Volume Seven Issue Twenty-Two
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VOLUME SEVEN, ISSUE TWENTY-TWO September 13th, 2000
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Calendar of Events
NEWS & REPORTS
Sweet Delights - Scorn's Scavenger Hunt
A Witch's Vocabulary
LEGENDITES
Announcements
Dial's Transformation
A Mother's Secret
The Death of Sleep
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/__| LegendMUD Calendar of Events |__\
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[All times are system time unless otherwise specified]
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Wednesday, September 13 at 7:30 pm Sweet Delights --
Scorn's Scavenger Hunt
Thursday, September 14 at 7:00 pm Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
Thursday, September 21 at 7:00 pm Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
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/__| NEWS AND REPORTS |__\
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Sweet Delights - Scorn's Scavenger Hunt
Scorn's log, September 13
I have set out on a long voyage across land and time in search of my little
girl. I asked my beloved Tika to join me but alas, she had to work in the
sweat shoppe called "The Silver Branch Inn." While traveling I came across
several trinkets and goodies that she would enjoy. I have the funds and
Hitpoints to acquire such things, but my poor body is too weak to carry most
of them. When I would rest at an inn, I noticed a few of these things would
disappear in my slumber.
28 items marooned in three time eras. A few MUD hours to retrieve them (or
as many as you can). Each item has a point value. Characters with the most
points win. Prizes include: Coupons and Zip strings (Immorted from
Wizland).
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A Witch's Vocabulary
Amulet: A magically charged object, often used for protection.
Asperge: To sprinkle with water before or during a ritual, to purify with
sprinkled water.
Athame: A double-edged dagger for ritual use.
Aura: The energy field existing around all living things.
Balefire: A fire lit for a magical purpose.
Besom: A magical broom.
Bolline: A white-handled knife used for practical purposes such as cutting
herbs, flowers, etc.
Book of Shadows: A book kept like a diary by a witch, of spells, rituals,
stories, and other things.
Censer: An incense burner.
Center: To center your thoughts and energies, to focus.
Chalice: A ritual goblet.
Charge: To infuse an object or person with energy; also an oath or instruction.
Circle: A sphere created by a sorcerer or witch, constructed of energy.
Cleanse: To remove negative energy, to purify.
Coven: A group of witches who come together to practice magic and celebrate
the sabbats.
Craft: The Craft; witchcraft, natural magic.
Deosil: Clockwise direction.
Divination: The magical art of discovering the unknown through use of cards,
runes, stones, crystal balls, and other tools.
Elements: The four building blocks of the universe, Earth, Air, Fire, and
Water. Major forces used in natural magic.
Evocation: Calling up spirits or other non-physical entities.
Faerie: Nature spirits that inhabit a realm or dimension close to our own.
Faerie Kingdom: The realm of the Faerie.
Grimoire: A magical workbook.
Grounding - to ground: To root oneself firmly in the physical world in
preparation to magic and metaphysical work.
Handfasting: A witch, wiccan, pagan or gypsy wedding.
Herbalist: One who works with herbs.
Invocation: To invoke or appeal to a God or Goddess, element or energy.
Magic: The manipulation of natural forcese and psychic energy to bring about
desired changes.
Pagan, paganism: A follower of an Earth based religion.
Pentacle: A ritual object or piece of jewelry with a pentagram inscribed
or woven into it.
Pentagram: A five-pointed star (not to be confused with a Star of David).
Ritual: Ceremony.
Runes: Symbols carved onto rocks, crystals, clay, candles or other surfaces,
which have powerful energies to be used during magic; symbols used
in early alphabets.
Scry: To gaze into or at an object while in a deep meditative state; to
open oneself to visions.
Skyclad: To practice magic and ritual in the nude, "wearing only the sky".
Spell: A magical ritual used to produce certain resultsin the physical world.
Talisman: A magically charged object used to attract a specific force or
energy to its bearer.
Underworld: The realm of the spirits; the realm of the dead.
Visualization: The process of forming mental images.
Widdershins: Counterclockwise direction.
Witchcraft: The craft of magic.
Consider using some of these terms in your roleplay, or to understand the
actions of others!
Provided by Kae.
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o O | Wonder what folks are |
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/__| LEGENDITES: Information Regarding the People of Our World |__\
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Announcements
Miyamoto has reached 100 million experience!
After our monthly inactive character purge, The Knights Templar and the
Disciples of the Great Camel both disbanded due to low membership. The
Knights Templar reformed as 'The Knights of the Temple' on September 13th.
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Dial's Transformation
As witnessed by an old drunkard:
Dark robed and clad in black, an eerie figure entered the tavern in Tara. His
motions were strange as if watching a sidhe dance. He pulled back his hood to
reveal a face long forgotten by most. Not believing it, I put my hand on his
shoulder and said, "Is it you Dial, how is this possible?" After a long drink
he began his tale:
"One night I was a member of a band that ventured into the Land of Shadows.
Each of us had our own reasons for being there but the gods were against us
and we were doomed to fail. Many were killed and though the brave rescued as
many as possible, fearing for their lives they ventured no closer then a
hair. Unfortunately I was one of the unlucky few who could not be rescued.
As I lay there, my last breath fading from my mortal body, I fell away into
the darkness. Miraculously, I awoke to find the gashes on my arms had been
healed but replaced with ropes that bound me. It seems that the sidhe are far
more conniving then I could ever imagine. I was spared from death for the
amusement of the Guards.
Using their dark powers they controlled me... bent my body to perform for
them, amusing themselves with antics and stories with me as their puppet.
They controlled my every move, but not my thoughts. Hour after hour, day
after day, they juggled me around as their string-puppet. But the influence
of their magic was strong and after a while the magic I had used in my
forgotten life began to change. Months passed and I could feel my own magic
start to challenge the guards' powers. The day finally came for me to
escape.
Ah, the irony, using their own magic to escape the prison they had created
for me. When the evening guard came to bring me my food, I summoned the magic
from within, causing fire to strike. His last look told the story of never
underestimating the weak. These new powers were strong. I could feel them
growing with each use. Looking at the dead guard, I chanted a newly learned
spell that brought his body back to life. Slowly the zombie straightened,
bones creaking with every move. We moved out of the cell and into the
passageway, where we happened upon a second guard. Ah, it was a grand fight.
His blood flowed like a river.
After we had dispatched the second guard, a quick illusion spell on his
corpse made it look like I was safely in my cell. Using the skills of the
Assassins, We crept out of the Prison and off to safety. All was well until
a very disgruntled sidhe crossed our paths and began tearing at my zombie. He
had served me well and with this last act he would allow my freedom back into
the mortal world. With that, I fled into the darkness.
Gloating to myself about my recent victory, I decided that at this point I
was the most powerful mage, having both my old powers of create and the new
knowledge of cause that the sidhe had unwillingly taught me. Alas, it was not
so. As I sat at the crossroads I found that not a single of my old spells
would work. The magic of the sidhe had extinguished the light of create magic
that burned within my body."
The room was silent a moment, then quiet conversation resumed. The figure
excused himself and slowly walked upstairs to get a room.
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A Mother's Secret
I sit alone in the darkness of my room, and think of the years I missed.
Voices echo in the back of my mind, both comforting and taunting me together,
making the confusion grow greater and greater with each passing hour. The son
I didn't know I wanted, but was ready to give my life for, was gone. "It's
because of you, Malia," the words that haunts my dreams, a nightmare so bad
that I wake in a cold sweat. Perhaps I should have told Her no when she asked
me to have this child. Or if I would have been there throughout his life, or
maybe if I wasn't there at all. Would the ending have been the same? Guilt
plays games that I'm not sure I can win. These questions leave their mark in
my mind, permanently scarred there so that I see them every minute.
My life is different now, since Sabu was told the truth. I had a son. Being a
mother was more than I could have ever expected, and I enjoyed it. But it
ended too soon. The pain I feel is unlike anything I've known. And combined
with the guilt and regrets of the years passed cause thoughts to pass through
my mind that I should not be thinking. I find myself questioning all of this,
and Her. Why was he to be born, only to die so young? Why was he taken from
me? Is this punishment for going against Her and revealing who I was?
Guilt floods my very soul, and probably rightfully so. I've done this to him,
and I'll never forgive myself for it.
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The Death of Sleep:
By: Gallowglass Alexandria D'Aramand
Gray mist covered the small, hidden vale within the forest. Silence only
answered the rising dawn, deathly silence. Staring out over the graying
mists, Gallowglass sipped her tea quietly, her thoughts introspective.
Are not my days few? Cease then, and let me alone, that I may take comfort
a little, before I go whence I shall return, even to the land of Darkness
and the Shadow of Death, a land of darkness itself; and of the Shadow of
death, without any order, and where the Light is as Darkness1, she silently
thought to herself. That thought comforted her very little these days.
"As well as the thought should not," a hissing voice said from somewhere in
the room. Darkness gathered about her, tearing at her clothes as well as
her mind. She screamed, but nothing came from her throat.
"Tell another tale from your Holy Writ, Elf," another, more higher pitched
voice mocked. A shred of shadow torn at her hair.
"Leave me alone," she croaked as tears fell down her cheeks. "I follow the
Gods' Will, not thy master's" She wrapped her arms about herself and rocked
silently bacl and forth, trying to silence the demonic voices.
"Do you think we a re silenced so easily?" a deeper voice said, forcing her
to close her eyes tightly. "We are only things of your past, present, and
future. you cannot hide from us."
Gallowglass withheld a sob and her hand went to her throat. "Libra me,
Dominae, de morte aeterna in die illa tremenda," she whispered, hoping the
benediction would work. Nothing happened. Her head rang with pain, images
flying in front of her eyes.
Images of blood soakd fields filled her mind's eyes. People dying, yet
praising her. "For the Queen of Telosia," some of them shouted. Pain
permeated through her very fiber of being, her soul. A man cloaked in
crimson and black rode next to her, a terrifying staff in his hand and the
look of Death shadowing his features. He was thin, nearly to the point of
frailty, but she knew it wasn't possible for him to be weak.
Stabbing pain came from behind her eyelids. Tears fell down her cheeks.
"Do you remember us now?" the deep voice said.
"Go away, demons!" she wept. "I don't want any part of your propoganda!"
"You think that our existence is propoganda?" the middle pitched voice
asked. Glowing blue eyes appeared out of the shadows. "You think that for
all our years, we are just propoganda?" The voice laughed. Laughed at her.
"You have memories of us."
Pain and a blinding flash. "So do you mean to go with our son?" a man in
bluish-black asked her. His face was pale and sported a few scars that made
him irresistably handsome. "As Lord Valthalas, I must keep him with me."
"As the Queen of Telosia," she heard herself saying, "it is my right to
raise this child as the Throne's Place Keeper." She stared at the man, Lord
Valthalas, she thought. His face did not change, but he rounded on her and
their lips firmly met.
"Remember who you left," he said as he faded from her mind. Clutching the
arm of the chair, Gallowglass had bitten her lip and blood streamed down her
chin. The pain was unbearable.
"The demons drank the blood which made them sing and kill," she whispered as
she tried to ignore the happenings about her. She felt tendrils of shadow
creep about her, renting her clothing from her until she sat, naked and
crying.
"You left me for exile," another voice said. Large, gray eyes glowed in the
middle distance. A lash of shadow struck her, blood oozing from the wound
on her cheek.
Pain flashed again. She found herself in a small, country house with a man
taller than she, but with more muscle than the others. He smiled at her and
knelt before her. "Will you marry me?" he asked her, his eyes earnest for
the answer.
Her body shook. "Yes, Xerox, I will marry thee," she said, her face
smiling. Pain flashed again.
"I left for another who wanted me as a man, not as a pawn." Pain again.
Why did these voices hurt so much? More tendrils of shaodw crept about her
body, lashing out and scoring marks into her flesh.
"Stop this!" she moaned as her head lolled to the side. She fought hard for
darkness, but the pain was too much to ignore.
"This will not stop," the deep voice said again. "You will remember the
pain that you caused by rememberring yourself."
THE PATH TO THE FLAME OF SALVATION WILL NOT BE THROUGH YOU, an echoing voice
said in her head. She couldn't remember who it was, or why it talked to her
such. Another tendril, more pain.
"No more!" she pleaded with the shadows, but more came as though she had not
spoken. Darkness swam into her vision and she felt tears of relief slide
down her cheeks before darkness finally took her . . .
The woods seemed too silent for Dashiva to let his guard down. A shriek
pierced the woods. He hadn't seen Lady D'Aramand in nearly three days, but
he knew of the small cottage that she Travelled to for quiet meditation.He
was going to report to her that all of the Nine Seals had been found, but
they awaited to be gathered.
Stepping across the floating stones that served as stairs, he knocked on the
stout oaken door. No response. Turning the knob, he held his breath and
his anger as his eyes fell on the huddled, bleeding form of Lady D'Aramand.
A sense of wrongness came to him as he stared about in the flickering
shadows.
He picked up her tattered body gently and held his ear to her chest, making
sure that she breathed and her heart beat. She stirred in his arms, and
muttered incoherently. She was not dead, and the Death of Sleep would not
touch her as long as he watched over her.
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Legendary Times is published by the immortals of LegendMUD. Please send
all replies, additions, or corrections to our address at [email protected]
for inclusion in the next edition. We, however, reserve the right to
moderate this discussion, and may object to some submissions.
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