| How to be an Adventurer By Sabin the Sorcerer
Adventure is prey more wily than any beast, a foe more challenging than any undead and a prize more rewarding than any wagonload of silver. Many a year ago, when my family first set foot upon the rocky shore of Darkstone bay, adventure was what living in a fledgling port town like the Landing was all about. Every day my grandparents and their parents before them would wake at dawn and lead parties out into the wilds, beating paths through the untamed underbrush, forging trails up vicious slopes with freezing mountain winds whipping at their clothes, and delving deep into the underworld through ancient caves and tunnels. All the while locked in a never-ending fray with the rather unruly local residents. However, the Landing's early days became its early months, and her early months became years. Slowly, though to long time residents it seemed sudden, her early years were not so early anymore. By the time I was born, Wehnimer's Landing was one of the most prominent port towns in the area. By the time I returned from my training as a youth from the rough lands of Ta’Vaalor, Wehnimer’s Landing was indisputably the largest town for many miles. I had just passed through adolescence, but even at my young age I could see the change before my eyes. People were moving in at an alarming rate, and the town was not growing anymore. Beasts could not live their lives near town anymore, and those that tried were killed for their meager possessions. The town's problems were abandoned as people moved on to greater profit opportunities. Youths were brought up in this harsh and uncaring environment, and thus they brought up their children in a worse one. I only knew of the old ways from the stories that Dad and Granddad told. I never knew my mother, though I know she was of pure Ta'Faendryl blood while my father and his line were Ta'Vaalor. She was gone when my father, grandfather and I returned from my training in Ta’Vaalor. The effect of this on my father was not positive. One day, early in the morning, my father woke me from my sleep. He said that he and Granddad had sold our meager residence in the Landing and were moving to a town called IceMule Trace. They were leaving that evening and I was to train as a warrior in the Landing and should travel to IceMule when I could survive the trail. I was shocked by the sudden decision, but I had been waiting for a chance to leave the Landing. The promise of adventure had made us all excited. I knew that for the first time I might have a taste of this thing my great grandparents had known every moment of their lives, back in the glory days of the Landing. It was not to be however. A few weeks after I turned nineteen, I received notice from the Trace of my father's death. I took the family's heirlooms that had been left to me, and headed north across the frozen trail to bury my father. Upon arriving in the Trace there was no sign of Granddad at the small cottage they had bought, and there was no word of him anywhere. He could have died on the trail, or any number of things. I don’t, and probably will never know what happened to him. I applied for a clerical job at the Town Hall, and had settled into a slow life, passing days by reading books and studying. Two years later, at the age of twenty-one, I discovered the art of Sorcery. The practices and the lore I studied awakened a part of me as I remembered the stories I heard by the fire in my youth; the stories of conquest, exploration, self-discovery and adventure. I knew then, what I had to do. I found mentors and bought equipment. The first day I walked out of South Gate since stepping inside it almost three years ago, was the day my life began. Nine years have passed. Sorcery has served my goals well, learning about the world around me and learning about myself. I have met friends and enemies and experienced true adventure beyond my wildest dreams. If you put your mind, body, and soul into finding your true calling, you will have a greater gift than any silver, even all the silver in the world. Your pursuit of adventure begins with your choice of race and profession. Did you choose the Clerical profession because of a Cleric's ability to meditate and quickly gain experience, or did you choose it to crusade against the undead and devote yourself to a particular deity? Did you choose a Dark Elven Sorcerer to gain a bit more power over the other races, or did you choose it to continue the Faendryl tradition and uphold heritage? Ask yourself these questions. If you make your choices for power and numerical advantages, with no mind paid to how you are going to role-play your character, you may have more trouble finding adventure. If that is why you made the choices to begin with but have discovered who your character is and what they are about, and begun role-playing, you are already on the right track. Allow me to explain the most important thing a beginning adventurer needs to know. YOU are the one that has to have the adventures. You can bring friends along, this can often make the experience all the more fun, but if someone tells you how to do everything, where to find everything, and basically everything you need to know, then you aren't going to have much adventure. An important part of adventure is discovery, discovery about your character and your world. You have to discover things yourself, about puzzles, about monsters, all about our world. I'm not saying you shouldn’t ask questions, but try it yourself first. The worst thing you can lose is your life, and deeds are cheap, while adventure is priceless. The adventurer's goal is not monetary gain. The adventurer's goal is the experience of the adventure. I cannot describe the feeling one gets from blindly exploring new territory, or making your own maps. Battling new creatures with no idea what will happen next, or fighting off invasion forces though you know you may be killed. Solving a puzzle yourself, or working your own way through a problem. What you get mentally from doing these things will be worth far more to you than any physical property. The adventurer makes friends, not merely partners. A partner will stand at your side during a hunt, but only to gain more for themselves than they would alone. A friend will defend your corpse to their last breath, and haul it back to town to be raised. A partner will part with you at the end of the day, and return to their home to note their gains. A friend will follow you into that bar, drink and talk with you, stand by you in when the place breaks out in a drunken brawl, and be by your side when you awake the next morning in a gutter. A friend is someone you share your thoughts and feelings with, someone who loves you for you, not your abilities. A partner is only with you for your own convenience. Make good friends, and keep them your whole life. Their presence can only heighten your adventure, and can warm your heart beyond any strictly business partnership. The adventurer lives a slow life, not a hectic one. The adventurer basks in the beauty of the world and it's people, while others fly through their youth and middle age with the speed of eagles descending after prey. The goals of an adventurer are set for the day he is living, and for his whole life, while others set their goals 20 or 30 years ahead of them, never where they are at the moment. The adventurer enjoys his life. The adventurer helps other people enjoy their lives as well. Overall, the adventurer makes a change. He sees what is wrong, what needs to be done, and he does it. He treats those he does not know justly and fairly, never taking advantage of anything they may not know. Those he knows as enemies, he always treats with honor, he makes sure that they are always the aggressor, never making move against them except to counter their own wrongs. The adventurer rarely has enough enemies to worry about this often. He helps those that need it, and then later is helped himself. He blames only himself for his problems, and looks inward for a solution. There is always something he can do to right his own wrongs. My years in the magical and mysterious world of Elanthia have given me many things I can never lose, my friends, my experiences, my adventures. I love the lands, and will love them no matter what change alters their appearance, even for the worse. I have been here since the start, and will remain until the end. I am going to live this adventure until it is over. All those who wish to join; I welcome with open arms. |
Shadow Valley By Lord Eythan Gwenywen For those who travel through this dark pasture, there is little reminder of the days when dust beetles roamed with impunity, spewing forth death in billowy clouds. But the dust beetles are now gone, and the shadow mares have reclaimed their lair. Those who witnessed the return of the mares know it was a night destined to be remembered in the legends of Elanthia. The mares had been gone from the lands many moons, supplanted by the beetles, creatures difficult to slay with a blade and one almost impossible to survive without the aid of magic. This is the story as told to me by Lord Galyden, the warrior in pink and captain of wardens for the House of Hawksong. He saw these events unfold. It was an amber wolf speaking riddles that led a chosen group of adventurers to the Shadow Valley that night to witness the return of the mares. Though there were others, Lords Giantsheild, Krackenstar and Gillaume led the group after the wolf. "My master says, `No icons can save you from the destroyer. Only the protectors of Velaskar can save you now. It forms .... it awakens,’" the wolf growled.
Those who hunted here before that night know that it took great climbing skill to make it up the ladder and to the ledge, the only safe place in the area to rest and the only place one can go to use a gold ring to get back to town. Climbing the ladder was the only way to avoid a treacherous journey and a certain death through spectral miners, undead creatures that are equal to an adventurer with 40 years of training. Where the ladder once stood is a clay ramp that allows just about anyone to make it safely out of pookas without having to face miners. The area where the pookas haunt is also much larger than the night before the mares returned. For those wishing to travel to the Shadow Valley, they must know it is a dangerous path that leads from the crypt, through wights, night hounds and moaning spirits to the special place where one must invoke magic. From there, an adventurer must battle ghostly pookas, who are undead monsters of the 33rd rank. Fighting pookas must always be done in the most battle-ready stance possible, otherwise they will immobilize and swarm a foolish adventurer who makes the mistake of laying back in a defensive stance. A note on the mares; from all early reports, they seem to be tougher than the mares that once roamed this valley. They cast a very nasty fear spell that can send an unlucky soul into a frenzied flight for at least five rounds. Their strongest attack is their bite, but the mares can also stomp and charge an opponent. They also cast sounds, hues and inner wall. All I have said is true. Listen carefully and the thunder of the stampeding herd can still be heard echoing through this valley of black shadows. Etiquette for the Young and Old By Elk Wilders At times all of us need to review some rules of politeness and common sense. Some events I will be describing are sometimes caused by the weather, such as a kill stolen by a thirty-second lag, but some activities are occurring much more frequently and cannot be blamed on the weather. I believe much of it is caused by the recent population explosion. In the earlier days we were taught manners by our older role models. Today, there are so many younger people in the lands that there are not enough role models to go around. Younger folk are then forced to learn on their own, which can be trying for us all. An invasion is an assault on an area by creatures that do not usually inhabit that region. Twenty Troll Kings at the North Gate is considered an invasion. A large pack of critters that normally live in a particular area is called a swarm. If you see eight roltons in the lower grasslands, that is a swarm. This is a very significant and important difference. Use common sense when you see a large number of critters in one room. If you are a younger person it may be prudent to sit it out in the case of swarms but if it is a real invasion with critters way over your age, then please go to town and wait till the fighting has ended. The biggest problem with invasions is the young dead piled up all over the place. The second largest problem with invasions is that some older people are casting E-wave and other mass destruction spells that are hurting and killing their comrades and friends as much as its hurting the invaders. Please refrain from using those types of spells in an invasion. There is enough confusion without an added scroll of 50 people knocked down and stunned for ten seconds. Another very important thing to watch out for during an invasion, or actually any time at all, is the dragging of a dead body. Before you drag, please ask! I have been dragged from a fogger's hand more than once. I have also had six bodies in my group ready to fog them out when all of a sudden someone dragged one away from me. If you see a body with several Ladies and Lords in the room, then the chance is very high that the deader will be either fogged out or raised on the spot. Several Clerics and Empaths have told me that it drives them crazy when someone keeps shouting, "REZ ME IM DEAD" or "IM DYING I HAVE A MINOR ON MY TOE". If you do this, chances are you will not be raised or your toe will stay bruised. Please do not shout and badger our wonderful healers, both Empaths and Clerics. A handy tip is to carry certain herbs that will stop bleeding on the spot so you will not be in any danger anyhow. I also asked many Empaths, Clerics and Rogues about proper tipping for their services. This is one of the harder subjects to discuss, as it is always a judgment call each time. Things to remember when thinking of the amount of a tip are the time, effort and expenses that these professionals spend in order to serve you better. Masters in the Order of Voln are commonly asked for blesses on magical metal weapons. In order to become Master, you must scrimp and save your favor to make your next step. To use the symbol that invokes the blessing costs hard-earned favor. Keep in mind that just because someone is a Master, it does not mean that they have an unlimited amount of favor to spend on blesses. When a Master blesses your weapon that is a gift that should not be taken lightly. A suggestion for people who fight the undead is to carry two blessable weapons that can either be blessed by Clerics or by the temple. Pure potions can also be poured on magic metals by Clerics without the cost of favor. Puzzles or quests are common in the lands. If you need help on a puzzle it is O.K. to ask someone for a hint, but please do not give solutions on public thought nets or in public places out loud. Whisper the hints to the person or think silently to them. Many folks want to solve these quests on their own and if you spill the answer then the quest for them will only just going through the motions without any challenge. Once again, please respect other people's enjoyment of the lands. The last topic I will discuss here is hunting and foraging. If someone is foraging in a room, do not jump right in and forage. That is the same as stealing a kill and it is very bad manners. If you get in a room and a critter is already there but someone else is there too, then it is their critter - do not just swing away. If it happens by accident then apologize. We all make mistakes. If you want to hunt with someone just ask him or her. The Lands are a wonderful place, but the best part of it is the people. Join a group of people and make friends with them. The friendship is the best part of being in the Lands. The Feel of Mana By Professor Ceranis Aesira The arcane words flare in the mind, A vision burns in the mind's eye. All at once, the world becomes void and vapor, The land dips into the sun
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There will always be treasure. Mounds and mounds of it, hidden away in boxes
and trunks, glistening with every tiny sliver of light that strikes it in dank, mossy
caves and piled up in towering mounds in strongholds and keeps. Elanthia is never going to
run out of loot. It may change hands, claws, pincers or tentacles, but it's there. It's
there for the conqueror that has the muscle or knowledge to take it. A person can have all
the treasure that they can find and claim. But there is something in the lands that a
fellow can only have so much of his whole life. That something is true adventure.
The awakening was that of a giant winged wyrm that formed in the sky above the
band of adventurers. It was Lady Cheat and Lord Jorak who realized that the wolf wanted
them to cast uncurse on three ghostly pookas. Free of their chains, the pookas transformed
into a giant shadow steed. The steed launched itself into the sky, and the old ladder that
once led to the safety of the ledge shattered into a thousand tiny particles. Seconds
later, a vortex opened in the sky, pouring out thousands of shadow steeds and mares in a
majestic ethereal display of lightning and thunder. The stampede trampled and destroyed
the wyrm in a fiery battle.