From: unseenwrth@aol.com (UnseenWrth)
Date: 02 Oct 1998 03:13:38 EDT
A note is left, pinned to the rest by a single dagger...
Perhaps you note the absence of legends past. Perhaps you are pleased at their absence; perhaps you mourn it.
Be wary, inheritors of the past, for it is watching you. The spectres of those you thought absent observe, and are unpleased. Whether it be bloody retribution, or the continued absence of those missed, we cannot say, but if glory does not return by your hand, one consequence or the other will arise.
Think on this, students of the blade, and consider. We do not speak lightly.
The note is unsigned, although some few saw the being which posted it...
Ghosts
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From: prlunicorn@aol.com (PrlUnicorn)
Date: 02 Oct 1998 04:31:06 EDT
Collie shudders reading the note as the arena only holds the ghost of one for her, the memory of one long gone, but never forgotten in her heart.
Her eyes move to the banners commemorating those that dueled here over the years and ponders if it's time to bring out the one nearly done, add the final stitches, and put it among the others to honor and remember. Perhaps in doing so, she would close a chapter in her life.
Date: 02 Oct 1998 04:31:06 EDT
Collie shudders reading the note as the arena only holds the ghost of one for her, the memory of one long gone, but never forgotten in her heart.
Her eyes move to the banners commemorating those that dueled here over the years and ponders if it's time to bring out the one nearly done, add the final stitches, and put it among the others to honor and remember. Perhaps in doing so, she would close a chapter in her life.
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From: shadowsiv@aol.com (Shadowsiv)
Date: 02 Oct 1998 05:09:59 EDT
Returning to the Arena late at night, a sleepless figure moves silently down the stairs and makes his way to the message boards. Seeing the mysterious post, he reflects on what he had witnessed earlier. The presence of the wraithlike being had been unsettling, its words to Percival cryptic yet somehow significant. The being hadn't seemed all that threatening, but one could never be sure.
Shrugging, he moves to the other boards, scanning them and then making his way slowly out and back to his room in the Inn, a ponderous look on his face.
Date: 02 Oct 1998 05:09:59 EDT
Returning to the Arena late at night, a sleepless figure moves silently down the stairs and makes his way to the message boards. Seeing the mysterious post, he reflects on what he had witnessed earlier. The presence of the wraithlike being had been unsettling, its words to Percival cryptic yet somehow significant. The being hadn't seemed all that threatening, but one could never be sure.
Shrugging, he moves to the other boards, scanning them and then making his way slowly out and back to his room in the Inn, a ponderous look on his face.
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DoS Archive
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From: prlunicorn@aol.com (PrlUnicorn)
Date: 02 Oct 1998 22:37:34 EDT
She had worked for months on it. The tapestry was a cloth of midnight blue and the stitchery would only take a few hours to finish.
Collie looked upon the labor of love in her hands and realized it was time to finish it. It was nearly a year since he was gone. The heavy cloth, about 3 feet wide and 5 feet long, was carefully embroidered with a silver circle like a coin. A massive dragon was the central focus of the piece, with the words, Knights of Caltharium worked around the circumference. Her personal needlework signature, a tiny unicorn, barely a half inch tall and
stitched with shining silver thread appeared in the corner.
She made her way into the arena and hung it among the other. No one else needed to know why or how the banner was placed there nor even who it represented. She knew, she remembered, perhaps that was enough. Once it was hung in place, she looked upon it and smiled. "Slán agat, annwyl."
Date: 02 Oct 1998 22:37:34 EDT
She had worked for months on it. The tapestry was a cloth of midnight blue and the stitchery would only take a few hours to finish.
Collie looked upon the labor of love in her hands and realized it was time to finish it. It was nearly a year since he was gone. The heavy cloth, about 3 feet wide and 5 feet long, was carefully embroidered with a silver circle like a coin. A massive dragon was the central focus of the piece, with the words, Knights of Caltharium worked around the circumference. Her personal needlework signature, a tiny unicorn, barely a half inch tall and
stitched with shining silver thread appeared in the corner.
She made her way into the arena and hung it among the other. No one else needed to know why or how the banner was placed there nor even who it represented. She knew, she remembered, perhaps that was enough. Once it was hung in place, she looked upon it and smiled. "Slán agat, annwyl."