Gremhawk
08-18-2003, 08:02 AM
Hark thee all and listen to my tale. Tis not one of those bloody tales, about heroes and fools, or foolish heroes, nor one of a tragic love, or monsters and ghouls. This be a tale of a mage so mighty, that the mountains quaked in his shadow, the waters receded at his glare, and his enemies continously tried to break his pedastle of power. Come closer, listen, and remember at all times, magic is not some fanciful spell hurled down on those who cannot defend against it, nor is it a prayer which can close all wounds. Magic is that special ingrediant which makes your mother's stew taste great,and your father's finely carved and gilded dove soar with the wind. Magic, young ones, is what we make of it...
Twas the third eve of the annual mage fair. Folks from all over came together to witness the likes of which is seen only from a distance, and hopefully, that distance is a realm away! A mage fair is when mages from all over the realms come to show off their most illustrious spells, their most finely made objects of magic, and to speak and argue with those of like mind, other mages. All the day long, wizards and illusionists had shown off their creations, necromancers had risen ghouls, and enchanters had...well...enchanted.
An older man, in dust covered green robes, walked out into the Spelling Field. Magical shields thrummed as he walked through them, showing the crowd that they were well protected from errant magic...hopefully. The man walked out towards the center of the field, and raised his hands in front of him, his back turned to the crowd. Minutes passed, and the crowd quieted. People coughed quietly in the silence.
A young man yelled out to the man in robes, "Come on old man, forgotten your spells in your dottering age? Ha!"
The crowd laughed softly, but the old man still did not turn, his hands wavering in front of him as he muttered words of arcane power.
"Eh's as powerless in magic as eh is in bed I'm thinkin'!" laughed out a young lass.
"T'would be less annoying, if the youth of today showed a little more respect for those who know more than they," the old man in robes finally replied.
"What know ye of magic than, old man?" cried out an illusionist.
"I know enough, Edlouri Nigalishen, to know that claiming to know magic, is about as brilliant, as claiming to be an idiot. Which claim do you make, hmm?" he replied.
"If ye don't know magic than get ye out of the field! You're making these folk wait for some truly wondorous magic!" Eldouri shouted back.
"Ah, but I have already casted my spell, Illusionist. A question, doth thee know where thy staff is?" the old man chuckled.
Eldouri, the illusionist glanced around quickly, searching for his apparently lost staff. He looked down to his feet, to notice that it had fallen, and quickly picked it up. "Here it is old man, what say ye? Did you just knock it down? Some trick!"
"Eldouri, is that your staff? Are you sure now?"
Studying the staff carefully, Edlouri yelled back, "Aye, tis mine, made by my own hand."
"Than what, tell, is this?" the green robed man replied, holding up a duplicate staff.
Eldouri quickly double checked his staff, now unsure of whether it was his or not. After a careful inspection, he tossed down the staff and angrily glared at the man in the field. "Give me back my staff old man, or you'll wish you had never come here!"
"I will give it back to thee for a price." the old man chuckled.
"I will not pay for mine own staff! Return it at once!" Eldouri cried out.
"A simple question, illusionist. Answer it truthfulland I will return it." the man pleaded.
"I will have my staff back either way. Ask your question." the illusionist grumbled.
"Thank thee. Now, I ask thee, what is the most powerful tool a mage can bring to a fight?" inquired the man in green.
"Simple, his most powerful spells and a couple teleports." Eldouri replied.
"Wrong," the old man replied gravely. "A mages most powerful tool is his mind, and his ability to consider his actions before blindly rushing in, spells at the ready, to destroy whatever is in his way." The old man than took the staff and swung it over his head, then brought it crashing to the ground, snapping it in half.
"My staff!" Eldouri screeched. "I'll have your head for that, old man!"
"But Eldouri, your staff is there, beside you, where you tossed it." The old man replied.
Uncertainly, the illusionist picked up his staff, feeling power thrum through it. "How did you do that?" he asked.
"I used the most powerful tool a mage can wield," the old man replied. Slowly, he walked out of the field and through the crowd, towards his red maned horse.
"Wait!" another mage cried out. "What is your name, old man?"
"Gremhawk. If thee would learn more of real magic, find me in the years to come and I shall help thee, but come with death spells flying, and ye will be nothing but dust in the earth, as we all are eventually. Most of the world seems to forget that." Gremhawk stated. He turned his horse and rode off down the dusty road, muttering to himself and his horse about the quickness to anger of some youths.
Wisely, the horse did not reply.
*******
Hi all, I'm new to the forums, and am looking forward to 1) helping beta test, and 2) play the game after release. Please comment on the intro. I write short fantasy stories all the time for myself, and am always looknig for ways to improve. Thanks.
Twas the third eve of the annual mage fair. Folks from all over came together to witness the likes of which is seen only from a distance, and hopefully, that distance is a realm away! A mage fair is when mages from all over the realms come to show off their most illustrious spells, their most finely made objects of magic, and to speak and argue with those of like mind, other mages. All the day long, wizards and illusionists had shown off their creations, necromancers had risen ghouls, and enchanters had...well...enchanted.
An older man, in dust covered green robes, walked out into the Spelling Field. Magical shields thrummed as he walked through them, showing the crowd that they were well protected from errant magic...hopefully. The man walked out towards the center of the field, and raised his hands in front of him, his back turned to the crowd. Minutes passed, and the crowd quieted. People coughed quietly in the silence.
A young man yelled out to the man in robes, "Come on old man, forgotten your spells in your dottering age? Ha!"
The crowd laughed softly, but the old man still did not turn, his hands wavering in front of him as he muttered words of arcane power.
"Eh's as powerless in magic as eh is in bed I'm thinkin'!" laughed out a young lass.
"T'would be less annoying, if the youth of today showed a little more respect for those who know more than they," the old man in robes finally replied.
"What know ye of magic than, old man?" cried out an illusionist.
"I know enough, Edlouri Nigalishen, to know that claiming to know magic, is about as brilliant, as claiming to be an idiot. Which claim do you make, hmm?" he replied.
"If ye don't know magic than get ye out of the field! You're making these folk wait for some truly wondorous magic!" Eldouri shouted back.
"Ah, but I have already casted my spell, Illusionist. A question, doth thee know where thy staff is?" the old man chuckled.
Eldouri, the illusionist glanced around quickly, searching for his apparently lost staff. He looked down to his feet, to notice that it had fallen, and quickly picked it up. "Here it is old man, what say ye? Did you just knock it down? Some trick!"
"Eldouri, is that your staff? Are you sure now?"
Studying the staff carefully, Edlouri yelled back, "Aye, tis mine, made by my own hand."
"Than what, tell, is this?" the green robed man replied, holding up a duplicate staff.
Eldouri quickly double checked his staff, now unsure of whether it was his or not. After a careful inspection, he tossed down the staff and angrily glared at the man in the field. "Give me back my staff old man, or you'll wish you had never come here!"
"I will give it back to thee for a price." the old man chuckled.
"I will not pay for mine own staff! Return it at once!" Eldouri cried out.
"A simple question, illusionist. Answer it truthfulland I will return it." the man pleaded.
"I will have my staff back either way. Ask your question." the illusionist grumbled.
"Thank thee. Now, I ask thee, what is the most powerful tool a mage can bring to a fight?" inquired the man in green.
"Simple, his most powerful spells and a couple teleports." Eldouri replied.
"Wrong," the old man replied gravely. "A mages most powerful tool is his mind, and his ability to consider his actions before blindly rushing in, spells at the ready, to destroy whatever is in his way." The old man than took the staff and swung it over his head, then brought it crashing to the ground, snapping it in half.
"My staff!" Eldouri screeched. "I'll have your head for that, old man!"
"But Eldouri, your staff is there, beside you, where you tossed it." The old man replied.
Uncertainly, the illusionist picked up his staff, feeling power thrum through it. "How did you do that?" he asked.
"I used the most powerful tool a mage can wield," the old man replied. Slowly, he walked out of the field and through the crowd, towards his red maned horse.
"Wait!" another mage cried out. "What is your name, old man?"
"Gremhawk. If thee would learn more of real magic, find me in the years to come and I shall help thee, but come with death spells flying, and ye will be nothing but dust in the earth, as we all are eventually. Most of the world seems to forget that." Gremhawk stated. He turned his horse and rode off down the dusty road, muttering to himself and his horse about the quickness to anger of some youths.
Wisely, the horse did not reply.
*******
Hi all, I'm new to the forums, and am looking forward to 1) helping beta test, and 2) play the game after release. Please comment on the intro. I write short fantasy stories all the time for myself, and am always looknig for ways to improve. Thanks.