There are no new haks or files needed for this release. Notwithstanding that, this release has a a lot of new content and a few deletions. Understand that Edon pushes the envelope of what can be done within the file limits of Neverwinter Nights, and to add the new things we have to remove some of the old things.

Reflecting the changes we have made over the last twelve months, the module will now be known as "Ancient Lands of Edon - Games on Net". And in response to player requests, we will be adding more common language translations into the Underdark, to make it more accessible for new players.

New Quests

Dread Castle

Aimed at characters in their mid 20s.
Player must have completed the Bloodlich QuestGiven by The Priestess of Mielikki at Tobaro ( Surfacers )/Amendel Ma'fesh (UD)

Designed by: Mustang

For the Fallen


Aimed at characters in their mid 30s.Given by Elder Stray at Cinnaess

Designed by: Rothbart

Master Crafter

Aimed at crafters of all level.

Designed by: Mustang

New Maps

Misty Docks in the rain

  • Misty Isle has had a major overhaul. Composed of 11 all new maps, each with new creatures and new challenges.

Elven Watch Tower

Designed by:: Andre, Maditay, Mustang and Rothbart

  • Something strange has happened at the Bloodwood Taint.
Designed by: Andre

Deleted Maps

  • Natural Divinity
  • Rith's Grove
  • Tobaro Elite Stronghold
  • Tobaro Ambush

Changes to existing maps

Entry restrictions have been removed on the GDH, the Galdorian Citadel and the Order of the Arcane

Implemented by: Maditay and Mustang

New Items

  • Crafted Rings
  • Crafted Golem options
  • Crafted Thieves' Tools

Designed by: Mustang

New Functionality

Calls for DMs made through the DM wand are now also sent to the Admin channel on IRC. Calls for parties made through the town criers now show on the players channel on IRC

Implemented by: Andre, Wyld and Acaila

Player Suggestion

  • Rest Sequence - Cedon
  • Crafted Helms - Marauder Deuce
  • Crafted Thieves tools - Cedon
  • Titanium Tipped Axes - Cedon
  • XP for Fishing - Iona
  • Healing Rings - Andre
  • Lockpick Rings - Mustang
  • NWN IRC Calls - Maditay

Bug Fixes and Suggestions

  • Favoured Enemy Mark III from Andre
  • Atlas Corrections - Haloeight
  • Town Criers and Factions - Damion
  • Malachite - Alkarl
  • Scroll Issues - Marauder Deuce
  • Planes Quest Typo - Zepzep
  • War Rankings - Cedon
  • Lockpick xp - Marauder Deuce
  • Ibitz oneway door - aZmoDen
  • Swampside door - Tuckos
  • Silver coated scythe - Cedon
  • Breech Beach encounters - Andre
  • South Zeigan map pins - Gobarg
  • Sorcere Transition - Gobarg
  • Rogues Rest Door - Maditay
  • Portal Room - MarauderDeuce
  • Neutral Cleric Equipment, Spelling issues - Hunter1969Au
  • Portal issue in Sorcere - Hunter1969Au

And in news that will make everyone happy, the Reserve Bank of Edon has intervened and forced the scrappers to increase their buying price for scrapped loot

Plot Update

Mortals are split between those who believe in free will and those who believe in predestination. Lord Ao knew that both were constants in the multiverse. Some things had to happen and if they did not, well then the multiverse itself would conspire to make sure they happened. Other times freewill ruled and time and space trembled in anticipation of what mortals could do. The trick was to know which was which and even Lord Ao was not always sure.

The Lord of Creation dared a wry chuckle. Even if you were omnipotent, you should never underestimate basic mortal drives.


Mages call it the “weave”. It’s the mystical threads that govern the flow of magic in the multiverse. They try and explain it to apprentices as a mystical sheet, with the warp and weft, manipulated by Mystra and her servants. An all encompassing, an enveloping sheet. which touches every point in the planes.

The smarter apprentices want to know, “if it is a sheet, does that mean it can be folded back on itself?” The sages just smile at the presumption of youth and say, “no, its just an analogy”

Mostly the sages are right. Between the protections of the Great Machine and the efforts of the servants of Mystra, the weave is perpetually in motion, guided and shaped, so that it may never touch another point of the Weave. For if for even a second the warp and weft of the weave were to touch, then “wild” magic would result. Uncertain, uncontained, uncontrolled. Awesome, both in its power and in its danger.


The Great Machine precessed, as it gimbals began to oscillate. Two threads came perilously close to touching. Automatically the Mistress of Magic began to make the necessary adjustments, as she had done a thousand times before.

Numerous alternative potentials existed, ways that the fabric could be subtly changed so that the damage could be avoided, Of course, all this would be in strict contravention of the express orders from Lord Ao, but then he was hardly likely to find out.

Fine hands moved dexterously and the two threads, began to shift, twisting in ways no mortal could fully comprehend. For an instant the shimmering yarns seemed destined to collide and then they passed, missing by the magical equivalent of an inch.

It was only then that Mystra realised that she was no longer alone.

“You were warned". There was no hint of threat in Lord Ao's tone, but neither was there a hint of potential compromise. This was how it was going to be, inevitable as the coffin lid closing. "During the 'time of troubles', the price of interference is the diminishment of your divinity, did I not make that absolutely clear."

Two larger hands took control of the weave, and if they were not as sure or as supple as Mystra's, they possessed the strength to do what was required.

Celestial eyes watched as the pattern reversed itself, the threads closed and then kissed. For an instant there was a spark, though to call it such, is to call a raging forest fire, a children’s bed time candle. For a moment the weave managed to contain the mana, and then it burst through, arcing through space and time


Cold reptilian eyes watched the ruined tower. Was it true? The one known as Blacaver was no longer there? Lesser dragons descended on the upper walls but no undead sallied forth. A massive claw smashed through the wall, a shake of the serpentine body and a passage was made, to the heart of the demi liches lair.


It is not easy to tell the age of an elf, especially amongst those of the Eldarin. The mage’s age showed more in the respect the others granted him, than it did in his face. A face that betrayed no emotions, as the mana surge struck the great sword. The last of the mythal energies flickered and died.

“Go e’e’sum. Gather those who are left. The scourge will soon know of this. Myth Olin must now surely fall. Get the Council to Cinnaess. Begin the ritual“

”What of you?”

“We were dammed long ago. We did what we what we thought was best. Instead of embracing our destiny, we chose the cowards way and surrendered ourselves to our fate.“


In the swamps of Bloodwood, deep beneath the rotting back, the earwigs knew of it first. Something grew, twisted and malignant in the stagnant dark. Those that slithered in darkness and slime, felt the call. They were only the first


Slowly the ripples spread across the Misty Isles. What was hidden took substance and became truth. Lord Ao and Mystra watched as the “Codex” re-appeared. Some may have though his actions cruel, others that the Eldarin deserved their fate. Lord Ao knew different, neither morality nor destiny mattered here.

“Myth Olin….But it will be destroyed”

“It is, as it will be, Mystra. Some will survive, others will die and they will never know the why or that in their death, what they achieved”.


The great forces of ice and snow descended on the last city of the Eldarin. High upon the pyramid the mage known as Annonyre, prepared to make his last stand. The mythal that his beloved sister had given her life for was almost gone. What hope there was for the Eldarin and the plane touched who had sheltered with them, now lay beyond his control. All he could do was buy them time.


All knew him as the Lord of the Scourge and that is what he wished to be called, but that was not his name. For too know a thing is to have power over a thing and above all else, the Lord of the Scourge desired that none should have dominion over him.

From the dark heart, he watched through his enchantments as the hordes of the Scourge, gathered at the base of the pyramid.


In the halls of Cinnaess, the council of Myth Olin began the ritual of Kileaarna Reithigir. Part of the great mythal energies they sent to aid Annonyre. From beneath the caverns of Myth Olin, the golems strode forth. Howling and shrieking the claws and fangs of the Scourge descended upon eternal metal. Mithral fingers rendered leathery hide and demon strength ripped arms from construct bodies. Howling triumph the Scourge attacked, for they knew they would be reborn, such was the power of the Scourge. If thoughts passed through the constructs mind, they were only of destruction.

High on the pyramid, Annonyre sensed the time was nigh. Gathering the power from the Misty Lightning generator, he drew it into the focus of his staff and then released it. From the apex of the city, a great chain of lightning smashed into the city below. Cascading, ricocheting, bouncing from golem to golem, the lightning ripped through the scourge, striking a double blow. For every scourge it killed, the lightning healed and hasted the golem army.

Some energy the Eldarin sent to Helios and Loknar. Long the Scourge had feared the master crafters of Edon and well they did so. Inspiration, innovation, invention… these are not the way of the Scourge, nor are they things they are well equipped to fight. In the mind of the oldest crafter and in the heart of the youngest master, inspiration came unbidden.

The last of it they channelled into a great seed. All things must pass, only Lord Ao deals in eternity. The hope of the Eldarin and of the rebirth to come, they bound into it. And then it was done. Long lived elves may be, but they are still bound by the compacts of life and death. As the Kileaarna Reithigir peaked, what remained of the Eldarin within the Cinnaess withered. Life is not eternal, Things must pass, so new things may be born, that is the hope of the seed and the doom willingly accepted of those who had made it. The one man not bound by the ties of life and death, picked up the seed and as promised, carried it to those who waited outside.

Silently he passed the seed to the heir of the Eldarin.

“Thus I make good, the promise my ancestor made.”

“Farewell Srinshee, may you find the one you seek. Until you do the Cinnaess is yours.”


In his dark heart the Scourge Lord felt the finality of it and howled his orders to the winds. Neither magic nor immortal golems could slow the hordes of the Scourge, as they pushed their way to the apex of the pyramid.

Annonyre felt the other Councillors pass. He drew one last deep breath and then lowered his staff.

“Mae’lgwyth, you were right. We should have stayed and fought with the humans." His death upon him, he raised his eyes to the heavens above. "We remember cities now in ruin and forests murdered, yet still we sing to the stars and hope for renewal. ”

If the Scourge even heard those words, they paid them no attention and he who had been the greatest of the Eldarin was crushed beneath the press of demon flesh.


“You knew all along” The Goddess’ eyes stared accusingly at the master of all.

“No, he knew at the end. The choice was that of the Eldarin. In withdrawing, they laid the doom upon themselves. As you have done yourself, Mystra”

The Goddess of Magic lowered her eyes.

"Bloodwood is lost to you. It is now Shar's domain. The shadow weave rules there and will for all your godhood. Such is your divinity dimished."

”What then, is that an end of it?”

Lord Ao struggled to hold back the smile. “An end, oh no Mystra. It never ends.”


The Scourge bodies had vanished, called back to the soul traps. The metal fragments of the golems slowly reformed and animated, desperately obeying their last orders to slay all intruders.

Of the mage there was no sign, but his death was not in vain, though he would never know it.

Deep within the machine, a stray bolt of lightning had struck a circuit long lost to corrosion. A once dead crystal began to glow and for the first time in more than an eon, the portal to Mistly Archipeligo functioned. An arrow aimed straight at the heart of the Scourge.

Written by Rothbart