There are 4 messages in this issue.
Topics in this digest:
1. Reminder: Check the Message Board, 4/29/2005, 12:00 am
From: WeaversFiction
2. Ismene to Re-Open
From: "Arlene Jacobs" <wondermom@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
3. [DL-C] Red moon arising
From: "Simon Gale" <s.gale@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
4. Re: Ismene to Re-Open
From: Kristen <aubidar@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Message: 1
Date: 28 Apr 2005 23:50:47 -0000
From: WeaversFiction
Subject: Reminder: Check the Message Board, 4/29/2005, 12:00 am
Reminder from the Calendar of WeaversFiction
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WeaversFiction/cal
Reminder: Check the Message Board
Friday April 29, 2005
All Day
(This event repeats every week.)
Event Location:
http://xsorbit27.com/users5/worldweaversfiction/index.php
Notes:
Reminder:
Check the World Weavers Message Board.
Join in the discussions at:
http://xsorbit27.com/users5/worldweaversfiction/index.php
Send a Yahoo! Greeting at:
http://greetings.yahoo.com
Set up birthday reminders!
http://us.rd.yahoo.com/cal_us/rem/?http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WeaversFiction/cal?v=9&evt_type=13
Copyright 2005 Yahoo! Inc. All Rights Reserved.
http://www.yahoo.com
Privacy Policy:
http://privacy.yahoo.com/
Terms of Service:
http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
[This message contained attachments]
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Message: 2
Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 04:55:24 -0000
From: "Arlene Jacobs" <wondermom@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: Ismene to Re-Open
[Since not everyone got this message from Rachel, I'm reposting it as
a "Special Notice" so that it will go out to all the member****p.
-Arlene
DL Admin]
--- In WeaversFiction@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
"eliase73" <meghanlore@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
wrote:
We are trying out a new kind of warren in the DragonLands. Ismene
will be a real time warren, instead of a play by post one. There is a
group at ismenewarren@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
if you are interested and want
to join.
For now we are working on setting up the mechanics of how the warren
will run. Feel fre to join the group and submit character bios and
suggestions. The group will remain OOC as all the actual play will be
done real time.
I am looking forward to seeing Ismene thrive once again :)
Rachel
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Message: 3
Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 16:17:04 +1000
From: "Simon Gale" <s.gale@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [DL-C] Red moon arising
Day 3
Foothills
After Sunset
The sunset had been a beautiful one, beautiful in a blood-red kind of
way. The dust off the plains was thick today and the sun had gone down
in a red haze, looking twice its normal size. Some Nomad tribes saw
this as an evil omen, a sign of terror and spilled blood. Some tribes
saw it as a ****tent of battle, a sign that a bloody fight is imminent.
Some saw it as a sign of fertility, a propitious time to breed stock
and sons.
The wurm however, had none of these superstitions. It awoke as the sun
touched the horizon and the heat it generated waned. The day had been
spent in sleep, basking in the warmth of the sun and conserving and
storing energy for the night, the time in which the wurm did its
hunting. And hunting had been good lately. It had eaten five times in
the last month; thrice on small groups of humans it had caught in the
open grassland and twice on larger groups it had come upon near water
sources. Tonight it would feed upon a large group it had located two
nights ago in its wanderings. These humans were a short distance away,
the wurm having holed up amongst some nearby hills to digest its
previous feastings before gorging itself again.
Its tongue slipped in and out between its thin lips, 'tasting' the air.
Like its much smaller cousins, the wurm had a split tongue, which it
used to smell the air around it. Unlike its cousins, this tongue was
split twice, a three-pronged flicker that effectively doubled the
effectiveness of this sense. It also had two sensory pits on the tip of
its blunt head that coloured its vision in varying degrees of heat and
cold. These were its primary senses, but it could also 'hear' to a
certain degree through a series of nerves in its ribs that picked up
vibrations in the ground and air. All in all, the wurm missed few
things in its surroundings.
The wurm slowly uncurled its massive length, stretching its newly
awakened muscles. Its cold reptilian intelligence knew that this was
the best time to hunt, for it seemed to be the time when most humans
seemed to gather in one place. It had a distinct dislike of chasing
down prey, especially when each human was only bite sized. It was so
much easier when they were all bunched together and trapped in the
large hide coverings they sheltered under. Also, the humans seemed to
struggle to see the wurm in the darkness, their senses obviously being
greatly inferior to its own.
It started off towards the last place it had seen the human tribe, its
massive form leaving a great wake in the plainland grass. It soon found
the place, a wide trail in the grass carrying the scents of man and
horse. The wurm now turned and followed this trail, moving at a
leisurely pace by its standards, a pace a mounted man would have had
difficulty matching. After about four miles it stopped, tasting wood
smoke in the air. It raised the front half of its body off the ground,
its tongue flicking in and out as it surveyed its prey. As it had
expected, the humans were all clustered together in the one place, with
only a few on the outskirts of the camp ahead. A large flickering fire
burned a bright orange in the very middle of the camp, around which
most of the humans seemed to be gathered. This would be an easy hunt
indeed, thought the wurm as it tasted the air one more time. There was
a light taint in the air that it could not place and seemed to drift in
and out. It stir!
red deep memories of another time, and the wurm paused in thought. The
scent reminded it of something, but it could not remember what.
It gave a mental shrug and lowered its upper body back to the earth,
moving off towards the camp. Whatever the scent was, it could be
investigated after feeding. Fear was no longer a factor in the wurm's
existence...few, if any creatures could trouble it two thousand years
ago and it had killed and eaten those of its kind simply to exterminate
any such threat to itself or its food supply. And food was its primary
concern right now. Strange scent or no, it was mealtime.
* * * * * * *
Nomad Camp
Late evening
Memnon sat in the spacious tent in front of the Nomad chief. His name
was Muhti and he was a tall man, well built and clad in elaborately
embroidered leather pants. His upper chest was bare, a simple necklace
of some great cat's teeth the only adornment. His two swords lay on the
mat beside him, an indication of peace...for now. Memnon knew that
Saleh's earlier display had not been appreciated. That was one of the
reasons she had not been admitted to this tent and was currently waited
outside, fuming in self-absorbed rage.
Muhti had just heard Memnon's explanation of the destroyed campsite the
Cleft patrol had found and what the riders thought might be behind this
destruction. His brow was beetled in thought, one hand moving up to
scratch his cheek. He appeared to be a sensible man, but one given to
action, not deep thought. After a long pause, he looked over at Memnon
and asked,
"This Nadusi, why would it appear now?"
Memnon ****fted slightly. He himself did not know the answer to that
question and sitting here talking to a chieftain was an uncomfortably
new sensation. Five months ago, no chieftain would even have looked
sideways at him, and yet now with his new status as a dragonrider, they
seemed to see him as someone who knew something. What that something
was though, Memnon was yet to figure out.
"We not know yet," Memnon replied.
"We ourselves are searching. If you've seen anything strange or
unusual, this would help in big way?" he asked back, looking at Muhti
hopefully.
[I'm bored and something smells bad] Rage piped in noisily in the back
of his mind.
[Quiet. I'm in a meeting, you big lug] Memnon shot back, annoyed at the
restless dragon.
Muhti looked at him oddly for a second before replying. Memnon still
hadn't got the mind talk thing going naturally yet and his eyes tended
to go unfocused quite drastically when he was mind-speaking. His ears
burned at getting caught, especially by a chieftain. Rage was in
trouble now, he mentally noted.
"Nothing to strange. Plains animals are scarce, anything larger than
small deer very hard to find. Couple hunters found strange sign other
day, down by the bank of..."
[Something is not right here...that smell is getting worse] Rage again
butted in.
Furious now, Memnon replied angrily, [Well maybe you should stop
smelling yourself, you annoying cl......]
He stopped abruptly; Muhti pausing in his speech as well as a
blood-curdling scream rang out through the camp. Time seemed to slow,
and for a long moment Memnon and the chieftain stared mutely at each
other, eyes wide. Outside, no sound could be heard. For five agonizing
heartbeats, everything seemed to be frozen and still. Then this
stillness was shattered in a sudden cacophony of noise and action
outside.
[Someone, no, some...thing is attacking the camp!] Rage shouted
internally, as Saleh burst into the tent screaming,
"Something is here, its attacking the villagers, come on, we have to
get to the dragons!"
Muhti was on his feet with both swords drawn, moving quickly towards
the door. He pushed roughly past Saleh and through the tent flap,
shouting for his warriors as he rushed out.
"What is it?" Memnon asked Saleh as he jumped to his feet, running
outside after the chieftain.
She followed him, screaming incoherently something about a strange
smell and s****s. Memnon could see nothing from where he was. The
chieftain's tent had been set up slightly apart from the main cluster
of tents, with several dwellings between it and the main fire. All he
could see was the glow of the fire and people running out of tents,
equally as confused and scared as he felt right now. He could hear
screams and shouts over the other side of camp and he moved towards the
central campfire to see if he could see what was happening. The fire
was a big pit dug into the ground and a lot of women and children were
gathered around it. He could see Muhti shouting instructions to a group
of warriors on the other side of the fire, before they all dispersed in
twos and threes into the tents on the other side of the camp.
[Can you see what's going?] he asked Rage, who was now in the air above
the camp.
[Can't see much,] came the short reply,
[Only lots of movement and tents collapsing on the west side of the
camp]
[Bring Mystarria and meet us on east side then, near chieftain tent,]
Memnon replied,
[I'll go see if I can find anything and then meet you there]
He then turned to Saleh and told her where the dragons were headed. She
was gone almost as soon as Memnon finished explaining it to her,
running off in the direction they had just come from. He turned and
picked up a spear from a rack near the fire. Whatever it was out there,
it couldn't be good and all of his own weapons had been left with the
dragons, for reasons of diplomacy. He hefted the spear, hoping heartily
that he wouldn't have to use it. He then set off into the western side
of the camp.
It was a large camp by Nomad standards, occupied by several hundred
people and consisting of around 60 to 70 tents, so once Memnon stepped
beyond the first line or two beyond the central fire, tents blocked the
light of the fire and the only light came from the intermittent torches
that stood outside a few tents. He threaded his way carefully through
the ropes and pegs holding tents up, moving towards the greatest noise.
Then, suddenly he came upon a section of flattened tents. One tent had
started to burn on the other side of the now clear space, and by its
flickering firelight Memnon saw a group of warriors back into sight. A
gigantic Nomad, whose weapon was a spear easily as long as Memnon was
tall and as thick as his bunched fist, led them. They seemed to be
waiting for something, and the big man directed them with a series of
hand signals into a crescent facing the way they had come from. Several
of the warriors had arrows notched and others carried spears and all
looke!
d scared, even the big warrior. Memnon wasn't at all sure he wanted to
see just what it was that made these men scared and he started to back
quietly away into the still standing tents at his back.
Just then the tent fire flared up and reflected off a glittering eye in
the darkness beyond. Memnon froze, retreat tem****arily forgotten.
Because this eye was enormous. The size of a small boulder, it hovered
a good twenty odd feet off the ground, a glittering jet-black orb. The
fire flared again and Memnon saw the second eye, an unbelievable
distance from the first. They glinted darkly, their gaze almost
hypnotic as they lingered just out of reach of the fire's light.
Memnon's breath had died in his throat. Whatever this thing was, two
eyes at that far apart twenty feet off the ground meant one seriously
massive head. A head that Memnon had no intention of getting close and
personal with. He started his retreat again, this keeping his movements
extremely still and quiet. No attention was good attention in this
situation.
The warriors had obviously seen it as well, because they were
completely silent. The big warrior held his right hand behind his back
out of view of the creature and was making the sign for 'hold'. Then
suddenly, the eyes surged forward into the firelight revealing the
massive head of a gigantic s****. It rose out of the darkness in front
of the men, a creature of myth and absolute darkness, its skin gleaming
a dull black in the firelight. Its head was flat and square-shaped and
easily the size of the chieftain's spacious tent. As it moved forward,
it opened its maw wide, revealing a row of darkly stained teeth and a
red throat. It struck towards the centre of the line of Nomads, picking
out an archer and snatching him from amongst his fellows in a blur of
movement. Its mouth was so large that it enclosed the unfortunate man
entirely, and Memnon watched aghast as he saw the s**** chew once,
twice before swallowing. Blood spurted and trickled across its thin
lips as it did so,!
spattering the ground and those near.
The warriors were galvanized into action at this, leaping back from the
strike and then back in again to stab at the s**** with their long
spears. The few archers loosed their shafts at the eyes of the monster,
but Memnon saw two strike the open eye and glance away, the s**** not
even blinking. The spearmen were having even less effect, their iron
spearheads grating across the s****'s skin as if it were smooth stone.
The s**** seemed to not even notice the efforts of the Nomads and quick
as thought struck out again. And another man was gone into its mouth.
Memnon realized with a shock that this creature was feeding. It took no
more notice of the warrior's attacks than a cow took of a fly buzzing
around its head, simply striking out whenever its mouth was empty.
Memnon was terrified. This was truly the Nadusi of legend, come to
literally devour the Nomad peoples. This was the creature against all
other monsters of tale and myth paled, this was the creature whose
return was said to be the harbinger of an eternal darkness, this was
the creature village elders spoke of only in veiled references and soft
whispers for fear of invoking its awakening, this was the incarnation
of horror. Quiet retreat was forgotten as he turned and ran. He had no
thoughts of bravery, no delusions of heroism, he was simply a young man
confronted with a terror that would shame the greatest hero. And so he
ran, as fast as he could, towards Rage and escape.
Over this frantic tableau a scarlet moon rose, massive and red against
the dark eastern sky.
* * * * * * *
Summary
Day 3
Memnon and Saleh are visiting a Nomad camp on their scouting trip when
it is attacked by a large s****like creature, said to be the Nadusi of
Nomad lore. Memnon encounters the creature and sees it eat several
Nomads. He then runs away in fear.
* * *
Submitted by
Simon Gale
aka Memnon/Rage
Cleft Warren
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Message: 4
Date: Fri, 29 Apr 2005 07:24:07 -0400
From: Kristen <aubidar@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: Re: Ismene to Re-Open
Is the old Ismene board gone?
Hugs,
Kris
--
No virus found in this outgoing message.
Checked by AVG Anti-Virus.
Version: 7.0.308 / Virus Database: 266.10.4 - Release Date: 4/27/2005
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
To Join World Weavers, visit: http://www.worldweavers.net/
Only members of WorldWeavers Worlds should post to this list. To post
messages to this group, send email to WeaversFiction@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
|
