Category Archives: Castle Mistmoore


You say, ‘Hail Talisyn Stormwing’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘Greetings, _____. You must forgive my rather [inhospitable mood] this day, if of course it comes forth to you in what speech we have.’

You say, ‘What about your inhospitable mood?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘ I am merely… troubled by the conditions of my change in stations. I once guarded Kelethin from the vile Crushbone Orcs, but it seems a new terror has arisen within our forests. It is the duty of a ranger, and I do not complain in the least, but the [mutilation and corruption] that slithers through the forest still brings a pain of anger to my heart.

You say, ‘What about the mutilation and corruption?’

Talisyn Stormwing furrows his troubled brow in confusion and surprise. ‘You need ask such a question and receive answers in the form of words to understand what it is that surrounds you, Danian? Have you neither heard nor seen the vile creatures that inhabit the putrid lands of Mistmoore to the south? Or have you not seen the creatures forged from the very shadows that lie not to far from our homelands? The Teir`Dal beasts that have made camp not too far from the entrance of Mistmoore’s lair? These evils, some ancient beyond our pilgrimage from Tunaria, have torn and marred these precious, beautiful forests. Unfortunately, a [greater evil] has descended, and thus my presence here.

You say, ‘What about the greater evil?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘Not too far in the recent past did Firiona Vie, the lovely and gracious Champion of Tunare, return to our homelands. In her return, she sought to bring forth the avatar of our sacred Mother to seek guidance on her path — the path of Elven Kind. Little did the Champion know that The Faceless was close at bay, and through means unknown, his power was greater than that of our sacred Mother’s. In a petty display of his new found power, the Lord of Fear [furthered the corruption] of these natural lands.

You say, ‘What furthered the corruption?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘I cannot say for sure, and neither can our elders. None know for certain how or why this was done. All we know is that [the beings that were closest to Tunare’s grace] were reaved from her grasp, and now roam as the undead or worse.

You say, ‘What about the beings that were closest to Tunare’s grace?’

Talisyn Stormwing closes his eyes and bows his head for a moment as if in mourning. ‘The Faerie Folk that called this place their home have been changed into unnatural monsters of Cazic’s will. They thirst for mortal blood and flesh, and have lost all innocent, grace, and reason that was once their existence. But they seem incomparable to [the greatest loss] to be turned in Cazic-Thule’s favor.

You say, ‘What is the greatest loss?’

Talisyn Stormwing raises his head, his features remaining solemn but stern. ‘Equestrielle, the maiden unicorn, was corrupted by The Faceless himself and through vile trickery, he convinced the angered and frightened Firiona to remove her horn to cease the spreading of the disease. In honor and regret, the Champion did so, but now that once beautiful and sacred being roams as a blood thirsty, uncaring monster who kills any and all mortal beings. She is why I was sent, as The Heartwood Master knew that any other would end her life in mercy or the others she would harm and thus he entrusted to me [these tasks].’

You say, ‘what about these tasks?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘I am here to observe, warn the travelers that would pass through these infected lands, and to gather what evidence that I can to further the research of the council of magics at Felwithe. However, as I am the only one that has been charged with such tasks, it has been quite difficult. I do not know if I can withstand seeing such destruction and chaos before even I find mercy to be the proper route. If only they would send [assistance], if only for a day.’

You say, ‘I will assist you’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘I would be eternally grateful for your company, _____ and your pledge to this cause. However, I cannot expect anything of you. If [you are sure] that you would be willing to aid all of the Faydark, then I will be willing to give forward what knowledge I have gathered thus far.’

You say, ‘I am sure’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘Then I thank you, _____, and the entire Faydark thanks you. I have been studying and gathering evidence of the [Frightlings], or the distorted Pixies. I have already given several specimens of these creatures to the researchers, but I have found a great use for them beyond research. If you can bring to me one of their every so tiny skulls, I will do all in my power to cleanse that object so that it may aid you further in the tasks of the forest.’

You say, ‘What about the frightlings?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘The Frightlings are what the corrupted Pixies have been calling themselves. I have found through my extensive scouting of the area that one called Bilewretch who acts as their leader. I have dreamed for many days now of his destruction at my bow, but unfortunately that would cause me to abandon my post, and leave myself vulnerable to attacks from the [Undead Sprites.] However, as you have pledged yourself to the cause, if you would bring me proof of Bilewretch’s destruction, I shall reward you greatly for your service.’

You say, ‘What about the undead sprites?’

Talisyn Stormwing says ‘They are the twisted monsters of what used to be the noble Faeries of the forest. Now, they are but fleshy beings that desire only to bring death for their dark amusements. As with the Frightlings, these unnatural beasts are lead by a fearsome creature that has named himself Bloodboil. Another despicable being that I wish to bring a swift death to, but cannot for fear of abandoning my post and failing my master. If you would be so brave and bring to me proof of this monster’s demise, your efforts will not go unrewarded.’

Ulan Meadowgreen

You say, ‘Hail, Ulan Meadowgreen’

Ulan Meadowgreen says ‘Greetings. I am Ulan Meadowgreen of the family Meadowgreen. My brother and I are the best armorers in all of Norrath. We craft [armor] for the bravest warriors in the land. If you are a warrior of renown, and are interested in our armor, I have some mighty [labors] you might wish to attempt for me.’

You say, ‘What labors?’

Ulan Meadowgreen says ‘Only those who can prove themselves mighty warriors deserve to wear our crafted armor. While my brother prefers trophies, I seek instead tasks which will help my craft and my people.’

You say, ‘What armor?’

Ulan Meadowgreen says ‘I smith [bracers], [greaves], [pauldrons] and [breastplates]. My brother Shakrn smiths helms, gauntlets, boots and vambraces.’

You say, ‘What breastplates?’

Ulan Meadowgreen says ‘Deep within the depths of Castle Mistmoore lives a particularly deadly clan of werewolves. These are the servants of [Mayong], and he has enchanted the most ferocious of them that their talons might cut through steel. I wish to study these talons, and see if I can transfer the enchantments from them to the crafted armor I make. If you bring me werewolf talons and 3 [rubies], I will give you a breastplate, the likes of which you have never before seen.’

You say, ‘Who is Mayong?’

Ulan Meadowgreen says ‘Mayong Mistmoore is the ruler of Castle Mistmoore. He has ruled there for centuries, and will most likely rule for centuries more to come. It is said that he does not age.’

Ulan Meadowgreen says ‘I am most impressed that you have returned from Castle Mistmoore with a werewolf talon. You have justly earned your crafted breastplate.’

Barkeep Uulianu

You say, ‘Who is Mayong Mistmoore’

Barkeep Uulianu says ‘Mayong Mistmoore is a reclusive person. None have seen him. He stays within Castle Mistmoore. His supplies are picked up at the docks of Butcherblock by his servants. Every so often they stop at Kelethin or Felwithe. It is best they do not come at all. They reek of evil.

You say, ‘where can I find Mayong Mistmoore’

Barkeep Uulianu says ‘It is said that Castle Mistmoore is a dark and dreary place. None visit there. I have heard of a few who have received invitations. They have never returned or been seen since. Do not seek this place out. No good shall come of it.

Portrait of Zanne

This is a portrait of a beautiful female. At first you believe it to be of a human female, but on closer inspection, she has traits akin to elves. You notice some engravings along the arch of the portrait.

My beloved blesses our faithful with mirrored tokens of Zanne. My beloved imbues our great constructs with gifted hearts.

To the sentry of the pools and the stones of leering, a heart of diamond. To the favored stone and the stones of jeering, a heart of emerald. To the count of my libation or the castle’s steward, a token of diplomacy. To the master of keys and his student, a token of harmony. To the powerful puritan or those who follow, a token of virtue. To the lord of the plains or those who are honored, a token of harvest. To the mistress of the dance or her ballroom troupe, a token of charm. To the faithful wretch or his despicable kin, a token of bravery. To the immortal artist or the soothsayers, a token of eternity.

With these gifts, treasures are safe from ill hands. When her beloved is adorned, open her vault, you can.

EverQuest Atlas: Maps of Myrist (Castle Mistmoore)

Eternally blanketed in enchanted darkness, the foreboding towers of Castle Mistmoore rise from a thick haze of mist enshrouding the whole of the Lesser Faydark. This castle has stood since before the elves fled Tunaria, now named Antonica, before the dwarves had seen the light of the Norrathian sun. It is rumored that the builder and inhabitant of the castle is an ancient vampire named Mayong, Lord of Mistmoore, who has lived well over ten thousand years. The elves of the Faydark know to stay clear of the castle and its surrounding lands out of a well-justified fear of the castle and its monstrous, bloodthirsty inhabitant. Few that have ventured to the castle have lived to tell the gruesome tale of the undead abominations that lurk within.

Like its master, the castle and its origins remain shrouded in an impenetrable mystery and likely shall until the vampire lord deems it necessary to reveal such secrets, which in all likelihood will never come to pass. The castle itself is a structure of breathtaking, cathedral-like architecture, greater than any noble’s palace and able to grip the heart of even the bravest of knights in a vice of unfathomable terror.

All recognizable inhabitants of the area are of Teir’Dal descent, although why the lord holds a preference for this racial monogamy among his servants remains unknown. Many have concluded that the vampire lord was once a Teir’Dal himself, as grand portraits of a Teir’Dal nobleman adorn the castle’s interior walls. None have been able to ultimately confirm this suspicion.

LDON 13 – Search for Lost Lands

In the warm air of the Commonlands tunnel, Calliav closed his eyes and began running through the countless images and visions filling his mind.

“I see snow, ice, and a great mobilemagic with no face. There may have been a face once, but it is gone now,” he whispered. “There is little more to that, I’m afraid.”

Nedaria stood close and kept her hand on his forehead, helping him slow the rush of thoughts. Morden took notes in a code only the most trusted Wayfarers Brotherhood could understand.

“Now I see blood. Lots of blood. The dead are walking, breathing, reanimating. They are unholy and feed in the most despicable ways. I see a castle . . . but there is much underground. Much more,” Calliav said.

There was a pause as Calliav searched his thoughts. Suddenly, he winced and his face lengthened.

“Confusion, fear. The walls are collapsing and sand is rushing in. Half blood, half sand. Now they are all in sand. They do not know that the wrath of Solusek Ro has passed,” he said in low tones. His cheeks glistened with tears of sadness.

Calliav’s chest heaved as he took a deep breath. He paused again. Under his eyelids, his eyes fluttered wildly.

The hush around them was broken as Calliav gasped so suddenly that air whistled through his teeth.

“Oh my, the paladins are lost. I see the frogloks blessed by Mithaniel Marr are transformed. A curse holds their souls. I feel the burning hate of a god,” Calliav panted. “And the orcs. The orcs have risen. Goblins have been overrun and enslaved.”

Morden and Tondal looked to Nedaria. In both of their eyes, Nedaria read the need for confirmation of Calliav’s ramblings. In many ways, the possibility of undiscovered lands felt too good to be true. Morden also had trouble believing that he could have ever missed such places in his travels.

Nedaria looked at both of them and nodded.

“These visions he is sharing are not fantasy. They are real. There is much strife deep within the earth . . . and darkness,” she said.

Morden turned around to see proud members of the Wayfarers Brotherhood sharing past adventurers and creating new stories as they ambled about. He cleared his throat.

“Listen up brothers and sisters. Our time has come. Pack your goods and be prepared to travel. Nedaria will lead a camp to the Frigid Planes and Northlands on Antonica. Tondal will lead some of our brethren across the Ocean of Tears to the Butcherblock Mountains on Faydwer,” Morden said. “I will remain here with Calliav and a greater compliment of the Wayfarers Brotherhood. We are about to open the doors to the future of all Norrathians, I expect. Off with ye!”


Bloodmoon Keep

Unfolding the Lore, Pt 6

Bloodmoon Keep was once the elven holy site known as Faygannen, Temple of the Vines. Decades ago the vampire prince Mayong Mistmoore grew worried at the proximity of the holy site to Castle Mistmoore. He sent his forces to destroy the temple and cover it in a dark curse, trapping the spirits of the slain elves in the halls of the castle. For many years the elven ghosts suffered in silence, unable to pass into the Realm of Growth and the presence of Tunare. Now, with the arrival of Ralkor Bloodmoon, the desolate spirits of Faygannen find themselves twice cursed.

Once the Prophet of Clan Crushbone, Ralkor Bloodmoon failed in a foolish coup to overthrow Emperor Crush. Bloodmoon barely escaped with his life and a small band of loyal orcs into the wilds of the Faydark. Somewhere between the Crushbone court and Faygannen, the Bloodmoon tribe was overtaken by a dark curse and infused with terrible, feral might. The Fangbreakers, a society of werewolf hunters, has begun to investigate the source of their new vigor, but have so far had little success.

Travelers say that a new race of lycanthropes stirs within Bloodmoon Keep. Ralkor may be a beast by nature, but his cunning cannot be denied and his ambition knows no limits. Given time the shadow of the Bloodmoon could overtake all of Faydwer.