The funniest thing is that half of those players weren’t actually there for that battle 
“The Disciples of Treasure” could be anywhere from 6 to 2 people depending if your talking about now or back then, but thats confusing so i wont count it for this xD
who wasnt there?!?!?!
Snugly Bunny, Half Noodle Boy, Million Dram Boy, one or 2 healers (can’t tell which is who lol)
Yeah, I heard a tale once…
It’s not a story The Order would tell you. It’s a pagan legend.
Something you’d never hear spoken of in the polite company of Warriors and heroes, but maybe by a daft fool carrying on at Lakewood Inn, or maybe in the basement of that one building in Old Kingsport back in the day, you know the one right? You look like the type.
It’s about magic.
Witches, warlocks, wizards, mages; whatever you’d call 'em, whatever they go by in these times.
They have blessed wands of magic, and they draw these shapes – runes – with 'em. In the air, if you can believe it. They have to be very precise and accurate too, only the exact shape of the rune will conjure the magic, there’s no faking.
Heard plenty of folks have tried it in secret initiations and quickly gave up, preferring the ease of squeezing the trigger of a gun to produce a ‘bang’ than the delicate artistry & steady hand & endless careful practice required for magic spell casting of a ‘boom’.
But there was this one Rune Mage…
They say this mage didn’t have proper form, wasn’t mindful, cared not for rules. This mage didn’t study the textbook wand casting positions. Didn’t practice rigid casting styles like everyone else.
This mage would run into a dungeon and swing the wand wildly and loosely in the air and cast arcane ray every time; the favored spell. Some reports of comrades suggest that those arcane ray runes were so free-form, so non-conformist that their lines were bent & curved forward or back, and that they sometimes even started with a curly-Q and ended with other unnecessary serif flairs.
They called this style Drunken Arcane Ray Style.
The covens don’t teach it.
Tinny, drunk herself, won’t even mention it to you.
They say if you can understand and cast arcane rays in the Drunken Arcane Ray Style, that the entire rune magic paradigm opens up to you and no longer will you be restricted to casting the precise, accurate lines of known runes.
But what would I possibly know about that? I’m merely a humble scholar of the arts…
::returns bottle of liquor to backpack::
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Also to help fuel or fluff some stories, here’s a post from way-back-when that can serve as inspiration 
After reviewing this historical documentation, my take away is that the custom of shaving one’s head before donning a hat is finally explained.
–The Tradition of Shaving to Don a Hat
In the olden days toward the beginning of our civilization, hats were so coveted that each individual receiving a hat had its own celebration! Hats were bestowed upon hunters deemed worthy, and as part of their acceptance process, hair is removed so that nothing distracts from the honorable display of the hat. This tradition remains to this day, and that’s why only uncouth folk not steeped in our traditions have hair despite wearing a hat.
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So, I wrote this after seeing the woman who glitches in heathrun and just keeps walking in the water:
Do you know the place where the water hits the frozen land? Where everything is so frozen you get the ice right in your bones? It’s a land where nothing should be able to live on, and yet somehow they do.
Up there is full of draugar, of the people who walk between both worlds. Between the warmth and depth of the water, and the frozen isolation of the land. They both live and do not at the same time. Yet, there is one creature, one woman who would name herself draugr, but in reality she is something more.
She walks the same path everyday, and if you’re paying attention you’ll see how she walks slowly into the water. She keeps going and going, deeper and deeper into the depths of the sea. You’d think she drown, but no air bubbles or body float to the surface. And if you know where to look, and when, you can see her emerge out of the water again- as alive as before.
Now, you’re thinking, surely this is the definition of a draugr, but you’d be wrong. She’s not some creature that is both alive and dead, not at all…she’s something worse, something more sinister, I’d wager.
I saw her, I saw her and I asked myself who she was…why she was. I attempted to ask around in town, but the Draugr there don’t really talk- and any you find outside would be far to removed from humanity to tolerate. They’re vicious, dangerous, and will play no part in this tale.
If I could not learn what I wanted to know from the local draugr, then where would I go? I needed to know who this woman was. I decided to visit the library, but I had to be careful. I didn’t want to be accused of researching the pagan magics since that would mean certain death.
I had to sneak into the library. Luckily, I still had the key. It was far too dark for me to really be able to see, so I had to use the ancient forbidden arts. I searched every book that dared, but I did not really find anything that mentioned this strange woman.
I fled the library, heading out to one of my favorite strolls. Out near Olds Kingsport, you can hear the faint song of the dead while staring at the stars. I sat, and I listened, racking my brains for where I could go next. And that is when I heard it- a sad, low song. One that, if you were paying attention, you wouldn’t have heard. Or maybe I imagined all of it, in my fervor to have the truth. I cannot say; nor, can I really remember the words of the song.
I remember the feeling they gave me. I felt dread, and loss. Something stolen, taken away. But not the simple attachment of the item lost, but one of the deeper connection- like the lost of self-worth, or her confidence…something taken that deeply altered the strength of this woman.
In that moment, I remembered a fairy tale that my grandmother used to tell me about the older ways, about the pagan ways. In the ice and snow, there were creatures which wore their souls visibly. It was said the the worst thing that you could do was to take their souls from them. In an attempt to get their souls back, they would do whatever you needed of them- marriage, family, anything. But the act of taking their souls would be such a grievous offense…and once they found their souls they would leave again, taking their true forms and returning to the seas they love.
At first, I thought that this woman was evil. But I realize now, that I was wrong. She must be a woman who was lost, who lost something so important…she must be some sort of Selkie…
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–The Tale of the Stags
Have you ever wondered why the stags right by town attack supposedly unprovoked? The ones that viciously attack if you get on their side of the fence? Long ago, before people settled in Highsteppe, it was a stag paradise. When people took it over and founded Highsteppe, they tried to force all the stag down the hill, but those that came to be known as the king stag wouldn’t have it! They defiantly remain to this day, rabidly protecting what’s left of their territory, despite how often they’re hunted - they will not back down! However, during the great stag and human struggle over that land, some stags fled for their lives to a new land, adopting the snowy exterior that matched their icy and numb interior with the injustices they suffered. These vengeful ice stags came to be known as Heathrun Bucks since their dominion is over the ghost town of Heathrun. They will attack invaders not only in this life, but the next. They say that if you ventured out to the Frosted Spit in the olden days, you could always see at least one ice stag watching the graveyard… Forcing those ghosts to remain trapped inside. Not even in death will they let their territory be invaded again, and that’s why the Frosted Spit doesn’t have any almas sprite. The settlers that tamed the ice land and founded Fisherman’s Crust, upon realizing the plight of their many dead, decided to overfill the old graveyard with snow to provide some protection. They determined that the only safety was through the water, so they built a funeral pyre on a boat next to the graveyard that would allow the spirits to escape. That body of water was named The Bay of Two Souls since they had the custom of sending the departed out two at a time so that none had to make the journey alone. The settlement of Heathrun was not so lucky. Some settlers, fleeing from the bucks, in desperation jumped straight into the freezing waters. Some say if you survive the trek, you can still catch a glimpse of someone jumping off the dock and sinking until out of sight. Settlers have long abandoned Heathrun, but bold travelers say that two mages and one warrior trapped between the two realms can sometimes still be seen in that ghost town, guarding the water’s edge, offering safe passage to any unlucky enough to be attacked in that land. Or do they keep souls trapped in that bay? The funeral pyre boat cannot sail away; it’s blocked in by the dock…
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Female Morgan freeman is elk. Snugly bunny is luvstosmooch. Million dram boy would be Johann. Disciples of treasure would just be the Treasure Boys (rip). SSS is probably draven. HealBullets, overhealer, and budget overhealer can all either be Sour, Cinyman, or Pyarrows. Sharkie might be scott (not so sure). Don’t know who laminar or half noodle boy are, I wasn’t there for that fight.
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The Carnivorous Elk
Everyone knows that the elk found in the plains wont run if startled, but hunt you down. And unlike the grass eating wargs found at the orchard, their head is held high.
The reason is, they are on the lookout for new pray to eat. They won’t eat grass, but flesh. Don’t believe me? Just ask the hunters! The remains of humans are easily found hidden within there corpses.
(Inspired by the huge amount of Rotten fingers I find by killing elks, and the fact that the Wargs seem to be eating grass)
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Nice! I like the explanation for the drop 
While thinking of some more stories, I’m going to share a funny misadventure. There were five of us partied traveling through the thick trees in the jungle. Two perished in battle, and a warrior wanted to practice resurrection on his level 1 mage. As he began to cast, FELID! Dead. The other survivor and I cleared the area, I took a nice look around to make sure there weren’t any mobs, and I casted resurrection.
The very second they came into view, FELID POUNCE OUT OF NOWHERE! one shots the level 1 mage and then bounds off
Felids must hate mages???
It’s definitely because even nature thinks witchcraft and wizardry is an abomination like Guardian Bart (or at least, that’s what they tell themselves to justify it).
Defiant runemages, unite!
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I was thinking about this more…and I bet was happened was that Tinny went out and came across a Felid. In her attempt to polymorph it, she accidentally removed it’s orange color…leaving it pure white! That Felid hid in the frosted spit, and bread a new breed- on with a particular hatred for mages. So, you defiant runemages need to be careful when you’re wandering around up there!!
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anyone come up with something for elongata yet.
There is at least one in the works 
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shame I thought I had one
By all means, write your own and post it! 
It might inspire someone else to say, “o yea? Well I heard…” and just keeps the stories rolling 
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