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This official news post is copied verbatim from the WoTMUD website. It is copyrighted by wotmud.org.

This update was added on March 26 2007 by Voices of the Wheel.

Dainar awoke to a loud banging in the middle of the night. Immediately aware, he pulled his great claymore from its sheath and stared into the darkness, listening. The banging was repeated, now easily identifiable as coming from the front door. He padded silently to the door and looked through a hidden peephole. Before the door was the shape of a large person, a smaller figure in his arms. The clouds in the sky blocking the moonlight obligingly slid aside and washed the two strangers in bright moonlight. Dainar frowned thoughtfully as he slid the bolts and opened the door. "Welcome. I don't need to tell you I thought--"

The visitor cut him off. "--I'm dead. I know. Everyone thinks so. I'm not here lightly." The man shrugged his muscled shoulders, revealing the person he carried to be a sleeping boy, no older than ten years of age. "No time to explain much," he said as Dainar set aside his claymore and took the child from him. "Someone wants this boy very badly, and I think there may be Shadowspawn after him. Can you guard him?"

"Of course," Dainar assured him. "He will be safe with us. Are there others?"

The man paused, thinking hard. "I think there may be," he said slowly. "If you know of any boys under his age, I strongly advise you to get them to safety. As soon as I know more, I will send word."

Dainar nodded, and the boy in his arms opened his eyes sleepily. "Stay here," the man who brought him said. The child nodded, exhausted, and fell back to sleep.

The man turned to leave, his shoulders set in the familiar stance of a veteran campaigner. "The Light guide you, Lord--" Dainar began.

With a harsh laugh, his visitor cut him off. "No longer, Dainar. Just an old bull," he said as he walked back out into the night.

As Dainar shut the door behind his visitor he muttered under his breath, "Right. An old bull."

Somewhere else, the second day...

The Illianer carefully lead a boy across an open plain. His battle-hardened face, framed by a short beard leaving his upper lip bare, set off his cobalt blue eyes. The boy he lead was tired, and Herron of the Illian Companions was as tight as a new bowstring.

With good reason. Defying the laws of nature, a darkness approached. A myrddraal stepped from obscene shadows and turned his attention to the child. "Come with me, boy," he hissed. Compelled to obey, the boy broke away from Herron and began to move towards Razhak the Fade.

Herron grimly drew his weapon...

Somewhere else, the same time...

The ageless face of the woman showed strain, her sharp movements causing the red fringe draping from her shawl to swing wildly. High in a room at the top of a tower, she was surrounded by her worst nightmare. Little hellions screamed and shouted around her, battling each other for sweets and toys while others sat quietly, behaving nicely. Praying for patience, Petra Sedai suddenly laughed as she realized she was babysitting a bunch of unruly boys. The irony sent her into near-hysterial laughter, which made all the boys turn their eyes to her. Too late she realized her mistake, as a small army of boy-children thought she was actually playing with them!

Somewhere else, a similar scene...

A pen of rocks surrounded the little boys who, thanks to a complicated weave of Spirit, believed themselves to be in a room full of fanciful toys while a patient, grandmotherly nursemaid watched over them. In reality, Eleanor the Dreadlord vowed death and destruction to the next being who dared say a word, any word, about her being a babysitter. Guarding these prizes for the Great Lord was important, and she was the most powerful to stand in the way of any would-be rescuers. Bryan poked his head over the rock wall...

Somewhere else, a little later...

"HOLD THE LINE!" Alevere shouted as a wave of trollocs flooded towards the tower in Tarendrelle. The earth was already soaked with blood from the fallen as Shadowspawn surged forward, intent on capturing the boys hidden within. From underneath his conical helmet Alevere's eyes scanned those beside and around him, praying that the twenty or more would be able to stand against the evil approaching them. From his left he saw a girl in Novice whites -- Caitlyn, his wearied mind indentified -- as she chivvied the others girls with her into action. A bestial roar went up from the trollocs, and then the battle began. Again.

Somewhere else, far away...

His bulk hidden by the armor of the Deathwatch, Callende looked over the sand dune towards the boys playing there under the watchful eye of the morat'torm. "Barbaric," he said to himself. "Kidnapping small children, now. The Oathbreakers have sunk to a new low. The Empire will see them safe now," he said, nodding towards the children. His companion nodded, and then his eyes glazed over in shock. He fell forward and toppled to the ground, a trolloc's handaxe buried in his back. From over the sand came the cries of an advancing trolloc fist.

Somewhere else, the third day...

The dawn of the third day came, and it was as if the entire world held its breath. Wearied beyond sense, in pockets all over the world men and women waited for the next charge of a trolloc fist. As the sun broke over the horizon the world began to wake as birds tentatively began to sing and crickets ceased their chirping. The dawn broke and the battle-shocked protectors in Tarendrelle, in Maradon, in Amador, in Cairhien all realized at the same time that this was no lull in battle. It was over.

Somewhere else, at the same time...

The man stroked his pointed beard and smiled smugly. "They will all be tested, of course," he said to the woman beside him.

She smiled back, her face almost glowing in excitement. "We have to be right this time," she said. "He has to be among them. The time is right."

"Let us hope," the man nodded. "The Great Lord would be most pleased if this raid yielded such fortuitous results. And, no doubt, you hold no small pleasure in such a hope as well."

The woman smoothed her gown, the silvered belt glinting in the light of the sun as it began its climb into the Heavens. "We shall see," was all she said. But her beautiful face betrayed her hope, and more.

As the dawn breaks...

"I HATE THIS!" the woman screamed, her mouth twisted in fury. "OH LIGHT, MAKE IT STOP!"

The woman next to her grasped the woman's hand as it tightened in a vise-like grip. Another woman clucked her tongue and wiped her hands on a towel. "Don't be such a child," she admonished the first woman. "It will be over soon. Once more, now, be strong!"

A group of women clustered around, some watching, some not. They were all here to help if need be, all concerned for their sister. They all heard her scream of pain, and then a moment of silence.

A lusty wail shattered the sudden quiet. "It's a boy!" the midwife announced. "You have a son!"

Yet one shall be born to face the Shadow...and there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth at his rebirth.

Quest results will be tallied and posted later today. We hope you enjoyed the fun.

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