TITLE:  "Always the Entree..."
SUBMITTED: The 20th day of the 9th month
AUTHOR:  Marcus Antonius (With additional content courtesy of Lord British via Friar Tuck)

    It started innocently enough when a young healer asked me to help her acquire an Orga Eye.
    Unfortunately during this operation I became trapped and surrounded against one of the fires in the Orga Camp. This wasn't a real problem - none of the Orga were having any real luck in hitting me and the Orga were only piled one deep on most sides. The healer got her Eye (after a bit of loud coaching on my part) and headed out to the Path. Now all I had to do was slowly fight my way out of the trap.
    Slowly? Me? Who was I kidding? Sure enough I "accidentally" hit a warrior with a bit too much enthusiasm. Suddenly it was all the Orgas could to not to hit me. Ooops.
    So, there I was: dead in the Orga Camp, with only an inexperienced healer to help me.
    The healer didn't have a sunstone to think for help with so she sent her "bodyguard" into the camp (although I'm not sure what he was supposed to accomplish - there were at least six Berzerks present.) With him dead too, the healer then tried to run to town for help. Whoops! Yep, she died too.
    The bodyguard and I then waited in the camp.... and waited....
    Finally, Neo eXo arrived and summoned Friar Tuck to the Orga Camp to heal the dead. Eventually a small but capable group had formed up in the Camp and performed the first rescue of the night. All alive again, we proceeded
to clear the camp of all the Berzerks and then prepared to kill an Orga Rage that had appeared in the camp.
    That's when the Orga Warlocks arrived. Four of them.
    So, we all died. And then more exiles showed up and they died too.
    And we waited....... and waited......
    Finally our "host" arrived to check on his "guests". Not just any Orga - this was an Orga Hatred.
    The Hatred was feeling a little peaked. He proceeded to pull us all towards the fires where we were then neatly arranged in a croissant formation to cook. He then proceeded to build up the fires and slobber over us a bit.
    Lord British now informed us via Friar Tuck that the rest of the Tanglewood was now overflowing with Orga Berzerks and Warriors.
    Apparantly the seven of us weren't enough for him (previously the Orga Warleader only needed myself and TCHealer to satisfy his appetite!) The Hatred then left the camp to gather up some more "food" for his tribe.
    And we waited....... and waited......
    By the deaths out in the Tanglewoods and the general thought traffic we could tell that a rescue was ever so slowly making its way to us.
    Eventually we heard thoughts from the Arachnoid caves and from Puddleby that Sunstone was making an appearance and causing all sorts of havoc. Sunstone was killing exiles and then sending them on short visits to his realm.
    Apparantly Sunstone got bored of that - he showed up next in the Camp. Not
satisfied with killing the Orga or laughing at us, Sunstone then proceeded to send our bodies to his realm before scattering us all around the Camp.
    And we waited....... and waited......
    Sunstone came and went. The Warlocks even managed to make him green for a bit. The deaths in the Tanglewoods continued.
    And we waited....... and waited......
    Finally. After two hours of lying dead in the camp a real rescue party managed to fight it's way through the Tanglewood and into the camp! Hooo-Rah!
    They quickly finished off the remaining Warlocks and the Rage and we all celebrated our victory!
    And Beacon showed up too...
    I would like to thank all those exiles who helped fight their way through the Tanglewoods to the Camp and rescue me and my friends. You have demonstrated the true spirit of heroism!

May the spirits bless you and guide your steps.
Marcus Antonius

TITLE: "The other night...
SUBMITTED: the 16th day of the 9th month
AUTHOR: Notelrac Starchasm

    The other night, Puddleby was visited by a great firedrake, MidSummer.  He was attacked almost as soon as he landed in town, and then flew off to the giant skeleton in the field northeast of Puddleby.  Upon being assaulted there as well, he flew off to the mountains where the Greymyr reside.
    MidSummer appears to have been attracted by a poetry contest that Galvin was hosting in town.  He probably wanted to contribute; it appears that his primary mode of communication is via poetic images.  Further, these images are received telepathically, by anyone using a sunstone.
        Amidst the heckling and arrogant puffery spewed from some exiles, my wife Llerendel tried to gain further insight to MidSummer's condition.  He appeared exceptionally distressed and upset about something.
        The close contact with the giant drake has changed Llerendel.   After he flew away, she was so changed by the experience that she communed with the Spirit Master 10 times -- certainly something she ordinarily would have been able to do.  While able to carry out normal functions, any chance remark might cause her to go into an altered state of mind and start spouting what appears to be gibberish.
        Here is a poem she has constructed, with my commentary afterward.

We heal in Her name
She is All

MidSummer's mate is the Blessed
The Great One's sorrow is unmatched

Grief and lamentation followed Her departure
She is lost and Her absence grieves us all

She dances amongst the stars
She rests in the place that is no place

Our journey will find and redeem Her
Our search for Her will take us far

She guides us as we seek to find Her
Her love shows the way to redemption

Our enlightenment is through Her love
Fail not, lest ye miss for Her return


        Now, to put that in more rational terms...
        Long ago, MidSummer mated with an unnamed Drake.  MidSummer declined repeated requests to name her during his visit.  Whether the skeleton in the northeast field is the resting place of the mate is also unknown.
        The mate went awandering one day, and never returned.  Questioning MidSummer as to her whereabouts is an exercise in futility.
        Llerendel feels that one way to cure the ennui facing experienced exiles is to go searching for this mate.  Llerendel has also embued this "Great One" with more traditional sacrificial/redeemer mythical figures, that are best left to the individual to think about.
        On the other hand, she's a lot happier these days...
--Notelrac Starchasm
TITLE: Manifesto
SUBMITTED: the 15th day of the 9th month
AUTHOR: Order of Dischord

        Alas, it is time for proper action! The fools known as Ancients have ignored the cries for problems to be fixed! They continue on their merry way, thinking all is right, when it is wrong! A thousand times wrong! Now it is time for us to act! We have united!!!!!!
        We are not ones to give our identities away, so you will not know who we are, or what we do, until after we've done it! We will wreck havoc upon all the Exiles of Puddleby until our demands are met!
        We demand that the trainers the fighters of our world must visit be returned to their previous efficiency, lift their curse of incompetence now! Our ability to progress must also be improved upon, or else our deeds will continue!
        Bodies of fallen exiles have blocked others for too long now! This is foolishness! You must change this, O' Ancient tricksters! Evil doers from up on high! Fix the problems or suffer the concequenses!!!!!!!
        Already we plot the demise of these lands! We have the ability and are willing to do so! Do as we say, or you will regret it!
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Order of Dischord

TITLE: The Land Begins Anew
SUBMITTED: the 7th day of the 9th month
AUTHOR: Pharazon of Rising Claw

Greetings and well met!

    For those of you who have not met me, I am Pharazon of the Rising Claw clan, fen'neko warrior of Chil'tok. While not a delver into priestly ways, nor indeed one who often puts quill to paper, I feel compelled to warn my fellow exiles of events I am convinced will come to pass.
    Of my kind, I am a nan'sithe, which would roughly translate into your speech as "crystal gazer". In a deep trance yesterday eve, a skinwalker visited me in the greyspace. He fortold of events to come, which will change all of our lives. Within the year, my friends, this land and all those upon it will revert to their natural, basic elements and qualities. You will loose all that you have gained in your lives, and find yourself new upon the world with only your memories of lives past. The mightiest among us will be the equals of the meek. It is a re-birth, and opportunity like none I've heard or seen in my times in the lands.
    I advise you to keep this in mind as you go about your lives. It is the self-aggrandized ego-worshippers among us who have the most to lose, will suffer the worst and face the gravest consequences. It is the organized, generous and self-sufficient clans like Rising Claw that will climb the swiftest in this new world.
    Mend thy ways, find thy friends, and know thy enemies! You have been warned!

Good Hunting!

- Pharazon of Fen'norlan

Send submissions to:  math@beer.dwarvenmilitia.com
The Dwarven Militia
Copyright © 2001 Philip M. Sokolov
Each Article is the property of the author and may ONLY be reproduced with their permission.