Grand’pa Feer’kno Eve’vle ~ by Kafren
The Inn smelt of stale wine and something more unsavory but there was a limit as to how much any person could bare. The Straw on the floor had not been changed in a long time and the mold was heavy between the layers as unfinished food slowly decomposed. However, food was not the only thing decomposing under the straw.
In one particularly pungent corner the straw covered not only decay but death as well. Grandpa Feer’kno was restless. He had laid in straw for a long time. So long he could not remember his last drink. (A cardinal sin in the Eve’vles Book) So he made his move towards the bar.
Trunk the Inn keeper was very used to things moving under the straw. He grabbed his heavy broom and brought it down hard to crush the offending rat. The broom shattered and much straw was flung into the air.
“Is that anyway to treat a paying customer?” Yelled the discolored pile of bones. “I will have a pint of your finest ale in compensation.” And the bones moved to a now vacant bar stool. In fact the whole bar was now vacant. The bar keep moved to the bar and pulled a beer and moved towards the exit. As Feer drank the beer it fell through his rib cage and landed on the floor. Damn, now would you look at that said Feer to no one in particular. As he reached into the pocket of the remnants of his trousers he realised that once again he had no coins for further drink. I wonder where my wife got to……….
Remember it is a sin to believe Evil of others. But it is Seldom a mistake.
The Family~ By Kafren
The Eve‘vle’s have a led strange existence. There were once many of them scattered across the lands of Edon but no longer due to some rather unfortunate coincidences.
Firstly the family Eve‘vle are fairly dim. Only occasionally will some of them show anything resembling common sense. Those Eve’vle’s that live past the age of five are considered to be truly magnificent specimens of the family and worthy of life.
Secondly one Christmas grandma Whe’ and grand pa Feer’kno were feeling quite generous and sent each of the families across Edon a Gift of a sign for the front of their homes. The Sign read ‘Eve’vle lives here’ and was hung with pride out the front of the homes, so that all could admire the family spirit. Unfortunately the sign coupled with many villages phonetic reading skills lead to mass burning of many of the Eve’vles homes.
One home however survived untouched. Oarfill’ Eve’vel lived quite removed from the others in her family. She had three sons that were all different in looks if not in manner..
She new all to well the short comings of being an Eve’vle. Much inbreeding had led to their current situation and she was doing her best to ensure fresh genes in the family. Unfortunetly it was during one of these opportunities that she met her demise at the hands of unsavory traveler. Her remains were never uncovered but all believed that she will never return
Cee’kno, Heer’kno and Spea’kno were true Eve’vles however. Different in looks but not in manner. Oafish sometimes, often dim but showing the shrewdness that being on the streets brings to a life.
Crime and Punishment
The trio rushed to beg forgiveness, and their sins came to the light, but their souls were forever cast to the shadow. Such was the punishment for accidentally killing a visiting Priest.
The Cleric stood in front of the brothers and raised a hand for them to stop begging for their lives, and with a simple gesture red light seared the flesh from bones, life was extinguished from their eyes and they collapsed to the floor a tangled mess of bone and leathered flesh.
The gathered crowd was quiet. No more jeers could be heard and no more whisperings of death and revenge. For the power that the cleric had just displayed had shaken all the assembled down to their boots and many now considered their own actions and sins.
The cleric turned to the crowed and whispered ‘It is done. I will hear no more calls to repent, of penitence or of revenge. They have suffered more than you could imagine. But something was clear from the clerics wide eyed expression that he himself was unsure of what had happened to the Brothers.
The Cleric returned to his private chambers and pulled numerous rings off fat fingers. “Wine , bring me wine” he bawled. A small chamberlain brought in a half carafe of blood red wine and quietly left. The Cleric smiled at this and removed his boots to wiggle pudgy toes. With another look over his shoulder to make sure he was alone the cleric pulled out the box he had been hoarding. Those fools never knew how close they came to immortality. With that thought he reached into the small bag and found the ring his greedy fingers sought. He reflected briefly on what had come to pass as he inspected the Jewel and laughed t himself as he remembered the saying, Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. But with a shrug and a rueful smile that only served to make his eyes piggier he continued to admire the wealth in his hands.
The bodies were dumped unceremoniously inside the old crypt. Twas not used any more and no one would ever find the remains. Dust gathered on the bones but they did not discolour. Such was the divine magic used in their demise.
As with most things, time passed and the village questioned the mistakes of the past. But deep inside the old crypt things were not so quiet but just as reflective.
This is all you fault,” said Heer’kno shaking a finger violently at Speek’no. Unfortunately Heer’kno underestimated the strength of his gesticulation and his arm detached itself and rocketed against the wall on the other side of the chamber just missing his other brother. Speek’no.did not bother moving from his spot against the wall but picked up the detached limb and scratch his lower vertebrae in silence.
“Will you two stop it. Your giving me a headache,” said Cee’kno started to rub at his temples producing a sound like a rusted hinge, “This is getting us no where.”
All three of the brothers quieted down. “Look at us we are freaks” said Speek’kno.
‘That is true” said Hear’kno putting his boney arm back in place. “But it is obvious we are not truly dead for some reason. Maybe that fat useless cleric stuffed up somehow. I did not think he meant to kill us.
Did either of you see what was in the bag that the priest carried? asked Cee’kno. Both the other brothers shook their heads with much clicking of bones. I think that is why we are here like this now. We Need to get out of here before we kill each other .
On this all the brothers agreed and searched for an exit to the tomb.
However, with death many of their previous limitations had vanished. They gained knowelege and the ability to reason (A little anyway ) but never could truer words be spoken ……..A little knowledge is a dangerous thing in the hands of Eve’vel……
Nanny Whe ~ by Always Elanora
A deceptively warm, red glow issues from a dark corner of the bar behind Grandpa.
They disappear in the glare of the beam of light that issues towards him.
The light resolves into a large phantasmal hand that gently grasps about Grandpa as he stares at the puddle between his feet bones...
... and as he looks up in startlement, the crushing begins and he crumples to the ground. A familiar, icy, voice issues from above;
'You will NOT disappoint me for all eternity. That habit of yours ended with your life ! Get yourself hence and FIND your wife, she at least was an apt pupil.
It is time we banded closer together,.... close as we were in life,... in death, we WILL be inseparable AND undefeatable. Eve'vle SHALL rule through out the land."
As he stares through the tunnel his vision has become Feer'Kno gasps and the whitebone figure with red glowing eyes, he responds as he always did in life.
"Yes Ma, right away Ma..."
The figure grows distant, and just before he fades into the darkness, (again) the crushing feeling leaves him and he realises that the distance is the length of the barroom, and he is now outside, dumped unceremoniously on the grass and that his mother has removed her spell.... this time.
Pur're Eve'vle ~ by Tsuro
A strange sense of Déjà vu settled over the young elf, mixed with a touch of irony. Same bloody cleric, same red light……..
It had all started, it seemed, when she had developed an overblown sense of curiosity regarding the family living in the house bordering on the forests of her home. The Eve’vles were definitely interesting, if not overly bright. Their antics had provided a large amount of material for the young bard to regale the other elves with, much to everyone’s amusement. What had provided even greater amusement was Lorith’ien’s wisecrack that they should give her a new name…. Pur’re Eve’vle. Funny tree botherers, the lot of them.
Maybe she had spent too much time watching the family. As she really could not explain singing the song about what she had witnessed that day regarding Ceek’kno, Heer’kno and Spea’kno, let alone singing it in an inn with humans present. Most likely that was the reason she found herself in this current predicament. She had been drawn to the inn as a moth to a flame not long after that day, still trying to comprehend what she had seen and, too distracted to notice the shock of the patrons as she sung out her confusion. Before she had even finished the song rough hands had laid hold of her and pushed her out of the inn and into the small church.
There she had met the same bloody cleric, the same red light…. Maybe, she thought, I’ll find out which God had such a poetic sense of humour. She could worship that kind of being……
So’No was rather please at the prospect of an addition to the family, even when that addition was an elf. It didn’t matter, she seemed to fit the family profile so well….. poor thing.
Dawnrye'te Eve'vle ~ by Splat
Distant Cousin mabey, but persecuted all the same.
Great Grandma Whe sensed the brutal murder of Dawnrye'te at the hands of a local mob and intervened - with acid that rained it's blistering death upon the masses. Whe evoked dark forces to contain the life force of the mob, and twisted it to her own unholy purposes:
The Reanimation of Dawnrye'te.
Cold is all he felt, not the comforting cold of steel, but a chill that seemed to penetrate his very soul. The blurred darkness soon gave way to visions of the mob that had chased him from his village, cornered him in a coupe in the Legendary Forest.
"wha..". The words froze in his mouth and his voice sounded different...colder
Panic set in as he heard his rescuer's voice in his mind.
"Whe" the voice corrected.
Dawnrye'te's mind raced..He knew what had transpired in that instant, and came to the realisation, that he was no longer among the living.
"Come see your nan Dawnie...it's been far too long"
Dawnrye'te knew better then to defy that voice, and so headed towards Aeturnus.
Kin'dread Eve'vle ~ by Twist
An ominous presence is attached to the very soul of this man, the foul stench of sin follows in his wake. War, disease, famine and pestilence, these are the infectious carriers of death that pursue this man along his journey to enormity, supremacy and immortality.
His name is only but a whisper in the hallways and corridors of the great leaders of Helios. The epic status of such people who once lead the city in massive battles in the name of righteousness against such peoples as the undead scourge, the brutish horde outcasts and the hardhearted Drow Dark elves.
In the times of the virtue, morality and justice there were a band of warriors, a corrupt brigand of ruthless merchant murderers and wicked folk. These people were called the Fe’l Eerarst Malitha, The Predestined Men. They came from the southern seas. A pack of murderous cutthroat hunters, they were only the slaves to the master.
They are the harbingers of doom, the ones who shall come forth from the crypts and graves in droves of the hundreds or thousands. Is this man only the starting scout of a confrontation that soon shall sweep across the hills, over the deserts and beneath the earth of Edon. Or is he the nameless one who the books of prophecy have spoken of.
One thing is certain.
His kindred shall consume entirety in their endeavor to rule above all.
“They shall fight till the last of my eternal blood drips from their dead flesh”
She who shall not be named.
Hideous, Tainted and Malformed: A true Eve'vle
Alabastor Eve'vle - The Winter Raven by Kafren
Spring thaw. A time for rebirth. A time for regrowth. A time for ........
Alabastor Eve'vle walked slowly along the river bank. Already the stream was starting to show signs of slowing down and freezing for the winter. It was colder this year than last but no one paid it much attention. His hands were like ice without his gloves and finger tips were already past blue. But no matter what the cold was like excitement was high as the gift season was close and Grandma Whe has promised them all something special. Up ahead voices could be heard and a glow on the trees meant that a fire was also there. Alabastor approached at ease as he knew most in this area of Lanloch. He did not give another thought that perhaps these people did not want to be disturbed.
His death was silent and bloody. The snow next to the river turned red as his innards became outtards. The look of astonsihment was still on his face as he fell into the water and slowly sank in the thick water. Around the camp other were dead as the small group of bandits rifled packs and took the megre possesitons of the trappers.
The Calling was persistant. Not strong but persistant. Fog clouded much but the only thing that mattered was the calling. Again it came. Alabastor was pushing hard with his hand and the ice yielded to the pressure with an audiable crack. Again the calling came and more pushing was rewarded with yet another crack as the ice gaveway above him.
He stood on the snowly plains of Lanloch that much he was ceratin about. In sudden remerberance he held his arms to his stomach. In wonder he looked over his body. Skin was leathered from the cold. As he moved the skin that was taunt over his bones cracked and spilt to allow the unusual movement. He was dead but yet he walked. Ahh the calling cam again. He moved with little pace or understanding but move he did
Spaw'nov Eve'vle ~by Screwball
Struggling furiously, the young man tore at the arms and legs of those dragging him across the town square, trying to break free.
An athlete from head to toe, the man could not even budge the grip of the priests, clerics and followers that had mobbed him. Everything seemed fine until the mention of the name "Eve'vle".
Soldiers took the man from the priests and clerics, and with such force as to almost snap him, slammed him hard against a wooden cross driven deep into the ground, surrounded by hay, wood and kindling - it's purpose clear.
The ropes bound him fast, the stench of oil filling his nostrils, "Is this the end?" he thought to himself as the cleric approached, flaming torch in hand.
As the torch met with the oil, flames burst instantly, seemingly clawing at the post as if to claim him for their own. They burned fast, ending the mortal shell that was once the athletic form of a simpleton.
As the flames burned, the sun began to set and a dark shadow was cast across the clearing, and into the crowd that cheered the execution. It could be seen clearly from any vantage point, the cross, the flames flickering, the form of the man still standing in the piles of charcoal, embers and rubble...
The form of the man still standing? The same man who'd burned alive not minutes before? But a simple glance back at the centrepiece could show that he was infact dead as a doornail, a pile of ash in amongst the burned remains of the cross and the kindling, but glancing back to the shadows, his form still upright...
Gasps arose as the phenomenon became commonly known, cries of woe, of shear fright could be heard as many eyes stared and glistened, watching the shadow as the flames died down.
Then, from the eerie silence bellowed a mighty scream, as the shadow ripped forth from its perch, with it throwing mighty punches that seemed to pass through the body, tearing at the soul.
A seemingly endless chorus of bloodcurdling piercing screams that could wake the dead, echoed forth as the shadow, almost as fast as light itself, tore through the crowds.
At the end, all that stood was a band of five soldiers, the same who'd bound the man to the cross. They stood, waiting, watching, huddled together.
Almost out of nowhere, the shadow danced from the darkness into view. Within seconds it had shot from the edge of the clearing and using its fists of rage, tore the soldiers limb from limb, leaving a slumped pile of armour, flesh and bone.
The shadow stood, peered up into the sky, then disappeared from sight, and off into the shadows.
The birth of Spaw'nov Eve'vle.
Fee'yet ~ by looypuppy
So Fee'yet is not a close relation to the Eve'vles you know, he is a distant cousin, from a distant land.
He is also distant from sobriety.
No-one understands how the potato skins he ferments where his stomach used to be keep him inebriated, or even where he finds potatoes in Edon. Any attempt at close examination usually leads to the examiner being glad they are used to smells nearly that bad.
So Fee'Yet travelled a long way to help the clan, but he claims "I kould not let my kommerades be reprezzed by the tyrannical grazp of the zurfazzerz anymore! Revolution Kommerades, Revolution!!" and so, with the Hammer of Freedom clutched firmly in his hands he walks the lands of Edon and the lands below to free the downtrodden undead.
Lez'zur Ovtu Eve'vle ~ by Sir_Syco
Whist on a lone pilgrimage across the frozen wastes “Brother Lez” came apon an abandoned temple. This temple would never have been found had it not been for the unnatural blizzard. It seemed to drive him on, clearing a path infront of him and led him straight to the front door, willing him to come inside.
He entered to rest and be free from the chill outside. He explored the main entrance. “There must be a treasure room here somewhere.. there’s always a treasure room” he muttered to himself with greedy enthusiasm. “Always the alter… yes yes.” He headed for the altar only to find the large stone block and marble top had already been moved revealing a stairway downwards. “Damn.. someone has already been here.. Curse them!” He entered down the stairway that led under the altar and came to another area where he found a decayed corpse lying in an impossible position. Long death . and by the looks of it, a horrific death.
“Poor chap… but thank you for opening the way!”
He moved onward. He found more corpses.. or remains of such. Metal fragments all over the ground and corpses riddling the floor… “Hmmm..Nasty.”
Another room lay ahead. He walked through and found armour, weapons and other items strewn about the floor. But no corpses this time.. just what they were wearing. On the opposite side of the room, bathed in magical blood red light, lay a marble skull. Its blood red ruby eyes seemed to be looking straight at him. They seemed to be piecing his soul. Begging him to come forward and gaze upon the beautiful artefact.
“Oh my.. this looks interesting. It must hold incredible power”
He approached the artefact with gleaming eyes.. the blood red rubies stared back at him. Demanding his full attention. Lez was transfixed. His eyes didn’t leave the rubies gaze.. he didn’t want them to. He loved what he saw.
He failed to see the green mist descend from the ceiling. He failed to see it when it spiralled around him. His eyes were fixed on the skull… on the ruby eyes… on the vacant look that stared back…Death and decay filled his soul…but greed kept his eyes locked onto the beauty that he saw. The skull had his soul....and he didnt care.
He reached out to the skull. Green mist spiring around him.. faster and faster it twisted about his frame. Before he could grab the skull the mist engulfed him fully and with a flash.. Lez was gone. The mist then dissipated as his empty robes fell to the floor… nothing.
Lez awoke and found he was not quite the same. An obvious give away was the lack of skin, flesh, organs!! He peered into a pool of water and could only see a skull looking back at him. He needed not the breath of air. He cared not for living or death. He felt nothing… for anything! …and he had no pants!!!
He was in the underdark.
Elsie Eve'vle ~by MarauderDeuce
Mam sayd the dragons come gets bad kids, and burns them all ups and eats thems.
I were a good girl, I did the chores like Mam telled me to and I almost nefer talked back!
So why did the dragon come and burnd up our house and burned up me and Mam and Toby me duk and all dem other animals like?
I don'ts remember if the dragon ates me and Mam up or not, what I remembers is the strange man.
Is was lost and trying to find Mam but she was gone and I could not get out of the ruins of the house and every time I called out to Mam it was likes my bref woz sucked outs of my mouf and the sounds was just a secret whisper like.
One mans came to the house, den he comed back wif one of dem priests from the big Tobaro town, like we lived up in the hills from dere cos Dad sayed dat we woulds be safe from the fighting atween the mens from the Helioz town and the elfs from under the grounds cos theys not liking to have to dig all the ways up to the mountains my Dads said. Corse the was afore he got hiself ded wif that cut that went yucky like.
So like I says dis mans comes back wif dat priest who does priest fings, and I can sort of hear him sayings to me that I has to do suffink, but dis ufer mans voice is says like I dont do like priest mans says and I stays so I stays.
So mens goes and I stays and I tries to find Mam, or even Toby who was a gud duk, fer a duk.
After what seems like a long times dis man comes to the house and sets up his camp outside and he comes to me.
Dis mans has scary marks all over him, dey glows through his clothes and the ones on his skin looked like dey was moving and he scares me so I runs away but I can not leaves the house. He comes to me again and sits across from me and holds out a hand and I see it is like bony so hims must be sick and dat is why him has dem maks, coz he's so sick like. Den he speaks and he is the mans who tells me not do what priest man says and he says he is going to makes me all better agains.
Dis mans says he is goings to makes me sort of alive agains like so as I cans leave my home. Him tells me hims is going to gif me a new name, Den'grate Eve'vle, but I says dats not my name! My names Elsie, like my Mam and Dad named me and dis makes da sick man grouchy and he calls me all sort of bad fings such as Mam would wash my mouf with soap if she heared me saying. Him tells me I haf to be Den'grate Eve'vle name or hims magics will not work right and I says what am Eve'vle mean and he tells me it name of big powerful family who all got ded and got made sort of alive agains, him says I can lives forever but I think him just being stoopid as no ones lives forever!
So I says to him dat I will be dis eve'vle family but I wonts not be Elsie! So him say him do a kumpromice and makes me El'sie Eve'vle and I cans do what I likes. I tells him I wants to kills the dragon wot as burned me and Mam and everyfink. So him shrugs and says wotever den he starts doing chanting and magics stuff like I seen dem Tobaro priests doing and den I am not deds any more, I am in my body wot as is not all burned up like.
Him goes and I chase him and ask him where I go. Him says he not care. I ask him where other Eve'vle peoples are and him says not his problem den him stops going and looks at me nasty like. Him says I not find Eve'vle cos I makes him not do what he wants and me makes him do new spells cos of my name and cos he not likes me much now him stop me from finding Eve'vles till I ams much bigger, den him go and I can not catch hims and I am all alones and I do not know what to do and I am scared and I am not liking it!
I ams El'sie Eve'vle and I ams going to finds my new family and I ams going to find dat dragons wot burned me and Mam and I am going to kill it and burn it and stuff and make it sorry dat it efer hurts me and my Mam and Toby and I am going to kills efery dragons I finds until I finds it!
Help’lus Eve’vle ~ by Hoffy
Long ago, when time seemed to be shrouded in mystery and magical powers, I was spawned in the unholy depths of the dark realms. My mother was an outcast from the high elves – shamed and disowned by her own kith and kin for using the dark power of elven magic. My father….his name is not spoken out in any tongue, lest the speaker suffer the curse that lies in that name….he was the ancient one of dread – the one known as The Ancient Red Star. A dragon of immense mystical dark powers. Not content to stay in his own realm, he had a hunger for power that was insatiable. And so his quest to rule all kingdoms in the known plains began. He found one who was beguiled by his ‘stories’ and whisperings, a willing apprentice. As fate would have it ‘the one’ was my mother. Once she was held high in elven esteem, a lady of great power and status – their honoured queen. Whose desire for power grew tenfold as years passed.
Upon the discovery of lost tomes, she discovered the existence of the ancient one, whose rumoured power and knowledge fuelled an even stronger lust for that ultimate power she desired. With much cunning and guile, the queen sort to contact the dragon with the hopes of learning the key to his power. After learning about the conspiracy between elven queen and dragon, the high elven council tried to dethrone my mother. Thus came about one of the most devastating magical and powerful battles that any realm had ever witnessed. Many had been affected by this black happening, and the former queen was finally outcast and exiled to spend her remaining years in the dark realm with my father. There, they could brood over their demise, and hatch plan after plan for the downfall of all who had gone against them.
Eventually, after much time, their knowledge and power in the black arts became greater than experienced by any before them, and the ultimate culmination of their combined powers and spells brought them both the birth of a son. A son, one who would reek havoc like none that had gone before, their tool for revenge.
Thus was I born and named - Hell’plus’le Eve’vle. I was taught the black arts from the womb by both dragon and outcast elf. I was schooled in the ways of the elves, and the desire, lust and hunger for power were instilled in me by my tutors – and kin. I am powerful, cunning and – Eve’vle. Yes, it is I. I am here to lay claim to all that was, is and will be. So let none stand before me, or my unholy wrath will be unleashed. The challenge has been issued. Let it begin…….!
Fai'th F'uld Eve'vle ~ by Katherine
Seeking release from the agonies and petty concerns of the flesh, I stumbled into the wilds, cursing the gods and begging for death.
Saved, at the hands of the mighty Un'sung, undead for eternity and devoted to the bringer of my destiny.
Thrilled by the arcane powers now available as a risen undead, Fai'th seeks to carve out a place in her adoptive family.
A spade ace and a club eight showing on the table. The jack of diamonds and the ace of clubs in his hand. One card still to draw.
Gryf Lee Eve’vle ~ by Rothbart
The winnings had been coming in most of the night. Lots of small wins and the occasional large pot. More than enough to keep him comfortable for a week. More than enough to make the losers angry.
Other’s might have questioned the winning streak. Gryf Lee did not, this is what he did, gambled as few others could. It didn’t matter whether you had a ‘Golden Circlet’ or a ‘Cowl of Warding’, it was if he could read your mind.
No one had better than a pair of tens showing and there were no other aces or jacks showing. Reasonable prospect of three of a kind or perhaps two pair, aces and jacks.
Wild Bill had the pair of tens, but there was another ten showing on the table. He raised and Gryf Lee matched. One last card to draw…a quick flip from the dealer and the card lay face down in front of him. For the moment he ignored it, watching as Wild Bill looked at his last card. Wild Bill’s face betrayed nothing, but the dark haired woman’s behind him, betrayed everything.
Gryf Lee had no idea who the woman was. All he knew was that she had come in with Wild Bill and was a lousy card player. All her stake was now in Gryf Lee’s purse. Smiling, Gryf Lee reached forward and made a 1,000 gold piece raise.
‘Aren’t you even going to look at your last card’ from Wild Bill.
‘Don’t need to, already got it won.’
There was doubt clearly in Wild Bill’s face, but the woman prodded him in the back. The shifter pushed forward a covering stake. ‘Match and call.’ Large hands turned over the hidden cards. A red eight … a red ace and …. a black nine…nothing better than a pair of 10’s.
Allowing himself the winner’s smile, Gryf Lee flipped one card to show he had a pair of aces and reached for the pot.
‘Lousy, filthy cheat.’ Her hands moved fast and the dagger even faster. Time for one gasp of pain and then knife in his heart bought down the curtain on his last game.
Wild Bill watched as his woman scooped up her lost stake. No one seemed perturbed about the dead gambler. Everyone here knew, that when you ride you luck, it is eventually going to give out on you. Casually Wild Bill reached down and flipped the last card … the eight of spades… a pair of black aces and a pair of black eights … the deadman’s hand.
Somewhere Death laughed and decided once more to roll the bones.
Gryf Lee Eve’vle, the wild card in the pack.
Ram Pajinn Eve'vle ~ by Kaoscvn
Chamek Tharammerhardin was the eldest living male of a small duergar clan when the humans came. Due to his battle-hardened body and years of incessant warfare, he was also the last to die.
They had escaped from the Deep by necessity many years before, and had made their way to the Shallows seeking refuge. The under-tunnels of what was known as the "Black Hills" were at least far enough away from the ilithid that the tentacled monsters couldn't detect the grey dwarves. They were finally free from the threat of enslavement, and set about making their new home into something worth inhabiting.
There was some warning of the human invasion, but there was little the Tharammerhardin could do about it. The orcs in the caverms above were as hostile to the duergar as they were to the humans, and there was no time for a diplomatic exchange. The only other duergar clan the Tharammerhardin called allies, the Dwergtieff, were already engaged in a bloody war with the Bharat. The Tharammerhardin sealed their gates and prepared their weapons, grimly preparing to meet their foes. The humans came in a great wave of greed, driven not by need, or even fear, but by wild tales of duergar riches.
The grey dwarves took a heavy toll on their attackers, but in the end it was the superior numbers of the surface-dwellers that won the day. The survivors took every piece of treasure they could find, and marched back to the surface laughing and swaggering.
Chamek haunted the lifeless halls of his clan for months before the Bharat discovered the grisly site. The Dwergtieff had crushed the Bharat army and thrown down the altar of their god, and the defeated duergar sought a new home much as the Tharammerhardin once had. The shattered gates and shattered bones of the Tharammerhardin clan were shoveled together and ground into dust, mortar for the new Bharat stronghold. The enraged ghost of Chamek hung about the walls built of his bones, a last, insubstantial testament to his clan.
Time passed, and the ghost lost more and more of itself until only the rage remained. Rage at what had happened, rage at what could have been. Rage at the unthinking and uncaring self-centeredness of the hairless apes of the surface.
Through the halls of the Bharat there passed a few travellers on occasion. One new moon night, while a mighty storm raged forth from the dark seas and beat upon the lands above, a special stranger came. This one was not of the living, but not wholly dead either. As he fought his way through the Bharat lair, he became aware of the presence of the restless spirit of Chamek.
Nox'ious Eve'vle, a powerful servant of Velsharoon, knew potential when he saw it. A simple but powerful ritual bound the spirit to its purpose. Another spell pulled the recollection of a skeletal structure from the surrounding stonework. A series of increasingly powerful negative energies animated the rebuilt corpse.
There was no memory of his life, only fragmented images of the killers of his people. He had no memory of who or what he had been, only that it had ended in ruin at the pale hands of surface dwellers.
There was only rage.
Morthan Eve’vle ~ by Ragequitter
The stone slowly grated back allowing a piecing sliver of light to knife into the sarcophagus.
Not again Morthan thought, he wondered how long it had been this time.
The light allowed him to see what was left of his body, hmm mostly bone a long time then.
I’ll need to find a mage to start the regeneration as soon as possible, there is always one greedy or stupid enough to do it and most are an easily desposed of.
Morthan’s attention focused again as the lid moved further, eager for some bloodshed he waited for the faces to appear at the gap.
It was a surprise when the face that appeared was a bone dry skull, much like his own.
As quickly as it appeared the face was gone and Morthan had not moved.
Skeletal hands now grabbed at the lid, many hands and heaved it free, Morthan slowly sat up.and looked around.
As one the gathering spoke “Welcome back brother”
Rhee'pul-Sivv Eve’vle ~ by Gruntsky
There was a darkness. Rhee'pul-Sivv wondered where he was. He looked around but there was only more darkness surrounding his disembodied head. A great booming voice spoke suddenly.
“Welcome Rhee'pul-Sivv. Do you know where you are?”
Rhee'pul-Sivv shook his head, or what he thought was his head. It suddenly occurred to him that he had no head. He cleared his ethereal throat and muttered his reply.
“No” He felt more than heard the chuckle that followed.
“You are dead Rhee'pul-Sivv” The voice stated matter-of-factly. If Rhee'pul-Sivv had had a set of shoulders, he would have shrugged.
“You have lived a terrible life, haven’t you? A life full of murder, banditry and pillaging. Tsk, tsk”
Rhee'pul-Sivv imaginarily shrugged again.
“You do not care for you immortal soul Rhee'pul-Sivv? You do not wish to plead your case before me?”
Rhee'pul-Sivv had always had a mouth on him and before he could bite back on the comment his ill-timed sarcasm lashed out.
“If I thought you were somewhat important, believe me, I’d seriously consider doing it....”
The darkness seemed to expand and contract, and Rhee'pul-Sivv felt fear, but being the braggart he was, it didn’t show. He waited for the voices reply in the silent void for what seemed an eternity.
“You walk a thin line mortal, your immortal soul is in Limbo and it awaits judgement. Make a wise choice now and live forever in heavenly peace, or, make a bad choice and burn in purgatory for eternity. What say you?”
Rhee'pul-Sivv felt the mysterious being towering over him, daring him to back chat. Rhee'pul-Sivv bit back the reply for as long as he could, but it eventually slipped out...
“What can I say? I love a good barbeque...”
Vish'us Lei Eve'vle ~ by Maditay
Vishus sighed. She sat in a cell in the Galdorian Citadel, charged with manslaughter. Her attempt at impressing The Wise One had gone horribly wrong from the outset. She had seen him chuckle once as a barmaid took a tumble over Salty, the resident dalmation. Vishus had tried to talk to him on a number of occasions, but always got flustered as she neared him and quickly shied away as soon as she got close. She had debated long and hard over how to best impress the handsome sorcerer. One day an idea suddenly popped into her head. Practical joke. A well played practical joke, in which no-one got hurt, would be the perfect ice-breaker. She could see it now, he would be in stitches from the hilarity of the joke, meanwhile she would sidle up to him and reveal herself as the perpetrator of the joke earning his love and respect immediately.
The joke was a stroke of genius, if she did say so herself. She chuckled again as she envisioned the trap. She would roll the barrel of grease she had acquired off of the roof of Saduskys and it would smash upon the ground near Dunraven, covering everyone in the vincinity in the slippery substance. Then the hilarity would ensue. She could see half the town slipping and sliding around in the goo, tripping over and generally trying to stand on their feet like the grease fights they sometimes held in the arena in Emrys.
Vishus sat perched upon the roof of Saduskys for nearly three hours before she saw him stride into town and take a seat outside the temple. Showtime! She scanned the area below, making sure the barrel wouldn’t land on anyone’s head. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she gave the barrel a hearty shove and watched its descent gleefully. Then time seemed to slow to a crawl. Galdor appeared around the corner strolling towards Dunraven. The barrel seemed to take forever to drop as Vishus’s heart leapt into her mouth. Galdor noticed the shadow descending upon him and looked up. He dove forwards without a second to spare, the barrel narrowly missed his head and slammed onto the end of his tail. He roared in pain, unleashing a gout of flame as he did so. Unfortunately the barrel exploded just as Vishus had planned. But unlike her plan, Galdors flame set the grease ablaze and started a conflagration the likes she had never seen.
Vishus sighed again from her cell. The verdict had been returned. Guilty of four counts of Manslaughter, one of elfslaughter and one of high treason occasioning bodily harm of a dragon. The sentence was Death by Hanging.
As she stood at the gallows, Vishus’ eyes scanned the angry mob. The Wise One would come and save her, of that she was certain. He must be disguised, yes, that would be it. He would be in disguise so as not to alert the guards to his rescue attempt. The preacher stepped up in front of her to administer the Last Rites. She fixed him with a steely gaze, annoyed he had dared obscure her view of the impending rescue. The priest read out the requisite passage from his prayer book and stepped back to the side of the masked executioner. The executioner moved to the lever that capsized the floor beneath Vishus’ feet. Vishus grinned as she realized that this was the moment that The Wise One would spring from the crowd, free her and then flee with her on horseback into the countryside. Suddenly the trapdoor sprung open and Vishus plummeted until the rope twanged taut. Even as darkness claimed her, she knew that he was just biding his time until a rescue could be effected....
Lof'tee Eve'vle ~ by Marauder Deuce
Feared by the living and the dead.
Lusted after by women.
The most charismatic and awesomely, beautifully, handsome being in the history of Edon.
And only 5 inches high. As he liked to say, "Tiny but perfect in every detail".
The foremost seducer of the ladies in Edon until a coalition of offended partners finally tracked him down and overwhelmed him with their numbers. All that was recovered at the time was the smashed remains of his ladder.
At least that is his story.
Whatever the truth may be, he died, but whilst you might kill the body, there is just too much spirit in Lof'tee to kill, and far too much passion!
Only time will tell if this skeletal wonder still has 'it'. He may not have his skin but he's got a new ladder!
Wurd of Eve'vle ~ by Fraggermuffin
The dirge-like cadence slowly faded as it reverberated, eaten by the darkness. Presently, a fizzing, popping sound was accompanied by a noise like rotten fabric tearing. Eldritch light split from the stone as the ancient ward was broken, bathing the two Eve'vle's in pale, flickering phosphorescence.
Noxi'ous turned to Sov'reign, "who would have thought reality would tear thus?"
A grating, grinding shudder heralded the first breaching of the dead, forgotten gods grave as the colossal stone slab doorway gave way. Stale, misty air, centuries old and putrid, spewed from the tomb.
The darkness inside the tomb was oppressive, crushing down with millennia of malice. Sov'reign found it pleasing, as he advanced on the burial mound. There, a-top the lost deities final resting place was their quarry: The Würd of Evil. A stone tablet, baser than the pitchest black, engraved with forbidden, ancient, craven runes of domination.
In the darkness, Noxi'ous' permanent, rictus grin took on a more sinister aspect as he held the prize aloft.
Sov'reigns voice echoed through the catacomb, "To Kabu."
The Hooded Shade writhed, snake-like on the altar, it spat and cursed - trapped; all of it's ancient malicious power had come to naught. It's shadowy, boneless flailing pinned down by no discernable force. The assembled Eve'vle's chanted as one, their hymn building towards a crescendo. The Eve'vle chorus broke and silence smothered the antechamber - even the Kabu Hooded Shade lay still.
Then, the booted footfalls of Noxi'ous Eve'vle rang through the air. He approached the Altar of Eve'vle, bearing the Würd of Evil. The Hooded Shade recoiled in terror, intuitively knowing what power the forsaken relic held. Noxi'ous spoke a few words, read from the Würd. The air seemed to ripple darkly as the intonation became floating black and silver runes as they left Noxi'ous' lipless mouth. The runes hovered above the Hooded Shade who shuddered, desperately trying to keep its lips closed. Finally, the Shades jaws were torn open and the Würd Runes funnelled in, like a whirlpool, before its mouth snapped shut.
"Release it!" Commanded Sov'reign, as he had come to stand before the Altar. The Hooded Shade slumped as the Force of Eve'vle dissipated. "Kneel before me!" ordered the undead lord.
At once, almost as if pulled by strings, the Hooded Shade slid fluidly from the Altar to kneel.
"I dub thee Würd of Eve'vle. Rise and serve."