Bane (a Team Story)

  • Introduction to follow shortly - or longer, there's a lot to set up. It'll all come out in one post, though, and nothing has been planned beyond that.

    The only rule for this TS is 'no planning'. People may bring as many characters as they wish; but as a guide, I'd suggest no more than three per poster (although there aren't that many of us with more than that to choose from, anyway. ;) )

    This story is also set at an indeterminate time, except that it follows on within a few months of the events related in 'The Sorcery Tower'.

    Kobayashi Maru!

  • The Scribe put down his quill, and sighed. For once, he didn't feel like writing; but there was little else he had to entertain himself. His gaze swept idly about the tavern, occasionally alighting on something that looked like it might be worthy of his attention. It seldom was, and his gaze moved on. Even Brianna was too occupied to provide him with any entertaining conversation.

    As his line of sight passed across one of the windows, he noticed a small group of people heading for the tavern - several of the adventurers that had set out on a quest to some tower or other, a few days before. "Ah, now this might be interesting," he thought to himself. A few minutes later they entered the tavern. Most of the group dispersed, but Flynn, Moonshadow and Trinias saw him watching them, and wandered over to his table.

    "Welcome, youngsters! Please, join me!" he exclaimed warmly. "Tell me all about your little trip!"

    They returned his warm smile, and sat down. Brianna wended her way over, also glad to see them. "Welcome back. I'm glad you two have made up," she beamed, indicating Flynn and Moonshadow's entwined hands. "What can I get you?"

    "The usual, thanks," Flynn replied, after a quick glance at the other two.

    "As I recall, Flynn," the Scribe began, after the drinks had arrived, "you didn't initially join this quest. Might I enquire as to what happened?"

    "Sure. But I guess it'll make more sense if you get it all in order, and you'll have to ask these two about all of that - I didn't arrive until after it was all over."

    The Scribe turned his enquiring gaze on Moonshadow and Trinias. "Well..." Trinias began.


    The Scribe pondered the new story long after his young friends had departed. Brianna was already closing up for the night before he stirred; she wasn't entirely surprised, he often remained deep in thought for extended periods of time.

    "I think it's time I visited Pnyx," he commented as she approached, intending to take him home.

    "What, now? It's after midnight!"

    "No, no, the morning will be soon enough. It's a short journey, and I'll borrow a horse from young Flynn. No need for you to come, I'll be all right. I used to be quite a horseman, you know."

    "But why do you want to go there at all?"

    "Because it's the foremost centre of magic and learning in the land, dear girl. Just possibly, I might find something to help with your little 'problem'." Brianna's cheeks burned red. "I might be there for quite some time, so don't worry - I'll send word when I get there, just so you know I arrived safely."

    Brianna chewed her lip uncertainly; but she knew it was really his decision - and she knew how difficult it was to dissuade him, once he'd made up his mind.


    In the early evening of the next day, the guard on the gate to Pnyx stirred himself to greet the rider he could see slowly approaching down the road. As the man approached, he could be seen to be an incredibly ancient elf, something the guard had never before encountered.

    "Here, let me help you, old timer," he said, as the elf drew up beside him and began to dismount.

    "Thank you," the elf sighed, relieved that his journey was at its end. "I'm just not as young as I used to be."

    "What can we do for you, sir?"

    "I'd like to speak to someone, about archives, and ancient texts and things. Who should I see?"

    "Lindus first, I'd say. My relief is just arriving, so I'll take you to see him."

    "Again, you have my thanks."

    Before long, the Scribe was comfortably ensconced in one of Lindus' deep armchairs.

    "Well, I must admit, it's an unusual request," Lindus was saying. "While we've had many people here conducting research over the years, they usually give us some idea of what it's about. However, you've become a well respected individual in these parts, so I suppose I could make an exception." He paused, then came to an abrupt decision. "Very well, our library and archives are at your disposal."

    "Thank you, Lindus, I'm sure it will be of great benefit to my studies. In return, if you ever find I may be of some assistance to you, please feel free to seek me out."


    The Scribe spent many weeks searching through old and musty books and scrolls, seeking out the smallest snippets of wisdom that might have a bearing on his topic of research. On occasion he returned to Cademia, to visit Brianna and fulfil other obligations, but for the most part he was content to remain and read; he was in his element.

    One morning, as he was settling in for another long session of poring over ancient manuscripts, he was disturbed by a young woman (relatively speaking, of course) carrying a bundle of scrolls.

    "Oh, I beg your pardon," the grey-haired woman said. "I didn't realise anyone would be in here."

    "I'm known as the Scribe," he said in introduction, standing and kissing the back of her hand in a gallant fashion. From anyone else it might have seemed comical, but from him it was the most natural thing in the world. "And who might you be?"

    "Doria," the woman replied. "I'm just delivering a few more items from the Sorcery Tower archives, to be sorted through and filed later. I'll just drop these in the corner and leave you in peace."

    "No need to trouble yourself about me," the Scribe replied, then looked curiously at the scrolls. "Would you mind if I took a look at a few of those?"

    "Not at all!"

    "Thank you." He selected a couple that looked the most interesting, and sat back down to read. After a while, he picked up another book from the Pnyx archives that he'd been reading, leafed through the pages, and compared a section to something he'd just read in the scroll.

    "Interesting," he murmured. "Both seem complete; yet together, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts." He looked up at Doria, who was sorting the scrolls into the appropriate places on the shelves. "Are there many more scrolls or books like this still in the Tower archives?"

    "Oh yes, many more."

    "I see." He stared into space, thinking deeply. "I really must visit the Tower. Would you think of it, please - its location, how you travel from here to there, anything like that."

    "I'll try," Doria replied, looking somewhat bemused.

    The Scribe closed his eyes and muttered an incantation in an elven tongue. Into his mind flowed images of the tower, nestled in amongst the mountains. He retraced with Doria the path through the mountains and forest, until it reached the pyramid of Pnyx. Although it was at least two days journey on foot, the mental journey took only seconds.

    "Thank you Doria, that should give me all I need." With that, he rose and left the room.

    Doria stared after him for a moment, shaking her head slowly. "What a strange man!"

    The Scribe returned to his room, gathered a few possessions together, raised his staff and brought the tip down hard on the floor. With a flash of white light, he was gone.


    Alaric was sitting on his throne, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes were closed, and he was rubbing his temples, as if he had a headache.

    "Something is wrong, Bahoudin."

    "What sense you, my son?"

    "I'm not sure - it's as if a blank spot has suddenly appeared in Cythera - a place into which I can no longer see."

    "Bad this could be; bad!"

    "Yes; and worse - it seems to be growing."


    The Scribe continued his search in the archives of the tower each day, returning to Pnyx at night. He found many small pieces of knowledge, that combined with knowledge he already possessed, brought him closer to his goal; all-in-all, it had been a most worthwhile trip.

    "What's this?" he exclaimed one morning, as he pored over yet another book, some kind of journal from the early days of the Tower.

    " ... I entered the room to find several of my more advanced students deep in discussion, questioning why we should take orders from the Tyrant when we are so much more powerful than he. I took great care to explain to them about the Tyrant's paranoia about magic and mages, and his countermeasure of anti-magic, against which no magic can stand; but I fear they will not believe... "

    The Scribe thought for a moment. As important as his own researches were to him, he had a feeling that this small piece of information could be of even greater importance to all of Cythera. He gathered his things together, including the book, and teleported back to Pnyx.


    "Most odd," Lindus said to the messenger from Alaric. "I've never heard of anything like that. A blank spot, you say? And getting larger? Most odd indeed."

    "It's his Majesty's hope that you will solve this problem for him," the messenger replied.

    "I really don't know what -" Lindus was interrupted by a blinding flash of white light, as the Scribe appeared without warning in the middle of his chamber.

    "Oh, I beg your pardon, Lindus," the Scribe apologised. "I didn't realise you had company."

    "That's all right, my friend." He looked tiredly at the Scribe for a moment, then his eyes lit up with a small spark of hope. "Actually, you might be just the person. Listen to what this young man has to say."

    The messenger repeated his missive; the Scribe listened intently, then opened up the book he'd brought back. "read this," he instructed Lindus.

    Lindus read the short passage, then looked up sharply. "You think it's connected?"

    "I've lived a very long time, Lindus. One of the many things I've come to believe - there's no such thing as coincidence. This discovery, at this time, must be significant."

    Lindus nodded. "I agree." He turned and addressed the messenger. "You may return to Alaric, and assure him that we are looking into it."

    With that, the young man turned on his heel and left.


    The scribe didn't waste time by riding back to Cademia; he teleported directly to the Alraeican Tavern. He ignored the grumbles from several of the patrons about direct teleportation, and quickly scanned the room to see who was present. He saw Trinias sitting at a table to one side, and made his way over.

    "Is Flynn around?" he demanded, without his customary polite preamble.

    "No," Trinias replied, somewhat surprised. "We don't expect them back for a couple more weeks, yet, the wedding was only two weeks ago. Surely you remember that - you gave away the bride!"

    "Oh yes, of course," the Scribe murmured, rubbing his temple. "I've been distracted, and I lost track of the days."

    "Is there something I can help with?" Trinias queried, after a moment's silence.

    "Yes, perhaps you can." The Scribe slid into a seat opposite Trinias, but before he could begin, Brianna came hurrying over.

    "Grandfather, is everything all right? You look distressed!"

    "Distressed? Yes, perhaps that's the word for it. You'd better sit down, child - you should hear this as well."


    "So you believe this 'anti-magic countermeasure', whatever it is, is getting out of control after being left unattended for hundreds of years?" Trinias queried, more to get the facts straight in his own mind than in any hope of gaining further information.

    "That's correct, young man. Someone needs to go and seek out this 'blank spot', and determine the level of danger - perhaps even destroy whatever is causing it."

    Trinias nodded. "I'll go, of course. But I'll need a lot of help; most of the Ronin are unavailable or unreachable, right now."

    "Well, you can count me in," Brianna responded, the first she'd spoken since she joined them.

    Trinias smiled at her. "Right. Now we just need a few more volunteers..."

    I will classify my lieutenants in three categories: untrusted, trusted, and completely trusted. Promotion to the third category will be awarded posthumously.

    (This message has been edited by Overmind (edited 03-13-2002).)

  • Two men entered the tavern, arguing. They both wore robes and carried staves. "Harper, this is the most dumb get up I've ever dressed in!"

    "Its not my fault you decided in jump in the river!"

    "Your the one who tossed my sword in!"

    "It was for a good reason!" "And that would be…?!" Harper drew in a big breath to explain, when Brink held his hand up.

    "We'll finish this later" Both quickly approached the adventurers.

    "We're coming" Brink informed them. Trinias, with much effort restrained a laugh at seeing Brink in a robe, but Brianna couldn't resist a snicker.
    "That is, after I change out of these ridiculous robes!" With that, Brink handed Harper the staff and wandered off to order a coffee.

    How do men with beards play the flute?
    When I'm bored, my post number goes up.

    (This message has been edited by idiotSavant (edited 03-10-2002).)

  • Sya entered the Tavern, holding her bow. She walked over to where Trinias was sitting with Brianna and the Scribe.

    "Hey, Trinias, do you think you-" she stopped and looked around at them. "Ok, I missed something, didn't I?"

    She laid down her bow and and pulled up a chair. The Scribe proceeded to explain about the Tyrant and his 'anti-magic' countermeasure.

    Sya raised an eyebrow. "That's confusing. I'm not really in the thinking mood right now; I just came back from practicing with my bow and arrows."

    "Don't worry, you'll figure it out eventually," Indigo said absently. He was sitting at the table next to them.

    "I hope so," Sya said, making a face. She stood up and picked up her bow. "I guess I'll go puzzle over it for awhile. Oh yeah-" she turned around to face them, "I'm coming with you guys."

    Indigo watched as Sya left the Tavern, then he shrugged and turned around. "If you don't mind, I'd like to come as well. I haven't got anything else to do."

    "Sure," Trinias nodded. "You're welcome to come. We might need all the people we can get."

    "Oh, no, don't say that!" Brianna protested. "You'll get the whole tavern coming!"

    Indigo grinned. "That could have interesting results. Oh well- I guess we just have to wait and see what happens." He pulled out his throwing stars and began absently polishing them.

    Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishmuffin.

  • Rulir Dragonsbane entered the Tavern, adorned in his new flowing green cape and wielding a bright green crystal staff (You'll get it when I finish my cron). It's clear he is looking for some adventure.

    He walked up to the adventurers.
    "I've been scanning the earth's energy force, and I can sense an anti-magic. I'm sure you have learned of it as well. I take it you're on your way to find it's cause, and I'd be more than happy to help." he said.

    "What makes you so interested in this?" asked Sya.

    "I'm a wizard, anything that effects magic effects me. So, can I help?"

    "Sure, the more the merrier." said Trinias.

    "A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man."-Jebadiah Springfield

  • Alpha comes into the tavern leaning on his staff as usual.
    He goes up to the adventurers, "You'll need some help from the skies at times and deciphering may be a problem, at those times I can aid you. Count me in."

    -Americas Airforce:
    No One Comes Close !

  • Violet walks into the Tavern and quickly spots Trinias, the Scribe, Brianna, and Sya. "What's going on?", she questions. As she sits down TRinias and the Scibe proceed to explain things. "Well if you don't mind I'd like to come along too." "Ofcourse we don't mind." replied Sya.

    "Have you done 7 impossible things before lunch today?"

  • Slumped in a corner of the Tavern is a thin, scrawny figure dressed from head to toe in flowing black robes. At least, mostly black; the previous night's drinking session having taken it's toll. He was surrounded by tankards, wine glasses and shot glasses. Some of these even contained some of the less drinkable cocktails from the previous night. Some of those glowed.

    Also on the table a small ratlizard lapped at some of the spilt beer. On meeting the gaze of one of the myriad heros in the Tavern it squeeked and scampered into the breast pocket of the black robe.

    From beneath the hood of the robe came a long, slow groan. A hand, bedecked with rings bearing all manner of dark, arcane symbols, flailed about for a while before locating the table. Several attempts later the figure managed to prise his face from the table. He looked around- blinking in the unacustomed sunlight. His eyes were shot with red and his face covered with stubble.
    He clutched his head and emmitted another moan.

    Slowly the world swam into focus- vague blurs merged into faces. Some very famous faces. some very heroic faces.

    "Oh God," Razmalak mumbled,
    "This can't be good..."

    Back at the Dark Academy, hidden deep under Catamara, these faces had been held with a mixture of fear and loathing.
    It seemed to Razmalak's Dark Masters that every time they were on the verge of carrying out whatever evil scheme they had concocted, one of these people, these heros , somehow managed to foil their plans; no matter how diabolical or fiendish. Occasionally they all turned up at once.

    Razmalak pricked up his ears- listening to their conversation.
    So, they've found out about the anti-magic. His Dark Masters had known of this for quite a while now, and while they were never going to admit it, it was worrying them. They also relied on Magic, although of a darker kind that that taught in Pnyx. They could, however, do nothing about it. That might be counted as a Good Deed, and they were Dark Masters after all...

    Razmalak knew all of this because he'd broken into one of his Masters private quarters and read some of his journal as a bet. In doing so he managed to knock over a bottle of Dragon's blood- the last, vital ingredient in the summoning of a vile Daemon which, under control of the Dark Masters, could overthrow Alric and bring the entirety of Cythera under their sway.
    It was this that finally got Razmalak thrown out of the Academy, though he liked to say that he left of his own accord. This is true to some degree- he wasn't keen on staying around to find out what punishment his Masters had cooked up for him...

    He kept watching the heros- here might be a way to get back into his Master's Black books. He resolved to follow them- from a discreat distance of course...

    (edited in effort to foil dyslexia...)


    "...And Alexander wept for there were no more worlds to conquer."

    (This message has been edited by Aben Zin (edited 03-16-2002).)

  • I love it, Az! That's a great intro! :D

    Kobayashi Maru!

  • A note to theDarkDragon and Violet: Sya's not there. :) Oh well, maybe she came back.

    That -was- a good intro, Az!

    Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishmuffin.

  • If I make any mistakes or type something that makes no sense, blame my bad headache.


    Ferazel walked in the tavern holding a scroll and reading it. One patron screamed...he wasn't concentrating on where he was walking and was about to step into a fire that blazed in the fireplace. He did and his robes caught fire. Ferazel screamed too, the scroll was about to burn. A stupid patron dumped his glass of ale on him in an attempt to put out the fire, but it flared up and Ferazel screamed again. Ferazel dropped the scroll and ran out of the tavern where he spotted a patron with a large bucket of water. He grabbed the bucket and doused himself in the water. Ferazel then sighed and teleported back to Pnyx and quickly threw on new clothes and teleported to the tavern again.

    The Scribe shook his head and muttered "Why does he always need to make a show of himself walking in the tavern?" Ferazel then yawned and sat down in a chair and said "I'd be happy to help you on this quest."

    Those who know the truth are not up to those who love it; those who love the truth are not up to those who delight in it.
    -- Confucius (a.k.a. Kong Fuzi)
    Battle.Net Screen Name: ev3-ferazel The Game: StarCraft

  • Quote

    Originally posted by ferazel_09:
    **If I make any mistakes or type something that makes no sense, blame my bad headache.

    Actually, I think that was one of your better posts, Ferazel! (Go figure ;) )

    Kobayashi Maru!

  • Maybe I should post with a headache more often. ;)

    Those who know the truth are not up to those who love it; those who love the truth are not up to those who delight in it.
    -- Confucius (a.k.a. Kong Fuzi)
    Battle.Net Screen Name: ev3-ferazel The Game: StarCraft

  • Larc walked out of a room behind the parlor, yawning. "Oh! Hello! Have you all come to visit poor old me?" Trinias' face fell "Uh..." "Ok." Said Larc cheerfully, "Well then what is it?" "Well," Trinias continued, "To make a long story short, Larc, We're going on another quest." Larc looked up at the ceiling and went to his room. "I guess he's not coming!" Someone said. Then and there there was an arrow three inches from the person's arm. "What gave you that idea?" Larc said calmly as he walked out of his room with his bow and three quivers of arrows. "What's that?" Violet asked. "Oh! My package!" It was then that everyone noticed a long thin package strapped to Larc's back. "Well see," As he unwrapped it "This is my new..." Larc did not finish his sentence, however. "A SWORD!" The tavern gasped as it rolled onto the floor. The Scribe's eyes grew wide. "That's a good sword!" "Yes, well, it is. Uh, however it is most certainly not the Sword of Heroes. If I am correct, it is the First Tyrant's sword." Larc said proudly. "Where did you find it?" "One night, after that really intense storm, I heard a tree blow over. I went outside, to put it upright, and I found a passage under the tree that led to a secret room. By all the dust, it appeared to have been unused for a very long time. I there found this, and all the equip of a smithy." "Interesting." Said Trinias. "So are you coming?" "What! And leave my peaceful life behind!? Of couse I'm coming! So. Can someone teach me how to wield a sword?" The tavern laughed as Larc joined the leaving crowd.

    Once upon a time. The End. "I'm a real nowhere man, sitting in my nowhere land..."
    -Modification on The Beatles song

    (This message has been edited by Mr. Somebody (edited 03-14-2002).)

  • Quote

    Originally posted by Mr. Somebody:
    **Assuming that we are in the Two Tailed Rat...

    Oops, actually it's the Alraeican Tavern - but that's ok, it doesn't really affect the rest of your post. I guess I didn't make the location very obvious; it's been a while since there was someone that didn't know about the Alraeican Tavern, and that it's where pretty much all the stories start ;)

    Kobayashi Maru!

  • Quote

    Originally posted by Mr. Somebody:
    **..." Aben Zin chuckled. "This would be an easily murdured one, he's slow to wit and off guard."

    Hate to point to point this out, but my character is not, in fact, Aben Zin. His name is Razmalak. Neither is he really all that evil. He is a failed evil sorcerer, and no-one with a pet rat lizard called Alphie could be all that evil.

    Besides, he's currently too hung over to notice things like that...

    Carry on...



    "...And Alexander wept for there were no more worlds to conquer."

    (This message has been edited by Aben Zin (edited 03-13-2002).)

  • That's one confusin' an' long block o' text ya got there.

    It's all good, good stuffs.
    Battle.Net Screen Name: ev3-ferazel The Game: StarCraft

  • (quote)Originally posted by ferazel_09:
    **Maybe I should post with a headache more often.;)

    "I'm a controversial figure. My friends either dislike me or hate me."

  • "Besides, he's currently too hung over to notice things like that..."
    Sorry. My Mistake! I'll try to cover that up. :)

    Once upon a time. The End. "I'm a real nowhere man, sitting in my nowhere land..."
    -Modification on The Beatles song

  • OOC


    these heros, somehow managed to foil their plans; no matter how diabolical or fiendish.

    "And I would have done it too, if it wasn't for those meddling kids and their dog!"

    "A noble spirit embiggens the smallest man."-Jebadiah Springfield
    "The goal is to accelerate the release process incrementally until we actually tear the fabric of space-time. Each final candidate will precede the one that came before it, and eventually EV Nova will be released sometime in 1937."
    -mcb 3-10-02 (release of Nova fc3)

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