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  ..../                /_/..\______/./_____/./__/.../__/./_______/ MUD
  .../________________/       running on 9999
VOLUME SIX, ISSUE FIFTEEN                                 April 11th, 1999

                              TABLE OF CONTENTS

          -                   The Editor's Note                      -
          -              Upcoming Calendar of Events                 -

                              NEWS AND REPORTS
          -                    Pkill Tourney!                        -
          -                    Announcements!                        -
          -                     PK NewsFlash                         -  
          -        The Baron and the Baroness: The Beginning         -
          -                 A Letter from Abigail                    - 
          -                  A Single Dark Rose                      -
          -  A Discourse on the Advantage of Knowing One's Neighbors -
          -           The New Order of the Scroll Charter            -
          -               Resurrection of a Lost Clan                -
          -                     Inner Peace                          -
          -                 A Gift from the Sea                      -
          -                   A Transformation                       -
          -          Dragon Eyes: An Epic -- Final Chapter           -
          -        Who? CLeo interviews the Tourney Winners          - 

___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|                         EDITOR'S NOTE                            |__\

 Hello All,

 It's been an exciting week for me in the PR department, due to a large
 variety of RP events and plots. I thought I'd take the time to talk a
 little about the kinds of help an immortal can give your RP plot.
 Among many other things, we have in the past:

 * Created and distributed all kinds of zip strings

 * Played mobs (including the Dark Lord) for RP interactions

 * Renamed mobs to fit a specific purpose i.e. deaths/permas/chats

 * Temporary granting of immortal-only commands (switch, announce)

 * Run weddings, trials, and other ceremonies

 * Coordinated and developed large-scale 'tinyplots' involving multiple
   players and carried out over multiple days

 This is not a comprehensive list -- please feel free to consult us
 about your idea, and we'll do what we can to make it work. This kind
 of assistance, like everything else we offer, are available to *every*
 player, regardless of experience or popularity. Please don't hesitate
 to contact us.

                                     Love to All,

___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|                       CALENDAR OF EVENTS                         |__\

         [All times are system time unless otherwise specified]

Thursday, April 15, 7:00 pm  - Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
Saturday, April 18, 3:00 pm  - Gigantic Flag Hunt!
Thursday, April 22, 7:00 pm  - Q & A in the OOC Auditorium

___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|                          NEWS AND REPORTS                        |__\

                           PKill Tourney

I'd like to thank everyone that entered the pkill tourney on Saturday. We
had quite a few entries this year, as well as some surprises. I know the
staff had fun watching, I hope the players had at least as much fun in
participating. I'd like to take the time to thank LadyAce, Ea!, Authority,
Chimera, and Sabella for their help during the tourney this year. Without
their help, things would not have gone so smoothly.

The results for each division are as follows:


Round One: 
Tanzer wins over Shaidar, Hitman wins over William'.
Round Two: 
Tanzer wins over Hitman.
Tanzer wins!


Round One: 
Grigor gets a bye, Cyrnon wins over MelB, Thyme gets a bye. 
Round Two:
Thyme beats Lilian (who filled in for a missing player), Grigor wins over
Round Three:
Grigor wins over Thyme.
Grigor wins!


Round One: 
Berzerko wins over McDonald, Drakkon wins over Ton (who filled in for a
missing player), Gaidal wins over Skateboarder, Theseus wins over
Round Two:
Drakkon wins over Berzerko, Gaidal wins over Theseus.
Round Three:
Gaidal wins over Theseus.
Gaidal wins!

Round one:
Aginor beat Brendan, Dusk got a bye, Rictor wins over Hassan, Alejandro
got a bye, Alvis beats Algavince, Chaykin beats Cheesy_Poofs, DoctorBob
wins by forfeit, Krass wins by forfeit, Larnoc wins over Ma, Nothing wins
over Mugwump, Orlandu wins by forfeit, Sarzec wins over Rollins, West
beats Tiamat, and Morphine wins over Jairzu.

Round two:
Aginor beats Dusk, Alvis beats Alejandro, DoctorBob wins over Chaykin,
Krass beats Larnoc, Nothing wins over Orlandu, Sarzec beats Rictor, and
Morphine wins over West.

Round three:
Aginor gets a bye, DoctorBob beats Alvis, Nothing beats Krass, and
Morphine beats Sarzec.

Round four:
Aginor beats DoctorBob, Morphine beats Nothing

Aginor beats Morphine and moves on to a best of three series against
the reigning champion, Barabas.
Barabas won in the first two fights, which earned him the heavyweight
title once again!

Afterwards, as has become tradition, we opened up the arenas for a free
for all for a few hours in which everyone seemed to enjoy themselves.
Congrats to the winners, and thanks to all that participated. I hope to
see you all participate again for the next one.



If people really learn from their mistakes, pretty soon they'll know


            /                        \     
        o O | Wonder what folks are   |
  `\|||/    | doing over at LegendMUD?|
   (o o)    \________________________/
___                                                                    ___
\  |------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|    LEGENDITES: Information Regarding the People of Our World     |__\



A Male Spice Girl???

   Champion once again of the skateboarding competition at the X-Games,
SkaTeBoaRDeR goes to seek something new and different.

   His friends invite him to a concert by a group he's come to know and
even (!) enjoy: The Spice Girls. At the concert, he gets engrossed in
the music. He isn't so engrossed though that he misses some
photographers near the stage, taking photos whenever one of the Girls
kicks. He knows just what they are doing, too. They are trying to take
photographs of the Spice Girls that they can later sell at a high
profit. That in itself isn't wrong, but they are trying to be lewd
about it. Thinking that something must be done about them, SkaTeBoaRDeR
marches up to the front and knocks out the photographers with his METAL
ZERO logo SkaTeBoaRD! This he manages while flashing grins at the other
fans and the performers.

   Immediately after the performance, two security officers "escort"
SkaTeBoaRDeR backstage, where he is drilled about assault and battery.
Pleading that it was in the interest of the Spice Girls, the guards
start to take an interest in him. Before he can speak another word, he
is moved along toward a different location not revealed to him. The
guard says that he admires SkaTeBoaRDeR's zeal and wishes that it could
be harnessed.

   Finally, they approach some rooms which they enter. Sitting there on
chairs are the five Spice Girls. The guard goes through a quick rundown
of events and the Girls take a quick liking to SkaTeBoaRDeR, especially
MelB!  They offer him a full-time job as a person assigned to the task
of pre- vention of unauthorized photos, which he quickly accepts. After
all, who can resist pretty women? ;)


OTS and You!

A note from Tanzer Scythe, Guildmaster of the OTS:

As you all know, the Order of the Scroll is back and fully functional!
Like the days of old, we are once again the collectors of knowledge.
Our basic underlying duties to the public are to help those in need,
learn what we can about the realm and share it with others, and most
important is our devotion to the light.

We are re-creating the tomes and volumes that our preceding brethren
once held.  Our NEW OTS Charter has been written and the public version
has been included in this week's Legendary Times.  We also seek to
continue and finish our Encyclopedia of Magic.  Other Bards are working
'round the clock to learn intricate details about such trivial things
like the clothes that we wear.  Lost in the desert?  Need help with a
tedious quest?  The Order is also keeping notes on the lands that we
travel and people that we meet each day.

Sound interesting? Feel like giving back to the MUD? Anyone interested
(pkenabled) should contact a Bard and express his/her wish to seek the
Scroll.  Act quickly, for there are VERY limited spots available.
Disclaimer:  The Order of the Scroll is an equal opportunity employer.


I want to retract an rp that I wrote and which was posted in the last
LT.  That was a mistake and has caused some people a lot of problems. I
just want all who were written about to know that it was a mistake, on
on my part.


                                   *  *  *


Recently Mertjai has accused me of killing her baby daughter.  At 
first, I would not believe her.  But now she has come up with proof 
that I really did commit this crime.  I wanted to tell Mertjai and 
everyone that I feel really sad about this, and wanted to do whatever 
I could to make it better.  I'm really very sorry, and I hope you all 
accept my apology.


                        I I       I I       I I 
                        I I       I I       I I 
                        I I       I I       I I 
                       / | \     / | \     / | \   
                       \ | /     \ | /     \ | / 
                        \|/       \|/       \|/ 
                            PKILL NEWSFLASH!                
                        /|\       /|\       /|\ 
                       / | \     / | \     / | \   
                       \ | /     \ | /     \ | / 
                        I I       I I       I I
                        I I       I I       I I
                        I I       I I       I I

Some excitement was seen in the pkill front again this week. The Order
of the Scroll is back once again. I'm sure we all look forward to
seeing more of them. Coven members have been seen in action as well, as
the Grendels Ma and Agamemnon were seen chasing Aisha between Tudor and
Klein, and Aisha was sighted again, aiding Cyanide against Dusk. Viper,
the new high priestess of the Coven had a 'disagreement'(as he calls
it) with Sterling, who was apparently drunk, and died by his hand.

The newly formed Ministry of Darkness has jumped right into action as
well, as its members Craven and Brendan have been seen repeatedly
'collecting souls' for themselves. The particular skill -- and ferocity
-- of this clan make them a force to contend with.

The Knights as well are on the move this week, as they're not only
battling the Ministry and Banzai members, Sir West and Sir Rounin came
to Aisha's aid in Klein after she was attacked and beaten by members of
the Grendels clan. Rumor has it that the Coven sister has also been
seen talking with her clan's old enemies the Hermetics. Could new
alliances be starting here?

Leatherface and the Banzai are beginning to show some promise --
perhaps this clan is indeed here to stay, at least in the near future?
Members of the Secretives(?), the Coven, and the Disciples have been
spotted -- perhaps these clans will experience some kind of

As we reported last week, the Dark Enforcers were having problems
within, but that seems to have been straightened out as the clan is
back in action as well.

Ronnie was seen in The Stag in Sherwood reading fairy tales to
Scruntchy. Mayhaps the rumors are true of the changes in his life due
to his new love and new honor....  Could OTS be the cause of these
changes in such an evil man?

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                      The Baron and the Baroness:
                             The Beginning

	The soft nurturing sunlight sneaks quietly through the
windowpanes, as dawn slowly creeps upon the inhabitants of the Orkney
beach. The morning dewdrops clinging to the leaves of the huge oak
trees begin to fade into the thin air reluctantly as fishwives start
their fires and fishermen ready their hooks for a new day. A small
child rubs his eyes unenthusiastically as he peers through the window
wondering why he been dragged out of bed so early in the day.

	Down the main street is a small fishing hut; it is unoccupied
for most of the time, as its owner is neither a fisherman nor a native
of the village.  Characteristic of the fishing huts that line the beach
and streets of Orkney, it composes merely of rough wooden materials yet
it is able to stand up to the storms that occasionally find the village
in its path. Inside, a brilliantly crafted figurine stands alone on the
oaken table staring at something unseen beyond the doors. As a sudden
breeze blows pass the windows, the curtains frees itself from the
windowpane allowing a glimmer of light to shine brightly into the room,
directly onto the figurine. 

Its emerald green eyes glows brightly as though the infusion of light
gave life to the figurine itself. Yet the figurine, dressed in an
elegant dark brown suit holding a black cane under his arms, continues
to stare proudly into the void with life-like longing and despair.

With a click, the front door slowly creaks open as a young man enters
from the muddy main street. Brushing the dirt of his cloak, he glances
at the figurine on the oaken table and smiles.

"My old friend, I hope the night was neither too cold nor too lonely
for you," the young man says to figurine as he puts his cloak down on
the chairs.

The figurine responds with a steady stance and an eternal silence as he
as always has for the last several years.

The young man realizes and quickly adds, "Nay, of course not, with your
yellow fur and your worn suit, the night's breeze might as well just
been a welcoming gust of fresh air."

The young man sighs, disheartened, as he walks over to the doors and
pushes it shut.

Resting his tired body on the bed he confesses to the figurine, "But
Baron, another day has gone by and I again failed to find even a clue
that would lead us to the Baroness."

The young man pauses but continues on, "But do not despair, I will not
break my vow. I will continue searching for her till the day I can no
longer walk the world."

With a yawn, the young man quickly drifts off to the dream world on the
bed. With his sharp cat ears and long whiskers, the Baron stands guard
as the young man sleeps snuggly on the bed. For how many centuries that
he has stood staring into the void, even he has lost count. Yet the day
when the craftsman put the final touch on his emerald green eyes,
remains a sharp image in his mind. 

Back in the days when magic was still in abundance, even craftsmen
learned to gather the powers of magic to create their finest works.
This particular artisan was still young and had not mastered the art of
weaving magic flawlessly into his creations. However, the young
craftsman knew the Baron would be lonely in the world thus another
cat-figurine was created. Together, the Baron and the Baroness stood
side by side, hand in hand, for countless years on the shelves of the
store as the young craftsman was unwilling to separate the pair. 

Yet the dreaded day came -- it was as though the Baron and the Baroness
were cursed to separate from each other.  Within a day's time, the
village was left in ruin. When the craftsman finally returned to search
for his beloved creations, only the Baron remained under a large wooden
pillar. Frantic, together they searched through the debris yet there
was not even a sign of whereabouts of the Baroness. With his last bit
of magic, he restored the Baron. Salvaging what he can, the craftsman
left the village with the Baron in hand.

A gentle knock on the door breaks the morning silence in the hut. A
small child's eye peers into the room as the door opens just enough for
his head for poke through. The young man squirms in his bed but appears
to be fast asleep. Tip-toeing into the room, the small child reaches
underneath the covers and tugs at the young man.

"Unca West, unca West," the child whispers into his ears. 

Uncaring for the world, West turns his head the other way and continues
to sleep.

"UNCLE WEST!" the child screams loudly.

The young man jumps out of his bed in a flash and reaches for his sword
on the oaken table. Visibly shaken, he holds his sword out in front of
him ready for battle. Seeing that it is merely a village child, he
calms himself and places the sword back onto the table.

"Don't do that!" the young man says, "You scared me there."

"I'm sowry," the young child says as he scuffles his feet playfully in
the dirt, "I just wanted to play wit you."

"Uncle West is very tired," the tired young man said. West reaches for
a toy wagon lying underneath the bed.

"Here, take this. Uncle West will play with you later."

Reaching into his pockets, a small child produces an exact duplicate of
the toy wagon and waves it before him playfully. The child skips out
the doors and closes it behind him.

Shaking his head, West rests his head on the pillow and says, "How many
years has it been Baron? Since we met in that shop?"

Staring at the ceiling for a moment, West falls asleep and silence
surrounds the hut once again.

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                        A Letter from Abigail

A torn, water-stained letter was found on the ground at the Crossroads in

My dearest sister,

Forgive me for my lack of letters as of late, as I wrote you last,
things here are... odd, at best. I must tell you of an incident that I
feel, currently, I had the misfortune to find myself in the center of.
Tis not certain to me what to think of it.

Somehow, I find myself in the Underhills of Tara, standing before the
Bane sidhe, listening to the sounds of the river not far from her. A
voice calls me, and I follow it westward. Its tone, a calmness, echoing
softly in the breeze. I could not tell if this would be reality or a
dream, nor did I think to question it until too late.

A betrayal of my own thoughts, or perhaps a punishment by them due to my
mistakes, I could feel myself move though I did not command it. Perhaps
this is the Goddess' return for my wrong-doings, I know not, but I find
myself suddenly tossed about in a fiery rage that I cannot escape and then

When I awoke, though time passed(I do not know how much of it), I found
myself unharmed. The blood that dripped from wounds on my face and limbs
vanished along with their source. All that remained were the scars of the
memories in my mind.

I search for the meaning of this vision, or whatever it may be, in hopes
that I may gather explanation of it.



                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                         A Single Dark Rose 

There are roses, and there are roses. Some roses grow on bushes in neat
lines in well kept gardens. Some bloom on unattended shrubberies in
forests where no man care to go. Some are found on the shields of
pretender Kings of England, demanding lives in the hundreds. Some you
find in the side of the road on a pleasant summer evening. This one,
well, it just sat there looking crimson and pretty.

It was that specific one I wanted. Oh, I'm sure any rose would please
my lady - she has quite the eye for beauty despite her sometimes bitter
and disappointed demeanor. It had silky crimson leaves, the color of
the blood lovers shed for each other, and its petals curled ever so
slightly, like her full lips when she wryly must smile at some jest I
make. In some way, it was so much like her that it begged to belong to

Oh, I do not intend to tell you some lengthy epic of how I battled
monsters and defeated villains to achieve this simple token of my
affection. It was just a roadside flower - not one destined for glory
or meant to be worn on a queen's bosom. But as I walked past that
night, thinking of her, and thinking of how often I have hurt her, I
saw it sitting there, surrounded by paler and pinker fellows, and I
realized that this rose, this single flower had come into bloom for

You might see her wearing that red rose now if you come upon my lady.
She is worth the glance as well; dark auburn hair cascades down her
back, gray eyes return your gaze with power, confidence, and the pain
of the sights she has seen and the miseries fate has bestowed on her.
There is a certain aloof nobility to her that does not come from the
minuscule fact she was born into a noble family. Nobility is a fleeting
thing that does not stem from your family name; some people have it,
and some people do not, prince or pauper. She has it. Through her I
have it.

Marcel Alexander, Esquire

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

           A Discourse on the Advantage of Knowing One's Neighbors

One rainy day in April, Warrl was napping in his burrow in the woods
outside of Tara, keeping one ear perked for cries of "let's go to SL!"
His naptime kept getting interrupted, though, by strangers who would
part the shrubberies at the entrance to his home, walk in, and then
walk back out without closing the entrance, letting the rain pour in.
The repeated intrusions and soakings made Warrl very irritable indeed.

Noting that the treehouse above him seemed to have been left open - or
broken into - a good deal of the time when its owner was not in
residence, Warrl set out to meet his neighbors and perhaps form a
Community Watch program of the more violent and irascible variety.

Unfortunately, this idea seemed doomed to failure. The wolves in the
den next door continued to be unsociably territorial, the treehouse
owners were not home, and the attendant at the sacred grove seemed not
to heed his greetings, though she was quick enough to congratulate and
console others.  It seemed that no apprentices had come to live in the
hall in the druid compound, so Warrl traveled further from his burrow,
into the swamp.

The swamp was dark, teeming with slimy and inedible creatures, and the
bubbles breaking the surface of the muck let off stenches that would
offend even a human's insensitive nose. Warrl thought he saw a faint,
bluish light that might betoken a cottage or swamp shack, though, so
he pressed on towards it, being very eager now to meet a neighbor who
might help pound some manners into the 'civilized' folk who travel to
the Ardh-Righ's dun and back.

Across hummocks and through puddles of substances that felt and smelled
nastier than himself, Warrl followed the shimmer of blue light. It
would suddenly wink out, then reappear in an entirely different
direction than the way he had been going. Not being stupid, Warrl
quickly concluded that the light was not coming from a dwelling, but it
had led him a chase through gunk that had matted his thick, gray fur
into soaked tangles, and he wasn't about to give up.

Bellowing a growl, "GGGGRRRRrrrrr!" - (it IS actually possible to
bellow a growl, though it takes a special effort, and much practice) -
Warrl stunned the creature, and before it could wake he snapped his
big, sharp, pointy fangs shut around it. In a high, thin voice, the
creature begged him to let it go. By mind telling, a practice Warrl had
largely given up when he decided it was more bother than it was worth
to prevent humans from learning that he could speak, he secured the
creature's promise not to run away when it was released.

And thus Warrl made the acquaintance of a will-o-the-wisp, who it
turned out had baited him into their wet and frustrating chase because
she was bored, and had no better entertainment than teasing those who
trespassed in her home. Upon hearing of Warrl's own problems with
trespassers, the will-o-the-wisp offered to accompany him on his
travels, to light the way with her twinkling glow and help teach better
manners to any who are rude or thoughtless enough to ignore a
homeowner's right to be left in peace in their own dwelling.

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                   The New Order of the Scroll Charter

Introduction by Eretz
The Bards, one of LegendMUD's first and most principal clans, has its own
character.  We are musicians, artists, and writers, dancers and singers,
poets and philosophers--a very diverse band of people-- tied together by a
common loyalty and devotion to a creative interpretation of our endeavor, to
not only build a world save for decent folk, but also a world well worth
inhabiting.  What kind of player makes a good Bard?  The kind who reads Kant
while bashing a sailor, who listens to the Beatles while beating up the
abbot, who enjoys fine food and wine at any of LegendMUD's superb eating
establishments, and who is courteous enough to junk his mugs.

The traditional tasks of the Bard is to help others, gather information, and
to aid each other.  A Bard is pledged to assist other clan members in
gaining information and equipment, to rush to their assistance if needed to
reclaim corpses or defend them from attack.  Like other clans, we aid
non-members a great deal, sometimes sacrificing time and xp, to assisting
others.  It is at a Bard's discretion to limit help to verbal instruction.

Chapter I - Roleplay
As members of the OTS, you are expected to remain in character at all times.
This includes publically and in pkill.  The pkill aspect will be address
later.  Appropriate roleplay for the OTS are for the most part anything
that agrees with the fact that we are good, genuine people dedicated to the
protection of knowledge and the innocent.  Note: One does not necessarily
need to be a "bard" in order to join the Order.  Bards, poets, actors,
explorers, warriors, mages, etc. can and will all be accepted to fortify the

Chapter II - Roleplay in Pkill
As members of the OTS we are to generally avoid random pkill and slaughter
without reason.  It is bad for the clan image to attack without reason.  We
are protectors of those who are in need and cannot protect themselves.  It
is important to keep your roleplay as you fight as well.  It is not
appropriate to attack another of the same social standing and ethos.

Chapter V - Induction Process
Membership in the OTS is non-discriminatory, open to those of every
hometown, alignment and specialization--mages and warriors, Arabians and
Peruvians; the good and the evil aligned; the armored and the unarmored.
All clan applicants must unconditionally be subject to a clan vote.  No
eligible applicant is to be denied of the vote.  If the Guildmaster feels it
is necessary, an interview may accompany the vote.

Chapter VII - Public Relations
The OTS has always been known as a helpful clan to others.  Helping of new
players is a must.  It is also recommend that if convenient, help any stuck
players or rescue anyone in danger.  Convenient meaning it will not endanger
the player's life themself.  Any services offered to the public is fantastic
and the sign of a model citizen.  We like to be known as model citizens,
this prevents us from forming enemies.  It would be helpful but not
mandatory if any benefits made form public service be offered to or shared
with the clan in order to upkeep our clan hall (gold for example).  When
possible, roleplay with others.  Even with your enemies!  Remember, roleplay
scenarios and tinyplots are excellent.
It is another duty of the OTS to help contribute to the many volumes of
information that we hold.  As the gatherers of knowledge, naturally we log
and collect our findings.  We hold volumes of information on topics such as
equipment, quests, spells, words, etc.  Due to the tedious nature and need
for organization, the OTS should have an official librarian/book keeper.
This may be the GM, deputy GM or any member who volunteers.

Chapter VIII - Clan Hall
The clan hall is only safe if the members are responsible.  You mustn't ever
forget to lock the door behind you when traveling in and out.  Under no
condition should an enemy be allowed or let into our clanhall.  Neutral
pkillers and non-clanned entry into he hall should be kept to a strict
minimum.  Allies, especially grouped or injured ones should be welcome to
recuperate in the hall but not without the supervision of an OTS member.
Our message board is to be written on by OTS members only.

Chapters III, IV,VI, IX, X were omitted from being entered due to the fact
they outline such topics as war, alliances, Guildmaster, etc.

Questions? Comments? Contact or mudmail Tanzer.

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                       Resurrection of a Lost Clan

I had been sitting quietly in the altar in Kleinstadt.  A very large
man was there as well, glancing about as if expecting something, though
I could not understand what; surely everyone was safe in the altar,
even such a man as this, with the bloodstains still on his clothes
and staff. As if to shatter my belief, a strange apparition appeared
before me, a man in a dead black cloak with a deep cowl so that I could
not see his face. I did not know who or what this was, only that I was

The spirit cried out, in a great yell that could be heard round the

'Aginor!!' it screamed in a harrowing voice that was like a bone caught
in a drill. I knew this could only be the Dark Lord, and fear shot ice
through my spine. I turned to run away, but I was caught!  Suddenly, a
response came, a deep, commanding voice, though tinged with fright

'What, Great Lord?'  It could only be Aginor's voice as he ran inside,
falling to his knees in worship.  Now more than ever I wished to flee,
but I could not.

The Dark Lord seemed incredibly angry now, and was making no effort to
conceal it.  'Where are my Enforcers!?' he shouted. 'Where is the blood
spilled in my name?!?'  

'Twas a traitor, Great Lord,' Aginor replied. 'The foul swine known as
Cheesy_Poofs wrested control, and destroyed them.'

A third man walked in, a slightly insane-looking fellow; after all the
people that had come thus far, it was no surprise at all to see Ronnie
Valthalas, though perhaps it was a bit strange to hear his message.
The Dark Politician, creator of most whooping lies in circulation
today.  'Great Lord my arse,' he snickered.

The Dark Lord turned to him slowly, and snickered.  There was quite a
bit of snickering to be heard here.  'Conversion does not become you,
Ronnie,' he said, then turned to Aginor. 'Then, Aginor, why have they
not sprung up again, from the blood-soaked ground?'  From this point on
through the conversation, Ronnie continued to make taunts at the Dark
Lord, Aginor, and the Enforcers, and the Dark Lord and Aginor both
taunted him in return. For clarity's sake, this author shall omit what
was said in such a manner. Anyway, back to the narration.

Aginor was quick to defend himself from the Dark Lords wrath. 'I am
working to reform them,' he said, 'but the people, they do not want to
be Enforcers.'

At this point, yet another person came to talk briefly in defense of
the Dark path, a woman named Jealousy.  The Dark Lord, Aginor, and
Jealousy all began arguing with Ronnie for some time, until finally the
Dark Lord turned to the large, bloodstained man standing in the
corner. He looked a trifle uneasy.

'Barabas,' the Dark Lord said, 'why do you now rush to my messiah?  Are
you a worm too?' For clarification, Ronnie had just been called a worm
who would crawl back to the Dark Lord.

'I still kill, Lord!' Barabas said, clearly trying to sound confident.

The Dark Lord was unmoved by Barabas's claim.  He said softly (for him,
anyway), 'In my name, Barabas?'

'I thought you had forsaken me, Lord,' came Barabas's response. 'If that
is not the case, I will return to your banner.  Is that what you
command, Lord?'

The Dark Lord peered at Barabas, looking into his soul, and Barabas
shivered slightly. 'Do you not belong to me, Barabas?' he said. 'Kill
in my name, and I shall never abandon you.'

Ronnie immediately followed up the Dark Lord by saying, 'Don't bother,
the only things you are dying for, Barabas, are empty lies and
worthless promises.'

Barabas fell to his knees with a mixture of awe and worship. 'I am
sorry for doubting, Lord!  Aginor, I stand ready for your commands.'

Ronnie began grousing at Barabas's worship.

Aginor stared down at the Bonecrusher and said gravely, 'You have my
leave to name yourself an Enforcer, Barabas.'

'It seems, Aginor, that Barabas's newfound faith has given you a chance to
redeem yourself in my eyes,' said the Dark Lord.  'Go forth, with my power
in your veins, and begin again what none can truly destroy.'

Aginor bowed his head. 'As you command, my Lord, so shall I obey.
Until the Day of Return.'

The Dark Lord then shouted loudly, so that all the world could hear,
'Who else has the strength and courage to follow me?'

At this point, I suddenly realized I was no longer bound.  Realizing this,
I ran with all my strength, fleeing the church that had been swallowed by
evil.  As I ran from the cursed town, I looked back, and I wondered.  With
both Aginor and Barabas, could the Enforcers be rebuilt?  Could there be
enough people willing to dedicate their life and souls to the Dark Lord,
and fight for him?  Only time could tell for certain, but I believe that
perhaps the Darkness has not been destroyed; it is more powerful than ever.

-Name and Address withheld by request

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                              Inner Peace

     The sun was going down when it happened...  The angel was resting
atop the Kilimanjaro Mountain, trying to forget about the strangest day
he had.

     All day long, he had been hurting from within.  Strange pains that
resembled thunder.  Pains that felt like if he were being ripped

     Suddenly his whole spirit split itself into two and he saw
himself, surrounded by a reddish aura.

- 'You?  How can this be?', said CLeo, quite confused and scared.

- 'So you do recognize me.  You haven't forgotten!'.

- 'I thought I got rid of you a long time ago.  How did you get free?
You are supposed to stay confined in me, in my soul.'

    A long time ago, CLeo had fought an evil demon, Krtark.  The only
way CLeo knew how to stop him from doing any hurt to innocent people
was to trap him inside his spirit.  That is part of the reason why the
angel was never able to find inner peace within himself.

    The evil one tried to slash his claws into his face, but barely
managed to scratched CLeo's arm.  Poison started to infect the
wound...  The angel screamed from the pain, in agony.

- 'Don't you feel it?  It is the poison of hate and hell.  From now on
you are going to serve me!' He looked at the man with a large evil grin
on his face.  'Don't try to resist.  It will only weaken you.'

    CLeo tried so hard to fight off the effect of the poison onto his
body and soul... but each time he tried, the poison got stronger.  He
even tried to chant up protection spells, harmful spells to weaken the
evil.  Nothing worked... each attempt to do so weakened him.

- 'HA! You fool!  You think you can get rid of me!' The evil kicked
CLeo, who felt sprawling down on his face.

    There was only one thing to do, CLeo thought.  Give in to the hate,
hell, and anger of the poison in him...

    In a few minutes only, CLeo felt all the negative energy empower
him completely, giving him extreme strength over himself and his own

    He stood up and faced the evil, grinning, with a wicked look in his

- 'Thank you oh evil one!  You have no idea what you have just done!' 

    CLeo started to laugh hard.  You could feel the sarcasm in his
voice as if it were a warning for the evil figure itself.

- 'You have committed a great mistake Krtark!  All these years that I
have tried to rid the world of your evil... I have never succeeded
because I didn't have the power to kill you.  But now I do!'

- 'What?!  What is this!!??  You are supposed to be under my power!'

    The angel started to cry in pain, because of all the hate and evil
that was inside of him.  And the he raised his arms in the air, a
strong wind rising about.

- 'NO MORE, YOU HEAR ME!?  NO MORE!  You've killed my parents a long
time ago and you've killed every one I've held dear in my heart when I
was a child!  There is no way in heaven, on earth or in hell that I
will let you harm another soul like you did then.'

    The evil one tried to escape but was stopped by gust of wind too 
strong for him to pass trough.

- 'YOU WON'T SUCCEED CLEO!  YOU ARE A WEAK ANGEL...', yelled the evil 


    All at the same time, thunder, lava, and fire felt onto the evil
figure, killing him in a fearful pain, almost killing CLeo in the

    After what seemed to have been days CLeo woke up, covered with
bruises. He didn't knew if he succeeded in killing Krtark, but somehow
he finally felt free. He felt like if he had been freed of that pain
that had been tormenting his soul for so many thousands of years.
Finally, he was.  He was at peace...

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                           A Gift from the Sea                    

The sea-weed pulled at me...I struggled to break free from its grasp
but the effort just made things worse...I tried to get to the surface
for another breath of air and then everything went dark...

The sound of crashing waves echoed in my ears as I slowly regained
consciousness. Pale moonlight danced around me as I slowly opened my
eyes. I slowly stood up, my whole body trembling from cold and fear. I
had nothing on me except a few rags of clothing. All was still. Not
even a chirp of a cricket could be heard, just the waves pounding.

Back a ways from shore was a small niche in the cliff side. It was
barely big enough for me to curl up in, but it was brightly lit by the
moonlight, and the walls were still warm from the day's sun.

I woke in the morning and decided to try to look for some food, I
looked out at the sea and saw something bobbing on the water, a box
of some sort. The steady crash of waves seemed to bring it closer to
shore. I waded out and dragged it the rest of the way onto the

It wasn't very tall, but it seemed rather wide. The lid was sealed
tight and I couldn't pry it open. I walked down the shore a ways to see
if I could find something to help open it, but there was nothing. So I
walked back towards the box.

When I reached it, the lid was lying on the ground. I glanced around
hastily, trying to figure out who was here with me and where they were
hiding, but there was no one in sight. I kneeled down and rummaged
through the items.

They were all my things! I boggled over it for a few minutes, then
hastily started putting everything on. Down at the bottom of the box
were a few gems and a pile of lace. I lifted the lace out, it was a
beautiful burgundy and had a very delicate spider-web pattern to it. I
held it up and it cascaded down, and realized it was a skirt. A sheer
black silk fabric lined the inside of it... it was beautiful...

There were a few other stray bits of clothing, but nothing remarkable.
At the very bottom of the box was a water-stained piece of parchment,
with some words scrawled on it,

                    Thank you for your aid. You should find all
                    your things in good condition within this
                    box. please accept the gems and clothing
                    as reward.


I puzzled over it for hours, but I remembered nothing...and the more I
think about it, the more I suspect I'm better off not knowing
everything that happened that day. I sold all of the extra items,
except for the skirt -- it seemed too perfect for me to throw it away.

Amecia BloodRose

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

                          The Transformation

The uniform of a Dark Enforcer, the Dark Lord's own executioners,
hitmen, bodyguards, and toughs. A simple black suit, with his own sigil
on the hollow of the shoulder, a black mailed fist clenching a
gore-smeared trident. I remember how proud I was to wear it for the
first time, to stand there at full attention and pay homage to the Dark
Lord's flag and recite his words of wisdom...the responsibility of
crushing the Light and preventing its lies from spreading...all that
pride and sense of duty that came with the uniform.

I can't remember when I loathed to put it on.

After awhile, just being a soldier wasn't enough. I conspired, drew
treaties, declared war, briefed my subordinates and commanded others
into battle. I rose the ranks of the Enforcers, eventually becoming
their Grand Master, the Great Avatar of the Dark Lord. Even this became
boring after awhile, and I felt the call of another spirit, one not
much more evil but infinitely more twisted.

The call of the Banzai drew me and others, and we left to divine the 
messages he sent. But, as the time spent away from the Dark Lord's 
poisonous tenets, his corrupting laws and intoxicating power, I started 
to think for myself again. It became clear that the teachings of the 
Light were not just lies and human weaknesses, as the Enforcer dogma 
teached. For the first time since giving my soul to the darkness, I felt 
a glimmer of hope. Hope for my soul, and that it might be free of the 
last icy threads of the Dark Lord's taint.

I know my past does not speak favorably for me, but nothing comes easy. 
I seek my soul back, and my humanity, so that once more I can walk the 
streets without being cowered away from, or spat at, or insulted and 
jeered for my past and what I have become. Such change cannot happen 
overnight, but it cant happen at all without taking the first step. I am 
sorry for my deeds and actions which have hurt so many, and for my sins 
I must repent.

Thank you, good people,
-Ronnie Valthalas

                    {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}

Dragon Eyes : An Epic
Final Chapter

Dragon Eyes has come a long way now, so many who read this might be 
unfamiliar with the story.  If you would like a copy of past chapters, 
feel free to email Drako at his new address: < [email protected] >  

I yawn.  It's not the most interesting way to start the day, but it
feels right. I pack my bags and get ready for another day of
exploration. As I do so, I glance out the window. It's raining.  Not
just raining, actually, storming. I can barely hear the ratta-tat-tat
of the downpour through the window, though the evanescent explosions of
lightning and subsequent earth-shattering thunder quakes rock the
foundations of the inn.

Against my better judgment, I set out. My cloak protects my from much
of the rain, but it lends scant refuge against the bone-chilling cold
and the madly tortuous wind. I walk half-bent, leaning into the wind as
I traverse the road out of town. The trees and plants that seemed
content with the pleasant showers of last week now seemed weary of the
rain. Many were water-logged, drowning with no hope of escape, while
others were charred and splintered, a cruel result of the overactive

I did not know where to go. My mind and body were numb from the
onslaught of the elements. Blindly, unthinkingly, I wandered towards
the Hivernian. In the future I would ponder with awe the stupidity and
audacity of my actions here. For the moment, however, no such thoughts
invaded my mind. Actually, not many thoughts were in my mind at all.

I subconsciously noted with great trepidation the raging sea. Monstrous
waves thrashed, acting out a battle of water elementals. A puny mortal
such as myself had little chance of making a safe path through that
melee. It seemed I was destined to try, however. I readied my canoe
and, in an odd daze, set out upon the tumultuous waters. Previously
cold, now cold and wet, I paddled furiously for the opposite shore. I
do not even take notice as I am lifted hundreds of feet in the air,
riding the crest of a massive wave. Were I in my right mind, this would
be the biggest rush of my life.

To my obvious detriment, the wave is destined to sink back into the
unknown depths. It falls rapidly, leaving my poor canoe, and poor me,
to float for a few moments. The moments pass as my canoe and myself
plunge towards the sea. We near the water. I am not scared. Falling,

I hit the unrelenting water with a tremendous splash. The canoe lands
elsewhere. My mind reels, still barely conscious. As I pass into
blackness, I do not think of living, nor do I think of death. I know
not where I am going, only that I am destined to go there. Then all is

*--------  __  __  __   __  __   ______   ------ PK TOURNEY -------*
*-------  / / / / / /  / / / /  / __  /  ------- April 1999 -------*
*------  / / / / / /  / /_/ /  / / / /  ---------------------------*
*-----  / / / / / /  / __  /  / / / /  ----------------------------*  
*----  /  \/  \/ /  / / / /  / /_/ /  -----------------------------*
*----  \________/  /_/ /_/  /_____/  -----   by CLeo of the   -----*
*-----                              ------  Circle of Angels  -----*

Hello everyone!

For this edition, it is my pleasure to present you the 4 winners of the
PKILL TOURNEY!  They each answered 4 questions.  Perhaps some of their
answers will help you for the next tourney... and perhaps some will
just make you laugh.  Enjoy!

The questions asked were:

a) What would you say was your best move?
b) What would you say was your worst move?
c) Were you confident you would win the title?
d) If Sandra was of the same level as you with mortal equipment, do you
think you would have won?

Name:  Tanzer
Rank:  New Featherweight Champion

a) 'I had a wicked bayonet, so it major poisoned my opponents... they
got hurt every time they moved.  It's hard enough to chase after a
b) 'Not enough potions.  I was well prepared for my first fight but not
the second.'
c) 'Yes, thought I was surprised by the amount of applicants for my
weight division.'
d) 'No, to me she's just another pkiller.  You should never be
intimidated by a name or reputation, everyone can win if they play their
cards correctly.  And besides... I've beaten her before.'

Name:  Grigor
Rank:  New Lightweight champion

a) 'Headbutting, most definitely.  Not many people in the featherweight
are high on con it seems.'
b) 'I didn't make any.  I'm just too good for stupid moves.'
c) 'Most definitely.  Most of the other contestants just were not
prepared to handle me.'
d) 'Definitely!  Sandra is headbutt fodder, soft in the head you know.'

Name:  Gaidal
Rank:  New Middleweight Champion

a) 'Going invis, then back stabbing on the tick, pretty much saved my
hide I think.'
b) 'Having a high wimpy so whenever he got prio I didn't do any damage. 
But if you count missing shots I would say that one was worse.'
c) 'Fairly... I have been in tournaments before and I knew all my
competition so I had no surprises.'
d) 'I think I would have.  She would have been out of practice and I
have been pkilling allot lately.'

Name:  Barabas
Rank:  Undefeated, for two years, Heavyweight Champion!!!

a) 'My best move was waiting to use the see invis vial that I had saved
until the second match as I wanted Aginor to believe that I couldn't see
invis so that he'd feel confident in his spam gear.'
b) 'My worst move was changing into spam gear as Aginor walked through
the room.  :-)  '
c) 'Was I confident that I'd win?  No way...  Aginor and I are pretty
similar beyond just serving the Dark Lord (so no advantage there either)
and it could have gone either way.'
d) 'Back when Sandra pkilled, she was damn good.  So although I think
I'd have a chance, I wouldn't bet allot of money on myself.'

All in all I guess we can say that the winners were honest about their
best and worst moves...  But I would have to say that they could learn
quite allot from Barabas and other good pkillers such as Aginor,
Morphine, etc.

Oh, and one thing...  Sandra, feel like testing yourself next
tournament?  Looks like some players are a bit too confident ;)  Might
want to teach them a lesson!  *laughs*


Legendary Times is published by the immortals of LegendMUD. Please send
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