UO Free Server

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Dhaune walked though the streets, illuminated in a dark glow of the caverns vegetation. She seemed lost in thought excited even. Finally the time has come for chaos to reign. She approached the crypt, Rivvil cries growing louder, gates knowing this would be exactly what lloth had promised.

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Before taking the last stairwell she stopped and spoke to a near by guard. “Quickly gather ever one and tell them to report to the throne room ” A surface hour passed before ever one was gathered.

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She sat upon the throne with her Kyrol Zyn at her side. After taking a deep breath Dhaune stood proudly in front before the inhabitants of Naentak, stepping forward with swagger. She began to speak with the cavers acoustics carrying her voice. ” I Dhaune Sinore proclaim my self Tulsharess of Naentak to bring chaos to its height as it should be.”

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After appointing counsel and a brief discussion on politics. The Tulsharess led the city to the Krypt, where a sacrifice was to be held. Dhaune chanted a prayer in the name of Lloth. With the flick of hands she signaled the Kyrol to dispatch the slaves. Zyn rushed forward gleefully blade in hand slitting the throats in a dance of blood and madness. Cutting off the head of the last he held it out by hair.Taking it Dhaune began praying to Lloth and thank her for this wonderous blessing.

The mighty barbarian Rowar, the bounty hunter Doc Kade, and the mystic druid Bankenfeure are no strangers when it comes to dealings with shady people, for they are a band of ruffians. Hired mercenaries who carry out their tasks without mercy… For a price. Which is why when, Rowar along with his two closest companions Doc and Bankenfeure were approached by a hooded figure they did not hesitate to draw their weapons.
“You do not know who I am.” said the hooded one. “But I have seen the power of you three filthy humans, your abilities in combat appear unrivaled, and there are few who would dare to oppose you without an army….
“Speak your intentions dark one, or I’ll show you the intention of my hammer!” shouted Rowar.
The hooded figure stood in slilence for a moment with an eery stare as if irritated at the remark before muttering some form of drowan language that the humans could not understand then continued, “It just so happens my current enemy is amassing an army. I do not need you humans, however… our goals are common and YOU will not be able to face the dangers that approach you alone… I offer you immense payment of treasure and lost artifact weapons as payment in order for your temporary alliance.
The hooded figure looked in anger at the barbarian and began rattling off a language in which none of the adventurers could understand before regaining composure.

But do not be mistaken… once our common enemy is defeated… we are just as much enemies with you as your entire surface dwelling race!”

The adventurers looked at one another puzzled, then Doc spoke, “Ya speak of our ‘common’ enemy, but we haven’t been threatened by anyone that would pose any type’ a threat to us?”
The hooded stranger looked towards Doc and nodded, then proceeded, “There is a man in power right now whose numbers grow daily, his power is exponential and he has not taken kindly to the three of you and your bandit antics, He is one of tradition and royalty it would seem, I’m basically offering you vast treasure to kill YOUR enemies.”
The band of ruffians have never been known to turn down gold, but wanted to know more of what they were getting themselves into, Rowar asked, “We do not know you, nor who you want to be crushed by the weight of my hammer, pierced with Doc’s arrow, or obliterated by the lightning of Bankenfeure, you offer treasure… which is good, but you must explain yourself more before we could ever agree to such a deal?”

The shadow surrounding the hood seemed to grow more powerful as he responded, “This I understand… but if I tell you now then I could risk a hasty decision between the three of you, I will contact you when the time to attack is right, until then be expecting me.” Then as if from nowhere four additional figures arose from behind the original and then in a consuming darkness disappeared. The three adventurers looked upon one another and agreed that it’d be best they stay on their guard when dealing with those around them for the time being.

Many days later, the three were just returning to narrowhaven after battling several fearsome beasts and split up; Doc went to the bowyer across the ferry in order to fix his crossbow, Bankenfeure teleported to the mages shop to fill his bag of reagents, and Rowar went to the blacksmith to repair his splintered and charred wooden shield. Upon arrival Rowar was greeted by the blacksmith as a customer who stops in frequently, he rested his hammer and shield with the blacksmith and went to rest in the corner. From behind him he heard soft footsteps from the other side of the doorway and then the door began to slowly open. Alas, it was once again the same hooded figure from before. “Rowar, I must speak to you somewhere more…Private. quickly, follow me.” Rowar showing no hesitation followed the mysterious figure into the sewers where after a quick walk found themselves inside a secret meeting room full of what appeared to be magical inscriptions. “What is the meaning of this stranger? I grow tired of waiting and your secretive ways, this is your last chance, I am not armed but I have the strength of ten normal men in this hand and I will crush the life out of you if you do not tell me now!” The hooded figure began to laugh and responded almost mockingly, “Oh, of course Mighty Rowar… I will not keep you waiting any longer, the previously mentioned army that I was contesting has returned to their homeland far away from here and pose no threat to our expansion anymore, however… I still thirst for bloodshed, and you will prove quite nicely as an example as to what will happen to all of the surface dwelling race!” Then from behind Rowar came a sound, as Rowar turned a magical dust was blown into his face from another hooded figure which instantly knocked him unconscious.
As Rowar awoke he found himself tied up and being dragged across a cold gravel floor. The two figures stopped before a sacrificial circle and began speaking in their drowan language. Rowar immediately knew the danger that he was in, but was not able to defend himself without any weapons.

The Drows carried him into a room which looked like either a resting place for the dead, full of sarcophagi, potions, and torturous looking mechanisms. The original hooded figure says to Rowar,”It is a shame that you will not survive this night to warn the surface dwellers of the Drows return. We would have liked to have atleast some resistance from your weak race.” Rowar responded, “Drow… you will pay for this with your life, do your worst!”

The two began torturing Rowar by cutting his chest with a blade and pouring acid made of mushrooms from the underdark onto the chest of Rowar. They then continued to deliver sa much pain as possible to Rowar in hopes that they would hear cries of agony, but began to be confused when no matter what they did the most they could do was get a grunt of anger from the superhumanly strong man! The two spoke in Drow with one another one last time before leaving the room to grab something that would be sure to cause Rowar pain. Rowar had struggle to break free from the shackles that had tied him several times before, but after the thoughts of the drowan race attacking those closest to him allowed him to put all of his strength into breaking free from the shackles! The two drows entered the room and were instantly bashed upon the faces and they fell to the ground. The Drowan woman shouted out the door as Rowar quickly gathered his gear that they has taken from him and Rowar began to hear screams from many others from outside, he quickly ran out the door andsaw many Drow chasing after him. He quickly used his hearthstone and right before he was grabbed ahold of by the vile Drow he was returned to the inn of Narrowhaven and instantly collapsed. Several citizens outside ran to his aid and after a trip to the healer’s he was visited by his greatest friends Doc and Bankenfeure along with many other bystanders. Rowar awoke and sat up. He looked upon his friends and the other citizens and said, “We thought the Drow to be a weak and dying race… We could not be more wrong, the drow are many strong and are planning a dark war with all those who live above land.”

Saoirsia’s tale

The salt from the sea was irritating to the spot under her eyepatch but was refreshing enough to the rest of her that she tolerated the irritation. Ahead oh her, the lights of narrowhaven shone in the distance. The ship was still some ways out and so she had the time to stand idle on deck.

Two weeks had passed since the missive from Daynedun had summoned her from what remained of the estate. Two weeks of rough travel by horse, then foot, then boat. In hindsight the horse might have lived longer if it had not been near starving before she left. There was nothing that could be done for that though, truthfully she stole it from the esate. Well maybe stole was too harsh a word. It used to be her horse anyways. The estate that had been the home of the Danrath for three generations before her father had taken control of it. In five short years he had gambled away a fortune and the debt collectors had taken the estate. Her father had died then. Shock? Perhaps, or perhaps he had been taking loans from men he should have avoided to support his desire to ‘win it all back’ as he had said.

This complicated things for her. The servants had abandoned her and she had been forced to live as a… a…. a commoner. Absently she rubbed under the eyepatch, this lead to one of the sailors mentioning to her that it wouldn’t heal right if she fidgeted with it. Turning on the man the facade she wore changed to one of concealed anger and she politely told the prole that she was well aware of how to deal with her own problems. She added something about the man’s resemblance to a sea cucumber and made a few comments about his stink before the man walked away in disgust.

“Filthy prole“, she mocked the man under her breath. The mask of rage fell away in seconds and she composed herself, reminding herself of her station and what was expected of her. It was not her place to treat a filthy commoner badly. After all, it wasn’t his fault that bathing was an art long since lost on his class.

How Daynedun had known of her plight was something she would need to ask the old man when she arrived. She counted out the coins in her purse and frowned. What little she had been squirreling away had vanished quickly during the journey. She would be nothing more than a pauper when she arrived. A well dressed pauper who knew how to bathe but still a pauper. Then there was the debt. She would need to deal with that as soon as possible. How to spirit enough coins away to make a dent in it though?

These and other thoughts swam through her head as the ship made it’s approach and was anchored. She was still thinking on ways when she arrived at the tavern where she was to be met by her cousin Caierris or the old man. Neither were present when she arrived.

She tried other establishments and even resorted to asking the commoners, nothing was helping. No one knew where to find either of them. Her anger was growing as she entered the counting house and demanded information from the man behind the counter. A voice behind her dared to mention something but all she had heard was “respect” and “working class” she turned to face the man, a well dressed individual who had bothered to bathe recently.

She slipped into a more pleasant attitude at once and addressed the man with all due politeness and courtesy. It was the most pleasant conversation she had been privileged to in many months. She was starting to truly enjoy herself when the doors swung open and Caierris, her belligerent and unpleasant cousin, adopted, but still family, entered the counting house.

Oh how she had missed Caierris, finally, someone she could torment without fear of reprisal. The pair laid into each other with fierce quips and sharp tongues. A verbal dance to rival any held by the most skilled combatants in the arts of war. Caierris cracked first and grabbed her wrist, she waved a pleasant goodbye to the well dressed man as she was pulled, then drug, then carried back towards the docks.

A few minutes later she was dumped, uncerimoniously, and quite rudely, on the uneven wooden floor of a house in the slums. “This is it. Home sweet home” Caierris told her in a mocking tone while sweeping her arms around the near empty room .

No, this wasn’t happening. Saved from destitution to live in a squalid shack by the docks. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. It was less than common. It was so dirty, and dusty, and filthy and… and… oh gods above, was that a rat. She picked herself up and dusted the front of her dress off “You have a broom at least? This place isn’t fit for habitation” she said, trying to hide her disgust at the state of this place.

“Yes, here” Caierris said, obviously enjoying this as she thrust an old branch with twigs attached to one end at Saoirsia. “This is not a broom” Saoirsia informed her. Caierris grinned widely “Sure it is. It’s great for swatting away them rats, watch your step as you clean, rat guts are awfully hard to get up” Caierris mocked as she walked back through the doors.

Saoirsia fell to her knees and dropped the broom with a clatter. She was on the verge of tears when a gnarled old hand landed on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I ken it’s nay much lass but dun ye start. I ken fer a fact it be better than what yer father left ye. Bad business that, aye?” Daynedun spoke to her with his usual matter of factness. She turned and wrapped her arms around the old man and accepted the luxury of being allowed to weep in private.

He patted her back and squeezed her. “Get it all oot now lass. When it be over we’ll be giving this place a right clean” he whispered into her ear. Several hours later the place at least looked livable. The work had been simple, demeaning, and dirty, but it felt good somehow. As the pair stood side by side in a corner Daynedun, arm around Saoirsia said “There, feels a bit better,aye? Gettin the place lookin nice an livable? Now, I ken ye been through a bit, aye“. Saoirsia nodded slowly. “Maybe” she thought “Maybe this isn’t going to be as bad as I thought“.

The sun beat down upon him like a cruel taskmaster, lifting brilliant ripples of heated air across the entire horizon. His cowl would serve to abate the biting winds filled with the bounty of the desert sands. He was alone, as he had been for quite so…

“Kingly Business..!”

As usual, I had just been thrown out of Samael’s Mansion, so I decided to head back to Narrowhaven’s. Once in town, I had trouble making my way towards the “sacred room of peace”. Without paying much attention to the guards and all the people walking in and out of that building, I slowly climbed up the stairs. As I closed the doors, a sigh of relief escape my lips. Finally, a place where there would be silence and more silence! At least, for a little while since I had the bad habit of not sleeping very much, compared to humans.

Making less noise than a subtle fly, I walked around the rooms in complete silence, looking over the ones sleeping. Ahhh young Delia… perhaps those would be some creepy manners of mine but I have a fetish about braiding her raven black hair while she slept. I’ve always wondered if she would wake up while I would slide my fingertips between her locks of hair… Waving away my psycho thoughts, I returned to the hall, leaving the young Baroness still untouched. There are times where my self control truly is admirable. Some would call what I do stalking, perhaps, but I see nothing wrong into contemplating the wonders of this world. There is something attractive about those innocent faces unaware of their surroundings but still looking to be completely trusting…

Then, I heard some footsteps, coming from the King’s room. Curious as none other, I hid myself behind the crimson screens, keeping an attentive eye upon Adair. He didn’t notice me around, as he seemed to be busy doing his morning cleaning. Those precious minutes where someone is truly defenceless… Oh no Scarlet, don’t tell me temptation is calling again? Indeed, I was tempted. There was the shine of what could be a potential weapon, held by His Majesty’s hand, and even more, he was pressing it against his throat constantly. Deep down inside, I knew it was part of his daily routine, but still, the worst images were sticking to my thoughts; Blood. Rivers of blood flowing even down the stairs, dripping away from the dead body of a man. No. I didn’t wanted him dead, yet, my feet were leading me towards him.

and…
….
He lifted up his robe. (Yes, it seemed he wanted to get rid of some other hairs)

Congratulations Scarlet. From behind, I had quite a view, that’s the less I can say. I could have walked away, unnoticed, but a squeaky noise decided to leave my throat, finishing off my subtle cover. Of course, then, just then, he realised he wasn’t alone. He turned in my direction, almost not believing it, dropping quickly his robe to have himself covered. Pale, with a sweaty forehead, he said to me some words that I am unsure of having understood at all. Probably some Noble Bla-bla of some sort… I replied absently because my mind was busy being focused on a… tent. Quite the one, at that. Was I feeling that lonely to stare as much as I did? What a shame…

Then, I’m not sure what got into him, but he asked me to leave. He had some – Kingly Business – to attend to. I left, at least for two seconds, and deceptively opened and closed a door, so he would believe me gone. (Sneaky stalker would be better to describe me now.) I heard some strange noises while I was crawling towards his bed, planing into hiding under it to have a subtle peek on the King’s activities. I would describe His Majesty’s symphony going on like “fap, fap, fap.” The following notes made me think he was now filled with happiness and rainbows while tossing away a stained cloth.

Now that my stalker levels had gone up, the King came down and noticed me, innocently sitting on his bed, watching. Perhaps it was a result of the succubus effect but, still, I did not felt responsible for that Kingly Business.

– You shouldn’t feel so lonely my King… I know many ladies that would gladly share some affection with you.

I know, I lied. I was meaning Delia, but not daring say her name. I wonder what she would think of this?

(picture by me, Its not that great, but it’ll do:))
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FAMILY – PART 1

(Authors note – When reading, imagine Daynedun with a Scottish accent. It will make his dialog easier to read.)

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“Thats it Gramps! I’m leaving for good!” Caierris shouted at Daynedun.

“Och, Nae ya doon’t ye harpy. Yer gonna lea’rn some patience even if were oout her’ all month.” Daynedun said calmly as he clanged an iron around Caierris’ foot, and secured the other side to the post of the dock.

The color drained from Caierris’ dark skin. “Whats the supposed to mean?! Give me the key you old coot!”

“Nay,” He grinned and chucked the key out into the water. “I told ye, Today we begin a lesson een patience.”

Caierris was speechless as she looked back and forth from the old human to the water where the key just entered.

“Ah, Sweet silence” he said as he sat down in his chair on the edge of the dock and picked up his fishing pole and cast it out in the water.

Several minutes went by before Caierris found her voice, at which point she was tugging helplessly at the short chain connected to the dock. “Get… this… thing… off… of… me.”

“Nay” Daynedun kept fishing not even sparing her a glance.

Caierris sat down in a huff, crossing her arms and legs and glared at Daynedun. “You don’t really intend to keep me tied her like a wild animal all month do you?”

“Ye are a wild animal.” He kept fishing. After a few minutes when he sensed she had finally calmed down he looked at her seriously. “Nahw, If yer dun houfing and poufing, How long you are oot her’ rea’ly depends on your actions.” Daynedun reached over and grabbed a second fishing pole and shoved it into her hand.

Caierris looked hopeful for a second. “You mean if I sit here and fish for a little bit, you’ll let me go?”

“Nay” he said simply and went back to fishing.

Caierris was about to break the blasted fishing pole over her knee when the old man interrupted her.

He clicked his tongue at her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

She snapped her head in his direction. “WHY THE HELL NOT!?” she said obviously beyond herself with frustration.

“Well if ye be wantin of this dock any time soon, you better start fishin for that key.”

“Rawr!” Caierris shouted. “How does this thing even work?” It took her almost an hour of hooking herself in the back before the hook finally made it into the water.

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STAY TUNED FOR PART 2!

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A playful dreamscape opened before him. Hazel eyes peered into the darkness fearing not death, but loss. A lonely man no-one really knew, blood drips and fills the rose colored petals, his breath escapes and paints an endless sky, his heart beats and beasts come to life. The world would be more than his life and his death would be more than his death.

“A man is but flesh, yet his dreams live on” he spoke to an empty room. He crawled into an empty bed missing anyone and everyone he’d ever shared it with. A heart full of loss lives on to give, because that’s what she would have wanted, right? Noble or not it was stupid. No one would disagree with this. Some days were darker now. Judgements became grey and even sometimes black yet they pushed on together.

When the cross was too much to bare or his stamina was lost he looked upon their faces and took a deep breath and said to himself, “One more day, one more time, one more swing, one more rhyme” the disheveled and hideously war torn frame would pick itself off the pathetic ground and move once again. No one understood why… was it British? Sermons of compassion fill the valley of his ears… was it family? Thoughts of honor, love, sacrifice, duty that forced breath into his lungs… was it love? That provided great heat between his legs and forced his knees to bend… was it friendship? that made his feet stomp with laughter.

There are so many cogs in the human machine; each turning, processing a billowing smoke that changed even the air we breathed. A king is no different than a commoner. He leads a grand life because the second he became king he choice to pick up a shield to guard even the ones that hated him, the ones that were disgusted by dark dealings, and uncharacteristic behavior. So maybe it was true what he told sweet Delia, “When I was younger, I used to tell people I was the light in the darkness.” something he had said… once or twice before to impress a woman… Her admiration fueled his fire to continue to build, create, and destroy. Not a strong man, not even a wise man, just a man who decided to make a choice than to stand around looking like a blithering fool. One day he would die and she would cry… there is no reason to compound their tears. He only wants you to understand

“Love without fault, Love completely and even when their dagger is pressed into your back compassion” I have three daggers in mine four if you count Miluda and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. These are the true queens of man, the women who will lead man into a new age. I am your shield and you my sheath, use me wisely.

A cold bed is warmed by a single kiss on the cheek and the rest of the night is spent in silence.

Tomorrow would be a hard fought day.

-The Dreams of an Old Man in his City-

<Delete the post please>

Mysterious MurderThe guard had called and out of pure luck and a bit of curiosity, I was on the spot with some others. Somebody was missing and people were growing with concerns. Concerns that I didn’t share, of course, since it has nothing regarding …