter of death walked with twin swords this day, pure sound and deepest evil slaying in some macabre chaotic dance. Hours upon hours passed, tireless I sought all those living, till there were no discordant hearts remaining to beat, deafening silence and blood drenched arms all that remained. Reason slowly resurfaced, at very least the portion that guided my path to the sealed doors of the chamber, a long path, as I walked wounds received began to ache and exhaustion went beyond even the masterful strength of the grip.
The last of my magic opened the way, the last of my magic carried faltering steps into the room. A room filled with...
Nothing. The deepest darkness of the void.
Memory flickers and changes...
10
« on: May 24, 2006, 09:24:41 am »
So little was complete, so little that was given was whole and completely true in itself. Memories of a past that seemed to be held entire proven false, or at the very least segregated and portioned off. It was said for my own protection. It was said that I myself had requested no contact with these painful parts of turmoil that existed in a past I perhaps wanted to leave behind.
Yet...as all things go this was not to last, the truth is never really far from catching us at all. Mostly a mere heartbeat behind, its pursuit eternal as it struggles to find us and in that fulfilled search aid us to learn and grow...or perhaps to disable us completely. Truth is like that it seems, it is both confidante and teacher, yet also destroyer and despair. I am unsure what my latest gains of past were, which category defines them. What I am sure of is that they changed more of me in moments than many things have in years.
It of course started once more with a missive from Mother, which called me home to the Tower of my family in Saida, the discussion itself was simple, my aid needed for a group I had formed sometime ago in Arabel, a group of rogues and thieves. Formed to provide Saida with exposure to the outside world, and for the outside world to know something of Voltrex, these information smugglers became all that and more. Until I died. After that it seems the decline began, the group losing its head failing in focus and falling into a slow decay that left only the core to remain and work for original cause. Now..now of course things had become worse and Mother felt the need to tell me of this portion of the past, one that I had hidden away from myself for the longest time.
Memories....memories held in a blade. Mother had kept it hidden and safe, I Linde Makil Seler, dark twin sister to the sword of sound. My second blade, crafted with single purpose that seemed less than full, and more than empty. She released wards on the blade this night, freed it from its hiding place in her study and once more returned the grip scorched blade to my ownership.
Like the emerald crystal before the blade imprinted with past, I Linde Makil Seler was different. It was given memory freely, and that selfsame memory was taken cleanly from my mind, deemed too painful, too damaging to remain within recall. Yet as mother scribed arcane patterns in the air the sword was once more revealed, smoky and corrupt and holding all the things about myself I wanted to forget and move away from. Failures and mistakes, things that I in my weakness could not cope with, that I had voluntarily left for someone else to fix.
Mother unbound the last of the wards, and revealed the sword. Much like its sister of sound I Linde Makil Seler was of beautiful construction, though somehow sootier and the song that rang from the blade somewhat darker. Overtones of threat and menace seemed to permeate it, warning that what it held was not for fragile ears, or for the weak of mind. Still it called to me, another piece in the puzzle of myself that was a lure, and much like any good fish at the end of a lure I could not say no. Completion seemed to beckon in the dark blade, a call to know more of myself than I had ever known before.
Tentative, ever so tentative a touch. Pale hand on darkened hilt, sound crystal set in pommel flashing with a deep shadow as memories once more took me to a place deep in my mind, fragments of past starting to fill once more as sight faded to memory....
11
« on: March 28, 2006, 03:08:13 pm »
*joins the trashcan calendar throwing since his told him daylight saving was a week earlier than it really was* Yep....
12
« on: March 27, 2006, 11:57:11 pm »
All my quests run in aus time, being in Melbourne myself, though the current series is closed off at this time that will change once certain criteria are filled. Pans also run in aus times, same as my own. Usually they start at 9 pm my time. Dezza also runs in aus time, usually between 8.30-9pm start. Pan and I run once a week or so for the moment, Dezza a little less often but when he can. The number of quests in the timezone is not extreme, but they are out there to be attended.
13
« on: March 21, 2006, 04:18:04 pm »
Alasse is showing twice on mine, well at least kind of. There is a right one of Alasse and and another as Alass. Description has vanished from both.
14
« on: March 10, 2006, 08:59:45 pm »
I can understand the desire to make the most of the numbers, and no matter what we say most of us do mxamise feats, stats and so on (just look at the number of aasimar paladins and clerics). The circular arguement of people doing what they are suited to or min/maxing kinda gets lost in it all. I wouldnt call that powergaming min/maxing just a fair degree of practicality. From the perspective of levels you need to have fighter and sorcerer at least five apiece (clearly rp should dearly direct your characters advancement). Beyond that your completely open.
Unfortunately I dont have a fighter/sorc to comment, Dorg's character Connor is so perhaps get in touch with him if you want pointers on what works and what doesnt overall.
15
« on: February 18, 2006, 01:53:16 am »
Much as ghost, and as I said after the quest.....Epic characters are few and well, yeah welk known. They are in many cases exemplars of certai traits or strategies, skills and knacks. Tribas knack is sneaking, it has been since the day that Eld met her two odd RL years ago now. Does that mean Eld KNOWS abigail isnt as good as Triba. Of course not, its always possible she is. Yet we look at the distinction and reputation attached to a character and well..yeah unless you were under a rock you would know at least a little of the characters woh have managed to bust through the epic threshold. Eld wouldnt know Abigail from a bar of soap, on the other hand she does know Triba and so would MOST of the population of adventurers on Layonara.
I mean to know that Triba is in someway unique walk through the front door of The Great Library, or hear that she is ambassador to Voltrex, or has helped or been instrumental in many successful forays against blood and his forces. Yet to point out, and clearly that it was a comment made IC and that I was no way intending to steal a choice from any:
[CHAT WINDOW TEXT] [Thu Feb 09 15:19:05] Eldárwen Hilliaraname: [Party] That is the best path...your choice I have no stake
As stated in the quest, It wasnt a matter inferiority, simply of choosing the best for the task at hand.
Lastly however if eld does mock, or does belittle...and surely most of you have met her by now and know that she deals with certain things and certian people in certain ways. That doesnt mean I am mocking you, nor the epic is mocking you because she is epic. Its nothing more than eld mocking and nothing more..she had a similiar tone at level 10 as she does now at 28....so it has nothing to do with her level at all.
Strayed a little, lI think as players we all need to think a little more on what we would have sensibly heard. Plen, Bird Lord and Eyes of Katia, Rufus, leader of groups of mages and master fo the necromatic arts, Kobal destroyed of a bloodpool and restorer of Norands Clan Homes....Tak, HIgh Hammer of Dorand, Reventage the Harper of Ilsare and so on. All have distinction for a reason, and many have titles to add to the distinctions. Even in RL..well I have never met Tolkien but I have heard of him as have most. These days some havent read it, but few dispute his stance of a classical fantasy master just based on the words of the many who use the name in a tone akin to awe for his writing creativity and skill in world construction.
The world we play in emulates the Real in fantasy, yet though we know hlint is many many commoners we never see them, we assume them. It is safe to assume in the same way that people who have gone beyond the usual stock of skill into the epic realms is something a little more.
To quote the nwn online manual:
"The epic rules are the means by which a character continues his or her adventuring career. Added in Hordes of the Underdark, these rules cover levels 21 to 40. 'Epic' levels are used when a character reaches a certain point in their adventuring career, to signify that their deeds have earned them worldwide recognition. Most Epic-level characters can be assumed to have 'retired' from active adventuring life, since there is very little left to challenge them on a typical adventure. Such characters may make 'cameo' appearances in later adventures, but they are usually not brought back into active play in a pen-and-paper session.
Perhaps the best known Epic-level character is Elminster the Sage, currently residing, in retirement, in his tower in the town of Shadowdale."
Or the nwn handbook paper thingy we all likely have since we own the game (he says as he asks someone else to find theirs since his has vanished into the miasmic cupboard of doom)
"Your training and arduous ordeals have finally brought you to the threshold that divides the realms of mortal from those of the divine. You are an epic character, capable of choosing legendary feats and raising your skills to god-like levels. Please refer to your epic class feat(s) for specific information on class benefits derived from becoming an epic character."
As per these descriptions I truly would need to ask the question..."Who hasnt heard of Triba?" As players we perhaps need to re-evaluate our view of epic characters and perhaps understand that these individuals are not walking nobodies with big numbers attached to a character sheet and name, but people who have earnt a certain renown due to actions or deeds that has seen them move beyond the ordinary and normal."
As per these descriptions I truly would need to ask the question..."Who hasnt heard of Triba?" As players we perhaps need to re-evaluate our view of epic characters and perhaps understand that these individuals are not walking nobodies with big numbers attached to a character sheet and name, but people who have earnt a certain renown due to actions or deeds that has seen them move beyond the ordinary and normal.
16
« on: February 11, 2006, 01:49:58 pm »
Awww we will surely miss Brac!
Perhaps not the perfect place to post it but a place that might get seen since I am posting this on my morning of the event, those on Tear originally (IE: earliest sessions) Who missed the later ones please check the calendar event. These exceptions are only made to those who have heard the song on first or subsequent sessions.
17
« on: February 10, 2006, 03:13:49 pm »
There are so many things in all of this that are simple misconceptions.
1) a)Harlas bought in no epic help, he was Pmed by new players asking if they could attend. He never offered nor made a step towards "bringing in epic gm help to solve the quest." The pm was sent due to this particular quest being at a very early hour in the morning and a lack of desire to get to a quest somewhere on central at that hour to find out that going was impossible. Harlas simply responded with conditions of attendance. There is nothing wrong with that at all in my view, he did as he thought was right under the circumstances,
b)Not sure what people see our role as when we run quests to be honest. As a Gm we do not exist to make sure you solve quests, in actual fact I would assume Harlas is much like Pan or myself in this regard....it is a possibility you will fail. Perhaps as a Gm we like to see happy players who are successful..yet that wont stop incorrect actions leading to failure. Gms arent there to brig in help or insure that you succeed. We are there simply to offer a quest and allow people to enjoy the added diversity and challenge available in new situations and environments that only gm/player interaction can present.
2)Odd how the post quest discussion there was the insinuation that epics were lazy (funnily epics tend no to become epic if they are lazy). This thread points to them being rather dominating, imposing and of a take control nature. In the end you people need to look at what they want from the characters who yes tend to lead from an excess of experience on quests. However under these criteria epics face a condemned if they do or they dont process as if they take an active role they are dominating a quest, if they sit back in more support roles we become lazy and people point at us resting on our laurels.
3) The level spread was not that great, the two additional high levels didnt add a great deal in the range of upper level. There were other epics on the quest, and some who are verging. Not sure how it was that two more made a huge difference. Perhaps the two more just covered more skillsets and that was not pleasant to those who previously dominated in said skillsets. Unfortunately layonara like RL tends to always hold someone better at something than you are...and that applies to all including myself.
4)On the few opinions that were given, there is little need to know the details since they were simply logical conclusions drawn from who is good at what, with the disclaimer attached "I have no stake in this so the choice is yours" Not sure what more people want. You dont want an opinion given on the most logical way to do things from another view? If thats the case then there is little point being there in any way or form. I, Pan...indeed almost every person to ever go on a quest does not go to sit like a clam in a corner. As a Gm I could and would never expect that and on the rare occasions that I do get that I find that the lack of engagement is rather dissappointing. Regardless of that Fenrir explained what had gone before in a brief entirety, so thanks and congratulations for him for dealing with additions in a constructive manner.
Long and short there are several ways of dealing with new people attending any running event, of course the preferred way for most who run events is to integrate them, explain past events and let them take a role in what is to come. I have lost track of the number of times I have reiterated past sessions to new players or sat as a Gm for a good hour while listening to new players having events explained to them. Epic or not shouldnt matter, in my view I tend to be overjoyed as a player to see epics turn up. Often diversity of experience will help with solutions that I, or others dont see. IC im not sure how you could argue any different. If well known people who had solved a plethora of problems turned up to help I would be more than welcoming. Aferall anything that increases the chances of success must be a good thing in the end.
Secondly you can of course tell them they are not welcome, an event that as a Gm I havent yet seen and hope I never have to deal with. The event when open is exactly that, open and able to be added to at Gm discretion. I understand that this event was in some manner seen as closed yet harlas has explained that as a misunderstanding so the judgement call once more sits in the hands of the eventowner. Angels Tear is the same, I use my own discretion when I open and close it and dont seek input from everyone when I do so. Turning people away however is an option and would need to be dealt with in character at the time.
We have of course the last scenario here wherein one nor two happened, excluding the rare exceptions of course. There was no move to tell the new players to leave, nor was there much of an attempt to integrate them into the party and make the event enjoyable for all. The second could have easily been done, the first even simpler though it would have of course had IC ramifications. I dont see why we need to be so possessive of quests IF the Gm has deemed them open.
18
« on: January 27, 2006, 03:16:36 pm »
Sending Pm to harg to see where he is at, if not moving straight to Rev.
Pm sent, giving harg till the end of Kobals next week to get to me, after that week planning time off and then I will move on.
19
« on: January 04, 2006, 06:23:00 am »
**After some time staring over the mountains surrounding Stone she once more picks up her quill**
With Mother restored things were much easier of course, she was able to give advice and help facilitate the change for the scrolls to the Weird of the Pools. My Father became the Weird of air, Alala ( once a Queen of her own little underwater kingdom) became the Weird of Water, Jaldrix (a cranky outcast efreet of some kind) became fire and of course Laanela was to become earth. All faced changes but none were to be as great as the ones granted to earth.
Stone, well that is very difficult to know where to start. The only one of the scrolls free to learn and grow, the only one that was in essence truly a living entity. How did this come to pass..well memory is a little shaky, the details not clear in my own mind...yet I do remember some...
**she pauses a moment, the quill moving almost habitually as her eyes lose themselves to memory**
“Its dark, shadows lurch all around in an odd parody of life. This place is endless and though this is the second time I have traveled to the Plane of Shadows it is not any easier to tolerate. The paths are endless, despair and grief as long as the the very darkness itself in this place. The reason I come here is almost lost, a purpose close to forgotten in in itself. Yet somehow, that lost purpose drives me, pushes me to a place that I am almost certain I will never find. Here I seek a soul for a friend, the junction of life, shadow and earth the only place to find such.
Soon of course I am hopelessly lost. Landmarks are slim, the plane itself marking movement as a whim of the mind that has little to do with the body itself, endless cycles of walking that tire the intellect and drain the soul while leaving the body mostly unscathed Soon enough I tire, and though I well know the costs of resting here I am left with little to no choice. Laying I Linde Makil close to hand I decide...a quick rest, a short time of study will refresh..yes it cant be that dangerous can it... the shadows will wait for me, this place of darkness cannot steal me that quickly at all. I reach for my book and open it, arcane symbols swim and merge making little sense to me already exhausted mind as darkness soon closes from the rim of my vision to block the world entirely.
How wrong can one be, doomed to the frailty of my mind. Eyes close, barriers on mind and spirit fall as the waking mind relaxes all wards and safeguards. The barriers fall and the essence of the plane invades, hungry shadows tearing at the defenseless spirit and rending the open mind. They feed, push the inner self to despair and feast on the fear and desperation that constantly grows within. Sleeping..resting becomes an ever weakening in itself. Internal despair gives way, the primal essence of self open to all deprecations that the shadow plane can inflict...Nightmares spin forth, my worst realities true here, no escape apparent until I perceive a darkness deeper than the rest, true night in a place of reflections? I am not sure it is an escape but surely it is better than this place, better than waiting for the final draining of who I was. Resolutely I send awareness spiraling into the night, the deep velvet curtain of true rest seems to part and greet me.
When I awaken my eyes are filled with grit, the sands of sleep heavy under my eyelids. I pry them open and find myself staring directly into the reddest of eyes, an odd shadowy body looming over me. Dizzy with the after affects of sleep magic seems not an option and I scamper towards my sword desperately. Yet..the shade does not move, just regards me with an impassive almost sarcastic demeanor..not threatening nor denying me a weapon. I slow my rush, fear as usual replaced by the dreadful family curiosity as I examine the first shadow that seems to mean no harm.
Gaunt..was the best way to describe it, though surely more solid than most of the creatures I have ran across here, less a tragic reflection seeming more to have a being of its very own. Clawed hands were unclenched, the fingers twitching but relaxed on the end of arms too long for body. Yet it was the eyes themselves that seemed to hold me..red yes..and yellow as well...with patches of a rusty brown, glowing and flickering like patterns in the spectrum of a rainbow. It...well grinned at me...unnerving to say the least...and like bolt from Lucinda it struck, this things form was soft..and it was night beyond nightmares. Not a fragment of a place gone wrong but a shard of true darkness itself.. My mind had fled to this..thing as comfort in the dark, as a defense in a place that I was defenseless. In reality this creature, whatever it was, had saved me from myself.
Whats more this creature seemed to be finding my discomfit rather amusing. Its grin if possible became wider and a hollow sounding chuckle issued from the rather nebulous cavity of a mouth. Under usual circumstances I would say that the sight of what was clearly some type of fiend laughing at me would be a cause for alarm, yet in this place it was like rain falling on land desperately in need of water. Refreshing humor in a humorless place. Still I have never liked to be the brunt of laughter, refreshing or otherwise and it did not take me long (after retrieving my blade..of course) to tell the thing that. Its laughing slowly ceased as I started to wander away, following my with a strange loping gait that made me almost as uncomfortable as the rest of this place. Yet how does one stop the dark following you in a place of shadows? Might as well try to draw The Weave without the goddess, and so I left him to follow as he would.
For some reason the journey seemed to gain pace now, the sleep having refreshed me I was able to move forwards, and whats more it seemed I was moving in a direction that was actually close to attaining my goal. Time passed, and slowly as we walked I started to talk to the creature. It told little of itself bar its name..Blink...well I would guess Blink is as good a name as any for a walking black spot really. He was not kind, nor was he cruel, he had a sharp sense of humor that matched my own and soon had me laughing as he told me strange stories of his life in this place. Things were well and truly looking up, when I needed rest Blink would watch for me, comforting in the true darkness of his form. When I was down he made me smile and when over confident he was the first to bring me to a level that was better fitting the chances of success.
Yet even in this new found friendship the search went no better, Blink never asked what I sought, he really never seemed to care, appearing mostly happy in the companionship of someone who didn't want to tear of an arm for lunch. After what seemed weeks and weeks of constant searching I had finally decided that there was no chance of success, that the journey was fruitless and the scroll who had become a friend would indeed never be anymore than the construct intelligence it was. I told Blink as much, that my search for the junction of life, death and earth was ending, I was giving up and returning home.
To my surprise he seemed more amused by this than anything I had said thus far, his eyes lighting with an interior hilarity and irony that has not yet faded from my memory. He spread his arms, and the firefly colors of his eyes sparked along them. Along one spindly branch the flicker of yellow fled, striking shadows it expanded, bathing them in a fierce glow before they vanished before the glare of positive energy. A red spark flowed across his other outstretched hand, enhancing shadows and bringing them to sharp contrast with the yellow lights flickering against opposing side. The last colors, earth reddish brown dropped like a tear from the corners of almost vacant eyes, striking the blackness at his feet with a soundless clammer, soft soil springing around him.
“You just had to ask” was all he said.
To say irritated would be an understatement...annoyed....more so...angry as Lucinda with an outbreak of dead magic closer to the truth. Yet sometimes relief and gratitude is more poignant than any anger, and this was to be one of those times. I retrieved Laanela from my pack, the scroll mostly dormant here and handed it to the one I had come to know as my friend, the carrier of the junction.
As the scroll touched his hands the essence of the three flared, yellow beacons of positive force striking the scroll, mingling with chaotic red bursts of death while strong scents and tendrils of solid brown earthen magic flowed from beneath Blinks feet to balance them all in a strange wild harmony. Very briefly the power flowed, lining them both in a tangled mismatched fire before it went out completely. Laanela fell though Blinks hands, landing on the once more dark ground...I had succeeded could feel along the link of earth new awareness slowly unfolding in Laanela, a baby awakening with the first thrills of enhanced perceptions to the outside world. Yet something...somehow was not right. I sought through the link yet Laanela seemed perfect, bewildered as only a new awareness can be but well.
It was then I was to notice Blink...magic expended and eye sockets now devoid of the power that had once filled them. My seeking had ended, my search and his reason for embodiment was over. His deep shadows thinned, slowly dispersing back to the stuff of darkness that had helped to form him, his sarcastic grin frozen into place, a grim rictus of the magic that had empowered him through the search. The etheric patterns of the plane started to stream around Blink and his form ran like ink from a well, losing parts quickly back to nothingness. Something was indeed not right....if one such as Blink could die, the he was passing before my eyes.
I tried to tell myself he was just a shadow, s creature of the plane that had no real purpose but the one he had fulfilled, I tried to tell myself that his awareness would continue beyond my leaving no matter that the form was gone, yet every moment of interior dialogue pulled my friends form piece by piece away from me. To infuse one was should not be to lose the other, for that reason in itself I could not let it end. Form was needed, and could be given, arcane bindings springing to mind, improvisation over standard incantations as the last etchings of Blinks body started to worm away. My own magic struck him then, small blue sigils that beckoned, not forceful but making an offer, pleading with him to not leave, offering the sanctuary of a new form.
The last tattered remnants faded away, Blinks strands absorbed back into the nightmare surrounding. Small tears fell from me eyes as I lost one who had supplied hope in the most hopeless of places. I uttered a small cantrip, light glowing from a cupped hand and with Laanela in a state of awakened bliss started the long journey home.
All went well, the secret of travel on the plane finally open the return to the small gate Mother had created was simple. Yet the whole way something nagged at me, tugged at the edges of both mental and physical perceptions. I stopped to focus several times, yet the cause for the odd feeling I could not catch, like a distantly spotted mirage from the corner of my eye it vanished as soon as I tried to focus on it. I was close to dismissing it when it the oddity surrounding me struck.
My small cupped lantern had thrown my own shadow behind me, not unusual in itself..yet the odd thing was...that the thing was moving in ways that I certainly was not. Making odd faces....waving at me sporadically and even at one stage performing an odd little jig in the small radius of light...as I turned to face it eyes of pure blue opened in my head and my shadow stepped away from me, independent and alive it grinned.
“You only had to ask” was all he said.
The three of us returned through the portal together.....”
20
« on: December 20, 2005, 07:19:00 am »
//how did I know you were going to say that ed...I must be psychic..12 hours in 5 rooms anyone!? 
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