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#41 nicba   Members   -  Reputation: 122

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Posted 05 September 2000 - 12:58 PM

quote:
Original post by ahw

nicba : if i can criticize a bit, I would say that the story for the elf lacked a bit more dramatisation. What I mean is that since it''s supposed to be only a flavor text, as opposed to the beginning of a long saga, it would be better to concentrate more emotions into the short length of the text, in order to create something ... more ... I dunno what
Basically, there is nothing wrong with the style in itself, it''s just it doesn''t seem, mmm, I think there is not enough rythm. For instance, the last two paragraphs are very nice, the calm after the storm, and the cold anger of the elf. But I think maybe the melee scene could be more dramatic, don''t make it two skeletons, make it ten of them coming at him, make him surrounded and almost beaten, when suddenly the rays of the sun pour on the skeletons and they fall on the ground ... or something similar.
Actually, the beginning is very nice as well, the fog, and the night, the clearing filled with the soudn of flying arrows.
I guess all I am talking about is something more climatic, a crescendo sort of thing, and the aftermath.
Anyway, I hope I am being constructive enough



Thank you very much! It was just that kind of comments I was hoping for. I re-read the story again and I think I see what you''re getting at. I was about to build something up with him running out of arrows and such, but then I just ended the whole battle in a couple of lines. It surely did break the rythm.

As I explained in my original post the story is pretty much abandoned and will not be used for anything. But I think I will try to follow your advice anyway and rewrite the melee to include some more drama and a climatic end. Just as an exercise.

Thanks!

Regards

nicba


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#42 sunandshadow   Moderators   -  Reputation: 5056

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Posted 05 September 2000 - 03:07 PM

And now for something completely different... This is from the sci-fi novel I''m writing about how philosophy would have evolved if technology had never progressed beyond a Renissance level due to lack of metals and fossil fuels.


The playroom for our dormitory was great. There was a bookcase full of blocks of lots of unusual shapes, and some of the blocks were as long as my arm. Sunshine-fur Raynnil was playing blocks, building a big Estate. It needed a barn and a corral for horses, so that’s what I built. Raynill added the last block to the top of the wall and looked very satisfied. Then he turned to me and, with a sneaky look, asked, “Hey, do you want to know a secret?” I nodded enthusiastically. Secrets were usually interesting.

“What’s the secret?”

“I’m really a girl.” He looked solemn. I thought that that was a weird joke to tell.

“You can’t be a girl. If you were, you’d have to go to school on your estate.”

He looked defiant. “I am too a girl. They pretend I’m a boy ‘cause I’m odd colored. Not my estate’s color, you know?” I didn’t know any such thing. Girls were always their estate’s color. Only boys were odd colored, usually two color-patterns mixed together, like me being in-between striped and dun. Raynnil wasn’t even that, just pure sunshine-colored. I didn’t like people playing tricks on me.

“I don’t believe you.” I accused. “I’m going to ask the teacher.” Fear flashed across his face.

“Don’t do that! I’m not supposed to tell; I’ll get in trouble!”
I looked smug. “Then just admit you’re not some silly girl.” I said reasonably.

Raynnil’s mouth twisted and he looked stubborn. “I’ll prove it!” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up from the floor.

“Ow, lemme go!” I jerked my arm away and scowled. I didn’t like this one bit. “Where’re we going?”

“Just the bathroom, come on and I’ll show you.” I relaxed.

“Oh, O.K..” Huh, maybe he was a girl. He wouldn’t take me into the bathroom just to prove he was lying. I wanted to make sure, though. “O.K., I’m coming.” He looked around to see if the coast was clear, then stalked into the bathroom. I followed.
Fire-fur Larris was there, looking worried at Raynnil’s determined expression. “What’s the matter?” he asked Raynnil. Larris looked at me accusingly. “Is this kid bothering you?” he asked Raynnil.

“No, I’m bothering him.” Raynnil put his fists on his hips and looked exasperated. “He just won’t believe I’m a girl, so I’m gonna prove it.”

“Oh, all right.” Larris relaxed. Raynnil turned to me, grabbed his waistband, and, with a great flourish, pulled his trousers down to his knees. Um, her knees. My jaw dropped – she was a she!

“See?” she demanded, “Now do you believe me?”

“OK, I believe you.” I said. Larris nodded with satisfaction that we had settled our difficulty. Just then, of course, a teacher happened to walk into the bathroom.

“Now just what do you three think you’re doing?” he demanded, frowning mightily. Uh oh. Now we were all three going to catch it.

Reynnil pulled her pants back up in a hurry. “Um… n-nothing…” she stuttered. The teacher scowled more fiercely at her, and she broke. “Jessop just w-wouldn’t believe me.” Tears seeped into the corners of her eyes, and I felt mad at the teacher. Larris looked angry and like he was going to cry too.

“Wouldn’t believe what?” he demanded.

“Th-that I’m a girl.” Reynnil sniffed, and one tear slid down her cheek and got caught in her jawline-fringe. Larris, crying now, hugged her and said, “Don’t cry Reynni!” I glared at the teacher and stepped a bit in front of them. The teacher looked sternly at Larris and me, then back at Reynnil.

“No such thing, young man.” Reynnil looked nonplussed. Larris hiccuped. “We do not admit girls to this school. Kindly remember that lying is an offence against Decency, as is, “ he said, fixing us all with a fishy stare, “participating in indecent exposure. I think perhaps we all had better have a little chat with the Headmaster.”

Well it was indecent exposure, sure enough. That hadn’t occurred to me at all, but it was true. So much for being virtuous. I felt guilty for having disobeyed my grandmother’s warning on the very first day of school. Reynnil and Larris probably felt much the same thing. We all hunched our shoulders and kept our eyes on our feet as we shuffled to the headmaster’s office.

The teacher knocked on the big wooden door. “Come in.” the Headmaster called. The teacher opened the door and waved us in, motioning us to sit down on the hard, narrow delinquents’ bench while he took a guest’s chair. My feet didn’t touch the floor.

“Oh my,” said the headmaster, noting our wet cheeks, “what have we here?” He looked concerned, but not surprised.

“A case of indecent exposure, sir.” reported the teacher. Now the Headmaster did look surprised.

“So young?”

“Sir it’s a case of…” the teacher stopped, looked at us, and went over to whisper in the Headmaster’s ear. Comprehension dawned on the Headmaster’s face.

“My lad,” he addressed Reynnil quietly, “You are not a girl. I do not care what you have in your trousers, the Decency codes recognize as female only those who have an Estate to call their own, and you have none. Kindly remember that. As for this indecent exposure,” he rummaged in a desk drawer and pulled out 3 pamphlets, “each of you bring me a hand-written copy of the Childrens’ Decency Code tomorrow, and next time you’ll know better.” He gave the pamphlets to the teacher.

“Thank the Headmaster for his leniency.” commanded the teacher.

“Thank you sir.” we all murmured. It was lenient. Much better than a public announcement at the next assembly, like they did sometimes. The teacher shepherded us back to the classroom and sat us each at a desk with a copy of the Decency Code, some paper, and a pencil. He stood over us for a few minutes, watching while we worked silently. Then another child called him away and we could relax a little.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.” I ventured. “If I just had we wouldn’t be in trouble.” Reynnil brightened a bit at the apology, but Larris scowled at me.

“Darn right.” he said.

“No, he was right Larris.” said Reynnil. She looked to me. “You had no reason to believe me and I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“I’m glad you told me!” I said defiantly.

She smiled. “Well, then I’m glad I told you too. Now both my friends know the real truth, even if nobody else does.” She beamed at us. Larris grinned back at her, relieved to see her happy again, then offered me a small smile.

“Are we friends?” I asked him hopefully. I thought he ought to be mad at us for getting him in trouble.

“Reynnil’s my best friend, and if she says so, then you’re our friend too. You were brave when the teacher was being mean; I saw you glaring at him.” I puffed up a bit with pride and happiness at having two friends.

“You were brave too, Larris. The teacher might have really yelled at you for hugging Reyolni while he was being mean to her.”

“He was being mean!” said Larris hotly. “We’ve gotta finish these and get out of trouble, and from now on we’ve gotta watch out for each other while he’s around!”

I nodded vigorously. “Yeah, we hafta do these and we need to help each other. That’s what friends do!” I turned my attention to quickly getting the code copied.

“You guys are good friends to have!” declared Reynnil. I’m gonna take care of you too!”

Luckily we were all busily working again when the teacher stuck his head in the doorway and peered around suspiciously.


#43 Knarkles   Members   -  Reputation: 271

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Posted 05 September 2000 - 11:01 PM

I haven''t written any stories, because I can''t think of good ideas for stories. I have written two poems I consider worth showing to people, one of them a parody ripoff of a poem from Kalevala, the Finnish national epic. Unfortunately(?), they are in Finnish, but here is the other one, anyway:

Ajaton olio
Tunteeton hylkiö
Paheeton perkele
Yksin käy

Kotina yö
Saappaina suo
Viittana usva
Onnea syö

Varjot ystävinä
Pelot kumppaneina
Sanat vihollisina
Kauas vie

Rakastaa naista
Rakastaa miestä
Rakastaa aikaa
Viimeinen


I could translate it, but it wouldn''t be the same anymore. If someone asks, I can translate it anyway. Or, if someone thinks he/she can translate it so that it doesn''t sound stupid, go ahead.

-Jussi

#44 ahw   Members   -  Reputation: 263

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 03:24 AM

The more I see finnish, the more I am convinced you must have some connetion with Chtulhu himself ... I would love to here it pronounced, jsut to be sure

yes, maybe a translation would be useful, just to get the idea, please ?

#45 Gaiiden   Senior Staff   -  Reputation: 5273

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 05:17 AM

Geez, what a cool thread this!Why didn''t I see it before? I''ll have to wait till after work to actually read all these neat stories, but in the meantime, here''s part 1 of my contribution. Since I''m part Japanese, I really like researching the art of Ninjitsu. So, Thief fans, listen up:

The building that sat on the edge of a sea cliff was quite non-descript in nature. It was of typical Japanese construct, with all the spires and tiered roofs, and was painted the normal whitewash color. A wall sorounded it, but that was quite normal. Some people just liked their privacy, and walls were never seen as too offensive. But something was amiss, something was different, something...
The soft crunch of the guard''s feet as he walked the perimeter was all that was heard as night settled over the grounds. Other guards, mainly just sollouettes, stood watch or walked their own routines around the no longer inconspicious house. One guard stopped to light a match in order to investigate a mysterious lump lying on the ground at his feet. It was nothing. He blew out the match and tossed it over the high wall.
As the match fell towards the raging sea below, it flew past a mysterious lump clinging to the sheer cliff face. The lump stirred as it slowly reached up with one hand and grasped an unseen handhold. Sinewy muscles strained as he raised his body up and placed his opposite foot higher than his waist and pushed. He continued the process, alternating from side to side, until he reached the base of the wall, which was flush with the face of the cliff.
Finding a good hold, he held on with one hand as he reached down to his belt to remove the three-pronged grappling hook. Letting the rope uncoil, he used his free hand and his mouth to recoil a few yards. Still holding the cord in his mouth, he used his free hand to lob the hook up and over the wall. The chink of contact was easily lost in the sound of crashing waves far below. With a tug the hook settled into place. Looping the cord underneath him to help support his weight, the Ninja quickly ascended to the top of the wall.
When he reached the top, he peered over to spot any roaming guards. By now night had closed in, and nothing could be seen. The grounds were sparsely lighted and no shadows appeared. The ninja rolled smoothly over the wall and dropped to the ground. He landed and rolled to absorb the shock, coming up in a crouch. His eyes darted from left to right before moving to the nearest available cover.
Under the protection of a small shrub, he peered out, all senses alert. The sound of footsteps reached his ears first, and he centered his vision to his left, where it had originated. Scant seconds later a figure emerged from the gloom. He carried a long bow and a short dagger, along with a quill of arrows strapped to his back. As the guard approached, the ninja drew his short assasin''s blade and held it ready. As the guard walked past, the ninja rose and grabbed him. Pulling him close, he jabbed the knife into his throat. The blade sliced through both the jugular and the larynx before plunging into the man''s heart.
The gurgling sounds subsided as the man slowly sank to the ground. The ninja set him aside and wiped clean his blade before sheathing it.

Well, that''s all for now. I have to go. Hope you like it, part 2 coming soon, where he gets to take out more people Peace.

==============================
\\// live long and prosper; \||/ die short and rot.
==============================

#46 pax   Members   -  Reputation: 122

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 06:38 AM

Thanks for the comments. Nicba, I missed your earlier comment, so thanks.

Realms of the Arcane is the most recent (I think) Forgotten Realms ™ short-story anthology. I really liked it. The story I referred to was of a man who wakes up with no knowledge of himself. He''s found a job as a hired thief and after the first job learns that he was convicted of a crime and rather than death chose this path. He is rewarded for "discreet" services to the government with clues to his past.

My story is set in a typical fantasy setting (my personal favorite), but I''ll have to explore the other options.

Eajan was a royal assassin, and very cynical (hence his curious attitude) who was caught and experimented on (officially executed) by some mad wizard. The experiment failed, leaving him with no memory and in a coma. He was left for dead on the road and found by these people and nursed back to health.

The fun part is that he''s on his own and doesn''t know about all the enemies he made along the way. The story would continue with him just trying to make it in the world and suddenly there are people out to kill him and others trying to hire him and he has to learn about his past and reconcile it with his new life. He''s learned through the kindness shown him at the abbey that there''s more to life than selfish pursuits. Redemption is the main theme here.

Ahw, that episode of B5 is the only one I''ve actually seen. I liked it, but had forgotten about it.


Pax

#47 Gaiiden   Senior Staff   -  Reputation: 5273

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 08:50 AM

OK, I''ve found some time to do Part 2......


He sheathed the blade and stood. Slowly he walked towards the house. He stepped carefully, placing first the toe, then the heel. By not putting all his weight on his heel with each step, no sound was heard as he traversed the yard. Halfway from the wall to the house another guard appeared around some bushes. The ninja pivoted on his right heel to bring his back against a nearby tree, shielding himself from the sentry''s view. He ventured a glance around the trunk as the the guard turned and began walking towards the tree. Acting quickly, the ninja leapt up and grabbed the lowest branch. He climbed up, making sure to stay on the thickest branches to avoid any rustling leaves, as the guard walked by underneath. Once again the ninja drew his short blade and jumped down behind the guard. Grabbing the man under the chin, with his hand covering the mouth and fingers pinching the nose, he drove the blade into the guards right kidney. The sentry tried to struggle, but the grip was too tight. Since the poison from the damaged kidney would take too long to kill the guard, the ninja simply jerked his wrist and snapped the man''s neck.

After hiding the body, the ninja returned to the tree. While up there earlier, he had spotted his next target, a sniper on the house roof. Back up in the branches, he peered at the target. The sniper was cradling his bow as he looked out towards the sea. Reaching down to a pouch on his belt, the ninja withdrew a three pointed shuriken and held it in his hand. Again judging the distance, he let the small projectile fly. The metal weapon lodged itslef in the man''s throat. The bow clattered against the roof as the sniper tried to breath. Within seconds he succumbed to asphyxia and loss of blood. His body tumbled off the roof and to the ground below.

The timing could not have been worse. Just coming around the corner of the house was yet another guard, and the sniper almost fell on him. The ninja somersaulted out of the tree and hit the ground, drawing his katana blade. The guard had already started to yell out the alarm, so the ninja closed in fast. The guard saw him coming and skillfully loaded and arrow into his bow. He aimed and released while the ninja was still about fifteen feet away. The ninja immediatly ducked and rolled, letting the arrow fly by overhead. The dive also brought him within striking range. Coming up in a crouch he sliced upwards and gutted the guard. Turning around he ran for the house. Rounding the corner to the front he ran into another guard.

A ninja''s reflexes can outmatch anyones, and as soon as he turned the corner, he was ducking under the swing of another sword. Twisting around, he tried to swipe at the guards chest. His opponent was ready, however and blocked the move. A foot lashed out to catch the ninja in the head but he knocked it aside with his hand. With the guard off balance, the ninja stepped in and elbowed him to the ground. Reversing his blade, he drove it straight into the mans heart.

whoop. Times up. I''d like to keep my job...

==============================
\\// live long and prosper; \||/ die short and rot.
==============================

#48 pacman   Members   -  Reputation: 122

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 09:46 AM

I would just like to say that this is the best thread I have seen in a long time. Everyone has some great work here. Keep ''em coming .

-------------------------------------------
"What's the story with your face, son?!?"

#49 joeG   Members   -  Reputation: 172

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 12:08 PM

pax,
you''re story reminds me of Les Miserables'' plot.

joeG



#50 Knarkles   Members   -  Reputation: 271

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 07:08 PM

quote:
Original post by ahw

The more I see finnish, the more I am convinced you must have some connetion with Chtulhu himself ... I would love to here it pronounced, jsut to be sure


Ehh, WHAT?!?

quote:
yes, maybe a translation would be useful, just to get the idea, please ?


OK, I''ll give you a literal translation, which probably sounds stupid and at least doesn''t resemble a poem, but you get the idea or something like that.

Timeless being
Heartless outcast
Viceless devil
Goes on alone

Night its home
Swamp its boots
Mist its cloak
Eating bliss

Shadows as friends
Fears as partners
Words as enemies
Takes you far away

Loving the woman
Loving the man
Loving time
The last one


I had to look up a few words from the dictionary.

-Jussi

#51 ahw   Members   -  Reputation: 263

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 08:45 PM

Selkrank : well, I have to say it's very good
And now I am convinced, it's definitely the language used for Chtulhu rituals ... I mean, come on, look at what you wrote ! It's obviously an invocation ritual for some interplanar being

hehe, well, it's a nice invocation anyway, very short sentences with lots of meaning. I like that even more because I am very bad at it...

youpla :-P

ps: I just realised you might just not know about Lovecraft creations ... so you might want to check this site

Edited by - ahw on September 7, 2000 3:48:04 AM

#52 Knarkles   Members   -  Reputation: 271

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Posted 06 September 2000 - 09:01 PM

quote:
Original post by ahw

Selkrank : well, I have to say it''s very good


I think you mean "very good considering that it was not originally written in English"?

quote:
And now I am convinced, it''s definitely the language used for Chtulhu rituals ... I mean, come on, look at what you wrote ! It''s obviously an invocation ritual for some interplanar being


Excuse me, but you are being a paranoid.

quote:
ps: I just realised you might just not know about Lovecraft creations ... so you might want to check this site


Of course I know Lovecraft, I just don''t realize how you can compare it to Finnish language. Maybe it''s just because I''m Finnish.

Here''s another on I wrote this morning, inspired by someone I saw standing at a bus stop. I''ll give you a literal translation again.

Kävelin ohi,
kun keltaisessa villapaidassaan,
hän nauroi kylmissään ja kysyi,
olenko onnellinen?


I walked by,
as she, in her yellow jersey,
laughed, freezing, and asked,
if I was happy?


-Jussi

#53 sunandshadow   Moderators   -  Reputation: 5056

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Posted 07 September 2000 - 03:35 AM

quote:
Original post by Selkrank

[quote] Original post by ahw

Selkrank : well, I have to say it''s very good


I think you mean "very good considering that it was not originally written in English"?


Actually, I think he just meant it''s very good. Did you know that most poems written in English don''t rhyme because English has very few rhyming words because our base vocabulary is borrowed from several different languages. (Anglo-Saxon, Latin, French, plus odd words from Arabic and various African languages) The usual example is "What rhymes with orange?" Well nothing rhymes with orange, even though it''s a basic word every kindergardner knows.

I would say your rough translation makes a good English poem, if not a very good one. Here''s an example of an excellent English poem that only sort-of rhymes.

e. e. Cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn''t he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn''t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone''s any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain



#54 Knarkles   Members   -  Reputation: 271

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Posted 07 September 2000 - 06:24 AM

quote:
Original post by sunandshadow

Actually, I think he just meant it''s very good. Did you know that most poems written in English don''t rhyme because English has very few rhyming words because our base vocabulary is borrowed from several different languages. (Anglo-Saxon, Latin, French, plus odd words from Arabic and various African languages) The usual example is "What rhymes with orange?" Well nothing rhymes with orange, even though it''s a basic word every kindergardner knows.

I would say your rough translation makes a good English poem, if not a very good one. Here''s an example of an excellent English poem that only sort-of rhymes.


Yes, I know English poems don''t necessarily rhyme and neither do poems in any other language. My second poem doesn''t rhyme in Finnish either. What I meant was that my translation wasn''t good because it was almost literal. I''m sure it could have been translated much better without ruining the idea of the original poem. It''s much better in Finnish.

-Jussi

#55 ahw   Members   -  Reputation: 263

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Posted 08 September 2000 - 07:39 AM

OK, I posted a first draft following my first post (Axel Waterside). I changed Waterside for Uferfluss BTW.
I will put all this up on my page when I am happy with the gfx I am doing for them (I can''t draw on my cop for the moment ...).

Oh yeah, I posted all this in the *Game Writing* forum

youpla :-P

#56 runemaster   Members   -  Reputation: 122

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Posted 09 September 2000 - 04:30 AM

This thread should be moved to the new forum.
(the new forum, the new forum !!! *drool*)

Runemaster
Join the Game Developers RuneRing !
The Specular Lightosis Research Fund
This is a message from God: "Rebooting the universe, please log off."


#57 BigBrother   Members   -  Reputation: 122

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Posted 13 September 2000 - 02:38 AM

A couple of years ago I was at runemaster''s and, after having our brains sucked out (played computer), we realized we had nothing else to do. Then he said something like: What about making a PC game? He volunteered to be the programmer, if I would form the basic plot idea.
At that time I had read Pratchett''s "Small Gods" and Eko''s "The name of the Rose", and I was very touched by the Inquisition stuff. Combining this with the very original Eastern Europe atmosphere casted by "Quest for Glory IV", I created the general idea for Woolfmoor.
Since then a lot has change: Woolfmoor became first a game plot, then a book, now it''s a AD&D session. The characters have changed names, so did most of the places, and I have drawn maps after maps. The following extracts are from the book stage, I only wrote three pages after realizing the vanity of it all:



Fog covered most of the area that night ,like every night ,attacking at sunset from the moor.
At the small village of Stapsen ,it was too late for any fires to be still on .So ,as it was a moonless night ,darkness and fog ,like any other moonless night ,ruled.
The valley near the Wolfmoor was a quite little place ,with a couple of little villages, barns and covered by fog. Stapsen was built in the middle of a march ten minutes north of the sea and fifteen from the moor. Most of its people were woodcutters and they walked half an hour every day to reach the wood lying north of the village ,for no-one dared to plant wheat in the Wolfmoor march or to fish in the nearby sea.
That particular night ,on a watchtower at Stapsen ,for there was a wooden palisade around the village ,protecting it from various dangers ,private Grimle Javic ,Holy Quisition’s Guardian Service ,stood guard ,observing the march.
Private Grimle was extremely tired that day. They had to run the whole village up and down ten times before observing that the guild’s cut-throat they were after had escaped. It was the fifth murdered guard from the beginning of the operation called by the High Counsil ( “May the Demons in the Nether Hells burn them! “ he thought ) “The Wolfmoor Campaign “ . Poor sergeant Bettle. He won’ be able to see his family in Aribord ever again.
Poor private Grimle.
At that point, the fog above the tower thinned ,and Grimle could now see the moon. A shadow ,which in the past few moments was successfully sneaking unnoticed behind Grimle, could also see the moon ,because it was right behind him. Before he could react ,Grimle was stabbed twice. His last thoughts were “What the Hell am I doing here? Join the Quisition, they said…”
A loud howl coming from the moor could have given him a hint ,if he wasn’t ,in fact ,quite dead.



The naked woman sitting atop one of the highest Peaks of Gods was an unusual sight, that is, if anyone could have seen it. Of course, no-one could climb the Peaks of Gods, they were reserved for Gods. And for this women, it seemed.
The woman was about thirty years old, with long, black hair to a slender waist. She stood there shivering, blue eyes on an oval pale face, staring at nothing, ignoring the majestic scenery below.
After sitting there for a couple of hours, she stood up slowly. She seemed to notice the world spreading below her for the first time. Her eyes now had an arrogant flash , which wasn’t there before. She looked down with a greedy expression.
She stood there, on the top of the Peak, with the clouds swirling above and the eagles flying by and then she shook herself, like as if she woke from a dream, and whispered:
“ I am back… “
“ I AM BACK!”



The tall, white-haired man stood on the top of the green hill, looking at the farm-house below. The small farmhouse was burning, and so was the nearby barn. The freed goats were calmly grazing around the burned house. “ Couldn’t the bloody man just give me some clothes without any trouble? Another unnecessary bloodshed” the man thought. Then he left, without a single glance at the burning scenery.




The sun casted his last rays of light through the large windows on the other side of the room. The night was beginning but the man within did not care, did not even bother to turn the lights on. His eyes were dangerously ablaze and his hands were flying, as the author wrote his story.






At Soldan, at the Winter Palace, someone was waiting for the Emperor to summon him in the antechamber. He was waiting a long time, but that didn’t seem to make the tall dark-skinned man nervous.
The man was in fact a sea elf, and that was made clear by the pointed ears and by the swollen ribs, where the robes concealed gills. The rest of the elf’s face, as his body was concealed by the robes of a wizard, was quite human, except maybe from being a little too pale.
Suddenly the large, thirty-feet high doors to the throne room opened slightly and a man in the Imperial Vanguard’s uniform entered the antechamber. The valduthian Ê on his breastplate showed that he was a captain of the Emperor’s bodyguard. “Master Neredith, the Emperor is ready to see you. I apologize for the delay.” told him the captain and stood aside, ready to follow him inside.
Neredith tugged one of his thick mustaches, thinking that it was the captain who apologized and not the Emperor. “ The Emperor has been openly hostile lately.” he observed silently and he gave the antechamber a last look. You couldn’t define this columned hall as a room, it’s opposite end joining in the garden. Neredith could see the beautiful flowers. “How beautiful they are.” he thought . he stood there until the captain’s polite, reminding cough. With an apology he headed for the doors.
“ Neredith Illiansvil, Arch Sorcerer of the Magical Grounds, Head of the Water Circle, Current Leader of the Council of the Eight, Ambassador on behalf of all Casters, humbly bows before the Silver Throne and our mighty Emperor Kalmar the Third, Head of House Ilmund, Keeper of the Northern shores, Protector of the Protectorates, Defender of the Holy Church and Sovereign Ruler of the Great Sun Empire!” shouted the captain pompously, stepped back and closed the massive doors behind him.
The large hall before him left Neredith unimpressed. He had seen the black, marble columns and the wide red carpet leading from the doors to the silver throne at the other end of the hall, where Kalmar was studying him, his body stretched so, that he could enjoy the maximum comfort. He didn’t even pay much attention to the glazing silver floor, walls and ceiling and the embroidered imperial coats of arms made with diamonds. “I am not a barbarian to be impressed with shiny stones!” he thought and sniffed loudly, finding out why did the audience took place in this particular room. He felt insulted. Hearing the sorcerer’s sniff, Kalmar smiled, on his throne of purest silver.
Kalmar the third of House Ilmund was a middle-aged, white-haired man just under fifty-five. His age affected only his hair and beard, however, and left his smooth skin and especially, his glazing yellow-brown eyes untouched. These eyes were the first impression the people had of the Emperor. Always glazing, drilling the mind of the man standing before him.
A dozen paces before the throne, the carpet abruptly ended. Between the carpet and the throne, there was the huge Imperial coat of arms, the Seven golden stars of House Ilmund on the golden Pentalph of the Magician’s Guild on a field of silver, symbolizing the bond between them both when the first overthrew House Lamar with the help of the second. “ Not so much of a bond anymore.” thought Neredith regretfully. He did not kneel before the Emperor just to annoy him, but Kalmar showed no outer signs of irritation.
“ You came.” the Emperor said simply.
“ You summoned me, oh Glorious One.” the elf answered calmly.
Silence followed. Both the man and the elf looked at each other as the cat looks at the mice before she eat’s it. They both looked as the cat.
“ It’s about the troubles at Stapsen” Kalmar said at last. “ I assume you have plans made, yes?” The Emperor allowed himself a smile, while Neredith’s face became solid ice. “ I assume that you have had your own made for the Guild, oh Glorious One?” His voice was solid ice, too.
“ Yes, yes, indeed.” said Kalmar casually, not appearing to hear the grumbles of the now red-faced sorcerer, who now burst: “ You will send the butchers of the Quisition again? I would like to see that! A Guardian facing a werewolf!”
It was the Emperor’s turn to become ice-faced. “ Who said anything about a werewolf?” he said coolly. “ That is just …” “ Rumors, indeed!” interrupted the sorcerer mockingly, managing to ignore the now nova-brown eyes. “ Do you have anything else to tell me, no, to suggest to me, oh Glorious One?”
Again, Kalmar did not seem to mind the elf’s insulting manner. “Actually” he said “ I’ll let you take there a party of four.”
“ Four?” Neredith shouted. “ The audience has ended, Neredith” said the Emperor, openly smiling with amusement. “ Bloody four?” the elf shouted again, his face now pink. Kalmar clasped his hands and the doors opened. The captain entered into the Hall and fell to his knees and hands.
Neredith sighed, emptying himself of excess rage. “ That won’t be necessary” he said obviously calmer now. Behind him a Gateway appeared. Neredith bowed deeply and then moved across the opening of the Gateway. “ Remember, oh Glorious One, we put the Ilmunds on the throne, we can throw them down the throne for a better applicant.” were his last words before he disappeared into the depths of time and space, into the Gateway.
Their meeting left the Emperor, alone on his golden throne in his silver hall, thoughtful and, perhaps, afraid.




The room belonging to the Grand Inquisitor, Mailir Jemir, took the whole of the attic of the Temple of Naidil, at about a thousand feet above the ground. It was the highest penthouse in the whole of Aribord, site of the Quisition’s headquarters and second largest city of the Empire. The room was simple by itself: A long and narrow, simple room, bare for any furniture save for the bright desk and the two huge bookshelves on each side of the door, facing the desk. And the windows, of course. The room was full of them. It had the look of a huge attic, dusty and full of stuff.
A tall man was leaning on the open, arched window just behind the desk and he was patting his bearded cheek unconsciously.. Mailir Jemir was well in sixties, but his body was extremely fit. His hair was sill red, with only some, white on the temples, and marked him as a Polterakin. He had a face of a soldier, hard and flat, but his eyes were another matter. Frosty blue, they radiated coldness.
He liked watching at the city below. From his window he could see the whole of it. He could see the city live. He breathed deeply and, with a sigh, he turned to the other occupant of the room. Paladin Nahum Gaile, his secretary, had been standing there unblinking and stiff. The bearded face of the stockily-built man had no signs of eagerness on it. Although Jemir had heard the man enter, he didn’t bother himself with addressing to the man, until now. But he couldn’t enjoy the view with the other man in the room. He could feel Gaile’s eyes on his back.
“ What is it now, Paladin?” he asked regretfully.
“ I have brought you today’s letters, your Grace”. was the paladin’s answer. After three months of being served by the man, his flat, expressionless voice unnerved the Grand Inquisitor. Gaile would have lost his post right away, if not for the fact that he was by far a better secretary than Jemir’s last secretary, Dagomir Sulick, who died in an epidemic of flue.
The paladin handed him the letters and the Inquisitor studied them for a while. They all bear crests on. Two bore the imperial coat of arms, the seven stars on the pentalaph ( Jemir sneered ) on a field of white. An other was stylised with the crest of the Arch Druid, Ereborn Whalbyrn, a staff, on it’s top a bright green ball, on an oak leaf. And the last had…
The Grand Inquisitor opened the letter with his paper-knife hastily, but his lack of attention costed him a cut on his right thumb. Blood gushed out from the wound and the Grand Inquisitor sucked his cut finger into his mouth. With his free left hand he picked the letter stamped by the stamp of the Special Investigator, the post currently occupied by Valick Coromir, Inquisitor, assigned at Stapsen. Jemir began reading.

My Lord

The investigation is proceeding. It has not been found. We have found no evidence leading to anyone…or to anything.
There is also rebel interference. The Mayor doesn’t let me free to act as I should. I request reinforcements of, lets say, two thousand men. I would be grateful if you would put in charge young Aelric. I ask it as a personal favour.

Respectfully
Valick Coromir
Your Faithful Servant

He wants his son to go to that hornet’s nest?. Motioning his secretary to leave, he studied the letter carefully, again and again. He read it through again and again. The he held it against the light of the sun to find any secret messages. After finding nothing, he threw it in the hearth, built on the right of the table. Although it was already late Saghoul, spring was yet far away. The letter was soon consumed by the flames. The Grand Inquisitor stood there a bit, rubbing his hands against the fire. The man’s blue eyes mirrored the yellow-red flames as he worked up his plan over and over.






We Shall Overcome!




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PARTNERS