This is a history of my Everway Character, and his adventures and misadventures as seen through his eyes. Glad to have you visiting.
 ALL MATERIAL IN THIS FILE IS UNDER COPYRIGHT BY ARIEL GOLD
Twice-Cursed
 What do I say about my past? Volumes and volumes
. . . and some of it is even true.
My name is Twice-Cursed. "An interesting name,"
folk are wont to comment. My responses are: "It has merit," or, if I am
in a bad mood, "It suits me." After that, they seem disinclined to
pursue the topic further. It is as well. Most folk do not want to know
why that is my name. If any asked, I would be more than willing to
explain the truth of it, but none do--and I seldom volunteer any truths
about myself.
Where am I from? Oh, here and there. I'm an
itinerant storyteller by trade--and by necessity. I do not know my realm
of origen, for my parents were forced to flea from it before I was even
weaned. My mother died soon while I was still young, in the harsh
conditions of a dragon's cave.
A dragon's cave. Yes indeed. Ah, the story
behind that. Dragons are, after all, cursed. Do you really want to
know? Very well, then. My mother was a beautiful elf, and much prized
as a bride in her village. A wizard heard of her beauty, and wanted her
for his own. But she had given her heart to a simple huntsman: my
father. She rebeled against the wizard's will, running off with the
huntsman in the night. They lived a time, ever fleeing from place to
place, and were handfasted by a priest of the Mother. They conceived a
child soon after, and thought they had finally found saftey.
Alas, they were very wrong. The wizard caught up
with them. On finding my mother pregnant, he no longer wanted her for a
wife, but if he could not have her, he determined no other would. Loathe
to destroy her beauty, even still, he took out his wrath upon my father,
changing him into a mighty gold dragon, and extending the curse to all
his line. Thus my parents could be together always, but could never join
as two of the same race do.
My father left, to give my mother peace in which
to have her child--for no sane being wants a dragon around. I was born:
Twice-Cursed. Cursed once to be my father's son, and cursed once because
all dragons are cursed. I am not a were-thing. I am a shape-shifter,
elf and dragon forms, each as true to me as the other--or as false. I
had little control over my form when I was young, and that is why my
mother finally fled to be with my father.
As I said, no one wants a dragon around. I
travel from place to place as an elf, telling stories because lying comes
easily to me. I do well for a time, and then a circumstance comes which
forces me to take my dragon form--for knowing what was done to my
parents, I cannot bear to see injustice done another, and might often
prevails in such situations. And when my task is done, I must leave, for
none would have me stay, knowing what I am.
I travel alone, with only the clothes on my
back--for they transform with me--, a staff which I can clutch even in
dragonform, and a few jewels for trade--my horde, I call it, for I am
fairly certain that that is where the urge comes from to keep jewels,
rather than coins--which I can carry in my mouth in dragonform. My fire
my burn the pouch, but not the jewels.
All told, it does keep life interesting, if
lonely.
Ah, the tales I can tell. Usually my adventures
are small--or at least were, until my twenty-second year. I was in
Everway, observing people and telling the occasional tale for my supper,
when I found myself being hunted. I knew that in that city, if I were
being hunted it was for a reason, and I would do well to let myself be
caught. Indeed, it would seem I had little choice. The man approached
me calmly and said, "We know about you, dragon-elf." Of course, I
protested that I was but an itenerant storyteller, but my protests were
ignored. His family and the king himself knew my nature, and would
betray me if I did not do as I was requested. I went with the man to see
the king.
Two others arrived as I did, and another was
already there. We were required on a quest into dangerous territory, we
were told. We were needed to go to the realm of Stonedeep. It had been
out of contact with Everway for three hundred years, but those here said
it was recorded as a place for good trade. However, no one knew why it
had been cut off so long, nor what it was like now, and the intervening
realms were known as dangerous.
At this point, a young woman entered the room.
The king introduced her as our guide, Opal. She was a sturdy-looking
woman, by her gait, well aquianted with living outside of cities. She
would go, we were told, only as far as the gate to Stonedeep.
I said as little as possible throughout this. I
wanted nothing to do with such a "quest," but found myself with little
choice. The othersan oddly dressed woman named Shadowall Fool-Court, a
man dressed in rough skins and furs named Greenmoon, and a smaller,
delicate woman named Uniawent for their own reasons, which I did not
know then. So we left. The trip to the gate took us seven days, which
passed rather uneventfully. There was no good water along the way
except for what we brought with us, and the gate we travled to was
situated among ruined standing stones. This did not look like any way I
wished to go, that was certain, but it was where we were sent. Opal
said she would wait some days for us, and then return on her own if we
did not make it back. Cheerful thought. We joined hands and passed
through the gate.
It was dark when we emerged, and we were in the
ruins of a once fine courtyard in Stonedeep. We knew, through some
device I was not certain of, but had encountered before, that three days
had passed for the realms in the instants we were in the gate. The sky
above us had familiar stars, with Scorpio highest . . . an omen for good
or for ill, meaning change and death.
We inspected our surroundings. There were
heiroglyphs on the walls . . . readable, so not so much had changed
between the languages of the realms, even in thee hundred years. These
said something to the effect that this realm was now ruled by Isis. I
knew the name well enough. She is the goddess of the dead.
As we puzzled over this, the still night was
shattered by a scream. My companions and I ran to see what the
commotion was. I turned out to be a woman being chased by shadowy
things. She called out that she was Rarity, and needed help. I thought
the latter was rather obvious. As the shodows drew nearer, it became
clear they were undead ghouls of some sort.
We fought them. What else could we do? It was
a fairly short battle, but rather messy. The ghouls had a weakness,
which we discovered, in their chests. Their rotting flesh was soft
enough that we could easily spear this part with the staffs which were all
Greenmoon, Unia, and I carried. Greenmoon and I were wounded; we only
took minor scratches from the ghouls, but they were nasty and burned and
began to fester almost immediately.
This page is under construction.
last updated on June 4, 1996
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