The Dark Elf Slave Trader  

Sunday, Nov. 7th, 1999. Second siege of Mistmoore. Dwarven and Gnomish forces lead by Lord Warfield Goblincleaver storm Mistmoore Castle... Our initial battles were successful, not a Champion fell. It looked as if we were going to make it in deeper this time in hopes of finding the Dark Elf slaver or even captured Faydwerians. As we pressed forward, the slight headaches and dizziness of weeks past I felt, became stronger. Fever ensued and it began to worry the others. High Priest Brodder Foamymugs tried several of his healing spells. None worked. Between battles, I took longer and longer rest periods and our siege was beginning to slow down. Slowly getting up to search for Dark Elves I head to the Graveyard, with Brodder in tow.  

"He's walking awfully slowly lads.", Sage Catbik Tinkerton notes.  
Last thing I remember hearing was Brodder shouting "I've lost him in the Graveyard!"  

The rest of this story was relayed to me by me cousin Knight Grimvar Goblincleaver weeks later...  

A battle cry to end all battle cries emitted from deep within the Graveyard, "ALL HAIL INNORUUK, DARK GOD OF HATRED!! YOU WILL ALL DIE!" Terror spread through our ranks, as many soon realized what had happened.  
"HE HAS FALLEN!", Brodder shouts.  
"Not you! Lord Warfield!", Catbik cries.  
I sprint past our forces. Recognizing my garb an' weapons, Grimvar asks, "Hey, isn't that Warfield???  He is a Dark Elf!!!!".  
Lord Crell Ironblade states coldly, "Warfield has fully turned into a Inkie!"  
Brodder and Apprentice Njel come to the same realization. Brodder cringes, "He is under Innoruuk's spell."  
"Slay him to remove that vile gods curse!", Njel shouts.  

I exited Mistmoore and disappeared into the murky woods of Lesser Faydark without a trace...  
Grimvar leaves the others to pursue me and is jumped by a massive Troll in blackened chainmail wielding two huge axes at the Fae Drake Ruins. Grimvar cries out for assistance as the battle-bread Troll proceeds to destroy Grimvar's steel armor and hopefully the Dwarf inside. Soon a flood of Dwarves and Gnomes pour into the Ruins, healing spells are cast and damage shields go up! The troll is slain. Victorious, the Champions cheer!  
"I came to find Warfield, and was attacked by that troll.", Grimvar says.  
"Brother Grim search the foul beast for any notes.", Brodder suggests.
"Perhaps his loot holds a clue?', Catbik asks.  

Brodder recounts the minutes before Grimvar was attacked, "Warfield disappeared near the graveyard after walking strangely, as if he were under a spell and moments after he yelled praises to Innnoruk!"  
Grimvar searches through the beasts pouches... "I didn't find any clues, only this ring." It was a Jagged Band, not unlike the one found off the Ghost of Unrest, Garanel Rucksif. The very same ring I've often used as reward for younger Champions who have completed challenging quests. Grimvar hands Warrior Azzur the ring, at has no discernable markings...  
Stroking' his beard Brodder suggests, "Perhaps we should resurrect the Beast and put him to the questions"  Grakthul the Troll is summoned back to his corpse...  

"Get your root spells ready, lads...". Dwarves surround the Troll and stare intently.  
Grakthul slowly bends down facing' his resurrector and snarls viciously at Bishop Gares Lifebringer.  
"Ye will Die gain beast Lest ye answer us. Now where has the Slaver taken Our Lord", Brodder asks.  
"I dunt no about yur Lord", the Troll growls.  

Brodder scratches his head, "Hmmm, give him some food and ale perhaps he'll talk."  
Handing many rations an beer to the Troll, Brodder asks again, "You've been fed, speak Troll!"  
Wolfing down the rations, Grakthul the Troll begins to speak, "Me not know much, all me do us take bags uf Dwarves ta Grobb."  
Crell interrupts, "I think he needs to be taken to Kaladim for some serious interrogation!"  

"Easy lad...", Brodder calms Crell and hands Grakthul some beer.  
"Who tells you to pick up the bags?", Brodder asks.  
"Sum guy named Warfield give me rings fer helping him. An' den me king give Warfield sumthing."  
Grakthul hisses.  
The Champions gasp in astonishment. Brodder hands Grakthul more to drink...  
Drinking some red wine, Grakthul continues, "Oh me remember more now... Der some special Dwarf dat da King uf Nerriak wanted.'' Chompin' on some rations, Grakthul mumbles, "Da King uf Nerriak said a spell needed to be cast on dis special Dwarf. I dunt know who casts it."  
"We must keep his belly full and mind on target.", Brodder says.  
Catbik says, "I'm not touching it!"  
"So there is a special Dwarf a spell was cast upon?" Hoping to get more information out of the Troll, Brodder hands Grakthul some bread which as quickly devoured..  
Smacking his lips, Grakthul remembers, "Yep, me remember now. Da King says its from me god Innoruuk."  
Horror an' anger rush over Catbik, "The special Dwarf is Warfield! Ye took Warfield ye bastards!"  
"Warfield? He's me Master an' a Dark Elf.", Grakthul states proudly.  
"Gak!", Catbik chokes.  
"NO! No Paladin Of Brell could ever do this!", Brodder shouts angrily.  
Crell asks, "Where do you meet him?"  
"Warfield tells me to come to da coast of Faydwer. He gives me sum Dwarves and I put em in sacks to take to da King of Grobb.", Grakthul answers.  
Brodder says, "Get dressed Troll. We're Going to the DOCKS!"  
Grathul gathers his Blackened chainmail armor an' massive axes. Knocking over some Champions, Grakthul makes a break for Mistmoore Castle!  
"After him! Cast root!"  
It is too late, Grakthul escapes into Mistmoore not to be seen or heard from until later...  

The Champions assemble at the Faydwer Docks...  
Catbik ponders, "I'm still thinking about that spell the Troll mentioned. Could Warfield be cured by a simple cancel magic?"  
"I don't think cancel magic could override a spell cast by Innoruuk himself.", Brodder says  
"This is getting bad...", Crell worries.  
Weakened by his encounter with the troll, Grimvar falls behind... "HELP brothers I am lost. I can see the ocean but I don't know where I am!", Grimvar yells.  A figure approaches Grimvar..."Ack! Its Warfield! He's attacking me!!"  
"Quickly, check both sides of the docks along tha coast!", Catbik orders.  
Soon the Champions find my cousin Grimvar badly beaten and quickly begin to heal their fellow Dwarf. In attempt to cure me, Gares casts Cancel Magic. It is not enough. Grimvar continues to fight for his life. Each bash of me shield pushing him closer an closer to the water...  
SPLASH!!!  
Grimvar is totally submerged under water and a spell is cast upon him to keep him there. "Help lads! I'm drownin'!!", Grimvar shouts. Grimvar loses consciousness....  

Grimvar doesn't remember what happened next, but tells me what he has heard from other Champions...  

In Dark Elf form, I laughed evilly at Grimvar's untimely demise, "YOU WILL ALL SUFFER THE SAME FATE!"  
I turn to Crell and point Ghoulbane at him. Crell immediately attacks! Brutal melee combat ensued as the Champions kept their brother healed. Luring' Crell into the water the same end to this fight looms near. What's this? Crell's will is too strong and the spell to keep him submerged as removed! Crell bursts from the water, gasping' an swings wildly at me. Moments later I am felled, and Crell slumps to the ground in tears at what he has done.  
"I am sorry Brell, please forgive me!", Crell pleads. Other console him, it had to be done. Gares tries to resurrect me, but to no avail, his spell could not bring me back from wherever I was.  
"Hmmm, last time I saw Warfield was in Mistmoore, lets go back!", Brodder suggests. Crell and Brodder head to Mistmoore and order the youngsters to guard me corpse.  

"HAW HAW! STOOPID DWARFS!", a familiar voice shouted.  
"Hey its that Troll again, he's in Butcherblok!", the young Girith shouts.  
"Don't leave Warfield's corpse! He may be trying to retrieve it!", Brodder orders.  
The Troll's taunts are in vain as the dedicated Champions stand their ground, minutes pass and the shouting' ceases. A familiar figure approaches me corpse from Kaladim. It be a messenger of Brell in Dwarven form named Kulmar.  

Kulmar reaches down and begins to remove me belongings from my corpse amid gruff questions from the Champions guarding me corpse. "I am Kulmar, messenger of Brell. I've been sent to gather Warfield's possessions and  bring them to the Paladin Guildhall in Kaladim until Brell decides this Champion's fate."  

Warrior Karthar and Priest Girith are ordered to stay and watch over the stripped Dark Elf corpse, whilst the others follow Kulmar to Kaladim. Arriving' in Kaladim, a confused Lord Dikamek Skunkbane asks, "What has Warfield done to be disfavored by Brell?"  
"It isn't a matter of disfavor, but one of gaining the attentions of Innoruk.", Brodder informs. "I fear Those who venture into the night and shine like a torch indeed do attract the attention of the wrong gods."  
Hours pass and guards Karthar an' Girith grow weary, they head to join the others in Kaladim. "Ack! I told ye not to leave that corpse!", Brodder shouts as he rushes to the coast hoping' that me corpse is still there. No such luck, the Dark Elf remains are long gone and no one know where they went to...  
"Hmm I am not sure what to do, I am lost in the moment of losing our Lord, maybe we need to grieve for him this day, and drink lots to honor him.", Crell suggests dutifully.  
Following' Crell's advice, the Dwarves and Gnomes drink in my honor and wait for a sign from Brell...  

Sunday, Nov. 12th, 1999. Kulmar, Messanger of Brell, returns once again in Dwarven form, to the Paladin Guildhall in Kaladim and he has brought me with him. "Brell has decided the fate of this Champion.", Kulmar speaks atop the guildhall. "I shall now return his possessions, which have been protected herein this guildhall over the past week." A flurry of questions hit the Messenger. But he doesn't answer, "I hear Brell's call and I must leave you, Champions. Remember Valor and Honor!" With those words, the Messanger is gone. I bow in humility to Kulmar as his image shimmers and fades away.  
Addressing' the guild, "Ahhhh, good to be back lads! By Brell's will, I've been returned to Norrath!"  
Cheers erupt as my brothers welcome me home. "Last weekend we sieged Mistmoore in hopes of finding this Dark Elf Slaver from Nerriak... we were successful. Twas me.", I say frowning' in disgust.  
Audible gasps of astonishment are heard from those gathered, "What m'lord? That can't be true!"  
"Aye the King of Nerriak was ordered by Innorruuk himself to capture me. There was powerful magic at work. A spell was cast upon me while in captivity, one cast by Innoruuk, one that could only be broken by death...", I continued, "It was Innoruuk's divine plan to use me to capture the inhabitants of Faydwer. I do not remember my days when the spell was invoked, but I do remember everythin' else quite clearly. When Lord Crell slew me the spell was broken."  
Crell cries...  
"No worries laddie, ye saved me!", I consoled the warrior. "Fer yer Valor and Honor I dub thee Warleader! ALL HAIL WARLEADER CRELL!!"  
The cheers die down, and I continue, "Brell's divine intervention has given me one more chance at life, and to prevent Innoruuk from interfering' Brell has given me new found strength! However there be a downside, my skills are but a fraction of their past."  
Brodder hands me a drink. Takin' a sip, "..but, tis good to be home again, lads." 

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