My name is Harondor and now I'm immortal but, of course, it
wasn't always that way...
It was the kind of summer day that an old man would
recognize as priceless but a young man is too busy to appreciate.
The sky was blue, the sun warm was on my back and all was well
with Eru and with the Earth. My new friend, JC, and I were
headed to Tookland to make some gold. We were supposed to
meet an old hand named Lurin who said he would show us
around. I think that Lurin was a level 2 while JC and I were still
newbies.
As I remember it, the whole system of alignment had not yet
been balanced and everyone was either really evil or really
good. Being a Hand of Eru was easy and that's what both JC and
I were. The choice between good and evil wasn't hard to make. I
was good. I'd always been good and I was planning to continue to
do good things. I was also studying to be a wizard although at my
level, about all I had was a light spell and half the time that didn't
work.
As it turned out, we never did find Lurin. Later he explained
that he had taken advantage of the weather and headed out to
Rivendell but we went on to Tookland.
JC and I were poking though an alley on the south side of
town when I found a hole in the wall which looked like
somebody's hidden stash. JC stuck his head in and said he
thought he could see some gold under an old mattress so he
squeezed into this little niche to check it out. I guess he stirred up
a rat of some sort because right away I could hear him whacking
around and swearing.
Now, even for new guys like us, rats were no big deal but in
that tight, confined space, the rat had a heck of an advantage and
it wasn't long before JC came scrambling out, holding his leg and
moaning about needing a healer. I offered to go with him but he
thought he would only be a few minutes and I should stay and
keep an eye on the hole until he got back.
So I was standing there on rat duty when a fellow dwarf in
full armor clanked up to me (like a young tank) and asked if I had
seen the thug that hung out in this alley. Either JC and I had been
lucky or the thug had slept in that day. I advised the dwarf, his
name, by the way, was Flint, that I knew squat about any thug.
Then we got to talking and I mentioned that I was a new guy
looking to make a little gold.
In the back of my mind I was worried about JC who still
hadn't returned but then one thing led to another and pretty soon
Flint was showing me around town. We ended up at the park
watching some hobbits. Off in the corner a baby was crawling
around, making a general pest of himself and Flint casually
suggested something that turned me to stone, "Kill the baby," he
said.
I started edging away from him but he reached out and
snagged my arm. As If I need more proof that I was way over my
head with this guy, he flashed me a wicked grin and added,
"Either kill the damn baby or I'll kill you."
A real hero would have died gloriously, upholding
motherhood, Eru, and the moral right. I was just trying not to soil
my trousers. I killed the baby. It died screaming after a couple
of weak hits. I vomited on my boots.
Flint, kind of patient like, waited for me to finish and then
he showed me the little bag full of gold that was tied with a
thong under the dead baby's shirt.
This didn't make any sense to me until Flint explained that
there was a ring of thieves in the area and their favorite trick was
to use kids as drop points for the guild, I mean, who would have
expected it? We split the 18 gold and somehow I felt a little
better about killing babies. In fact, by the time the day was over,
I was 100 gold richer, Tookland was suffering a serious
population problem and I just felt fine.
That night I went back to the inn at Bree for supper.
Butterball had this old sheep dog that was always glad to see me
because I would scratch him behind his ears. That night he
damned near bit my hand and then retreated to the far corner of
the room, still growling. I guess that's how it happens. In one day
I had gone from Hand of Eru to Shadow Spawn and the only
thing I felt bad about was that dog.
Note from Prather:
Harondor's lifetime spanned a lot of history on T2T. He
was one of the survivors of the original "gang" wars which were
raging in the spring and summer of '95. He was a brash fellow,
not too much inclined to follow rules and the power granted him
as an Ainur, one of the lesser gods of Arda, was eventually his
undoing. Whether innocent of guilty, he was accused of abusing
his powers as a god to meddle in the affairs of the mortals and
following a series of posts proclaiming his innocence, he vowed
that he would suicide, and disappeared from T2T in May of 96.
He tried hard to be likable, maybe too hard which may have been
part of what got him into trouble. The funny part was, he really
WAS liked and wouldn't have had to try so hard. I, for one,
will miss him.
When I read the note that he was leaving, I quickly posted
the following rhyme to try to catch his attention before he left
but apparently I was either too late or was unable to change his
mind because the next time I looked for his login, it was gone.
Although it was too late, here's to you, Harondor:
A world both blind and dumb cares not when we in pain lash out.
And when those we value disappoint, they must never see our tears.
When flesh is torn and bone is crushed, our bravery we will tout
But a wounded heart is a secret kept, and we never show our fears.
Our weaknesses we won't reveal, all things we take in stride,
While behind a smile, our souls bleed on, for every man is a slave to pride.
Our deepest wounds too often come from those we most respect.
For it's he who we would please the most that it hurts the most to fail,
Too proud we are to speak our minds, indifference we project,
So all who look will think us brave, while inside we cower and quail.
When no one cares about our pain, we crawl away and hide,
And wait in vain, for just amends, for every man is a slave to pride.
May Eru, the god of Arda keep you safe.
-Prather the Minstrel
The Beginning of the Dark Knights
In sunless days of winter in the years following the
reopening of the gates to Erebor, a Silvan warrior name Kraun
traveled south to Mordor and bent his knee to Sauron, pledging
his soul the dark. To Kraun was given great strength and a glamour
was laid upon him which gave him influence over the peoples of
Arda. In service to his lord, Kraun founded the clan which became
known as the Dark Knights and they proclaimed the dominion of
Sauron and spread death though the realms. Evil hearts rejoiced
as fear cast its shadow on Arda and the Dark Lord was pleased.
Under the hand of Kraun, the Dark Knights became killers,
without equal and without mercy. A fledgling law system designed
to keep peace and balance in Arda, failed before the evil knowledge
of the DK who corrupted and ignored the judges.
The Dark Knights were broken into four orders, each to be feared
in its own right but together, unstoppable:
The Order of the Black Hand were the deadliest assassins and
the cleverest thieves in the land. These men and women ...managed
our political problems.
The Order of the Dark Arts was made up of wizards who, using
their powers to further the cause of evil, advised us on what we should
be doing to extend the shadow on the land.
The Order of the Blade-Warriors were the strongest and best
from across Arda. These warriors were our fighting faction and the
leader was cunning and devilish.
Finally there the Order of the Dark Wood who were rangers and
became the scouts and spies, the eyes and ears of the clan.
...and Sauron smiled.
Kerosion was here and gone before I was born. He was one of those
players that everyone loved to hate. If there was mahem, Kerosion
was in the middle. If there was assasination, his fingerprints
were on the blade. He explored every corner, exploited every
loophole and dodged every bullet. If someone in a group even
mentioned his name, everyone looked over their shoulders. It is
said that some incarnation of Kero is still around. Who knows?
I never met him but Canther, who was almost as old, told me
this story.
-Prather
Canther and Kerosion
They were sitting around the hearth, in a stone room near
the heart of Harondor's castle. The walls are all inlaid gold and
the floor is some kind of hard wood that looks like ivory. There
is a HUGE chair where Harondor sits and lords it over his
guests to remind them who's in charge. Canther and Prather
are drinking brandy, and Harondor has a glass of something
thick and red that stains his mouth. Canther is reminiscing
about the Mirkwood.
It was a time of peace. Sauron had not yet placed his mark
on Kraun and the clan wars were still in our future. Although I
had grown up in the Greenwood which was later known as The
Mirkwood, this was my first trip to east since the death of the
dragon.
Years before, Smaug had been in the habit of turning
everyone in the area into toast and people had been slow to
move back. Some of the regular residents in the forest may also
have contributed to a general lack of population.
It was early spring and there was still a bite to the air. I
was camped near the Forest River south of the bridge. I had a
rabbit that was nearly finished roasting over the fire and I was
thinking of ways to get a leg off of it without burning my
fingers. In the Mirkwood, even in the clearings, it's so damned
black that the trees just absorb a campfire and that night, along
with dark came a damp mist that was not quite rain but wet
enough to ensure that my blanket would be damp all night.
Then I got a feeling that I was being watched. In the wood,
it happens all the time, so you get kind of used to it, but this
time it made the hair on the back of my hands stand up. I
pretended to stretch my legs as I rolled a little toward my
sword. I thought I heard the tiniest whisper of movement from
the beechwoods to my left and I was about to make my move
when a voice, soft, but pitched to carry, says, "Hello the camp."
I grabbed the sword and got to my feet anyway but I figured
as quiet as this fellow had come up on me, he could have just
said nothing and feathered me with an arrow so I told him,
"Come ahead, traveler. You may as well have the fire as stand
in the bush."
He was a dwarven warrior, dressed in light mail but he
moved unusual grace and quiet for a dwarf, especially armored.
When he got to the fire, he pulled off his helmet and favored
me with an easy smile but even then, I noticed something
about his eyes under those bushy black brows that made me
uneasy. Before he sat down, he wrapped a recurved bow in an
oilskin and laid it away from the fire. "They call me Kero, " he
said, with a funny grin, "It's short for Kerosion."
I'm used to traveling alone and I don't mind a quiet camp
but as we got to know each other, I was glad for the company
for he told stories about the dwarves of Erebor and his dealings
with the wood elves to the north. He seemed to be sort of a
freebooter. He made it plain right off that he wasn't particularly
concerned about any orderly sense of right or wrong but at the
same time, he was honest about it, like it was just his way of
life.
We got around to talking about his plans for the following
day and he flashed a grin that reminded me of a river pike, "If
you'll follow me up to Erebor tomorrow and help me steal an
ax, I'll make it worth your while," he said.
I had been curious about the dwarves for some time and
this looked like an chance to slip into Erebor for a closer look
so I told him I would think on it until morning. I figured if we
got into trouble, He looked like he could carry his weight. I
was right about that. Kerosion was always dangerous as hell
and a little bit crazy.
After while it got quiet and we just sat there, listening to
the night. The fire was almost down to coals so I put on a little
more wood.
"I'll wake you in a couple of hours," I told him and he just
nodded and pulled a blanket from his pack. In minute or two
he was snoring softly, like he hadn't a care in the world.
Before the sun had burned away the mist, the next
morning, we were on the trail to Erebor and within an hour or
so, we turned on to a wide, stone-laid road that began to go up
hill to where it eventually would end at the dwarven
stronghold. Seems like the dwarves and the orcs were
constantly at war with each other. Maybe it's because they both
prefer to live underground and compete for space or something.
Anyway, that morning there was a lot of orc activity and by the
time we reached the gates, we both had bloodied our weapons
on orc sentries. One big guy that Kero killed had a fancy,
jeweled sword belt which would have brought a good price at
the shops except it wasin pretty poor condition by the time
Kero got done with the orc. He stripped it from the body, and
hung it over his shoulder. We moved on. The blood from the
sword belt stained the back of his cloak but he didn't seem to
mind.
As we approached the gates, a guard in full plate armor
stuck his head up from a boulder strewn ledge, over the gates.
The ledge had a clear arrow shot of the approach and he could
have picked us off any time over the last fifty meters.
"I got orders," he said."Nobody gets in." He spoke in the
dwarven toungue which I have a little trouble with still could
understand.
Kero unslung that bloody belt and displayed it like a
muskrat pelt. "Gotta gift for you," he answered. "If you'll open
the gate, I'll toss this up to you."
What was funny was that I could see that the dwarf was
hooked. He liked the idea that we had been killing orcs and he
also liked the idea of prying the gems out of the belt. It made
us sorta double, good guys. I could see that he was seriously
considering cracking the gate. Then a clatter of booted feet
behind us changed his mind for him.
Up onto the road charged a herd of orcs... must have been
six or seven of them, all screaming and waving those stupid,
crooked swords that is all the goblins seem to know how to
make.
"Aw shit!" Kero threw the belt at the dwarf, jerked out his
sword and we got ready take some boar-faces to glory with us.
Meanwhile, the dwarf caught the belt and tossed a big thick
rope over the edge to us.
Not being a particularly slow child, I stuffed my sword
back into the sheath and started up the rope. It got harder with
Kero climbing after me as it jerked and swung all over but I
figured asking Kero to stay down there and steady it for me was
out of the question. About then the biggest dwarf I have ever
seen pulled the rope up with us on it and with almost no effort
threw me over the top. Without breaking stride, be did the
same with Kero. Talk about your basic brute strength...
The orcs milled around at the base of the cliff and yelled
rude things until the dwarves poured some boiling oil on them
after which they yelped a lot and ran away. I gave the giant
dwarf my best smile and climbed down the ladder to where I
could see doors going into the mountain. We were in.
I could hardly believe the halls of Erebor. The passages
didn't seem to be built so much as hewn from the stone of the
mountain, all smooth polished surfaces and perfect corners.
The only place I could see any wear was on the floors and who
knows how many years it took to wear a path in solid granite.
Kero seemed to know where he was going. After several
twists and turns, he halted next to a door in what appeared to
be a dining hall with some dwarves eating at tables. The smell
of cooking reminded me that it had been just after dawn since
I had eaten. Kerosion waited until one of the dwarves was
telling a story that seemed to have everybody's attention.
Although I couldn't hear it, the punchline must have been
hilarious as it broke up the whole table. Before they
recovered, Kero nodded to me and we slipped through the
door.
The first thing that caught my eye was a throne
approximately the size of a house, against the far wall. The
second thing that I saw was an axe on the throne. It was
beautiful. It glinted in the dim room with a light of it's own.
The handle was carved and inlaid with runes, as was the blade
which also had a giant ruby mounted in it. The gem gave off a
faint, red glow. Without being aware of it, I was drawn to it and
I climbed thrown to get it. I remember hearing Kero shouting
at me not to touch it up but it was too late and then all hell
broke loose!
Suddenly I was going head to head with a couple of very-
proficient warriors that seemed to come out of nowhere and
the next thing I remember clearly was laying on the floor in the
now deserted dining room. I was tired, bleeding from several
large wounds and Kero was trying to pour some wine from
bottle into my mouth while I mostly tried not to choke. He
wearing a wide grin and had that damned big axe strapped
across his back which was my first clue that we must have won
the fight. It was a hell of a scrap!
We hiked back down to the campsite beside the bridge and
spent the evening resting up, drinking wine and telling each
other what bad asses we were. When the sun came up the next
morning I woke with a headache and pouch that I had never
seen before with 50 gold in it but Kero had moved on.
That was how I met Kerosion, there in the woods next to
the bridge in the shadow of the lonely mountain.
Something was said by a powerful prince who lived in a
country that worshiped power at a time when power
was unconditional:
"Here a question arises: whether it is better to be loved than
feared, or the reverse. The answer is, of course, that it would
be best to be both loved and feared. But since the two rarely
come together, anyone compelled to choose will find greater
security in being feared than in being loved."
--Niccolo Machiavelli
-Prather the Minstrel-
Kraun -- Eldest of the Players
on The Two Towers
As told to Prather the Minstrel in March, 1996
I came across Kraun in Bywater. He was standing so still
that at first I though that some crew of industrious hobbits had
put up an ugly new statue. But as I drew closer I was aware of
the odor, a smell of death that follows Kraun where ever he
goes. So he was just standing there, wearing a ten-thousand-
foot stare.
When I asked him if he had time to talk with me, I kept
thinking about Ann Rice's book about interviewing the
vampire. Kraun makes me nervous. I'm apparently not the only
one who he effects that way. We had just started talking when
Ragnarok and Zeppelin joined us. Kraun glance over at them
and growled.
Ragnarok looked at the two of us, standing there in the
middle of nowhere, "SHIT Kraun! A demon." He didn't happy
about the idea.
"AIEE! DAMN, YOU ROCK!!!" Zeppelin fell on his
knees before Kraun. "Please leave," asked Kraun quietly.
Zeppelin nodded and both he and Ragnarok quickly
moved away.
It crossed my mind that I might have been the focus of
some kind of shill game, to make Kraun look scary and
powerful but I dismissed the thought. Why would anybody,
Kraun or the two geeks, go to that much trouble to impress a
bard? I think he just makes people nervous.
Kraun clapped his hands and a tall, black-oak chair
materialized out of nowhere and he sat down. I found a soft
place on some leaves and got as comfortable as I could, under
the circumstances.
Kraun has strange, raspy voice. When he is talking softly,
it sounds like he has phlegm in his throat and until I got used to
it, I kept fighting the urge to clear my throat. His body is
supposedly held together mostly with dark magic.
I asked a couple of questions to get him started and he
began to tell me about his early days of the Arda: I think
Thrawn was about the first person I met when I came to Arda.
He was elf warrior, who evidently enjoyed being kind to
newbies. He got me started, found me a decent weapon and the
two of us cut down a hobbit together. Of course I did a lot of
fanning and he the work. I was impressed. In those days there
were very few people around Bywater, mostly just newbies.
The only really high-level people that you heard about were
Ladyhawk, Santino, Thrawn and Stele. Might have been one or
two others.
Anyway, Thrawn also showed me the way to Tookland.
There was only Tookland and the Dike. Later I found Tom
Bombidil's but that's another story. Decent weapons were
scarce. The only one that was relatively easy to get was the iron
longsword. One gray, rainy day this dwarf named
Pacman and I were beating up on Ferdibrand. We'd thump on
him for a while and then run back outside to heal up. On one of
our trips outside, I stumbled on a broadsword, just laying on
the ground in a big rain puddle. I'd never seen the Gleaming
Broadsword before and I wanted to get an idea what it was
worth so I immediately headed for Manny's to value it.
I got about twenty feet outside of Tookland and suddenly
I was attacked by something I couldn't see. It was like fighting
blind. --$N Hits you. You miss $N. I ran, it chased me and
kept hitting. Wasn't long before I was coughing up my lungs
into a rain puddle full of blood and something I still couldn't
see was walking away with the Gleamer. I never found out
whether it was an invisible god or a some sort of program bug
but the word got spread around that the Gleaming Broadsword
couldn't be removed from Tookland and we were such a bunch
of sheep that for months we were all forever in fear of leaving
with it. Kraun chuckled at the memory.
I was sort of at war with myself. I saw what happened to
Flint with the babies. He got so deep into Shadow Spawn from
baby killing that for him there was no return. In those days I
wanted to keep my options open so I'd do a few boys and girls
in Tookland and then take on an orc in the dike to balance it
out. Of course, the folks in Tookland not only paid better but
they were a hell of a lot easier to kill. I gradually leaned more
and more toward my evil side and after while my blade
developed an appetite for the little folk. Pretty soon Flint and I
were the most vile adventurers in Arda. Kraun smiled,
displaying a row of pointed teeth.
The other thing than made up my mind to become evil was
that Flint and I were surrounded by good. Arda was like the
sociology department with everyone running around being a
Hand of Eru as if it made up for the fact that they were still
wetting their beds at night. I was sick of the way both the gods
and the mortals treated evil, --things like Tom's house being
unaccessible so we weren't able to get the Westerness Sword
which turned out to be about the top weapon in the pile, back
then. Flint and I started getting real angry and talking a lot on
the comm line.
Flint would say something very elegant and I would second
him by coming up with something that was appropriate but
crude and then the gods would hassle me.
One time I was trying to explore the road south and east
of Bywater, which at that time didn't go anywhere, and I ran on
to this portal that said it would take me to Brandybuck. Well,
this was too good to pass up so the next thing I know I'm
exploring the lost city, something that wasn't even open yet. I
was wandering around tarnishing good here and there, when I
discovered a sheriff's trainer which offered me a chance to
mend my ways and become a sheriff, just for the asking. I'm
standing there thinking it over and a big voice comes out of
heavens, "Kraun, you become sheriff and I'll nuke you on the
spot!"
Suddenly I was back in the regular world, outside of
Brandybuck and the portal wasn't there anymore. Guess they
weren't open for business yet. Kraun shakes his head. I think
Dano was kind of disappointed.
That was when I met Moocow. He was interesting.
He used to have a description in his character that would be a
cow joke, like "For a cow, it's just one day after an udder," or
"When the herd turns on you and you're forced to run for it, try
to look like your leading the charge." Kraun chuckles. He was
always asking us to think of a joke for him to put on it. He
hung around the dike a lot. We go to be pretty good friends.
One day he, and I and some other friend of his were
working our way though the orcs as a party. I started to tell
him something and tried to attack an orc at the same time and it
came out as an attack on Moocow. I hit him with my sword a
couple of times before I realized what was happening and by
the time I got things shut down, he and his buddy are cleaning
out my corpse.
He was supposed to be a friend and since it was a clearly a
mistake, I thought killing me and leaving me in the dike was a
little harsh. But then, it taught me something that eventually
helped me make a lot of choices. You see, friends are always
subject to shifts in power whereas power itself is an absolute.
That day I learned to trust in power.
Kraun muttered something else that I didn't quite hear and
got that ten-thousand-foot stare again. I asked him to repeat it
but he just sat there, looking at something in his head that I
couldn't see and after while I left. When I came back later, he
was gone.
--Prather
The Early days -- as told by Stele to Prather the Minstrel
I met Stele in the courtyard bar at Rhosgobel. Even though
his memories of Arda go back at least as far as Kraun, he
seemed, young and full of life.. He was drinking alone but he had
neither that mean, smoldering look nor the sad, self-destructive
despair that so often come with solitary drinkers. He was just a
dunedain, sitting alone in the courtyard, having a beer.
I glance down at his bottle and ordered the same. While
Radagast's servant was bringing it, I joined him at his table. I was
prepared to loosen him up with small talk before I started on him
with my standard, ten-thousand questions but he was ahead of
me. He gave me a smile that was part friendly and part resigned
and got right to the point, "Nice to see you, Prather. What it that
you wanted to know?"
Stele order another beer, and began to talk about the T2T.
What was refreshing was that he didn't start out by talking about
slaying monsters or a white-knuckled chase to the death with an
assassin. He talked about the fun:
"....of course the place was smaller, much smaller, then.
There was nothing much east of the Misty Mountains and
Bucklebury was still being worked on. For gold you either went
to the dike, or if you evil, to Tookland. Mostly I ran around with
a really fine woman named Ladyhawk who partied with me. I
mean, we went to the Green Dragon, which was the only place
around where you could get a drink, and we partied.
Thrawn, Miras, Ladyhawk, and I seemed to always end up
in Bywater. Miras and I would always start a political argument
of some sort over the comm line, we would suck four or five
other's into it and then all of us would end up at the Green
Dragon.
Miras lives in the UK... Scotland, I think. She even talked
about eating haggis!"
Stele stopped and wrinkled his nose. He took a long pull on
his beer. "Miras and I could argue about anything. Sometimes,
from day to day, we would forget which side we were on, but
the arguments went on and on. Even the Valar would
sometimes join in."
He grinned and took another gulp of Radagast's beer. Since
I've see any hops grown around Rhosgobel, I have no idea what
the beer is made from, but it doesn't have that bitter taste that
you get at Thranduils.
Stele continued, "The whole place seemed a lot more friendly
in those days. No clans, no PK, people would get together to
thump on things and then sit around and talk while we healed up.
I was a ranger. There were no assassins and no sheriffs. Now
and again Ladyhawk and I would go knock off some orcs
together, but mostly we had parties. It seemed like everyone
was bombed most of the time." He got a faraway look in his
eyes and described one of the parties...
Ladyhawk is half-sprawled across the table, leaning on one
elbow while she tries to look interested in a conversation which
has been going on for about an hour between Miras and Stele
about gun control. She's wearing a velvet skirt which tends to
hike up just above her knee and without be conscious of it, she
keeps changing the direction that her knees are pointing which
forces Thrawn, who is has been maneuvering to improve his
view, to keep moving from chair to stool and back in order to stay
across from her. This is a chore for Thrawn has to carefully locate
each foot or risk less than a 50/50 chance of losing track of it as
he moves from chair to stool and back.
Stele takes two steps, then stops, having run out of legs. He
shakes his head, then grabs it to keep the top from unscrewing.
He gets a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Make way for
ElKabong! Make way for ElKabong," he shouts!
Torn by the necessity of dividing his attention, Thrawn
swivels around and gives Stele a perplexed look. Stele gleefully
hits Thrawn over the head with his guitar. KABONG, the strings
jangle. Thrawn grabs his head and uses the assault as an excuse
to fall under the table where, predictably, the view of Ladyhawk
is in improved by several orders of magnitude. Ladyhawk rolls
her eyes and stands up to allow her skirt to drop back into place.
The table wobbles and finally falls over on Thrawn who tries to
struggle to a sitting position. He finally gives up and muttering to
himself, stays down.
A newbie walks in and stands in shocked disbelief of what is
going on but before she can escape to saner territory, Stele hands
her a beer. She worries the top off only to discover that alcohol
is unpalatable for a constitution of 20, but by then she succumbs
to a contact high and Maris enlists her to bolster the gun control
argument.
Meanwhile, Moocow, using a crude form of Braille, is
working his way around the room, holding onto the wall. He
discovers a door and smiles triumphantly as he gets it open but
appears to be disappointed that it is not the outside door.
Gracefully accepting the capricious hand of providence, he
ralphs on the stairs leading to the wine cellar before contentedly
closing the door. "I'm not nearly as think as you drunk I am," he
announces to no one in particular.
Stele refocused his eyes on Rhosgobel and me. He grinned
at me, "You would've fit in, I think... "
He continued, "It seemed like the Valar were less stressed,
too. The DK are what really changed things. Everything went
down-hill when they showed up. A lot of the good, fun, people
started to immort... like Ladyhawk."
He counted them off on his fingers, "Kraun, Flint, Dawn,
Darkdwarf, Kerosion...they were the problem. I wasn't really on
any side...I refused to join a gang. Kraun started the whole thing
with the Dark Knights. I remember one night in particular where
I killed several DK, several times. I went around and protected
all the people they were fighting."
Stele's face broke into a surprisingly boyish grin, "I can't
remember who I protected, but I think I killed Darkdwarf a more
than once. Basically the DK were just killing lower-level
characters and I protected anyone I saw being attacked. That was
a scary night. There were several nukings for law-sys bug abuse,
and the DK were hurt, especially the higher-ups."
Stele says, "I tried to kill Kraun several times, but he always
ran and quit. Santigo was nuked and so were several others.
Santigo was the big guy on the mud then. He was head of the
Silver Guardians, or something like that. About six clans sprang
up as soon as the DK did, most with the purpose of killing the
DK. A regular mess, it was."
Stele examined his beer as if he was considering ordering
another, then changed his mind. "Kraun's had a personal wizard
named Dawn. She didn't do much but summon," Stele grinned
evilly, "Which, of course, was lethal for the summonee. That's
when people got in the habit of logging off or going link-dead to
escape death. When you're attacked by six people in a locked
room, what else can you do?"
He changed the subject and we talk a while longer about
current Ardian politics. He took one last swallow and set the
empty on the table. "Have to go," he said. He leaned across the
table to get his ax which was leaning on the empty chair, waved
to me and favoring me with that same boyish grin, he headed out
the door. "Later," he said.
The Early Days As told by Moki to Prather the Minstrel
Moki, the Elven Lord, once roamed the Middle Earth as a mortal.
He remembers when thieves still roamed in the forest of
Rivendell, before Deadman's Dike was built. Then, one day, He
spoke to the Valar, and shared his dream of a better world. The
Valar listened, and Moki became an immortal. Since that time,
He has been busy. Moki created parts of the Hideout Quest,
Tookland, and Erebor. He is responsible for the Hungry Rats!!. In
real life, Moki is 45 years old, and a non-traditional student at the
University of Northern Iowa. He wants to be a Math Teacher
(when he grows up). Stop by and visit, sometime, and he'll give
you a bottle of Moki's home brew and you can chat with him about
old and new adventures....
"I am not the oldest Immortal on the game, but I was one of
the first mortals there. Ulmo was one of the first Gods there. I
began in January, of 1994, when there was one hobbit in bywater,
the thugs were there, but not much else.
Weapons were almost twice as powerful as now, but gold was
RARE. My main source of income was from killing thieves in
Rivendell, and selling the gloves for a whopping, 22 gold. There
were many bugs which made game play easy, if you knew of
them. My favorite was you could get the corpse, it would rot in
your hands, and everything would go into your inventory. It made
backpacks unnecessary!
The keeper of the Stone, in Rivendell, loaded with the Globe
of Protection, a weapon better than any that were in what was
then, the known world. If you attacked, then went linkdead, the
keeper would stop fighting you, and, when you reconnected, you
fought him, but he wouldn't fight back. Once you had that Globe,
it would kill almost everything in 2 hits, so getting it made life
easy.
I immorted at level 3, in March 1994, and my first area ended
up being what is called today 'the Ferny quest', next I coded
Tookland, and then Erebor. Six months had passed, I had been
Lord of Endor for most of that time. We began to code Thranduils
Caves, and once it entered the QC (Quality Control) process, I
became an Overlord, with the specific job to control the flow of
the economy of the game. As overlord, I have made major
changes, removing items too good, or too easy to get, and limiting
the gold everywhere. It is an ongoing battle, because as more
areas enter the game, I must adjust the old ones to suit the revised
cash flow of the game. It is enjoyable, and I really like what I do.
Sometimes I even code new areas. The coin of fate was one of my
fixes, although I cannot take credit for coding it, I did make it
work, and the God who had the idea has been long gone."
[ I never got to know Moki. He was always there but seemed
too busy, or obscured in what he was going to take time to talk.
Maybe because he always seemed to be around, I put off tracking
him down. Then one morning I looked at the gossiper and realized
that I had run out of time. Moki didn't post very often but when
he did it was usually an announcement of something portentous.
I guess this time was no exception. -- Prather]
I have made Arda my second home for about 1 1/2 years. But,
real life now calls, and I must leave. I hope to return in January of
1997. During my stay here, I had many duties, and have tried to do
a good job at all times. Arda is different, and I helped make the
change. It will be changed when I return, and for the better. As
you explore Tookland, or Erebor, or that small farmhouse filled
with men, remember me, as those were some of my creations.
When you complain about not enough Gold, blame me, cause My
workroom is filled with chests of gold, and I tried to keep it all
from you, but failed.
But, lastly, I ask that your stay in Arda is a good one, as good as
mine has been.
Goodbye my friends,
Moki, creator of Hungry Rats, Mountain Lions, et al