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@comment(Set these values appropriately for each character profile)

@string(name="Nehemiah Dervish me-Abraam")
@string(realname="Nehemiah Dervish me-Abraam")
@string(playername="Player Name")
@string(id="923873")

@include (/mit/abstract/Characters/Sheets/cover.mss)



@MajorHeading(@value(realname))

@i('Twas an ordinary day in Limbo; as ordinary as one who was
anethema to the place could call't, and as much as one could call a
timespan a day in a timeless realm.  'twas like that often.)

@i(For an eternity or more, thou hadst been trapped in the realm of
shadows, moving amongst the inhabitants with sword in hand, leaving a
trail of carnage in thy wake.  This land represented all thou hadst
fought against, and those within, pained by thy presence, would fight
against thee.  Thou hadst been a sworddancer in thy life before; none
could best thee then, and certainly none could best thee here, where
thy sword was the only weapon apparent. Thy existance was dull
beyond measure; only thy faithful sword SoulDrinker kept thee alive,
taking energy from those thou'd slain and passing it on to thee.  Kill,
rest, maim, rest, kill; 'twas becoming routine, until the gaeic
arrived.)

@i(He was from thy realm, obviously, although thou wert wary at first,
lest he be one of the Lords of the Realm in disguise.  He was not; thou
wert willing to, and did, stake thy life on it.  He was a Sorceror
--- affiliated with the Goddess Tualoha, he assured thee --- who had
inadvertantly cast himself into Limbo.   He claimed he could return
both of thee to thy rightful realm, if thou wouldst cooperate, and thou
agreed.  The place where the veil-between-worlds was thinnest was the
spot thou hadst to reach.  Unfortunately, this spot was located deep
within the sanctuary of the most powerful of the demons, the High Lord
Kryssonyx.  Somehow, thou didn't think the demon would allow thee to
open a WorldGate in his living room...)

@i(Familiar with Limbo after thy millenia-long exile, thou wert able
to find the demon's castle quickly. The Sorceror explained the ritual
he would use: drawing energy from SoulDrinker, he would use the gem he
wore (well, thou "knewest" 'tto be a gem, and somehow its energy-ball was
associated with the energy-ball that was the gaeic) to tear a rift in
the veil.  Thou could then escape!)

@i(The gaeic became apprehensive as thou neared the High Lord's
cavernous domain.  He tried to hang back as thou climed the walls, but
somehow found the courage to continue.  All too soon, thou reached the
center of the demon-lair, and saw the reddy-orangy light of Hell
eminating from a portal just ahead.  On the other side would be the
High Lord's library --- and thy salvation.  Something brushes across
thy nerves like a bat's wing, but thou can ignore it. The Sorceror
activates his gem, and thou formulate a plan.  Thou motion for him to
run into the room, as if in terror, and thou will follow, brandishing
SoulDrinker.   Should anyone be inside, they will hopefully be
startled enough to give thou the time thou'll need to open the rift.)

@i(As planned, he dashes through the door-ward, thou in hot pursuit,
SoulDrinker glowing bright.  Just across the room is the weakest point
of the veil-between-worlds, and before the room's inhabitants can stop
thee, thou art there.  The sorceror touches his gem to thy sword,
draining its energy... then takes @b[thy own lifeforce as well!
THOU'VE BEEN TRICKED !!]  Blindly, thou lash out at his retreating form,
but 'tis too late; he has crossed away.  Thy downstroke, however,
connects with someone, and thou art renewed, even as he dies.  His
name was Nikolai, Chancellor to the High Lord; this thou know, as thou
feel his soul, his damnable Chthonic soul, replace thine.  Thou art in
shock; that which has been anathema to thee is now thy essence!  To
say that thou art distraught is an understatement in the extreme...)

@i(Somewhat groggy, thou note an enraged figure charging at thee.)
@b[Chara!] @i(The High Lord himself!  Noting that thy chances of
survival art roughly nil if thou stay where thou art, thou see that the
rift is still wide open.  Thou dive for it, naturally, just as a rather
nasty fireball erupts at thy heels...)

... and find thyself on a castle.  In Gaea's realm!  Thou art home!
That damnable Chthonic preist thought to consign thee to Hell for all
eternity, but at long last, thou art home!  Thou tentatively explore
thy surroundings.  Thou art in a castle, one with extensive properties
between its outer and inner walls... and .... nothing outside.  Or,
rather, quite a bit, if thou like sky.  The whole thing is floating
miles above the land.  Thou thought that the last of the Floating
Castles had fallen; what transpires here?  Magic?

Thou had tried immediately to commune with thy Goddess, Tualoah, but
thou could not reach her.  Something is wrong; the magic in the air
around thee is strong with her presence, yet she does not answer thy
questions.  Something is holding her back, yet she seems to wish to
stay where she is... thou need to find out what is wrong with her.
There must be some of her followers around somewhere, someone who
would know what's been going on since thy banishment!

That brings thee back to the fact that thou did escape, with the
unwitting aid of the Sorceror, who is sure to taste thy blade should
thy paths ever cross again.  Well, only after he gives thee thy own
soul back; even if he only has a trace of it, 'twill be better than
the psychic itch thou've been subject to since the demon-soul entered
thy body.  Quite annoying, really.  Magik has always meant trouble
for thee...

@i(Thou entered the service of Tualoah, the Creator, when thou wert very
young.  As the second son in thy father's line, 'twas expected.
Within time, however, thou grew restless.  Thou had the form and the
line of a warrior, not a preist.  This was not lost on those around
thee, and as soon as thou grew strong enough to hold a sword, thou began
to learn the ways of the bloody road.  Thou took to swordplay with
ease, quickly developing a skill greater than thy masters had ever
encountered.  They sent thee to the Dark Lands, where the BloodDancers
lived, and there thou learned perfection.  Thou returned to the great
Temple of Tualoah, and offered thy sword to the Goddess.  She spoke
to thee then, calling thee and choosing thee.  She named thee SwordDancer,
blessed thee, and made thee the finest of her palladin. Thou shone, and
travelled the lands telling all who would listen of the Goddess, and
offering sport to any who would challenge thee in the Dancer's Circle.
The dance thou'd mastered was deadly, and many who dartd to play
against thee paid dearly.  None ever bested thee, although a breed of
warriors emerged, naming themselves sword-dancers, after thyself.
Thou thought as well of them as thou could; they weren't bad, but not
one of them was thy equal. The best of them was a young woman,
Delilah, who mothered thy only son...)

Which reminds thee... thou ran into a fellow warrior earlier.  He was
quite incensed when thou introduced thyself as SwordDancer.
Evidently, some years have passed since thy banishment, and the
sword-dancers have evolved into a tightly knit brotherhood, and to
name one's self "sword dancer" is a priviledge now reserved for them
alone.  It matters not; thou art THE SwordDancer, and if thou see that
mump again, thou'll challenge him for his impertinence!  

Not that thou're likely to find the time.  Thou've been kept busy these
last few days.  The castle's menagerie seems to have been breached,
and animals have been roaming wild about the halls.  Thou've been
helping with the general round-up, and meeting some interesting people
as well.  The accents art strange (there art two basic dialects; one
is a bit tricky, but thou can generally get the gist of both).  There
was a young woman outside the place of those-about-to-be-buried; she
had narrowly escaped serious injury at the eyes of a cockatrice.  Thou
had been wandering about, helping where thou wert needed, when thou saw
her trip over the beast (yes, somehow she'd been seriously
preoccupied, and hadn't seen it; luckily, 'twould seem).  Before she
could turn and be caught in its baleful glare, thou ran to her side,
noted its position, covered thy eyes and killed the beast.  Thy aim
was true; the cock was dead, and the lady unharmed.  She was stunned,
probably somewhat unnerved by her close call, but otherwise unruffled.
Thou helped her to her feet and offered to escort her to her quarters,
but she politely refused.  As she walked away, thou noted the sword
strapped to her side, and her graceful, precise movements.  A fighter
herself, obviously, and someone thou'd definitely like to know better.
It's been a very long time since thou've had a wench, and getting to
know a woman who could fend for herself, rather than expecting thee to
care for her every whim, would be quite plesant indeed!

Thou'll keep an eye out for both her and the "sword dancer" who dared
to mock thy title, and the Sorceror, too.  As well, thou might keep
an eye out for the Chthonic rascal who sentenced thee to Limbo.  Thou
remember the day well...

@i(Thou'd been fighting on the stairs of the Goddess's Temple longer
than thou thought possible, rallying thy brother Palladin and driving
off the Chthonic warriors.  Suddenly the Dark Priest rose from the
back of the invader's ranks, screaming some foul curse.  Thou thought
at first that he was calling down some fell scourge upon the remainder
of thy forces, but then thou realized that thou alone, the leader of
Tualoah's warriors, were the target.  Space twisted before thee, and
the image of the preist's face was burned into thy memory, the image
thou carried all the days of thy exile.  That and the image of thy
love, Delilah, whom thou'd likely never see again...)

Thou'll certainly keep an eye out for him...!  He needs to pay for
separating thee from thy family and thy Goddess, for all the
atrocities thou've had to endure!  Not that looking for him will do thee
much good; as near as thou can judge, a good many years have passed
since the Holy Wars, and the preist was an old, old man back then.
Maybe his descendants art around, and thou and SoulDrinker could
discuss old times with them.... Hmnm.  That's odd; thou've never before
thought of taking revenge on the innocent descendants of a criminal.
It must be the influence of Nikolai's soul, and it's also probably
responsible for the compulsion to gamble thou've been noticing.  Wild
risks art not thy style, yet thou've taken several while capturing
animals; going after the cockatrice without a mirror, for example.
Thou also could have harmed the lady if thou'd misjudged!  Not only
that, thou've noticed that his soul is losing power, too... when it
drifts away, thou will die as well.  Thou need to locate the Sorceror
and thy own soul as quickly as possible and exorcise the demonic
influence!

Basically, thou have a nice vacation ahead of thee while thou readjust to
having a body, accustom thyself to the world as it now is, attempt to
find out why thy Goddess isn't taking any calls, and try to get rid
of the demon's soul that's grafted itself onto thee by reclaiming thy
own from the Sorceror.  Getting rid of thy accent and adjusting
thyself to modern speech patterns will take a while; thou're still
quite comfortable using "thee"'s and "thou"'s, even though no one else
seems to do so.  Thou'll need to hone thy Weapons Skills --- thou wert
never terribly good with a dagger, and figure thou're still about the
same (+1), while thy skill with SoulDrinker seems to have improved
somewhat (+5) after years of practice in Limbo. Thy Quickdraw is a
bit rusty, but still effective.  SoulDrinker hasn't complained, at any
rate. Readjusting thyself to thy armor (which thou wert wearing when
thou appeared on the world, just as thou had been when thou wert sent
away) has been trivial, although it did chafe a bit the first two days
thou wert here.  Thou still possess the finely tuned Sense of Honor that
Tualoahic Pallidin art required to have ....  unfortunately, that
won't keep thee from Gambling or taking risks whenever thou find the
chance. Thou'll at least keep anyone from cheating on thee; Palladin
can, of course, Detect Lies.  Thou've got a pretty good understanding
of History up until the time of the Holy Wars, but that seems to be
Ancient History as far as these folk art concerned. Oh well.  If thou
get unbearably bored, thou can always go Seduce a wench or two...

@i(Thou art Nehemiah Dervish, known as SwordDancer.  Thou have the
above abilities, thy sword SoulDrinker, thy trusty armor, and a few
trinkets picked up since thy return to the world.  Thou want thy soul
back, thou'd like to run into a few people and deal with them
properly, and do whatever thou can to help the Goddess, assuming thou
can find out what's wrong with her.  Thou dost not have much time
before Nikolai's soul vanishes, leaving thee dead.  And unfortunately,
thou knowest little of this strange world where thou now art. Good
luck...  thourt going to need it!)

@newpage

@include(/mit/abstract/Guides/lore.creation.mss)