Dear Diary : The travels of Myre the Iksar

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It all started with a wagon ride to Freeport when the bears happened.

The wagon was midway through the tunnel heading to the commons but that went sideways. Sigh. The screaming, the yelling, the bears … bearing do bear stuff like removing hands and loping off arms. Dimly illuminated by the few lanterns that were part of the wagons. Most went up in a flash of flame and light as others were suffocated dropping the tunnels into darkness.

Why great Cazic I, again, thought to myself as I bravely leaped over bears gnawing away on the brave wagoneers. Why yknow… not grant your children … oh I don’t know … something helpful in situations as these … ie: genetic mutation 'Infravision" ? “Oh Cazic CAZIC CAZIC!” … wish you were here to see that one handed vaulted leap I just performed. Bravely … again I might add. Though the back of that bear I just soared over was … kinda … sticky.

Seeing my salvation, aka : the exit, I stopped running, composed my posture, striding out of the tunnel calmly. Walking back to the safety of this sad little hamlet which was still on fire.


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I approached the two closest Dark Elven militia guards. I waved which may seem a bit silly but considering I’m very much of the … Iksar’ian persuasion I lack the ability to smile. Humaniod’s tend to take a two meter tall reptile “smiling” as “That thing over there is hungry. Stab it!”.

The two guards I walked upon appeared to believe me to be a “servant” of sorts. As mother used to say “… Dark Elves” while rolling her eyes sideways. I think the military term in Dark Elven for servant is “Canon Fodder” and thus in harsh language ordered me to report to another pair of guards higher up in the food chain. If my friends … If I had friends they would pout in envy of me… ME moving up in the world.

I did what the “higher ups” told me do. “Ching Ching” pays the bills as they say over in Steamfont. I also earned a couple pieces of plate armour and a new shiny sword. Parted a Thexian from the mortal realm which felt disturbingly … nice. My whole body felt flushed with energy and rest… life? I’m sure some of my minor wounds from the wagon accident earlier just vanished.

After half a day of mercenary work. “Mercenary … Mercenary Myre. As in Mire … for hire.” I played in my head I would find out there was a bank branch extension here in … I need a name for this burning village in the woods. Eventually I settled on … Outpost Campfire. Sounds so … dangerous and covert-ty.

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Dear diary … one of my ancestors was a HERETIC!

Thank Cazic there was small inn here at … duh Duh DUH … “OUTPOST CAMPFIRE”. Enjoyed a nice piece of, hehe, bear meat or … possibly “Wagoneer” seared ever so lightly. A chunk of hot fire baked bread infused with garlic and butter and a bottle of wine. Diary … this is how a up and coming A Class Merc feasts! A thought way back in my lizard brain whispered something about picking up some skill in the ‘Culinary’ arts. SO Fancy. I could learn and cook what I k …

It was here the Mayor of O.CF. and his daughter, Princess Campfire I’ll call her, thanked me for saving his burning woods from the Thexian undead scourge, the wolves, those walking piles of stone and rock, “And the spider people.” I quickly appended to his rolling list of my accolades. This seemed to catch him off guard.

After quickly composing himself the Mayor explained he wanted to help me out and help out he did. Locating an old old … very old wooden trunk that belonged to one of my first ancestors. “Yes, an ancestor of some sort. Hailed from a place they called ‘The Seventh Hammer’. This land is all but forgotten it seems. Some place before the God’s left and the Cataclysm fell upon Norrath.” After a tarnished cup of my wineThe Mayor quickly bid me good night reminding me this trunk is now residing at The Bank.

“A coin … a minted Qeynos coin!” was the first object I discovered carefully wrapped in a small box.


Quickly I smothered the coin with a pillow from my inn room bed.

Sigh… my … this … my ancestor was a Heretic.

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Day 12

There I sat in awe and distain discovering even more of my long dead ancestor’s love for Queen Antonia. What I thought was a blanket revealed to be a three meter tapestry of the Queen. Like the “speaking” coin I found moments ago were three miniature statues of Antonia. Of course also “spoke” blah blah blah. There were a ton of potions with labels of “Life Experience” and a rather kinky golden fairy with matching golden chain in a jar. Well it’s mine now as I roughly shook the jar laughing , watching, it bounce around. It made a faint “TING TING” noise. A thought occured during my abuse realizing Cazic … Cazic answered my curse with this enslaved fairy! No matter how into the dark my travels take me I have a constant golden source of light! Oh Praise CAZIC! Though something green, or red, even smoke black would … no that wouldn’t work very well.

Deeper into the trunk lie a cloth wrapped ledger revealing two deeds to … well mansions. One clearly declared haunted and the other built into the cliff of a similar desolate haunted sea coast. Maybe this ancestor wasn’t such a good person after all. Possibly a traitor … a brigand … ooh maybe this family member was an assassin! Then I found a few crumbling song scrolls and three ancient music instruments at the bottom of the trunk.

Appears this ancestor was some emo dirge.

The knock upon my door startled me … quickly I shoved the traitorous contraband back into the trunk.

“His Lordship, The Mayor, requires your attention.” The inn keeper shouted through the thick wooden door. “'Supthing about you leaving for Neriak.”

Neriak … Neriak! Yep this Merc is moving on and up!

Day 15

I should have walked away but … oh no I was too curious when this crazy talking Fae offered me a job “Super evil fun time.”.

In short time I would learn … Neriak is filled with psychopaths.

Cackling, gleefully, the insane Fae even rubbed his hands together while whispering “Super Evil … fun time. Bad. Bad.” It tasked me to gather five bunches of the squishy nasty roots growing all around Neriak. Second part would be a bit more challenging as I needed to steal an urn of sorts. The fluttering Fae directed me to a warehouse of sorts it currently was stored. Oh, and the last part deliver it to a certain Dark Elf whose business was part of the Dark Bargainers factories down below. Maybe It liked this Dark Elf and wanted to send him the oddest bouquet?

Well … turned out the urn belonged to this Dark Elf. His shouts turned to violence and I barely dodged the dagger jabbed at my face. Spinning about with no time to draw my club I “Knighted” the owner of the urn with his urn. Killing him instantly.

It’s pretty dark down here … I wrapped the bloodied Dark Elf with my cloak and dumped him into the closest ravine. Curiosity caught me, heh, but I never did hear a thud.

I walked back to the first gate area slowly stopping, briefly, by the bank on my way. This Fae was laughing and pointing at me as I approached it. After insulting my intelligence and urging me to calm down I made a bard’s effort. Best all I could do was slump and sigh as I, well, can’t frown either. Iksar’s tend to simply look hungry or mad, I hear, all the time.

The Fae made a grand jesture of plucking a small spotted mushroom from a pocket presenting it to me as my payment. “OH … I couldn’t take your last mushroom.” I pantomined clasping my face with both hands. Still laughing, fluttering about, The Fae told me earned it … that It hadn’t had this much fun in ages. Hmmph … intelligence … I mused inwardly. “Such a generous reward … I shall treasure this mushroom forever!” Pausing I continued … “Please, allow me to return your generosity.”

I handed him one of the miniature Queen Antonia brass statues. Yes. The same statue that “talks” … loudly.

Days later I didn’t see The Fae where I saw him last nor around the city in my travels. It was simply a matter of time It would trigger the statue and … well … the Dark Elven guard in Neriak did the rest.

All these years later I remember The Fae when I gaze upon this mushroom still sitting on a shelf in my home.

Thank you , Naamu , for the wonderfully ghostly red music box. It rests with my precious collection of X-mas 2006 EQ midi music boxes.

Paid a tinker to take this photo. Morning in Butcherblock. The sea, the salt, birds calling, a ship full of passengers who should be robbed getting away.

Ahhh … Diary … we should sail to Freeport before returning to our duties in Neriak. There was that, another crazy person … surprise… in Neriak no less, talking to a green gem. Paying me to pick up a few … I mean part some souls from their bodies … “trinkets” out in the Commonlands.

Day 17

OH CAZIC! The soft skins of Freeport have a … get this … “Execution Plaza”! There were a few vendors selling food and drinks. From one vendor I bought a “Thumbs DOWN” flag. I waved that flag so hard it started to tear. Sir Lucan was all formal during ‘sentencing’ ie: Blah blah this traitor did this and this family did that. On and on. I even joined in on the Freeport crowd chant “DROP 'EM , DROP 'EM!” Oh I had such a great time in Freeport. “It’s a spicy place …” as mother seldom said.

So … So… get this Lord, Sir Lucan, himself bound the dirty traitors in some magical hand levitating each for a few, LONG, last seconds before letting them fall. I took a peek over what looked like a pit but it’s filled with huuuge spinning blades. Leave it up to those ‘crazy’ Gnomes to devise such a fear inspiring torture machine. Some of those Gnomes in the Freeport engineering core must worship Cazic. I mean … they have to … to tap into that level of creative inspiration.

Freeport is Great!

Day 21

Dear diary

Been inside all day and night “chained” to a work bench “Kissing Ass” with/for the Dark Bargaineers syndicate. From my stained glass window I can hear Sir Lucan over at the Execution plaza. Wow… Freeport sure has alot of traitors.

Decided to go out for some sea scenery and air. I “borrowed” a Freeport guards trusty mount and found this great vantage point.

Day 27

The temple here in Neriak, an order known as “The Dead”, looms out of the darkness occupying a section of these massive caverns. Glyphs both mundane and enchanted, I’d bet, decorate both the outer and inner walls.

It was here I was informally introduced to the Dark Elven power, and belief system, all of Neriak and it’s citizens are ruled by. Contrast that to Freeport of which I say is ruled through fear and paranoia.

Outside these walls I met a few of the class discipline leaders. The soldiers, the dark knights, assassins and their dark song dirge’s. I have to admit I was drawn to the assassins but like the Black Knights of Freeport the Black Knights of Neriak stirred something within me.

As I departed out tasked with another mission, seeking all manner of arachnid, that would take me to Nektulos forest I should drop these items to the man with the green gem.

Day 27

Handing a crazed man pieces of shadow and bone seemed mundane enough. All the while my new Dark Elf ‘friend’ held the rod like green gem close to his body roughly snatching the bag I had held.

I began to protest as he began to whisper enchanted words… powerful words… you could feel it in the air. What transpired next happened quickly. I remember a rumbling followed by the ground before me erupting. The Dark Elf yelled something “Dominion” and “Demands Sacrifice!”. I tripped falling backwards reaching out, extending my left hand before me, time slowed as the blood of Cazic rushed filling my being with fear.

A large dark shadowy being of wurm like rock coiled above me. Filled with fear I screamed. My left hand felt odd and there was some exchange. Something new to me but old to the core of my being. I witnessed this towering rock beast shudder and wail immediately I felt empty, hollow, my scream silenced. My fall ceased as I slammed into the rock of Neriak’s cavern floor. Crushed by the weight of the massive dark wurm.

Diary … I died this day.