To the casual onlooker, Talic was ending a long day the best way any well-paid sailor could hope for- by steadily drinking himself into a morning hangover.

To those who might've met Talic, it more or less looked the same.

Then there were those who actually knew Talic. Three of them were spread throughout the posh little tavern, which was bustling and full enough that new comers were having a hard time finding a seat- not that they let that stop them from finding a place at the bar to get their liquor- right amidst no small number of the palace guard ending their watch.

These particular three knew the truth. After a bottle of Evermead, and who knew how many flagons of ale, Talic was still, effectively, stone sober. Whether or not that was natural tolerance, the result of training, or because of the seemingly endless supply of cactus needles Talic never seemed to be without was another matter of discussion entirely, but after spending a few more than two moons together on a ship and countless drinking games together, none of the three had ever seen him hung over.

He had spent the first day re-familiarizing himself with the sprawling city and its wards, as well as the various sewer access points- in particular the ones around the palace ward. During a watch change, he'd followed the group surreptitiously and happily learned that they had a favorite watering hole.

So, here he, and they, were.

It had been about ten winters since his last trip to Calimport, and if it was possible it had become more maze-like than before. It was perfect for discouraging invasions from foreign powers. On the other hand, for those familiar with the ins and outs of the city, it offered untold escape possibilities within its labryinthine construction.

Not that he'd ever taken advantage of that fact, of course.

Of course, one who knew Talic would probably know enough if told that to call it a bold-faced lie, and so it was. He was here now as part of the first of several steps in a plan from which he'd definitively need an escape route for- but that came later. For now, he had his eyes on the guards- one guard, in particular, who seemed to be getting a little too drunk for his own good.

Truthfully, several guards were in the same condition, but this one was getting rather familiar with the bar maid despite several not-very-subtle hints. At one particularly amorous grope, said guard was rewarded with tears from misty brown eyes and a whimper of protest, and it was then Talic decided.

Sliding out of his seat, he ambled over to the table with the guards and the now distraught barmaid. As his shuffling walk led him to the table, he made out who he presumed to be the captain, with a disapproving frown on his face muttering to "Eric," about treating the help nicer, while Eric obliviously kept the crying woman close by the elbow.

"Excushe me, but would ya mind sharin' th' 'elp soze I can getsh an ale?"

Talic's sea legs completed the act of a drunken, stumbling gait nicely, and landed him hip-first against Eric's wrist, pinning it at a painful angle against his chair and breaking his grip on the brown-haired lass. She immediately fled for the kitchen, casting a grateful but worried look over her shoulder at her drunken rescuer. Her response was a green-eyed wink before Eric shoved his seat back from his table.

Talic took the opportunity to lose his balance and fall backwards elbow first into Eric's nose with a sickening crack, followed by the sound of loud cursing, and a distant giggle as the door to the kitchen swung shut. He had just finished congratulating himself on an acting job well done when he was hauled to his feet and spun around face to bloody (and to be completely honest, ugly, what with its balding pate, stringy black hair, unkempt jaw and yellowed teeth bared in an angry snarl) face.

Complete with the fist of said man pulled back to strike him.

"You're gonna pay for that, long-ear."

"Hey, hey, shorry, I jus' wan'd a drink! Le' me buy yer drink, friend!" Talic reached forward to hug the man, putting his face out of harm's way, and "stumbled" once again, one of his feet hooking behind Eric's with his heel pressing down on the other man's as he fell forward.

The result was a spectacularly loud tearing sound that was audible to, by this point, everyone- since everything had stopped in the bar the moment the show had started- followed immediately by a loud, agony-filled howl as the man found his leg doubled over in half without the ability for his heel to slide or give causing the muscles to tear, with Talic's forehead landing squarely in his nose once again.

Popping up to his feet, and glancing around, Talic noticed he now had the attention of the other guards at the table, too. Up-close, personal attention. In fact, everyone at the guard's table was standing up, except the captain. He was watching from the table with folded arms and narrowed eyes.

"Shorry, fellas, I -hic- jus' wan'd ta buy my friend thar a drink," Talic began...

"But since he doesn't seem like he's up for more drinking," he continued, dropping the drunken affectation, "maybe I can buy you gentlemen one instead?"

There was a slow dawning of realization on several of their faces- one or two even let a chuckle slip before a stern glare from the guard captain turned it into a cough.

"What's your name, stranger?" The captain finally stood up, completing the ring around Talic. Six, counting the captain. The numbers weren't really the issue, so much as the psychology involved in group mentality. Six was just small enough of a group that Talic could make a good impression, and just large enough of a group that if he made a bad impression it would probably end up with him beaten in a cell for a moon or two...or until he escaped.

"Talic, sir." The answer flowed from his lips easily, as did the address of respect, his days as an officer in the ULA coming back to him.

"Well, Talic, we have a problem. Eric there, he is...was... my best muscle. Not too bright, but good with a blade and pretty good with his fists, too. You from around here, Talic?"

"No sir, I boarded with a cargo ship in exchange for working the sails out from the Sword Coast."
Here, the captain regarded Talic with an appraising look.

"Talic, are you telling me that a sailor took out my best fighter?"

"No, sir, just telling you how I got here. I've got a good grasp on sailing, but that's as much pleasure as it is business."
"And what is your business, Talic?"

"I believe, sir, that in most places it's called bounty hunting," he answered with the faintest quirk of his lips.
"And that little display you put on just now?"
"I apologize sir, but where I'm from you treat the people that bring you your food and booze nicer than that. I didn't break him until he was planning to break me."

At this point, the normal bar noise had resumed, patrons finding their own business more interesting- Talic's little ring in the middle of the bar only had the eyes of three onlookers now, aside from the occasional curious glance. The guards ringing him stood anxiously awaiting their captain's decision, even off-duty, and the captain fixed Talic with that appraising black stare again.

"Well, Talic, in about a fortnight, we're having what basically amounts to a big party that's a security nightmare for the Pasha's birthday in the palace. One of my best men is no longer able to fight, and to be honest, I'm not willing to pay the gold for a healer to tend to what he brought on himself. But that still means you owe me an extra man. How long were you planning to stay?"

"Til the end of the next moon, sir."

"Good. Keep your day free a fortnight from now, you'll be working with my men. That is, of course, unless you'd rather I remember to do the paperwork involved in crippling a member of the palace guard?"

"Keeping the day free sounds good to me. Do I need to show up before then for anything?"

"Meet me at the palace, sunrise tomorrow. I'll have to catch you up on a few things... and decide what, if anything I can actually use you for. Don't be late."

"I'll be there, sir. Can I buy you and your men that round now?"

"It's Roan off-duty, and I think I like you already, Talic."

Elsewhere in the tavern, three pairs of eyes went back to each other and their drinks, and a few coins were exchanged, over what bets they'd placed on the outcome only they and the gods knew...

Aniril had been meticulous. He was almost always meticulous when he cast his spells, but this was more important than usual. He'd been twice as cautious, double-checked his triple-checks...

And still the spell said the same thing. The white's remains were in an extra-dimensional pocket, tucked away out of his reach with his inability to grasp conjurative Arts.

The kind of dimensional pocket that a spell, cast by a mage, would produce.

Damn it.

To Jan Dane/ Sergeant Errol Cobblerson / Lord Bradley, (one for each)

I used the slain white's tooth to attempt to track down its missing remains. I regret to inform you they are currently beyond my reach, in a pocket plane similar to the sort a mage would make to store a valued object they wished to keep hidden.

Conjurative Arts are beyond my realm of expertise, but I felt I should inform each of you that this means the corpse has most likely been moved by more than scavengers. While there is no guarantee that whomever took the corpse plans anything nefarious (there are many many magical properties a slain dragon's body can be used for in numerous applications although I do not generally encourage such,) it should be noted that there is a very real risk that someone is preserving Frygicrax's corpse for revival at a later time.

I will continue to track the body as I am able, and keep you informed.

- Aniril Del'niath

Opening a few cages with birds, Aniril murmurred the words to a charm gently and affixed one of the messages to each dove's leg, before sending them off to deliver them with a stroke of their wings each.

Now, to go find a certain tempestuous elf before she throttled him for always getting involved with dragons and danger.

Everything in this post borrowed from here- http://davidcwood.com/adnd/campaign/evil/myrkul.php

(I realize that's not an official site but I've seen the original in the real book at some point and this sounds pretty spot on from what I remember.)


Myrkul

Lord of Bones, Old Lord Skull, the Reaper, Lord of the Dead


Alignment: Neutral Evil

Portfolio: The dead, wasting, decay, corruption, parasites, old age, exhaustion, dusk, autumn

Symbol: A white human skull face-on against a black field or a reaching white skeletal hand in white on a black field.

Domains: Death, Evil, Fate, Law, Pestilence, Travel

Favoured Weapon: Scythe

Worshipper's Alignment: LN, N, CN, LE, NE, CE

Myrkul (MER-kul), one of the Dark Gods, was the god of the dead, as opposed to the god of death, which was the province of Bhaal. His portfolio, and his home in Hades, the Bone Castle, were both usurped by Cyric after the Lord of Bones was destroyed atop Blackstaff Tower in Waterdeep during the time of Troubles by Midnight. Later Myrkul's portfolio passed to Kelemvor when Cyric was driven from the City of Strife by an alliance of Gods and denizens.

Myrkul had a cold, malignant intelligence, and spoke in a high whisper. He was always alert, never slept, and was never suprised. He was never known to lose his temper or be anything other than coldly amused when a mortal succeeded in avoiding his directives or chosen fates. His influence in Faerun was imposed through fear, and he was a master of making mortals terrified of him through his words and deeds. At times, just to remain unpredictable, he seemed almost kind and caring. His cowled skull head was known in nightmares all over Faerun, and he was the one diety that almost all human mortals could picture clearly. Myrkul took care that all mortals thought of him often - he was even known to materialize beside open graves, scythe in hand, just to gaze around at gathering mourners for a few silent seconds before fading away, in order to remind everyone that he was waiting for them all.

The Church

Clergy's Alignment: LE, NE, CE

The faith of Myrkul was not popular, nor were its priests numerous. Many venerated Myrkul out of fear, and offerings were made in his name at funerals and other solemn occasions, but few actually worshiped him as their primary faith. Myrkulyte priests tended to be morbid loners who enjoyed scaring others or enjoyed the power that widespread rumours that it is death to touch or act against a priest of Myrkul brings. They took care to conceal their identities, always leaving the locales where they were born and raised. Some who were romantically attracted to the notion of death followed the god and his teachings, and of these priests about three-quarters were specialty priests. Relationships between the various branches of the faith of Myrkul were very good, primarily because no single person held enough power to confidently direct it against others.

Myrkulytes all addressed each other as "Death" or "Most Holy Death" (for senior or elderly priests), adding the honorific before a known name or title, as in "Death Williamson", or "Most High Death Trollslayer". Their titles in ascending order of rank were:

    *  Daring One
    * Night Walker
    * Bone Talker
    * Shroud Wearer
    * Crypt Carver
    * Bone Dancer
    * Ritual Consecrator
    * Undead Master
    * Withering Lord
    * Deathbringer
    * Elder Doom

Elder Doom was a title used by all clergy who ascended in rank and influence beyond rule over a temple. All of these level titles described a duty or ritual of the faith that the priest assumed for the first time upon ascending to the named rank. For instance, Bone Dancers lead the bone dance ritual (a variant of animate dead), wherein guardian undead were conjured up and placed around something to be guarded; Ritual Consecration dedicated altars, scythes, and the materials to be used in the making of magical items to the service of the god; Withering Lords were taught wither, a prayer that brought them a spell able to duplicate the powers of the staff of withering, and Deathbringers gained quench the spirit, a priestly version of finger of death. Specialty priests are known as gray ones or less polietly as "fingerbones".

Temples of Myrkul were typically massive mausoleums built above ghastly subterranean necropolises. Most were covered in a dim haze of smoke belched from ever-burning cremetoriums. Leering gargoyles adorned the outsides, and stone statues of men, women, and children in various stages of death and decay lined the walls of the interior halls. All sorts of undead creatures, particularily skeletal undead, stalked the halls and dungeons in ancient pursuits. Both living and undead temple guards employed special concecrated scythes and wielded manyskull wands.

Dogma: The clergy of Myrkul were charged to make folk fear and respect death and the power of the almighty Myrkul so that no one stood against the church or tried to thwart its activities. Myrkul's priests were expected to spread the word that touching a priest of Myrkul brings death. They were expected to tell all folk that those in the service of Myrkul had perfect patience and could be trusted utterly - then conduct themselves accordingly. Myrkulyte clergy were to teach the stories of past and future "doombringers" - mortals who roamed the land avenging dead friends, masters, and blood kin to whom they had sworn oaths, and slaying those who scoffed or who held other gods supreme over the Lord of Bones.

Initiates to the faith first heard the word of Myrkul through a speak with dead spell cast on a temple's most revered deceased former high priest. Such spells allowed all within hearing range to comprehend the corpse's words. Myrkul spoke through such vessels to say: "Know me and fear me. My embrace is for all and is patient but sure. The dead can always find you. My hand is everywhere - there is no door I cannot pass, nor guardian who can withstand me."

Day-to-Day Activities: Myrkulyte clergy members roamed the Realm burying the dead and conducting funerals for fees. Their resistance to diseases made them popular for the disposal of plauge victims and dealings with infected lycanthropes and the diseased. They would do all they could to make the dying comfortable, but viewed death as natural, inevitable, and not something to be run from. They placed great value on the influence dead folk could have (referring to it as "the sacred hand that reaches from the grave") and would assist dying folk to draft decrees, wills, and cryptic verses that would guide the living to search for their hidden treasure or otherwise dance to their bidding after they were dead. In return for a "skull fee", a priest of Myrkul would even agree to act as an agent or avenger for the dead, administering the wishes of the departed or carrying out tasks they were unable to complete before death. While Mykrul rarely allowed his clergy to ressurect the dead, bringing a person to the temple of another faith for attempted resurrection and paying for his undertaking with the money left by the dead was a procedure both commonplace and perfectly acceptable to Myrkulyte clergy members.


Prestige Class: Horned Harbringer

See Faiths and Pantheons p. 197
Prestige Class: Gray Ones

See True Necromancer

My best advice is to keep in mind we're here to RP.  If your looking for balanced combat and a well designed PvP system I'm afraid you've picked up the wrong game.

The title plus the quote, respectfully snipped from another thread (and made into its own thread, because, in a lack of foresight I dealt with way too many issues in one thread and now it's all over the place) phrases the idea I'd like to convey pretty well.

I want to know, when the server as a whole decide that PvP (or for those of you who prefer it, the friendlier term of CvC, which is what I think of all PvP as anyway) is anathema to RP and that any lengthy discussion about it, or about changing some of the ways the system works is counterproductive. The fact is, in many circumstances, I couldn't disagree more.

In a game universe like Faerun, conflict is integral to plots and progress- the entire world is shaped from a series of constantly flowing conflicts between the forces of good, evil, law, chaos, and those who tend to balance as well. Sure, this doesn't mean one character has to be killing another every five minutes, but sticking your head in the sand and saying LaLaLa conflict/combat is not important is silly- while you're singing that tune, at any given point half a dozen or more wars or epic battles are being fought in Faerun.

These conflicts are inevitably what shapes the world and atmosphere around you in which you're playing, and they're what give all the divine forces that we use so freely for background to shape our character's personalities.

More to the point, on this server, there are not always DM's on running plots, and there are not restrictions on what alignments are available for characters to play- one would, I think then, logically assume that the intention is for players to play diverse characters with differing views to help motivate RP and inter-character conflict. These things are what keep the server going when there aren't a bunch of DM's on running three or four different quests every day for a bunch of different groups of people.

Also, if you'll notice, the server allows PvP; the very fact that it allows PvP seems to me to indicate that PvP -must- be at least moderately important, or else why allow it and all the headaches that arise? And the fact is, it is moderately important. Because in the end, despite all the whining, this world would be laughable if a Paladin encountered someone in the company of undead and the Paladin wasn't required to destroy those undead, and the foul necromancer who stops using them.

The world would be silly if the evil necromancer just stood there and took it like a sedate puppy while some insolent whelp walked up to him and started insulting him and "role-playing" slapping him about the face and antagonizing him. Sorry. Yeah. It's great that you want to RP that. You want to keep RP'ing that way? Okay, I'm going to RP casting a spell that should make you scream very loudly in pain as I try to rip the soul from your body? What's that? No? I can't do that, you refuse to acknowledge the RP? Well, okay. *Right clicks, and casts the spell.* What? I'm a terrible role-player because my EVIL necromancer killed you in the course of RP'd conflict?

Satire aside, the point I'm trying to make with this is that in the design of server LotN has, I think it's faulty to say that CvC and RP mutually exclude each other- and I think it's outright ridiculous to say that because your character is powerful in CvC that someone is somehow a lesser Role-player because of it, or that because someone is interested in the system for CvC being looked at and balanced they're not as good an RP'er too, and that maybe they should look elsewhere.

CvC is, like it or not, an integral part of shaping the world we play in- not all things have to be resolved through CvC, but some situations will inevitably HAVE to be settled that way, and you can make all the excuses for why they don't have to be settled that way, but excuses imply exceptions, and exceptions are not the rule.

I'd strongly encourage anyone of the belief that enjoying, being good at, or being interested in the system and balance of PvP makes you a poor RP'er take a good long read of the link in my sig.

(As an afterthought, because people are easy to blow things out of proportion here on the forums, this message is not directed at Sakes' personally, but rather the sentiment that seemingly resides in the statement; while it may not be his sentiment, it is a statement I have heard in the past where the above discussed -was- the sentiment, and it bothers me.)

Alright. First things first, and I've said this before; I'm the one of the last ones to say that casters are underpowered. With that said, some ideas/policies that are considered a means to "balance" casters here annoy me, and I want to put them in some semblance of organized text to hopefully affect at least SOME minor change. This won't be too terribly detailed yet, because I expect a backlash of "omg you noob, are you kidding, casters need to be nerfed!" and I'd rather get MORE specific there.

Proceeding-

1: Ability bonuses. All people have equal opportunity with ability bonus gear being capped at a max of +3. Except wait. I've been playing five years. I've never seen ONE SINGLE helmet that provides a bonus to wisdom. I have seen helmets that provide bonuses stealth skills, helmets that provide bonuses to charisma, helmets that provide bonuses to intelligence- why do divine casters get gimped?

This is not limited to just helmets- there are no +2/3 wisdom rings, or cloaks, or gloves, or boots. There is a +1 charisma/+1 wisdom ring that in turn requires you to take -1 to your constitution- in what fashion does this precipitate balance, when any arcane caster on the server (arguably stronger than divine casters were it not for other balance issues I'll discuss later) can easily aquire +8 to his primary stat through 3 items without hurting himself elsewhere?

2: IMPROVED EVASION ON ITEMS IS RETARDED. I'm sorry. It's bad enough that 90% of melee builds find some way to incorporate evasion into their build. Is this really even remotely necessary when you can buy +8 save gear for gold that can be made in a single night of hunting? Or was the unanimous opinion that everyone should be able to wear a piece of armor in order to dodge a field of falling meteor rocks from the sky? :-P

3: +8 save gear. Yes. I'm aware it's epic only. I still fail to see how providing gear that can be PURCHASED to be able to pass ALL saving throws against the spells of ANY caster, even one completely focused towards getting his DC higher to the exclusion of everything else they can possibly do, on everything but a 1, is balanced. +5 vs. mind-affecting spells +3 to all will saves on a helmet is dumb. Enchanters are rare enough as it is, such an item is a slap in the face. Necromancers already have to deal with all the powerful monsters on the server being immune to death spells, and wands of death ward are easily enough accessed (and immune to spell breach.) Fortitude is also the easiest save to raise. While I don't object to some benefit against death spells being offered on items, I fail to see how +5 vs. death, +3 to all fortitude saves, again on a single helmet that can be switched out instantly with a hot-key as the situation demands, is balanced. Necromancy is SUPPOSED to be a feared art- on this server, it's laughable, with the exclusion of horrid wilting- and at that rate, you may as well be an evoker (except everyone has access to improved evasion. :-P)

4: The highest spell DC one could conceivably get on this server off the top of my head and without accounting for NWN's buggy/faulty spell coding would be 39- that's a 9th level spell (10+9=19) +epic spell focus (+6=25) +14 (18 in primary casting stat at start, +6 over 24 levels to get to 24, +2 from greater STAT 2 to 26, +12 from items and spells for a total of 38, or +14 to all DC's- 25+14=39.)  Wonderful. Beautiful. I've seen characters that can disarm weaponmasters and IKD chain anyone they fight while wearing gear that gets all their saves up to 35+. If this is not somehow heavily biased in favor of making casters rely on spam of saveless spells or praying for a 1, even though they're level 25 and focused in as many ways as they possibly can be to making their spells work while being completely vulnerable in many other ways, then explain to me the premise behind this, please. I'm aware not all people powergame, but if you use that argument to justify this approach, then casters hardly need the nerf of +8 save gear to balance them- after all, they don't all powergame. :-P

5: Even transmuters get bent over the table- freedom belts are easy to obtain- I believe they're still sold somewhere, aren't they? Bye-bye, flesh to stone.

6: Yes, two of my three main characters are casters. Talic, on the other hand, is melee, and very vulnerable to casters- if they see him. I still don't think he should have access to a +8 save helm. I don't think I should be able to put on a helmet and go from "holy crap, this guy is powerful, he might suck the soul out of my body/dominate my mind and make me do horrible things" to "Hahahaha, you can't beat me! I have a helmet of Mage-screwing. Bend over!" Talic has evasion. He's not terrified of evokers, but at least he respects the ones that can throw their spells competently as something to be cautious of (DC 30+).

7: Again, I know casters are powerful. But it's basically gotten to the point that to provide competitive DC's you have to metagame the hell out of the other person's weaknesses; I'm not aiming to have casters be the uber end all be all, but a dedicated level 25 dc caster that can land a spell on rolls other than a 1 would be nice. It'd also be nice if the wisdom stat received at least HALF as much attention on gear as EVERY OTHER STAT gets. I'm pretty sure even constitution is easier to get bonuses to than wisdom.

Server crashed about a half-hour ago and is still down... everything okay?

Basically, due to completely forgetting to take combat casting at pre-epic levels, I've totally boned myself over and will never be able to take Improved combat casting, which is a pretty huge deal. I'm hoping I can get a relevel for this- aside from the fact that I have about 23 wasted skill points in craft trap (the only reason I invested was so I could craft epic traps, but I've recently learned that this is impossible.)

A relevel to fix these problems would be greatly appreciated. I'll be staying pure cleric when I relevel.

((I put this together in the little bit of free time I had while I was out of town helping take measurements on the new house and such. With any luck, as time passes, there will be more- I'm opening this bit up with the night of Luskan's attack on Llast.))

Zato paused, weighing the possible consequences in his mind. Truly, the only reason he had entered camp at all was to buy a new stock of healing kits and perhaps locate some of those he could tolerate traveling with- he needed to begin rebuilding some of his finances- he needed more corpses- "Research Materials," he thought of them as.

Still, while not particularly fond of Luskan, he had to consider the possible rewards. A ransacked town would make for a delightfully full cemetery. He would have to be more cautious about accessing those corpses if he had a hand in such ransacking, and he would likely face outright hostility...

Slowly, Zato heaved a sigh, and knew his mind was made up. He was tired of smiling politely for paladins, of paying false homage to Jergal- and so, too, was Testament, he knew well, as Testament was one of the only people he genuinely considered a friend- as well as a steadfast ally in his quest to restore Myrkul's rightful power.

Kaleta, however- she would be angry. She had little appreciation for vulgarly powerful displays, much less ones that so blatantly revealed foul intent.

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully in his considerations, his fingers plucking a nearby flower carelessly, stroking its petals as it began a slow, agonizing fight against its now inevitable death. His eyes, normally distant and impassive, focused intently on the flower in his hand, his inaudibly moving lips offering the dying blossom an odd sort of comfort, assuring it that its constant need to struggle and strive was at an end, that it would find peace in death where it only found hardship in life.

The vibrant blue petals, as if longing for such reassurance that it was okay, wilted swiftly in his fingers, until all that was left was like so much blackened compost on his fingertips- compost that he scattered to the soil about him in camp before following the group to Llast.

He would fertilize the soil of Llast with corpses, to grow a far more useful sprout- the budding seeds of his army.

Kaleta would be angry, yes- if he acted for naught. He would simply have to make sure he realized his goals once he began.

A cold smile touched his lips as he made up his mind once more- begin he would, and he would do so with the field of as-yet unplanted corpses in Llast.

"Myrkul," he thought to himself as he trailed after the clueless group, "if it pleases you, in your name I shall bathe this land in fear of your patient grasp once more. In your name, I will raise a necropolis the likes of which shall strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest paladins. And with your blessing, in your name, I shall rule and guide the people to your embrace."