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Author Topic: Shroud event Lore--Rosaed and Elia  (Read 4494 times)

Offline Stingite

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Shroud event Lore--Rosaed and Elia
« on: October 04, 2006, 03:31:41 AM »
Hello,

As an introduction, I am a returning BL to the game and am having fun discovering some new (to me) aspects of the game.  I decided to write up some lore for a guild event involving an "all shroud LDON."  This event is yet to happen and I'm still refining a few things about the story.  I asked the board admin if I could post this here for anyone's enjoyment (even though it has nothing to do in particular with beastlord lore) and he said y'all are a pretty laid back crew. :-)

So, here is a short story/event for your enjoyment.  If you do decide to run or refine this event in your guild, I would be excited to hear about the outcome and would simply like a note of credit (written by Stingite of Erollisi Marr). 

Obviously I'm mixing character elements of the Norrath I know and taking some big liberties with some made up lore . . . like a Gargoyle God.  I'm kind of a newbie at writing lore for this game, so I hope I haven't made any staggering mistakes.

Thanks and I hope you enjoy the read.  This could probably be longer and with more detail, but I'm hoping it would work as a guild event . . . maybe revealing a chapter a day on guild boards or something.  ok.  here it is. :wink:

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Chapter 1, Love of Darkness and Light

Elia the Pure stood near the cleansing pool of Northern Felwithe as she always did, transcribing with the light and greeting the few paladins who required her special bond with luminescence to cleanse certain items of rare power.  She was beautiful in more than the common sense of the word.  Elia’s beauty came from what lovers might call the deepest kind of love—the love that binds a creature to its passion. 

As usual Tam stood near Elia . . . but not too near.  Perhaps it was that love emanating from Elia that Tam found so alluring.  Perhaps it was just love of a friend that could pass the time while casting his line into the water, endlessly searching and perfecting his craft.  His eyes darting with the fish and on occasion to Elia’s soft hands dancing with the light.

As one might suspect, love was a topic of conversation they were no strangers too.  And just as their discussions uncovered, there are other kinds of love.  From the playful love of a child to Tunare’s love of life to love that could drive a person to desperation and madness.

“The light tells a person certain things about the eyes it gives intelligence to,” Elia said to Tam in a hushed voice.

Tam recast his line into the water. “I see him look at you as you walk past the lookout, Elia.  It’s not hard to read the currents of his eyes.”

“I am lost to the adoration, Tam” Elia said with a flick of the wrist, rubbing light into the already firey penmanship emanating from the scroll on her writing board.

“Love is a desperate thing,” Tam said as he set his hook into another Felwithe sunfish. “It frightens the light in you.  Simple things like walking and breathing to a maniac can become more passionate acts than our Gods inhabiting this flesh.”

“Oh Tam, you don’t really think he’s that over that edge for me, do you? If he is, I must let him know there is another I dream of.”

Tam and Elia paused and looked as they heard the cough a portal makes when shut, but there was nothing there.

Tam grew a serious look on his face like Veeshan protecting her brood.  “Aye, Elia,” Tam said as he dropped the pole with the line still tugging and loosening the sunfish.  He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her toward him, pressing his forehead to hers in customary Koada'Dal fashion.  “I feel he may love you more strangely than I love you as my friend. I’m not sure where his thoughts may lead.  I pray to Marr for him.”

Elia drew away, unsure of what Tam felt . . . but still existing in the air were the barking and the hissing and the cackle from the nightmares of the day before, haunting as fire in a child’s hands to the weeds at the edge of the Takish Hiz desert.

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Chapter 2, the eyes of a lookout

High above the entrance to Felwithe North from the turmoil of Faydwer, the High Elves built a lookout.  The lookout is not a spot one can get to through a lazy stroll though town; the entrance is tucked away by the secret builders of Felwithe.  Of course, the secret is nothing a stranger would keep close after a bottle of fish wine and a game of chess.  The rumor is of an iksar buying an invisibility potion and finding a secret door past the paladin guild, but he was caught by the roaming guards in the maze of secret tunnels when the effects of the sneak’s potion expired . . . never making it to the lookout . . . and after quick judgement there was a slit by the throat, a throw from the bridge, and a time to decay as a warning . . . and after the frightened pause of the teller comes the punchline . . . amen to the iksar that doesn’t carry more than one potion or know how to play dead.

The guarded lookout itself serves as the grander metaphor for the state of the Koada’Dal army: elevated, glinting with steel, seeing the war from a wiser vantage than the other allied races.  However the real metaphor lies in the lookout himself: hardened on the surface, but beneath the armor—flesh that longs for peaceful embrace . . . beneath the flesh—heart and vein that beat and sustain a love for those that he stands guard for. Any warrior who has fought a mighty battle knows that his drive is the passion to protect the ones he loves.

And the eyes.

A lookout’s eyes are as treasured as attunement to the Deathknell.  They must not weary and they must be as sharp as a griffon’s.  For the Koada’Dal, they must be trustworthy eyes of someone uncommon and strong.

Lieutenant Rosaed had eyes of liquid fire.

In the lookout Rosaed’s armor glinted with the sun.  Full of daydream, he had thought many times of his station in life and how it would be different had he and his friend Jennas not been guided past the illusionary tapestry in Queynos and the resulting events that magically changed his eyes forever.  And although the fire was now in his eyes; fire makes ashes . . . whether the phoenix chooses to rise is all together beside the point.

Rosaed had longed to be a seasoned adventurer, but after only 42 tests of level, his future had been decided.  The high council had recruited him to guard in Felwithe.  The day the stationing papers arrived his heart leapt.  As a child there was none his heart beat for than Elia . . . before she became Elia “the Pure.”  He had hoped his guarding station would be nearer to Southern Felwithe and give him the chance to be closer to Elia.  Unfortunately, his eyes gave his position at Felwithe away and his station was set.   

The visage of Elia grew darker in his mind each day the sun rose.  Fire makes ashes.

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Chapter 3, Prayers

A lookout has a lot of time to pray . . . not from the vantage of the knees . . . but pray nonetheless.  Some say true communion is as grand as being hailed by Mithanial Marr himself.  Others find their concerns being met with what feels like a closed door to a “Gods Only” Tavern. Though suffering is refinement and no God promises every concern to be answered, Mithanial Marr’s attention had in fact been granted on occasion to those of pure intent.

Without the vantage that prayer gives from the knees, good men can pray with an unknown greed.  As did Rosaed these days, he would whisper to the air, “Almighty Marr, I approach you with humility and indeed am grateful for my station in life.  My eyes are a great blessing and see much, but they do not see her, Almighty Marr. I beg of you to increase my sight, so I may see her everyday.  My eyes must be a portal to her side.”

This prayer passed his lips many times during lookout and increased in frequency after time caused the rains to come six years.  Six years on the lookout and she had not come to him once.  Six years on the lookout praying and Marr had not given him the sight he longed for.  Six years his eyes fashioned ashes in his mind.  It was enough to drive the heart and veins of a soldier to the edge of madness.

Then the thought came to Rosaed as never before.  He might not have known it was Bristlebane himself whispering in his ear, “there are other gods than Marr.”  He shook off the thought at first, but the words of the God of Mischief kept ringing in his ears like a yellow jacket in a blistering hive.  Rosaed whispered, “There are other gods than Marr.”

Another season was spent and Rosaed’s prayers to Marr came to a surprising halt and for a long time there was nothing but silence and the liquid burning in his eyes.  On a hot Tuesday in the summer from high on the lookout, he opened his mouth and stood quite still for over an hour.  The words wouldn’t come and a dryness crept to his lips.  Then with a hoarseness in his throat he said simply, “unknown gods will you hear me?”  His color flushed and the temperature of the lookout dropped like ice from a cup down a cold stairwell, and sat there wet and slowly melting.  In fact, in that moment it was as if the world had frozen in time.  And in fact, it had.

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Chapter 4, Conversing with Gargoyles

Bristlebane laughed as he carried the words on a pillow through the corridors of Mayong’s new throng.  Mayong had grown out of reach, but there were others here that had grown in power as well.  Bristlebane knew and he giggled and clicked his heals as he ushered himself down the dark hallway.

Darkness meant nothing to him, as did the light, but mischief was supreme.

The words on the pillow smoked coldly and burned with odd pleasure.

When he saw Goreack’tussinin, the God of Gargoyles, he threw the pillow at him. Goreack howled as the words burned his left arm and Bristlebane snuck between his legs and bit at his ankle.

“BRISTLEBANE,” Goreack shrieked as if he had been stung by his backstabbing blade. “What do you want with me? Leave me to my misery.”

Bristlebane jumped to Goreack’s winged shoulders and slapped him on the head. “Oh you old stoney, I have a present for you.”

Goreack shuffled and tried to swipe the Halfling God of Mischief off his head, but of course he had already teleported behind him and stepped on his tail.

Bristlebane giggled and scampered to face the ominous Gargoyle from the front.  “You’ll like this one Goreack, he’s almost as stonefaced as you . . . might as well be a Gargoyle perched from his lookout in Felwithe,”

   “A high elf would bow to me?” Goreack said in shock.

“Yes,” continued Bristlebane who already was picking at a slab of meat on Goreack’s table, “Apparently Marr needs his prayers said from bended knee and with a little common sense and humilty.”  Bristlebane grabbed a leg of meat and chucked it at Goreack’s face.  Goreack grabbed the meat in mid-air and swallowed it whole, bone and all.

   “Tell me more,” Goreack gurgled.

“It’s all on those words I brought you, stonehead . . . but since we’re in a hurry and your reading comprehension is as thick as granite, his name is Lieutenant Rosaed, in Felwithe . . . I’ve frozen time there for you, but my power grows weak and the Gods grow suspicious.  Take this portal and you will find him there . . . Getting out of Felwithe is your own business.  Strangely enough he’s asking for the power of a gargoyle’s sight . . . naturally, I thought of you.”

“Your mischief better not dampen my chances with Mayong’s throng, but, yes, a high elf worshiper is intriguing.” 

Goreack stepped through the portal to Felwithe.  There he perched on the lookout’s banister and waited for time to begin again, which it shortly did as Bristlebane snapped his fingers and returned to his plane.

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Chapter 5, A Stony Embrace

Rosaed drew his sword and pointed it at the Gargoyle that appeared before him, but Goreack’s tail had already slipped between the plates of his armor and pierced his back and paralyzed him with the poison of a Gargoyle God.

“Rosaed, you will hear me as the poison has only stopped you from summoning others to my presence.” Goreack’s tail withdrew and he took the frozen High Elf in his arms as a child. “I do not mean you harm.  I only come to answer your prayer.  I am Goreack’tussinin.  You have not heard of me, but I give sight to the Gargoyle’s of Norrath and beyond.”

Goreack looked into the eyes of the Koada'Dal in his arms. “I see you do have part of our power already.  No wonder they have chosen you for this life you lead.” Goreack continued as he folded his wings to his side, “Mithanial Marr will not give you my power, child.” Goreack shifted to the shadows of the corridor and sat in the shade with Rosaed in his lap as a master would with his pet. “The power of the poison has worn off enough for you to blink your eyes now.”

Rosaed’s eyes fluttered.

“Good.  You are responsive.  I will grant you this blessing Rosaed, but you must always silently acknowledge this gift and my power to grant it to you.  If you agree, blink your eyes three times slowly for me to see.”

Rosaed could not feel the embrace of the Gargoyle god but it was something he recognized in himself.  He blinked slowly once.  This didn’t feel natural to Rosaed at all, but he felt relieved suddenly. He blinked slowly once again.  After years of prayers to Mithanial Marr and now the first thought of other gods was answered with this?  His suffering in silence, perched as a gargoyle above his beloved town, had surely been heard.  He blinked a third time.

“Excellent, my visage.  Prepare yourself for the gift of teleported sight, youngling.”

Goreack laid Rosaed to the ground and hovered over him.  A blast of red light came from the Gargoyle’s eyes and met the corneas of a willing Rosaed.  The force was enough to slowly move him five feet across the ground over the span of the interaction.  The gift had been granted.

Goreack’s stoney smile cracked and left a trace of dust on Rosaed’s brow. “I must leave you now.  Remember your promise.”

There was a pause before Goreack’s stoney flight from Felwithe.  His tail caressing Rosaed’s chin.  “Child, I almost forgot the warning of this covenant made today.  If you betray me, I will use the power of Mayong to hunt you down and rip the skin from your bones as slowly and painfully as possible.”

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Chapter 6, Take them from me

It had been several months since his strange dream and the gift of his new sight.  Rosaed had received new commendations and had even earned attention of King Tearis Thex himself.  Many invaders had been stopped from their conquests because of his eyes.

Strangely no one had yet questioned how he could see around corners and beyond his line of sight.  Rosaed’s pride was growing stronger and more unquestioned as well.

Rosaed wasn’t using his sight for only profession enhancement.  There was Elia.  Sweet Elia of the sun.  Elia the pure.  Elia of his affection.  He had used his sight to watch her clothes light to the ground before bed, and his passion for more was burning fiercly from his eyelids by the day . . . as well as his frustration with his post.  This gift felt as much a curse to his heart.

This morning came to Felwithe all too quickly and the sun seemed brighter than normal to Lieutenant Rosaed.  As he squinted, his eyes glowed and his heart returned to Elia.  It pained Rosaed to see her spending so much time with Tam Slyspan, the local fisherman scum.

Rosaed’s transformation had not effected his other senses quite the same. The gift of enhanced sight had decreased his listening.  And decreased listening meant more confusion for Rosaed . . . a lessened understanding of the things he could see.  What he saw today shocked him.  Elia and Tam seemed to him to be in an embrace.

He had become quite good at reading lips over the past months and peered closer at the two with his teleported sight.

“. . . I must let him know there is another I dream of.”

Rosaed closed his eyes in quiet desperation.  He felt as if his head would explode now and longed for the comforting embrace he felt from his master so many months ago. Rosaed crashed his head into the wall behind him and fell to his knees.

   “MY GOD OF SIGHT, TAKE THIS FROM ME! I CANNOT BEAR TO SEE . . .”

Bristlebane smiled as he snapped his fingers and grasped the cold words from the air and placed them on a pillow, like a marriage ring in a procession. There was business to attend to with the lesser gods in Mayong’s throng today.

   “Oh the twisted games of love--how they delight the randomness of this mind”

He was gone and down the same dark hallways of months ago, clicking his heels, tapping his teeth, and licking his chops.

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Chapter 7, of shroudkeepers and lesser gods

There is a pantheon of many Gods in Norrath.  In fact, many say common man was becoming God-like and powerful enough to rival lesser Gods-in-hand to hand combat or in small packs and bands.  Royalty has been growing in every Realm.

Some such as Mayong had been growing through the Demi-Planes and with him strange occurrences had been happening in the plane of Knowledge.  The Shroud keepers for one.  Their appearance in the Plane of Knowledge is somewhat a mystery.  Some say it was Bristlebane with his eternal mischief, yet others believe them to be gifts from the Gods so assistance could be administered to those of less power to help them achieve the greatness they deserved.  Still, the shroudkeeper's presence is a mystery to most.

The small band of members from <insert your guild name here> had been busy <insert current guild goal here> and many began to see rewards from the strange apparitions that inhabited the changing landscape of Norrath.  The fight had been particularly wearisome this evening and those weary members of <insert your guild name here> decided for an evening of fun.  The Shroudkeepers provided a moment of escape and laughter. Each choosing a different form.  Some the basilisk.  Others goblins, gargoyles, corrupted fairies, or imps.

There is danger in becoming accustomed to form and function; however, sometimes forms not of our own become grounds for mischief.

Goreack howled at the table of lesser gods he had assembled.  Some the basilisk.  Others goblins, gargoyles, corrupted fairies, or imps.

“The time is now my brethren.  We have been granted a reprieve from the sight of both Marr and Mayong by Bristlebane.  His help of late has been a great boon for us,” Goreack said slamming his hand down upon the table. “A test and a plea has been issued by my High Elven child.  I will not let his darkness go unattended this evening.”  His tail swooshed above the others and cut the air magnetically, smashing into the wall. “Tonight is the night of monsters.  We are momentarily free and let loose upon the world.  Bristlebane offers us a portal to the Plane of Knowledge itself.  Souls there are ripe for possession through the power of the shroudkeepers.”

Bristlebane laughed from the corner and flipped the coin in his hand. “Tails it is,” he laughed to himself.  “Touch the sphere in my hand and the possession will be complete . . . my children.”

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Chapter 8, Death and Betrayal

The potion-makers had never seen a band of shrouds this thick in a while.  They stocked up on healing potions, health potions, mana regeneration potions, and all manner of elixirs of strength.  The gargoyle nodded to the others.  Payment was made and their backpacks were full.

Through the portal of Felwithe the pack of monsters flooded.  As the great castle rose over the hill they became invisible and snuck into the dark hallway leading to the pain they desired.

The guards fell quickly and silently to the goblin rogues who assassinated them with ease.  Past the taverns they lurked. Past the temple of Tunare they crept.  Again becoming invisible to sight they crept past the fishmongers to the very spot where Elia wove light into parchment and Tam caught sunfish.

A portal of sight was active as they could see.

They became visible behind the two and waited for the signal from Goreack.

Goreack swooped invisibly to the banister of Rosaed and appeared and spoke to the crumpled figure there.

   “We are here my faithful servant,” as he lit a fire to the sky above Felwithe.

Rosead scrambled to his feet in terror.  “What are you doing?”  His eyes showed the monsters behind Elia and Tam.

   “You asked me to take them from you and I am doing as you wish.”

“NO!” Rosaed screamed.  But it was too late.  Elia and Tam had already fallen to the feasting mobs.

“I loved her!" Rosaed's breath escaped as his knees touched the ground, "Marr, what have I done?””

Goreack picked Rosaed up by the throat.  “YOU BETRAY ME TO MARR WHEN I COME TO ANSWER YOUR PRAYER? OUR COVENANT IS COMPLETE!” The nails of the Gargoyle scratched the armor from Rosaed’s body.  A scream could not escape as the second swipe from the Gargoyle God pulled the skin and muscle from his bones.

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Chapter 9, Escape to Mistmoore

There had been too much commotion for the town to not know the terror that had been committed.  The town was alive with torches and swords.

A second light was sent to the sky by Goreack and the shrouds assembled to the exit of Felwithe, they headed together toward Lesser Faydark and Mistmoore catacombs with haste.

“The fool Koada'Dal did not have the heart of stone I thought he did my brethren, and we are betrayed to Marr.” Goreack snarled to the lesser gods. “We must cleanse these bodies of our possession and return to Mayong’s thrall or be crushed under the hammer of the paladin’s God.”

And they descended into the catacombs to slay their way back to the heart of their true protective master, Mayong.  The nature of the possession would not simply allow factions to be seen through.  Yes, they must kill their own kind and strip themselves of possession.

“You were a foolsy to trust Bristebane, Goreack,” growled the goblin.  “But the elfins did have a sweet tasting on her bones.” 

A howl of laughter erupted and Goreack resigned himself to silent retribution.  They MUST make haste.  Goreack could feel the adventurers they had possessed trying to pull from the shrouds and all the Gods of Norrath beginning to take notice.  The fight toward Mayong must be done in haste. 

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This is where you schedule a date for a guild or group event.  With the call that your guildmates are invited to enact the final scenes of this lore: to assume shrouds in PoK, load up on potions and stat food, and complete an all shroud mistmoore level 70 LDON.  For those who have no concern about any resulting faction loss, you could probably head into Felwithe and slaughter Elia, Tam, and Rosaed before the event and enact the entire event.

Post-event, the final chapters are revealed.


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Chapter 10, Betrayer

“Can they be resurrected, Yeolarn?” asked Tynkale motioning to the mass of bones and blood before the temple of Tunare.

“I think they can if we act quickly and appeal to Tunare and the other good aligned deities.”  A moment of confusion and disgust overcame Yeolarn and tears released from his concerned eyes, “Mother of life . . . What happened here tonight?”

“I hope to Marr they tell us, Yeolarn.  Make haste with the resurrection,” offered Tynkale as he returned to his men.  “Where were the eyes of Rosaed tonight?  Why were we not warned?”  Tynkale paced.  This should not happen in Felwithe nor any city.  Massacre, Horror, and bloodshed were not for this kind-minded people.

“Guard Trerun,” called Tynkale. “find where Rosaed is sleeping and tell him his eyes were not with his head tonight.  I think he’ll be dismayed beyond words to hear that Elia was slaughtered.  If Yeolarn can bring her back, it will be a while before she or he can talk of these events.”

“Yes sir, Master Tynkale,” Trerun said with a bow of duty as he made haste to the lookout.

When he arrived, Guard Trerun gagged and could not hold back his vomit when the skin of Rosaed was discovered hung on the wall as a tapestry of pain.  It was exacting and truly a bloody massacre at the lookout of Felwithe.

Only one clue was etched on the wall, “Betrayer.”

Yeolarn’s craft would be needed here as well.

The prayers were too loud this eve, and Marr’s eyes descended to the lookout that night and the word on the wall.  Bristlebane’s gift, a puzzle of complexities, fell from Marr’s hands.  What had happened here?  Why had he let himself become distracted with follies?

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Chapter 11

<this would be a summation of your guild event . . . if it was me I'd include screenshots and talk about them being unsure if this was a dream or reality, but that the experience and coin in their pockets said bristlebane had been there>

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Peace,

Stingite

*edit* cleaned up a spot that needed some work.  *edit*
« Last Edit: October 05, 2006, 12:29:35 PM by Stingite »