Ylem at 21:44, 26 November 2008

2008-11-26T21:44:58Z

Segue at 19:42, 31 January 2007

2007-01-31T19:42:52Z

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''Composed of a thick parchment, unbounded except for a tightly wound''
''piece of white string, these notes represent the bulk of the''
''storyteller's work. Though he has told the same stories over and''
''over, no one has yet gotten tired of his voice crooning over the din''
''of the city.''

''Whenever someone asks where he learned the stories, he pauses and''
''reflects for a moment before speaking to the waiting crowds. It''
''always begins back when his father was barely more than a lad.''

''This is his story, and Mervue's story.''

ObjectType Value.
Object Affect.
Object Affect.
Object Affect.

'''Keyword(s):''' ??, ??, ??. 
'''[[Object Level |Level(s)]]:''' ??-??. 
'''[[:Category: Object Types |Type]]:''' [[:Category: Furniture| Furniture]]. 
'''[[Object Slots |Slot(s)]]:''' none. 
'''[[Object Quality |Quality]]:''' ?? hps. 
'''[[Object Weight |Weight]]:''' 0 lbs. 
'''[[:Category: Object Flags |Flag(s)]]:''' none. 

== Comments ==
You look at the storyteller's notes...

The storyteller's dad was no more than a young lad, twenty-one
winters strong. It started innocently enough, with magic doing
unintended things: spells meant to heal caused the victim to levitate;
spells meant to create light for night travels instead made an aura
of sanctuary around the caster. Any of the fish that made it to the
shore were dead, and the Spring nights became warmer than anyone could
remember in years past.

Just when worries were rising to their highest furor with riots
escalating nightly, everything returned to normal one cool summer's
eve.

Less than a month later, a visitor came, heralding the arrival of
his master. The townsfolk scolded him, locking him in an iron cage
that dangled an elf's height off the ground. For days the citizens
held parties in his honor, dancing around the cage as if it were a
festival pole. The man, jeered on by his captors, became emancipated
and refused to eat. Having bitten the doctor who tried to heal him,
the odd captive all but forced those to stay away.

As the visitor became sicker and sicker, more and more people stayed
away, foregoing the festivities. On his final night before he
succumbed to his illness, he was found whispering things in a demonic
tongue, and lashing out against his iron confines with inhuman
strength. The next night, the bars of the cage were snapped in half,
a gaping hold in one side.

The body of the prisoner was found face down in a puddle, having
choked to death sometime after escaping and falling to the dirt
ground. At the point of death, he seemed to have been to weak to
lift his own head.

The bodies of the prisoner's guards were found nearby, their skin
hanging loosely from their flesh. Two by two, all of the shift
guards perished to the same disease that killed their mysterious
visitor, until a quarter of the city's defenses lay buried in a
mass grave.

The next night, only two nights since the death of the prisoner,
the city's healer fell violently ill and died. Panicked, a good
portion of the city tried escaping by land or sea, only to be
turned back by powerful magical wards that had appeared overnight.

The body of the prisoner was found face down in a puddle, having
choked to death sometime after escaping and falling to the dirt
ground. At the point of death, he seemed to have been to weak to
lift his own head.

The bodies of the prisoner's guards were found nearby, their skin
hanging loosely from their flesh. Two by two, all of the shift
guards perished to the same disease that killed their mysterious
visitor, until a quarter of the city's defenses lay buried in a
mass grave.

The next night, only two nights since the death of the prisoner,
the city's healer fell violently ill and died. Panicked, a good
portion of the city tried escaping by land or sea, only to be
turned back by powerful magical wards that had appeared overnight.

Raistlin, a wandering mage living on the outskirts of the town,
was commissioned by public vote to investigate the wards. Not much
information was gathered, except that the wards were invisible when
covered in sunlight.

As children and families fell sick and perished, the city grew more
frantic in their attempts to escape the magical bounds, though to
no avail. As all hope began to fade, a stranger arrived one cold
winter's morn, able to penetrate the wards with ease. When the
villagers reached him, he spoke of ignorance of the magical ways.
At the urging of the villagers, he demonstrated how he was able
to leave and come as he pleased, though none could follow.

The villagers begged the mysterious stranger to leave and seek
assistance from Midgaard, to which he readily agreed. In return,
they gave him a strong horse and three days worth of supplies.
He departed that hour, riding his hour so hard that it kicked
up clouds of dirt that could be seen for half a mile.

Scarcely two nights after, the visitor returned, panting hard
after having ridden the horse without stopping since his
departure. He spoke haltingly of reinforcements arriving soon,
being gathered by the elite townguards stationed in Midgaard,
and with a last gasp of breath, he handed them a folded piece
of paper.

''Brave citizens,

''We have received your summons and are coordinating a rescue
''effort as we speak. We will arrive two nights after the bearer
''of this note.

''Aelmon,
''Ruler of the city of Midgaard''

As darkness fell twice more, several guildmasters arrived wrapped
in winter cloaks, along with a legion of the land's most renowned
Heroes not far behind.
Both the clerical and priest guildmasters huddled together by the
cage that till held the deceased body of the prisoner. The magic
holders took it on themselves to examine the wards with a hasty
caution. The fighters assembled by the cage momentarily, before
branching out in all directions, clear disdain in their voices
regarding the healers' passive ways.
And then time shifted.

The first indication: strangers walked through the town, shades
of their self, sometimes considered illusions of something grander
by the healers. The shadows walked with confidence, no fear in
their bright eyes. Paying no attention to the city folk, they
vanished by morning only to reappear at night, heralded by a scream.
Raistlin stood by a ward he had been examining as darkness began
to fall, numbly staring at the newest shade.
Unlike the other shades that had appeared previously, this one
was agitated, muttering silent as he paced back and forth on
phantom feet.
The shade was Raistlin, right down to the dirt-streaked
magician's robes Raistlin was fond of wearing, though his
mentality was not the same.
Before anyone could speak, the world shifted once more.

When the dust settled, the Midgaardians would speak of a great
battle to their leader, Aelmon, telling him of the bravery of
the fighters.
A nameless great evil had risen from the rift in time, pulling
all into its domain. Though the evil was eventually defeated
after a lengthy battle, when the fighters returned back to their
own world, the city they had been investigating lay in ruins,
its inhabitants gone from this world.
The only person alive to greet them was Raistlin, and though
he was fully flesh, he acted strangely more like the shade
previously encountered, as if the real Raistlin no longer existed
and was also lost in the grips of time. Insanity tinted the poor
man's words, and nothing would ever be gained about the
destruction of the city by him.

For a long time, the city lay in ruins, destroyed by what some
would later call the Hand of God, the damage greater than any
had seen before -- though the evil that was committed could not
be caused by an Avatarian God.
Eventually Lord Audis took up the charge of rebuilding the
city from scratch, finding new settlers to take the old ones'
places, though no one would ever pry the reason from his lips.
And he called the city Mervue, after the mistress of the Sea,
and thus was the city borne from the ashes of the old, defying
Time once more.

== Directions ==

Walking route from [[Aelmon |Aelmon]]: 26s,e. 

Walking route from [[Giles | Giles]]: w, 3s, e. 

[[Portal |Portaling]] point suggested: [[Storyteller|Storyteller]]. 

[[Category: Gear In Mervue]]

Notes - Revision history

Ylem at 21:44, 26 November 2008

Segue at 19:42, 31 January 2007