Lyanna

One of the great advantages of having mercury as a buyable-only item is so that it helps to remove money from the game and prevent inflation (which was what had happened last time). Likewise, leather is buyable-only for the same reason. If we make mercury available for harvesting, that means a loss of this function. It won't really matter how hard or how difficult we make access to that mercury be, because it would just be a matter of time before people will be able to harvest it. (Think 3 months down the road...) Therefore, in order to have some control over the economy, it's better for certain items - like mercury, vials, and leather - to be bought from NPCs only. It also serves to make the Antisocial perk actually HAVE some negative consequences... -Lyn-

Hmm...zsert, did you read my 3 Rules for Writing a Good EL Story? It's in one of the Stickies. From the looks of the story, I don't think you have. No offence, but I think that this story sort of wanders away from the medieval theme of Eternal Lands and mixes in too much new stuff - what with the father of the gods, other planets, more races, and all. The style of writing also leaves much to be desired, but that can be improved on slowly. I liked your idea in the first post. If you could write a story that focused on this small Elven boy's life, and didn't have to drag in extra races or other gods, that would be more suited to Eternal Lands, I think. However, this is just my opinion. Don't take it too hard, okay? You're a very creative writer - you just need to tune yourself to the world of Eternal Lands, and write about what is in it currently, instead of writing in any story idea that you like. -Lyn-

Waitaminute...I just realised that email couldn't possibly have come from me. I don't even KNOW your address, Pox. Plus, it should be lyanna_el , not Lyanna_el. And in any case, it should have shown Lyanna Elf, not the address. I hate people masquerading as me.

Oh BLAST!! I must have been infected by that email virus after all. Sorry, Pox. If I don't sign off as -Lyn- in my email, you know it's not from me.

Hmm...continue. I'll save my comments until the end of the story. -Lyn-

“Wait here,†the elf said, stopping in front of a door. As William disappeared into the back room of the massive storehouse in Portland, Banner and Jarrett exchanged amused glances. The old grouch never seemed to crack a smile, from the moment the brothers had met him many years ago on their maiden voyage. They had made a bet that the first person who could make the elf laugh would choose where they would eventually settle down and get married. Seven years later, and the decision had still not been made. Of course, that all was changed now that they knew where their ancestral seat was. “I wonder what it will look like?†said Banner, fidgeting slightly. His face was flushed, and his hands were twitching. “Never actually HAD anything made of titanium before.†Jarrett half-listened to his brother’s tense comments as he fiddled with the clasp around his throat, trying to adjust it to rest more easily around his collarbones. The Cloak of Vermor was a fairly nondescript green cloak with a neck clasp made of gold – which was rather uncomfortable. It didn’t seem like something a King would wear, or fulfil any of Jarrett’s ideas about what ancient family heirlooms were like. The blasted thing was itchy and hot. But nevertheless, out of respect for his uncle, Jarrett had made a vow to wear it every time he went out. Banner started pacing the floor, thinking aloud. “Once we get the sword, we get back to Lakeside as fast as we can, buy some food using the money from Uncle’s will, and get hopping to Vermor Castle. It shouldn’t take us more than two days…unless maybe my idea won’t work.†Jarrett looked up. “Banner, don’t be an idiot. You don’t know the first thing about sword-fighting. All you’ve done is charge into every battle with that axe of yours. How are you going to defeat a mage if you don’t know how to use the weapon?†“Well, I was thinking of…†Banner faltered, then grinned sheepishly. “I guess I didn’t think of that. We’re going to need some practice, aren’t we?†“You said it. Besides, you really think the two of us are going to survive against whatever that mage has been doing for the past twenty years or so? We’d better recruit an army to go along with us.†“Aw, come on, Jare – it can’t be that bad. We did survive quite a few battles on our own before. I think we can handle him just fine by ourselves. The Brothers Vermillion – I mean Vermor – eh? We burned down that man-eating tree, killed the dreaded Beast of Jupta, fought off those cannibals and witch-doctors...we can take a mage. Besides, we don’t have the money to recruit an army. And who’d follow us if we claimed to be Vermors? They’d laugh us out of town!†“Banner, you’re forgetting that this guy killed our entire family! He won’t be that easy to take down. But you’re right about us being laughed out of town,†Jarrett sighed. “Okay, how about…†The door banged open, and William came out carrying an ornately-carved sword. “Well, there you go,†he muttered, handing it to Banner. “Your uncle left that here and said he would pick it up someday. The old codger never came back to collect, and I’ve had to sprain my back each time Maggi told me to take inventory...†He continued mumbling complaints to himself as Banner slowly lifted the wave-shaped sword in both hands. “It’s a pretty light sword,†he grinned, as he took a few practice swings. Jarrett and William prudently stepped back. His admiring eyes traced the intricate carvings on the gleaming blade as it pointed towards the ceiling. Jarrett looked on in silence, and with a twinge of jealousy. He gets this beautiful sword, and all I’ve got is a warm green cloak. He pushed that thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. “Come on, Banner, we’ve got to get going. The captain’s not going to like us being late, especially since he’s doing us a favour by coming out here.†Jarrett towed his brother towards the door. Banner’s eyes were still gazing at the sword, falling in love with it. Jarrett looked on in exasperation as he pushed his brother out into the streets of Portland. “Bye William! That’s the last you’ll see of us!†he shouted back into the storehouse. “Now you’ll only get to sprain your back twice in a month, instead of three times!†For a moment, Jarrett thought he saw the flicker of a smile cross the somber elf’s face, but it was gone before he could catch it. The streets outside were bustling with people, but they all paused to gawk at the huge sword and the large man carrying it. Some warriors near the tavern looked on enviously as the brothers hurried to the docks. Jarrett breathed a sigh of relief as they rounded the corner and saw Captain Gaildren shouting orders to the dockworkers aboard the Good Mary. “If you so much as get a scratch on that box, I’ll gut you with a fishing-hook and use your entrails as shark bait!†he was roaring, as some handlers slipped and nearly dropped an ornately-carved crate. He noticed the brothers hurrying towards the ship. “About time, you slowpokes! Is that oversized table knife the reason that you dragged me and my crew out to this place at the beginning of the storm season?!†Both Banner and Jarrett grinned at the rough sailor’s good-natured insults. They knew their Captain well to see past his brusque manners. His bark was usually a lot worse than his bite. As they walked up the gangplank, one of the handlers lost his grip on the crate and it wobbled out of control, smashing into the cobblestoned path. Captain Gaildren looked murderous. “That’s it! I’m going to pluck out your eyeballs personally and pee on them!†He jumped down from the ship and ran towards the dockworkers, followed by several of his sailors. Jarrett rolled his eyes. “Not again,†he said, as the brawl started behind him. A few days later, after they had bailed their shipmates out and finally arrived back at Lakeside, Banner and Jarrett sat in their room and counted the money from the sale of their Uncle’s possessions. “All in all, it comes out to seven hundred and forty-three gold coins,†Jarrett said, closing the account book wearily. Banner checked the piles of coins in front of him, made some quick calculations on the tally sheet he was holding, and concurred. Jarrett leaned back against the bed and sighed. “Well, we’ve got enough to buy us provisions for about six months, or maybe hire a couple of mercenaries for a few weeks.†Banner made some quick decisions. “All right then. We don’t really need supplies for six months. We can probably take back Vermor Castle in a couple of days, maximum. All we need is a short period of time to figure out how to get past the hedge maze. It’s also the stormy season now, so there are a lot of adventurers and sailors with nothing to do. Let’s just put out an advertisement for people who would be willing to come along with us.†Jarrett considered it for a while. “Sounds good to me,†he said, getting up. Banner finished hammering the notice to the outside of the tavern door, and then went back inside and sat down at a table next to his brother. “Now we wait.â€

WOAH wait! I just saw my name on the first post...I'm not in, am I? I can't fight for nuts! Besides which, I don't even WANT to fight... SKA, please remove me from the list.

The ageing scholar got up from his desk and removed some parchment from his wooden cabinet. Jarrett, Banner and Diana were seated in rather uncomfortable wooden chairs in front of the massive oak table in Golric’s office. At times, Jarrett still caught himself wondering whether the events of the past few days had really taken place or not. Did his Uncle really pass away the night after the brothers had visited him? Did they really bury him only yesterday? Did they… Golric sat down again with a grunt, interrupting the train of Jarrett’s thoughts. He focused his eyes on his Uncle’s close friend and legal advisor. The scholar was famous for owning the largest private collection of books in the world, although some said that there was a rival collection somewhere in Grahm’s village. Golric cleared his throat, looked piercingly at each of the three Vermillions seated in front of him, and then began to read. Jarrett fell back in his chair, stunned. He cast a quick look at the others. His brother looked equally shocked, and Diana was weeping quietly again. Thoughts whirled through his head: I’m a Vermor! Adrian killed my family. Uncle knew about it. Why didn’t he TELL us sooner?! What will happen now? Banner’s going to kill Adrian. I’m going to join him. No! Uncle made us promise to protect Diana. The hedge maze is impassable. Golric is lying. How can this be? He stared at Golric again, who was looking at them with an inscrutable expression on his face, unable to utter a sound. The older man sighed, then turned away and fished a small piece of parchment from his pocket. “I know it’s a great shock,†he sympathised. “Your uncle also wrote a short note addressed to you. He meant to tell you this himself, but I’m afraid the illness carried him off too fast. Luckily, your uncle was a man of great foresight, and would prepare against all eventualities. This was written specifically for the chance that he would not be able to tell you in person.†Golric held out the parchment to Banner. Seeing that his brother was still in a state of shock, Jarrett reached out with a trembling hand, took the note, and began to read in a faltering voice. Banner stared at Golric in puzzlement. “Uncle was planning to leave us?†Golric sighed and replied, “That was written just before he was struck down by that sickness. When he realised that he would probably not recover, he called me and a few friends and wrote out his will in front of us to witness.†Banner found Jarrett looking at him intently. “What do we do now?†Jarrett asked. A new weight and determination settled over him. “What else? We pick up that sword, avenge our family, and reclaim our castle.â€

Yes, sorry. Been pretty busy and lacked inspiration for a while. This is a 15-post story...all about this length. Will get working on it later. Going slowly.

Just a small stylistic suggestion here. I know the battles involve large numbers of troops, but I feel that the usage of numbers sort of detracts from the flavour of the story. Do you think it might be better to work with words completely rather than numbers? ie. use "one thousand" instead of "1,000", and "a quarter" instead of "1/4". It's really up to you, Saii...I'm just giving a comment as a reader, not as an editor. -Lyn-

GREAT!! We'd love to read your story. Well, there isn't much of a story as yet about Mynadar. It hasn't figured much in the storyline as yet, except for a short period of time where the Elves took over, under Fingolfin: http://www.eternal-lands.com/phpBB2/viewto...opic.php?t=5082 If you can just incorporate that into your storyline, as well as Tumaros' Peril in Mynadar story (see EL.net), then that's about all you need to integrate. The rest is up to you dwarves! Good luck! -Lyn- P.S. Don't forget to leave a few spaces where other people may want to branch off into their own stories about people or places in Mynadar.

Okay, it's been proofread and edited by me. Some minor stylistic and grammar changes...nothing much beyond that. Oh, and one typo correction - from "fur" to "fir" tree. -Lyn- ------------------------- Evil in the Forests; The Horror of Mount Polan (A ghost story) Journal of Ko'Ash V.12 p - 4v-9k I tell the story of a land named Doonray. A land before Krantar Br'guaan, before Grubani, and before time. I tell you the story of a struggle against good and evil, and the fate of the early Grubani – that rested only in the hands of the gods. This...legend...passed down from the elders, gives us knowledge of the past. The past that was Doonray. The past that was haunted by nature. A nature gone wrong. Terribly wrong. "A crack of thunder rang about the eastern shores of Doonray. They sky was dark, lit only by the volcano of Mount Polan, named after King Polan of the village himself, in the land that would be known as Grubani. Swirling clouds of ash and smoke rose from the depths of the earth and into the sky, hovering on the horizon, giving warning to the villagers below. An icy tingling crept into their spines. Screams could be heard from women, some forcibly pulling their children down the cobblestone streets to the outer gates of the village. Another great roar of thunder broke out as the volcano released its fury and shot molten rock into the sky. The smell of sulfur was everywhere as lava rained down upon the helpless town. Thatched roofs were set ablaze, burning with relentless passion. Still more screams rose into the heated air, only to be drowned by coughing and hacking. Smoke was snaking through the streets, poisonous fumes stabbing into the lungs of the helpless villagers. Somewhere in the mess of it all, a boy was trapped under a wooden beam. His house appeared to have toppled over, stones cast asunder as rubble. The boy’s black hair waved in the wind as he tried to free himself, struggling in vain. His icy blue eyes were cast upward as if looking to the sky for answers. His mind reeled as the smoke poured into his lungs. Everything felt so hot and dry as the world around him began to darken. He struggled harder and harder, frantic for his life, yet his strength seemed to slip away with every breath he took. It was all too much for him. He fell faint against the hard cobblestone road. Somewhere near the back of that same house, a woman cried out, “Mosly… oh, Mosly! Where are you? Mosly! Please, oh Gods, please…†She worked her way around the broken jags of wood and stone till she found herself at the front of her house. She gasped as she looked down to find a clump of unruly black hair, ashen skin, and icy blue eyes staring somewhere into the sky. He was caught underneath a wooden beam. It was her Mosly, her son. She worked hard to free him, her tan dress flying freely in the unmerciful wind. Her hair, like her son’s, was black, and it too seemed to surf the air, sometimes getting into her face as she carefully, but hastily, moved the beam from her son’s chest. As she did, a stream of blood ran from a hole in the boy’s side, and flowed between her feet into the streets beyond. The ground shook violently as the volcano shuddered once more and released its rage upon the village. Ash fell down like a winter’s snow, as lava rained from the sky. Something hit the woman in the knee, and she toppled over in pain. Getting back up, she frantically picked her son up, holding him firmly as she ran towards the gates of the village they once called home. The other villagers were gathered around the gate, and there was no doubt that the same thought ran through every man’s mind: What had they done to deserve this? What ever had they done? **** It was almost a year after Mount Polan’s eruption had turned the village beneath its lush slopes into ruins. The reality of it was still etched into the villagers’ very souls. They had had to move to the three villages to the west of the mountain. It had been a long and hard travel; many people died for lack of food and water. Most of the pregnant came down with unknown diseases, causing even more deaths among the party. What many people didn’t seem to notice was that they were being followed. Followed by those that had caused the explosion beforehand. Whispers could be heard traveling through the forest the villagers took to. Some of the unsuspecting women were snatched secretly from the group, leaving their husbands and children bewildered at their absence. Now whispers were about the villagers themselves, whispers about an unknown evil around them, darkening their travel. The migration had taken at least a week in all. The people that sneaked away from the group to snatch vegetation in the forest were only snatched away themselves. Taken back to the volcano. Back to the underground caverns, where they would be gruesomely tortured and torn apart. But no knowledge of this was in the minds of the weary travelers. The children didn’t last long; about a couple of days and they were so exhausted that their bodies shut down on them, leaving them lying on the path to be picked up by Them. When they had finally arrived at the first of the villages, the women of the tribe greeted them, welcoming them with great hospitality. The wounded were bandaged and medicated, as well as fed to their hearts’ desire. There was a feast that very night, in which all the occupants of the village would gather to take part in honoring their God. It was a new moon that night, giving hope to the tribe that they would have another chance to please their God. But instead of having a joyous evening, a cold tingle crept up the spine of every man, woman, and child as they ate. Something wasn’t right. Perhaps it was the woods, which were oddly quiet. Not a sound coming from the massive expanse of palm and fir trees. Towards the end of the feast, everyone was as silent as death itself. Which was what everyone suspected would be coming their way, by the feel of the night air. It was cool and dry; that was not a good sign to the villagers. This was exactly how it felt just before the great eruption of Mount Polan. The villagers glanced about them into the forest that surrounded the village. Something definitely wasn’t right. A woman dressed in a blue robe stood in the silence and pointed toward the northern woods. “Look! Argh! Look, over there!†she shouted. Everyone turned their heads to the direction she was pointing and gasped as well. In the firelight, they could barely see a clawed, brown, oily-skinned hand curl around a stalk of a palm tree. An oblong head was hidden in shadow, as well as the rest of the creature. A black silhouette in the quiet of the night, looking hungrily at the horrified villagers. One big, murky green eye stared lustfully towards the gathering, dancing about wildly from one man to the next. It popped its head out and screeched at them, opening its mouth wide to show a set of needlelike teeth, saliva oozing from the mouth. It had no tongue, yet the teeth seemed to spin. The mouth was lopsided and located exactly under the one large eyeball. The most hideous of sounds filled the air and dozens more filed around him. They looked to be about 4 feet tall. Three rolls of what appeared to be fat were draped on the creatures’ abdomen. The one in front took a slow step forward slightly crookedly, as it had ball-like toes and noodle-like legs. The woman that had shouted before screamed out in the dead silence. Everyone seemed to come out of a trance, and began running about trying to cram themselves into the houses around them. The creatures dispersed, snatching several humans at a time and taking them back into the woods. The rest of the villagers had locked themselves up in the thatched homes. The creatures easily broke through that barrier, knocking down the door and setting fire to the roofs. The humans poured out and ran like headless chickens into each other. That made it easier for the creatures to grab them. In almost 5 minutes the village had been cleared of life. Some had managed to escape through the eastern forests, but the majority had been captured and taken to the depths of the earth where they would surely die slowly and painfully. It wasn’t until 7 years later that a team of elvish explorers discovered the cave, hidden deep in the mists and forests, in the volcano where cries of pain and the blood-curdling rip of flesh could be heard from the entrance. One of the elves doubled back, running for his life, as the others peered in – only to be snatched from their boots and taken in to join the damned souls already captured. **** The gods thought it best to keep Mount Polan hidden away, but even still, the horrible cries of pain and suffering can still be heard, if you listen hard enough, ringing through the forests surrounding the now settled Grubani Peninsula. But once you hear those cries, you take off running. For if you’re taken, the horrible cries will become your own as you suffer what many before you have suffered, as you’re skewered on a metal pole and your flesh is being stripped from your bones by dull, metal spikes spinning round n’ round your body. Round n’ round n’ round… n’ round…

Hey all. Sorry about this, but EL is beginning to interfere too much with my life and my studies. I need to stop getting involved anymore, and cut it out. So, thanks for all the great stories you guys have posted. If anyone's interested in taking over my job as Editor, talk to Roja about it. Saii, Kayliana, Aira and Arafin, can you go through your stories one more time to check, and then email them to Roja The stories I've approved of are "History of the Lands", "The History and Truth of the Eternal Lands Dragons", "Ghost Story - Evil in the Forests", and "Fingolfin" (aka Arafin's "Storyline"). Make sure they're consistent with one another first, though. The other stories which are still in abeyance and need checking/finishing have all been commented on by me, so please read through the forum and find them. You guys can still carry on without me, now that I've helped to organise everything together. Just keep using the sticky (although someone needs to post another copy of the calendar, so that THEY can edit it after I'm gone...) Good luck to all the writers now and future, and create a history worthy of these Lands. -Lyn-

Church idea is nice, but not that practical, since beam is much more convenient a place for healing. People just come out from the underworld there, so that's when they need healing the most. That's also where the newbies are. Furthermore, all the churches and temples so far are not located in the right places for healing to be useful.

It's an interesting idea, but I think it would be good if you could provide suggestions as to WHAT these perks should be. After all, just the idea by itself isn't worth a lot. It's the details and the game-balancing issues that make it workable. So, suggestions on what kind of perks and their effects would be good, as well as what levels of manu required. The current perks are almost all used up, anyway, and most fighters (I think) would already have them, so you'll need to think of some new ones... You'll also need to explain why this won't upset the game balance. (eg. if the higher-leveled fighters already have all the perks, the perk-swords are pretty useless to them, so newbies would probably end up being the only ones to use them. What's going to happen?)

Hey guys. I thought it might be a good idea if we thrash out the basic details about the different races first, to standardise it and give everyone a base to work from. Of course, this is VERY open to debate. Things we need to discuss are: - Lifespan - Naming Customs - Race Specific Traits or Customs So, I'll start with lifespan. What do you guys think of this: Average Max Lifespan Orchans = 90 years Humans = 90 years Gnomes = 150 years Dwarves = 300 years Elves = 450 years Dreagoni = 700 years

Actually, the question I was asking was: SHOULD we use this style of names when creating (okay, in this case - Elven) characters for our stories, or a different style, or leave it up to the writer's imagination? I'm trying to standardise naming styles and techniques across the entire Storylines Forum, so that there won't be as much confusion for new writers as to how to name their characters according to race. Therefore, I'm asking for suggestions on the standard naming techniques. However, I DO agree that this puts a rather severe limit on originality, so I was hoping for people to come out and say why "it's not good, it's bad", "We shouldn't put limits", "There shouldn't be one fixed style of naming", etc. Please comment on this. But irregardless, thanks for the links. We may end up using them after all. -Lyn-

Very Important Notice: Don't EVER, EVER start a thread/story with the title "Storyline", "Story Suggestion", "What do you think of this?" or some similar title. It's very hard to reference later if we decide to include it. Always include a proper title or name your subject, so that we know what it's talking about and how to find it quckly. -Lyn-

What's wrong with your spelling? You got it all perfect.

Well, basically, the creative control is in your hands. Do you want to weave it into the central storyline (see the sticky), or keep it as an alternative EL history story? What changes to be made will be dependent on that decision. It's up to you. -Lyn-

“I’m telling you, Jarrett, it’s easy as pie! I’ve got it figured out.†The young man was flashing grins at every pretty face that walked past as he chatted with his younger brother. Most of those grins elicited a blushing response and a answering smile, as the village maids of Lakeside stepped quickly past the two young sailors from the docks. The dark-haired Jarrett ignored them and grunted. “You’d better not let Uncle or Diana hear about your mad fantasies, Banner,†he advised. “After the Aunt Mardrin’s death, Uncle hasn’t been the same. And you’re NOT going to worry Diana by going off on another of your half-cocked adventures.†They came to a halt outside Lakeside Tavern and Inn. “It’s just as well that we’ve got a month’s leave from Captain Gaildren. You can’t get into much trouble here.†“You know, for someone who’s supposedly my younger brother, you’ve got the manner of a fussy parent.†Banner said, grinning at his brother. Jarrett smiled wryly. He could never hold out against Banner’s high spirits for long. His brother had talked him into doing the craziest things before, even against his better judgement. This was another matter, however. “I’m serious, Banner. No talking about going into Vermor Castle in front of Uncle or Diana. You know how paranoid Uncle has been lately. Seems to think that that mage is going to come out and kill us all.†With that, he pushed open the door and entered into the noisy taproom of the Lakeside Tavern and Inn. “Hey! It’s the Vermillion brothers!†one noisy sailor shouted. The room was full of good-humoured, boisterous raillery as the barroom patrons hailed the returning sailors and asked them about the trip. Banner immediately began an exaggerated account of all the adventures they had encountered on their latest voyage to the other continent. The assembled sailors crowded around him, leaving Jarrett to slip out of the crowd and go behind the bar. His cousin Diana was serving that day, and she handed him a towel. Jarrett gave another of his patented wry smiles and started collecting empty glasses. “Still busy as always, eh, Di?†“Welcome back, Jare. Father’s missed you. He’s been fretting a lot. Without you boys around, and with Andrew taking leave to visit his sick mother, I’ve been trying to keep this bar from falling apart,†she said briskly, mixing drinks with one hand and collecting payment with the other. “He’s upstairs right now. Go and see him once that brother of yours finishes entertaining my customers.†Jarrett hid a smile. He had noticed that although she was talking to him, and serving the patrons at the bar, his cousin’s eyes had never left Banner’s face ever since they had entered the tavern. His brother had that kind of effect on people – young village girls in particular. There was just something about his tanned skin, fair hair, and native charm that attracted them to him like bees to honey. Diana was only 19 – she would get over it. Especially since marriage between cousins was severely frowned upon in Lakeside. He heaved a brief sigh and squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. She glanced at him briefly and gave a quick smile of appreciation. They had always been close. Even at a young age, they had played together, and she had confided to him secrets that she would never have told anyone, not even Banner. Still, it was Banner that captivated her attentions. They chatted for a little while longer, and then he pushed his way through the admiring crowd that had gathered around the erstwhile storyteller. “…and then, just as it was about to attack me, Jarrett shot it through the eyes. The beast howled in agony and collapsed into a whimpering heap. Then, I pulled myself together, took out my trusty axe Pollix,†Banner brandished his double-headed war axe in a way that caused the nearest patrons to hastily backpedal, “and lopped off its head, right through the neck!†The cheers resounded through the room. “Banner! Quit the horseplay! Uncle wants to see us!†Jarrett shouted above the noise. Banner looked up and then ruefully shook his head at the audience. “Well, boys, looks like I’ve got to save the rest of the adventures for next time. Duty calls!†He was met with rowdy jeers and catcalls as he leapt off the table he had been sitting on, blew a kiss to Diana (who blushed), and followed his brother to the staircase. “Next time, I’ll tell you about the man-eating tree we fought on the Isle of Harta!†he shouted down at the dispersing crowd, before disappearing up the stairs. Once he was out of view from the crowd beneath, his face turned serious. “How is he?†he asked his brother as they walked along the corridor to his uncle’s room. “Not good. Di says he’s been worrying himself sick over us. He’s failing fast. All those years at sea must have finally caught up to him,†Jarrett’s face was somber. They didn’t say any more as they came to a halt outside their uncle’s door. Even behind the closed door, the smell of medicine was distinct. Jarrett opened the door. Banner went in and nearly choked on the overpowering odour of the herbs that filled the room. On the bed lay a thin, greying old man, who rose feebly from his prone position. “Banner, Jarrett! You’re safe. Oh, thank Aluwen!†The old man’s voice was cracked and whispery. His eyes wandered from face to face as the young men came to sit by his bedside. He smiled faintly at the tears he thought he saw his nephews trying to hide. “Yes, it’s a big change, isn’t it? Two months ago, I was as hale and hearty as anything. Now, I’m barely a shadow of my former self.†He tried to laugh and broke off into a fit of coughing and wheezing. Banner laid a hand on his uncle’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Uncle. You’ll be over this sickness in no time! Why, you’ve travelled round the entire world! This is nothing to a crusty sailor like you!†Even he could detect the falsity in the cheerful words he said. He blinked to brush away the tears. His uncle had been the only father and parent he ever had – his hero. He had continued to raise the three of them after his beloved wife had died several years back, and had started the brothers off on the same ship that he had sailed. There was no way he would die now – still in the prime of his life. The coughing fit had stopped, and the old man sank back into the pillows, exhausted. “Don’t fool yourself, Banner. I know I won’t make it through this storm. This old sailor knows when the sea comes to reclaim her own.†He gripped Banner’s hand tightly. “I’ve made preparations for you all…yes, preparations to claim your inheritance. Remember that, Banner. It falls to you by right. I said it all in my will. Golric has it. Go to him when I’ve sailed across the horizon.†Banner was confused. His uncle had started rambling on about someone called Adrian, and swearing revenge on him. Then, he dozed fitfully, calling out the name of his wife and daughter in turn, and cursing Adrian – whoever he was. Suddenly, the old man woke and stared piercingly at Banner. “Don’t let him get her!†He gripped Banner’s hand in a vicelike grip. “Promise me that, the both of you. Don’t let that foul Adrian get his hands on Diana.†He broke off into another fit of coughing. Banner was frightened by the intensity of his uncle’s vehemence. “I promise, Uncle. Don’t worry…we’ll take care of Diana. Nothing will ever harm her,†he said, trying to soothe the old man. “I promise too, Uncle,†Jarrett interjected. Banner shot him a glance. He had kept quiet during the entire time they had been up here. Jarrett looked back, and in his glance was the bitter truth. Banner recognised it, and sighed in defeat. He had known it in his heart, anyway. The years of experience with dying comrades on his adventures had taught him many hard lessons. He turned back to his uncle, and found him about to doze off again, a peaceful smile on his face, as if content that the brothers would protect his daughter. Banner patted his hand as he and his brother rose to leave. “Don’t worry, uncle. Everything will be all right.†The last words he heard his uncle mumble before closing the door were, “It’s all right, boys. I’ve made preparations. Yes, I’ve made preparations…â€

Haha...Jimmy, would you believe that the Bible agrees with you? One of the roles of the Church (and Christians) is portrayed as the Bride of Christ (ref.: Ephesians 5:22-32, Revelation 19:1-9, 21:1-27) And Jesus himself DID say that we would be mocked and persecuted. (Luke 21:12-19, along with numerous other passages) So, basically, you just agreed with Christianity.

Naming Customs Okay, this is a big more difficult. The only clear naming custom I can see are the Dwarves: names like Gondric Mithrilfist, Malin Bronzebeard, Nalin Redhammer, etc. But what about the rest? Should the Elves and Humans have second names as well? Do we even WANT to standardise the names, or just leave it up to player's imagination? What about having different cultures within the race itself, to account for the variability of the names (eg. Wood Elves would have one type of name, River Elves another, etc.) And then, of course, there are the Orchans, Dreagoni and Gnomes. -Lyn-

Okay, Orchans changes from 80 to 90. Matirxx...that's why I deliberately said "AVERAGE" max. lifespan...there may be a few exceptions :wink:

The Nordcarn tavern seems to have dirt coming through the floor...a problem with height adjustment, maybe?