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[Xeen] Compendium Chapter 9
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The glory that was the Highlord's palace was gone.  The ruins that
remained could barely keep out the rain, let alone give testament to
what was once the most beautiful palace in all of Ifreann.

The city which surrounded the palace was also in ruins.  Daventry.
The white city was no more.  What was once the capitol of the elven 
peoples of Tynntangial was now the heart of the greatest evil the world
had ever known.

Tynntangial itself was no longer the beautiful, forested land it had been
in the past.  Now, what trees did grow where blackened and twisted, giving
testimony to the soul of he who now was the master.

He sat upon a throne of bone.  The bones of the greatest mages and heroes
that had ever existed.  Their glory was acknowledged by the fact that he
deigned to use their bones in the construction of his throne.  He stared
off into the distance.  Every few hours, a terrified elven servant would
look into the throne room, to see if he required anything.  The servants
would *never* interrupt his brooding.  There were worse fates than death
for those who did!

He blinked, and suddenly a cacophony of voices filled the empty throne
room.  "He sleeps still!"  came a womans voice.  "Indeed!  It is so.  We
must awaken him, for I have detected an extra-dimensional intrusion into
out continuum."  said another voice, an older, male voice.  "From whence
does it come?"  asked still another voice.

All of the voices came from the elf sitting upon the throne.  Each time,
it was his mouth that moved, but the voices of others spoke forth.  "We
must awaken him now!"  came the woman's voice again.  Suddenly, the elf
blinked several times and looked about.  "..wine...."  he barely whispered.

After a moment he said it again, but this time it reverberated around the
throne room, and dust fell from the ceiling.  Another elf rushed into the 
throne room, bearing a gilded tray, upon which sat a wine goblet carved
from a child's skull.  The elf on the throne took the goblet, and began
to giggle.  "Hullo Eslan, my little cousin!  And how are you feeling
today?"  He quaffed the wine in the goblet, then looked upon the servant
who had brought the wine.  "You were late."  was all he said, as the servant
was lifted from her feet, and while floating in midair, began to scream as
her bones disintegrated within her body.  What was left of the servant was 
sent to a dragon's lair - the home of the pet of he who sat upon the throne
of bone.

He glanced about until his eyes fell upon a gameboard.  The gameboard was
a trophy he had claimed from an opponent from long ago.  He nodded, and
suddenly the gameboard was filled with game pieces, from white to black,
with many shade of grey in between.  He studied the layout of the board
for a few moments, then said aloud  "You are quite correct.  Others *_have_*
joined the game.  ...and look, t'would appear cousin Zeph is willing to
make another gambit.  How wonderful.  Perhaps this time she will stay around
long enough to reminisce.  <giggle  Then I can send her to join the rest
of the Elessidels."  <giggle.  "Not here, surely"  another male voice spoke
from his mouth.  "No, my uncle Selesseri.  She will not be joining us here." 
<giggle he answered.

He looked about at the ruins about him, and had an epiphany. "I shall restore
this room to its former glory, and then invite some guests for dinner."

He began to giggle uncontrollably at this point.  Soon, the giggles turned
into outright laughter, and other voices joined him in laughter.  Yet all 
the laughter (mainly male, but some female) issued from own mouth.
--Johny Enright







Subject: [Xeen] - Cari during the lull.

While they were waiting to learn of the outcome of Thai's and Proctor 
Benedict's meeting Cari gently touched Semareth's arm and sent, ::Since 
there is a little time could you tell me more of Sh'aljien?:: She wasn't 
sure how the sight of the statue had effected Semareth, though she knew 
it was deeply. She hoped that in discussing Sh'al Semareth would find 
some peace - she knew it would help her. 
--Cathy Mosley

Semareth looked down at Cari, his face blank. The lines of his face 
seemed set in stone, with only the swirling irises of his eyes indicating 
any possible emotion. His young face did not look so young any more.

He sat on a stone stair, and paused as if trying to find a starting point 
for a long and twisted story.
--Nick Takayama

Cari came to stand near Semareth. The ancient look that had come to his 
strange eyes made her want to reach out to him, but instead she 
restrained the impulse. Yes, once he had let her cry out her seven years 
of fear and anger, but she wasn't sure if he would accept any offer of 
support.
--Cathy Mosley

"Sh'aljien is one of the old gods, once greatly revered throughout the 
lands, and in the manner of the old gods, he is neither truly good nor evil. 
He is often depicted as a giant of a man, bearded and scowling.", he 
hesitated momentarily, "The statue of him in his temple is in grey 
stone, with black marble for his eyes.". He closed his eyes, and brushed 
a hand over them as if he were tired.

"Stories tell of a long time ago when he lived among mortals, teaching 
them of how they might survive the great burning of the world. However, 
mankind was too ignorant then to fully comprehend the greatness of his 
teachings, and some sought to steal his power. Their fate was... less 
than pleasant. He left men to their own petty worries, but for those few 
who understood the wisdom of his words and formed a church under him."

"The church still follows in his ways. Mostly, we seek to enrich people's 
lives by urging them to seek greatness within themselves. But the 
ignorant and petty minded still seek power through conquest... and so 
must Sh'al, through the hands of his templars, purge these dangerous 
idiots from the land.", he flexed his good hand, looking at it as if 
looking at a weapon. "Xeen is one of those who must be destroyed. And it 
shall be done."

He stopped, realising the vindictive tone to his voice.

He looked up at Cari abashedly.

"I apologise if I digress. What is it in particular that you wish to know?"
--Nick Takayama

She listened to the silence of the empty room, save for the two of them, and 
knew that the others had gone off to eat and unwind. She also knew that 
Semareth would never allow himself that release; that he would hold 
himself the outsider. Just as she had for so long. 

He had also been separated out by the fact that there was an artifact 
depicting his possible fate - a fate, that Draca had proclaimed, was 
doomed to bring death to others. Slowly and cruelly. She refrained from 
glancing at the drapes that hid the statue. Cari listened to her 
instincts and reached down and took Semareth's good hand between her two 
smaller ones; her green eyes showed quiet compassion. She said, ::You 
have told me much that I needed to know, and you are right - we shall 
seen an evil such as Xeen destroyed:: 

She paused, then continued uncertainly, ::But there is one thing you could 
answer - are all of Sh'aljien's followers so removed from others?:: She 
warmed his hand with hers, and said with more confidence as she came to a 
realization, ::This is something I am only beginning to understand 
myself - and you were the first to teach me it, but those we fight 
beside must be more than just fellow soldiers. There must be a shared bound 
of comradeship. Before we met I only considered the other resistance
members bound by our shared goal, nothing more; even Jarrad, who I call
friend -not that I really understood that term, I saw as having the potential 
to lead, which is why I wanted to see him survive.::

Cari tilted her head to indicate the direction of the kitchen, and said, 
::But I beginning to realize there is more than that - we fight for life 
and even though that fight will demand great hardship and strength of 
will - we can at least appreciate for a few moments what we're struggling 
for. You have my friendship and I don't doubt the others would welcome 
you as comarade. That type of warmth helps keep the cold and the dark 
from advancing as fast, or at all.::
--Cathy Mosley

Semareth waited while Cari spoke, and dared not move once she had placed 
her delicate hands on his. His eyes looked patiently at her until she had 
finished, then he replied, his voice low.

"You are right, Cari. There must be comradeship amongst our party. I will 
try not to distance myself too much from anyone, but I will not give 
friendship flippantly. I will trust -- that none will let any of the 
others down and that we can forget our differences for a while, at 
least.", he sighed and squeezed her hands softly a moment. He looked 
tired and had obviously not shaven for days; a sparse cover of black stubble 
lining his jaw.

"Come", he whispered, and stood slowly before heading for the kitchen.
--Nick Takayama

She nodded, and sent, ::Friendship is never quickly given, but even the 
gift of companionship is welcome before such a battle. We'll at least 
know what we're fighting to preserve.:: She walked beside him. She was 
glad that he was allowing himself some company, perhaps that and a good 
meal would ease him into the reprieve of sleep. Cari offered a prayer to 
Sh'aljien, even if he might be only a memory, and thought, ::Please 
Sh'aljien, let your Semareth sleep well - free of dreams or nightmares, 
so he can be rested for that which must come. And please so bless all in 
this party.::

They walked quietly down the halls until they could hear the merriment 
coming from the kitchen. Cari smiled up at Semareth; something that was 
rarely seen and for once the smile reached her green eyes.
--Cathy Mosley








As she and Benedict walked down the hall Thai sent through the crystal 
network, ::Everyone, the Proctor and I have resolved our differences 
and he has invited us to eat with him. Is this acceptable to you all?::

To her amusement Thai found that after her dismissal Zeph had not gone to 
her rooms to sulk. She'd thrown a party instead.
--Phaedra Whitlock

"COME!  Let us join the others and devour a feast!  We celebrate our
new friendship tonight, for this evening will mark the end of the reign
of Xeen!"  Proctor Benedict held one hand out towards Thai, inviting her
to take it, while the other arm beckoned down a hall out of the parlor
where the others had been taken.
--Proctor Benedict
    
With a last sniff Thai nodded. ::Don't tell anyone I have my voice 
back please. What noone knows Xeen cannot discover.:: Stepping back 
she straightened her skirts and then placed her hand in his.
--Phaedra Whitlock
    
"As you wish, Thai."
--Proctor Benedict
  
The pair found the others guffawing and generally getting to know 
one another, inside a large well decorated room. It would seem as 
though the celebration had already begun.

Noticing Benedict's entrance with Thai smiling at his side, Zeph 
immediately came to attention and bid her men to follow suit. In a 
blink of an eye the room took on an erie silence. "Please...please 
as you were my good people," chuckled Benedict. "Tis time for 
celebration and merriment between new found friends. For we are 
comrades in arms tonight! We are brothers!" Proctor Benedict caught 
Zeph's eye, cleared his throat and looking to Thai then back again 
at his High Inquisitor added, "and sisters!" At this, Zeph beamed a 
smile Thai's way. The private meeting had paid dividends. They were 
now a team with Benedict's blessing. They now stood a chance to 
over throw Xeen.

Although the gist of the party was pleasure, it was inevitable that 
between mouthfuls of excellent cuisine and swallows of fine Haven 
wine, the talk would turn to business. Plans on reaching Xeens 
ultimate destruction were made, destroyed and remade. All the 
while, Benedict sat back, enjoying the festivities and listening to 
his old and new friends talk shop. Soon however, he would have to 
lend his hand. 

Among the many plans discussed, Zeph had her point of view and it 
went a little bit like this:

"Friends, friends...even you my good Jarrad." began the high 
inquisitor accompanied by a short roar of laughter. "We are here 
together out of mere chance or divine providence, but however we 
have come to be united is no matter now. What matters now, is the 
quest at hand -Xeens destruction!" Pausing for dramatic effect, she 
let the wine in her guts carry her on. "Xeen is not invincible! As 
close to a god as he is, he is after all that is said and done, 
just a mortal being as you and I are. WE CAN DESTROY HIM!" Another 
chorus of cheers came and went. "It will take all our skills and 
cunning to do it, but I know in my heart of hearts that it will be 
done!" Another cheer. "First a plan to rid ourselves of that pesky 
lizard (referring to Dardt) must be devised." Looking cooly at her 
men -warriors who were all to familiar with Dardts' wrath, she 
noticed no fear so continued with her speech. "We should set two 
forces out upon the road. One, led by myself and any who wish to 
follow-" Strawberry immediately stood and interrupted, "I will 
follow you High Inquisitor!" (For he remembered Thai's request) 
Then another voice piped, "I too will follow you to Dardts' 
demise!" It was Tel. His pledge was then followed by the remaining 
inquisitors who sat around the huge table. Jarred had to remark 
silently upon himself their undying loyalty to their leader. Zeph 
smiled at her men then at Strawberry. "Very well! Then it remains 
that the second force, led by my sister -Thai, will set out for 
Xeen's lair." To Dryctor and Zephyr, she said, "I will have Celest 
furnish you with the proper co-ordinates to teleport safely to 
Xeen's lair -well, at least to its threshold. It will be necessary 
to traverse some, to get into his chambers were he can be found. I 
will lend you two guards for this task (your expendable crew ;) 
Nodding at two of her men, it was done. "My force and I will occupy 
Dardt, while Thai and her men can concentrate on Xeen without 
distraction. I yield the floor."

Dry from her long speech, Zeph sat and gulped down the remaining 
liquid from her goblet. Ahhhhh.
--Dave Smart
  
Thai refilled her goblet, resolving all the while that this would be 
her last. As a tray of meats circled past she snatched a few morsels 
before it swept out of range and continued to listen to the 
conversation flowing around her. Zeph's speech necessitated one of her 
own so she rose to stand. 

::I agree in summary with Zeph,:: she began, ::but would add one twist. 
Xeen will no doubt be aware of our presence at some point before we 
reach him and so my suggestion is this. ALL of you travel with Zeph 
by the secret passages known to the elves. I will go to Xeen directly. 
He will let me come to him because he wants the secret of Haven. Once 
there I can summon you all via the crystals you carry and we will 
have the advantage of surprise.::

As she sank back into her seat Thai glanced at Semareth. Jarrad and 
the others could jaunt or teleport, but Semareth could not go against 
a lifetime of ingrained teachings with ease. As she raised the goblet 
of red wine to her lips she studied his Inquisitor's uniform anew and 
wondered whether he would insist on coming with her.

Sotto voice she sent to Benedict, ::And you, we will need your help if 
we must fight Xeen. If we do not fight we will need you all the more. 
Haven must either be taken from this plane of existence or Xeen be 
removed. There is no other way Haven can survive Benedict. Will you 
come with us?::
--Phaedra Whitlock

Proctor Benedict sat in his chair, silently listening to the boisterous
plans being bantied about.  How many other such councils of war had he
presided over, boasting so similar feats to be accomplished, and never
again to see the boasters?  And this time, this desperate time, his
own dear Zephillia was to accompany them.  He couldn't bear the thought
of losing his High Inquisitor on this foolhardy mission, but he also
knew that if her mind had been made up, there was no changing it.  The
only hope that he had of seeing her alive again was to insure that this
mission would succeed.  And thus he pledged himself to it.

When the speeches had died away, and the attention of the room seemed
to be shifting to him, Benedict leaned forward and cleared his throat.
Picking up his wine glass, he took a long sip from it, then set it back
down on the table.  He leaned back into hos chair, a thoughtful expres-
sion on his face.  Finally breaking the silence, he spoke.

"You have chosen for yourselves perhaps the greatest adversary that the
universe has ever known."  Turning to Zephillia, he added, "Far greater
than even the Dark One."  He could see the expression on her face turn
a shade more grim, as she remembered the desperate struggle that she,
and Eldarion, had fought so many many years before.

"And, as I had mentioned before to Semareth," he gestured in the man's
direction, "to win against an enemy, one must first know the enemy.  To
this end, I will tell you what I know about Xeen, and about Eldarion,
and about the likely combination of the two that has occurred."

Benedict reached for his wine glass and took another sip.  "I do not
know if you know the original story of Xeen, and of The Sundering.
Eons ago, before there were humans, or elves, or even dwarves, there
were dragons.  This was their world, and it was their time, and there
were dragons of all kinds.  It was during this time that Xeen was
brought into the world.

"Xeen was no ordinary dragon, and that became clear early on.  He was
very strong, the strongest, in fact, and was also the largest of all
the dragons.  And he had developed an innate ability with magic.
After centuries of study, Xeen became a master of masters, and it is
no wonder that he rose to the leadership of all of dragonkind.  His
rule was both benevolent and wise, and there was no dissension among
the goverened to his rule.  Dragonkind prospered under the leadership
of Xeen.

It was during the many millenia of his reign that the first of the
Minor Races...excuse me, that's what the dragon's referred to humans,
elves, and dwarves as...appeared.  They lived in harmony with the
dragons, and the dragons treated these new beings as children, and
sought to develop them so that they might one day be as powerful as
dragonkind.

"Xeen, however, saw things differently.  He viewed the Minor Races as
a nuisance, and as a resource to be exploited.  He did not see them as
equals, or potential equals, as many of the other dragons did.  And
because of this, he began to take many of them prisoner, and enslaved
them, and forced them to do his bidding.  This irritated the other
dragons, who did not condone this treatment, and a rift began to
develop between Xeen and the dragons who would aid the Minor Races.
Many left the realm of Xeen, and formed their own communities where
they nourished the Minor Races, and helped them to develop their own
unique powers.  Xeen was also beginning to demand that the other
dragons worship him as a god, and this further alienated the other
dragons."

Benedict shifted in his chair.  "Now, had Xeen been just an ordinary
dragon, this would have been the end of the confrontation, for he
would not have been able to stand up against those who opposed him.
But by this time, Xeen was not only a powerful dragon, but also a
powerful magician, and he stood toe-to-toe with his detractors.
However, they wouldn't budge, and it appeared that a battle was
looming.  But rather than risk himself alone, Xeen began to recruit
other dragons, dragons who had not fully supported the idea of
helping the Minor Races.  When the others saw this, they realized
that they, too, would have to recruit, and as a result, the whole
of dragonkind was polarized.  The Draconian Race was heading for their
first civil war.
--Proctor Benedict

Strawberry felt a chill course through his veins despite the warmth
of the crowded room. It was strange how familiar the story he was hearing
sounded. Strange indeed. His face took on a concentrated look as he 
both listened to the proctor's story and wondered who had told it to him 
previously.
--Dave Smart

"Xeen did not wait.  It was he who struck first in the Great Dragon
War, and his attack was ruthless and vicious.  Three dozen good
dragons were slain in this one strike, and the Alliance that had
been forged against him quickly struck back.  Thus began what has
since become to be known as The Sundering.  Xeen defeated all the
good dragons left in his realm, and went abroad to hunt them out
in their isolated communities.  Even those who had professed
neutrality and wanted only to stay out of the conflict were drawn in,
for in Xeen's mind, if they were not allied with him, they were his
enemy.  It was this indiscriminate raiding that strengthened and
tempered the Alliance, and at last they had enough strength to stand
and fight.  And fight they did.

"It was called 'the Draconis Armageddon', and it was aptly named.
Fully seventy percent of the dragons who fought there were slain,
and all the others were scattered to the four winds.  But Xeen had
finally been defeated.  No one knows what happened to the Dragon-
Demon, but his reign had been ended, that much was sure.
--Proctor Benedict

Again, the proctor's words caused the curly red hairs on the nape of
Strawberry's neck to stand on end. He didn't want to hear any more, but
could not help but be drawn into the story. It was almost as if he
could envision the caos and depression of the time.
--Dave Smart

"But, as you know, Xeen left a legacy after his demise.  In his last
moments, he laid a curse, saying that someday he would return, even
more powerful than he already was, and reclaim that which had been
taken from him.  And he swore that when that day came, those who had
defeated him, and all of their progeny, would pay the ultimate price
for their treachery and folly."  Benedict paused, as if considering
the words.  He shuddered, and then added a final comment.

"What few dragons remain today are in hiding, hiding from the return
of Xeen, for all that are alive fall under his curse.  All of dragon-
kind is at risk while Xeen is reborn."  Benedict went silent as he
waited to see if there were any questions from his audience.
--Proctor Benedict

Strawberry had questions, but remained quiet and still with his 
thoughts. He wondered if he should council Draca. He looked her way,
but she did not see him. Perhaps later.
--Dave Smart

Sauntering over towards Legolas, Jarrad thought that there would be a way 
to generate a limited trust, and have fun at the same time.

"These festivities get a little dull, after a while, do you not think?" 
he asked, then proceeded to suggest "Perhaps you would be interested in a 
gane of skill, or intelligence? We could always duel, but that tends to 
get boring as well, perhaps riddle, or dice, or have you any elven games 
requiring with or intelligence? It never hurts to sharpen either, 
especially as we are going against Xeen."
--Paul Raj Khangure

Legolas rose a brow in interest. A game eh! "We elves have many 
games,"answered the elf with a grin. "All require a degree of 
intelligence, wit and skill that I must say most humans find rather 
taxing. But I am sure they would agree with the likes of you." 
Legolas raised his mug to his lips and downed a hearty helping of 
the ale that was within. He and his friends waited to see if his 
goading would succeed in getting a rise out of the man.
--Dave Smart

Waiting for Legolas to continue, it took Jarrad a second or so to realise 
that Legolas was in fact trying to goad him. WIth an inwards grin, Jarrad 
waited another second or so then let a puzzled look cross his face, 
before saying

"Well, do tell me about these elvish games requiring wit, intelligence 
and skill. It sure beats sitting around having drinking contests, 
something that any human or elf can do."

Raising his half full tankard to his mouth, he drained it, in one gulp, 
then put the tankard down on one of the ledges.

"Shall we go to where-ever these games are conducted? Or are they riddles 
to challenge each other anywhere?" Jarrad asked.
--Paul Raj Khangure

"You have hit the gist of the contest upon the nail on two counts," 
said Legolas. "Drink has a part in it and so do riddles." He then 
winked at Westron and Tenor, who immediately pushed their way to a 
cabinet hung upon a nearby wall. The two opened it and Tenor 
retrieved a wrapping which he brought over while his colleague 
prepare the board. "Here you are," Tenor said exposing six small 
throwing blades from the cloth. "Choose your weapons!" 

Jarrad had a puzzled look (was this to be a duel after all) which 
was quickly satisfied by Legolas. "We use three of these knives to 
hit the target upon the wall." The elf pointed towards the board 
Westron had prepared. Jarrad could now see, through the thickening 
clouds of grey-blue smoke, a round board divided into ten even 
triangles joined at the center. (imagine a dart board if you will) 
"The object of the game here is to hit the designated target with 
ones blades. If you miss, and my friend, you are sure to do so, you 
must answer a simple riddle. If you miss the riddle you then down a 
pint of ale for the corresponding target number. The numbers run 
from one through ten. We start at the lowest denomination and work 
our way up." Westron pointed at each numeral on the board that 
Legolas called out incase Jarrad was unfamiliar with the Elves 
numerical quotation. 

"Seems quite simple." said Jarrad. "I fancy myself an excellent aim 
with the throwing dagger." (I'm assuming of course that Jarrad has 
this talent) 

"Ahh, but it is not so simple," laughed Legolas. "The board will be 
spun before each throw. When you have retrieved your spent daggers, 
you may spin the board as quickly as you can to increase the 
difficulty onto your opponent -me." With a smile Legolas looked at 
his friends as if he had won the contest already. "Oh...and no 
magic is to be used -not even in an effort to detect if your 
opponent is using magic to cheat. Are you still game?"
--Dave Smart

"Those are the only rules?" asked Jarrad in disbelief. "There is little 
challenge in that except to deliberately miss the target, and have a 
play with the riddles. But if that is the game, then yes, I will play."
--Paul Raj Khangure

"Ah", smiled Semareth almost self-righteously, and glanced down at Cari.
Aloud, he commented "Notice how magic causes unpleasant undertones to any 
situation? A true test is of bare physical and intellectual resources..."
--Nick Takayama

Cari looked up at Semareth, and sent, ::Very true - though I have seen 
where any skill that is suspected of being misused to bring the same 
undertones.:: There was no challenge in her mind voice; just a statement 
of an obeservation.
--Cathy Mosley

He paused when he noticed that some of the elves had heard him, and were 
looking at him strangely. He raised an eyebrow slightly, and inclined his 
head towards Legolas.

"Is there room for another in this game, friend?", he inquired. Indeed, 
this game did seem much in his favor - unbound by magic as he was.
--Nick Takayama

Legolas's eyes sparkeld. "The more the merrier," he responded. Then 
looking about the crowd he bade if any others would like to join the
contest. Eh, perhaps to make two teams.
--Dave Smart

She was almost tempted, but did not speak up. She could make a clean 
throw with a dagger, but not at the skill level that was being 
discussed here; and while the riddles sounded challenging, she would 
stand no chance with the liquor. Instead she looked up at Semareth and 
sent, "Lord Semareth, they have already eaten.:: She handed him the plate of 
food he had just gotten, and, sent, ::I recommend you do so also.:: 
Though Cari had no doubts of Semareth's skills, either
mentally or physically, and and she knew his constitution
would probably have no problems with the liquor. 

Cari was actually pleased to see Semareth playing, and hoped that it 
would take his mind off his troubles so he could later sleep. And she 
thought it would be worth seeing Jarrad and he having 
to work as a team - if that was how the teams were arranged. She picked 
up her own plate of food and took a bite of the vegetables, wishing she 
could make herself relax - the previous few hours had left
her tightly strung.
--Cathy Mosley

Semareth took the plate Cari handed him, and looked at it disdainfully. 
There was little he could eat quickly, and he wouldn't want to anyway. As 
a compromise, he drank half the broth and returned the tray to the table. 
A warm heaviness settled in his stomach quickly, spreading steadily 
throughout his body. 

Tenor, one of the elves, appeared at his side and handed him three 
knives. He accepted them with a grateful comment, and weighed them 
carefully in his hand for balance. He was good with knives... but it had 
been awhile since he had used them as projectiles. While they awaited an 
extra challenger, he gauged the distance to the target with trained eye.
--Nick Takayama

As the sides formed for the elven "game" Thai simply watched and 
wondered at the mind of the male species. At least they weren't 
planning to kill one another, and this might help relations all around.

She glanced at Zeph to see if the High Inquisitor planned to join in, 
then glanced at Proctor Benedict. By this point she'd nearly given up 
hope of learning anything she could use. Xeen's strengths were a known 
and everyone shed met fell over themselves to underscore how powerful 
he was, totally disregarding any possible weak areas he might have, 
MUST have, even if those "weaknesses" were still strong areas. 

As she took another drink of elven wine she wondered what Eldarion the 
man was like, or if there was nothing left after so long. The more 
Thai thought the more she realized how much this future depressed her. 
--Phaedra Whitlock

Semareth joined the game then, and Jarrad smiled, for this could indeed 
be fun.
--Paul Raj Khangure

The crowd chuckled inwardly at Jarrad's boldness.

"I too will join the fun!" came from an elf within the growing crowd. He
was a Legentor -Boromir (Johny, I've taken liberties with the pawns name,
feel free to change it if you like), one of the few elves in Haven, 
Legolas had a disliking for. "Where are my daggers?" he asked Tenor who 
quickly provided the three tiny throwing knives.

"Very good then...we have two teams. If it is all the same to you Jarrad,
I will designate the teams." Jarrad nodded and Legolas then pointed at 
Semareth. "You are with me Sir. Boromir, you can help Jarrad."
--Dave Smart

Giving Boromir a quick glance, Jarrad couldn't help but dislike the elf. 
He couldn't point a finger to it, but maybe it was the posture, or the 
glint deep in his eyes. Whatever it was,  there was something strange 
about his mind, but Jarrad shrugged it off. He could look inot it after 
the game.
--Paul Khangure

"Is this satisfactory?" he asked the other players. They nodded their
approval. "Any wagers?" [if so make them here -I know it means juggling
the time continuum a little]
--Dave Smart

"Prepare your first riddle, for I shall hit a two, three, and four." said 
Jarrad. 

As the board was spun, Jarrad picked up all three blades, and threw them 
as one. Thunk, thunk, thunk, sounded the daggers, as they landed exactly 
in the center of each section as he had called, a two, three and four.
--Paul Raj Khangure

An audible 'ahhhh' came from the impressed crowd.

Legolas was caught of guard by Jarrad's throw, but hid it well. 
"Excellent knives, friend Jarrad. It seems as though your skill truly
carries the immense weight of your boasting. And now for your riddle:
What has 16 legs and 8 steely blades to bite you with?"
--Dave Smart

"An 8-man squad of soldiers," said Jarrad immediately. "But that would 
translate to an 8 elf squad of legentors, here." Jarrad paused to let 
Legolas acknowledge the correct answer before adding "There is no need to 
start off with easy riddles. THe riddles are the real heart of the game, 
for anyone can practice with throwing knives and obtain a high level of 
skill."
--Paul Raj Khangure

In turn, Legolas downed his pint after cheering Jarrad's success. 

"This man Jarrad truly makes obnoxiousness look effortless," thought 
the elf.

Some of the crowd jeered Legolas. Score a point to Jarrad. The riddles
*would* have to get tougher or this man might end his night with a dry 
pallet.
--Dave Smart

After some time passed, it was Legolas's team at the board. Legolas
yielded to Semareth who threw with the level of skill, Legolas had
counted on. One-two-three, the daggers hit. A cheer came from the 
crowd and his partner smiled. It was in the bag.

"I believe it is your turn Boromir. Take care not to miss on purpose as
your partner has," Legolas chuckled.

Semareth removed his daggers and spun the target in turn. It spun with such 
speed that it hissed. "Don't take all day now waiting for it to slow 
Boromir," someone in the audience laughed.
--Dave Smart  
  
Jarrad looked at the elf curiously, reaching out a little with his 
psionics to get a more accurate sense of the elf's mind.
--Paul Raj Khangure

Semareth scowled as he felt the familiar throbbing sensation in his head. 
Magicks and mind-spells, he thought. This talent at least, still 
survives. He swiveled his head to see who was magicking around him - the 
slight throbbing in his head giving him some direction to work from.

He ended looking at the other team, Boromir and Jarrad looking equally 
suspicious.

Before Boromir threw, he spoke, "I believe the rules state no magic or 
mind-magic, friends.". He cast a quick glance at each of Boromir and 
Jarrad before looking back at the board as if nothing had happened.
--Nick Takayama

Cari's expression did not change, but she sensed Semareth becoming more 
alert and suspicious. Originally she had wondered at her sensitivity to 
Semareth's moods, but now she suspected that her mind-speak had 
established a mild link between them. It was something she would talk to 
him about - later.

She followed the direction of his glance towards Jarrad and his partner, 
Boromir. She could sense no discrepancies. Whatever had alerted Semareth 
had ended.

::What is wrong?:: she sent to Semareth.
--Cathy Mosley

Semareth shook his head as if to ward off any questions. He did not wish 
to make anything more of the matter.
--Nick Takayama

Smiling casually at Semareth, Jarrad replied. "You may believe what you 
wish Semareth. However your belief comes close to facts here, as the rule as 
stated by our host was", Jarrad paused to bring Legolas' exact words to 
mind. "No magic is to be used -not even in an effort to detect if your 
opponent is using magic to cheat."

He turned back waiting for Boromir to make his move.
--Paul Raj Khangure

Semareth looked at his partner quickly, then back at Jarrad. He flashed a 
predatory grin so quickly as to be almost imperceptible.

"Clearly you did not hear the inclusion of mind-spells. I _am_ able to 
tell when magicks are used around me... mind-magick or otherwise... and I 
would be most disappointed if you tweaked the rules.", he frowned 
sarcastically.
--Nick Takayama

"Really?" asked Jarrad in a speculative tone. "As the rules as stated 
forbid the use of magic, even to detect if magic is being used, I can 
only assume that this "talent" of yours is in no way magical, even though 
it detects magic. Of course, it would be equally plausible to have 
talents, that appear to be magic, and are detected as such by yourself, 
even though they are not."

Jarrad continued, "Why not just relax, and let each play the game 
according to their sense of honour, and whether they consider whatever 
they do to be magic or not. Should anyone use magic to win, then so be it, 
they have no honour."

Jarrad turned to Boromir, "Please proceed partner."
--Paul Raj Khangure

Semareth turned his face from Jarrad and frowned momentarily before 
calming himself. It seemed as if Jarrad had no moral values whatsoever, 
and as to what he thought of honour... it was anyones guess as to what he 
would consider honorable.

Jarrad was true in assuming that this ability to detect magic was in 
itself non-magical. It was spiritual. As priests of lawful gods become 
naturally loathe of evil things - almost able to smell it - so was it 
with loyalists of Sh'aljien detecting magicks.

The senses of a predator must be honed to their prey, must they not? He 
grinned, and waited for Boromir to throw.
--Nick Takayama






Eldarion watched the game board intently, seeing through the eyes of a
Legentor he had long ago taken as a pawn, and placed in the service of
his dear cousin Zeph.  He knew where Haven was.  *Had* known for quite 
some time.  But if he destroyed the last refuge of the elven peoples,
he would once again be bored.  And he couldn't have that!

"So, they would play a game!  How I love games!"  came a female voice
from out of Eldarion's mouth.  "Indeed!  It has been too long!" said
the voice of an elderly male."  Eldarion blinked a few times and whispered 
"enough!", and the voices were once again silent.  He stood and picked up
a game piece, the piece signifying the pawn from Haven, into his hand.
He whispered to the piece  "Up the ante.  The man Semareth.  The man Jarrad.
You know what to do." 

He placed the piece back onto the board and sat back upon his throne, smiling.
Soon, the smile became a low giggling, which soon grew to outright laughter.
--Johny Enright



Boromir (Boromir, Dave? ;-) stepped forward and flipped his three throwing 
daggers in the air, plucking each by the blade from the air between a 
different set of fingers on his right hand.  He grinned momentarily at his 
little show of dexterity, then spun around and flung all three of the daggers
at the board.  

Each of the daggers appeared to be heading true to their mark, but stopped in
mid-flight an instant before striking the board.  Across the room, Benedict's
head snapped up.  "Gods....the *power*!" he spoke, as he glanced about the
room to find the source.  Similarly, Semareth also felt an enormous shift in
magical forces in this extant.

The daggers began to glow red, then yellow, then white hot, and they began to
sear the very air around them.  The players of the game began to back away,
and all looked quite surprised...even the thrower, Boromir.  Quite suddenly,
with a sizzling sound each of the blades shot up near the ceiling, and began
in impromptu dance.  More like a ballet then anything else, each of the blades
gracefully moved and sliced through the air, enthralling those who watched.
--Johny Enright

Jarrad felt himself drawn to watch the knives in their deadly dance, and 
snapped his mind back to the present, focusing on those around him, 
Boromir especially, while keeping the daggers in sight.
--Paul Raj Khangure

Semareth's head seemed to flare with fire as the daggers flew through the 
air. The air around the daggers seemed to grow heavier, sucking in 
energy. Either his ears stopped working, or the room went deathly silent.

Unable to look away, hand half towards his sword, Semareth watched as the 
daggers performed their deadly dance. Though he knew magic was 
responsible he could not help but gape, and wait.
--Nick Takayama

This display was enough to rouse Thai from her preoccupation. She blinked 
and then half smiled at the enchanting display, it was indeed truly 
beautiful, almost frighteningly so... 

Thai shook herself out of her revery. The amount of magic used in the 
dagger display WAS frighteningly powerful, far more powerful than 
anything Proctor John had cast in her presence. She found herself on her 
feet beside Benedict and Zeph at the table. 

::Jarrad?:: Feeling only a vague answer from him, Thai started around 
the table towards him. 
--Phaedra Whitlock

Zephillia could also feel the high level of magical energy expended, and also
knew quite well that a charming glamour was being created by the dance of the 
blades.  As the blades seemed to reach a crescendo in their dance, each halted
once again in mid-air, and began to vibrate.  "Noooooo...." Zeph cried out,
and she began to run towards the players.  Everything seemed to be moving in 
slow motion...all save the three burning knives, each of which shot forth,
straight down towards Jarrad, Semareth, and Thai.
--Johny Enright

Semareth's eyes widened as the glowing dagger plunged down at his chest. 
His mind seemed frozen for a long moment, and he stood helpless as the 
dagger sang through the air.

Somehow, the dagger stopped just inches away from his body. Stunned, he 
looked down.

The dagger pulsated madly in his left hand, which had almost of it's own 
accord caught the dagger in mid-air. As he stared, slack-jawed, his glove 
caught fire, revealing a throbbing, veined obsidian hand clenched tightly 
around the blade. His stomach lurched as he felt a twitching in his arm, 
and as the rest of his glove burnt away, he screamed.

The sickly flow of energy from the dagger seemed to have sparked 
something in his hand, and he watched as new tendrils of obsidian crept 
up his arm. A coldness swept up his forearm, numbing everything in it's 
path as if absorbing not only the flesh, but the life as well.

Somewhere on the maelstrom surface of his consciousness, an image of Xeen 
mocked him, razor sharp teeth glinting in maniacal glee. He felt his 
anger well up within him, rising up through his body, into his chest.

A visceral cry escaped his lips as he fought against the corruption in 
his body. With a great effort, he forced obsidian fingers to tighten 
their grip on the dagger, and it shattered. Fragments of burning metal 
flew across the room, some lodging themselves in his armor.

His arm had gone cold, but was still. He hid it quickly beneath his 
cloak, clenching and unclenching his fingers as if testing their existence.

He was faint from his exertions, but he managed to turn to face Boromir, 
snarling.
--Nick Takayama

Instinctively, Jarrad projected a telekinetic shield at the dagger 
approaching him, bouncing it away.
--Paul Raj Khangure

Caught off guard and still under the effects of the elven wine, Thai 
reacted a moment too slowly. Zeph [with Dave's permission] shoved her to 
the floor, a moment before the dagger stopped in mid air, a foot in front 
of where her face was.

The dagger hung there quivering, as if trying to force its way against 
heavy resistance, then slowly the dagger was moving away, backwards, 
towards a barrel of ale.
--Paul Raj Khangure & Phaedra Whitlock

Trying to keep that dagger under control, he had to bounce the first 
dagger away from him again, as it turned with a mind of its own, and dove 
straight at his face again.

Slowly but determinedly, Jarrad forced the second blade towards the open 
barrel of ale. Quenching the white hot blade should weaken it to the 
stage of it fragmenting.

Glancing around, he realised that the split second of concentration had 
made him lose track of the first blade. With an oath, he flung up a 
barrier only a hairsbreadth away from his face, as the flaming dagger 
bounced away, singing his hair and eyebrows.

Cursing quietly again, Jarrad resumed forcing the second dagger towards 
the barrel, finaly submerging it completely.

Holding it there, Jarrad continued to parry the first blade, which darted 
at him like an enraged hornet.

As the ale started boiling, Jarrad lifted the now moderately cooled 
blade out of the ale, and using its own momentum, guided it straight into 
one of the solid pillars, where it remained firmly wedged, but still 
quivering in an attempt to get free.

That taken care of, he turned his full attention back on the flaming 
blade which had just bounced of his shield, and sliced through the edge 
of his leg. In a detached manner, he noted how the heat had actually 
cauterised the wound, and stopped the blood flow before it could start.

In a rather more attached manner, he cursed at the pain, the dagger, and 
the room in general, while he tried to force the blade towards the ale.

It was not having the same effect however. The blade twisted and turned, 
inching its way closer to Jarrad's face, as if the taste of his blood was 
spurring it on.

Feeling himself losing ground, Jarrad through everything into forcing the 
blade away, a wry grin crossing his face as he pushed the blade slowly 
towards the still spinning dart board.

"One", Jarrad said, as he gave the blade a last mental shove, entrenching 
it in the dart board. As the board stopped spinning, teh crowd could see 
the blade, positioned firmly in the centre of the segment numbered one, 
curls of smoke and a tongue of flame appearing around the wood holding 
the blade, burning away the elven number.

::Jarrad!:: called Thai frantically.

::I'm alive, and working:: replied Jarrad, ignoring the first signs of 
pain from his leg. ::Are you hurt?::

Then, turning around to face Boromir, he said in a deceptively mild tone 
"One out of three, not bad at all."
--Paul Raj Khangure