A striking black beauty from beyond the depths below the region affectionatly referred to as the Three Towns, one Elf wizard seemd to have a life of struggles and hardships, besieged by constant insults and attacks from the lesser species. Once know as Aluvial Vitae, this elf emerged from the underdark in seacrh of those surface dwellers who slaughtered her closest kin, among the thousands of unrelated. With no family and friends she relied on an odd assortment of powers that never came to complete fruition. Her end came as unconventionally as she lived, to a bet vs a stealthy ranger in the basement of the Black Lion inn.

When the Weezerd first showed her face in the halfing dive of Wheaton, all onlookers matched their dismay with despise. Few respected her, and many mocked her choice of specialization in life, the parry master. Of course the bandits and sthla and goblins were no match in 1 on 1 combat, riposte attacks coming as fast as they could bing their feeble arms to draw iron vs the frail Weezerd. But such an early life was not wrought without agony, mostly in the form of divine messages into the Weezerd's ear of "you know parry only works on 3 attacks right?".

The Weezerd didn't know, but it didn't stop her at first. She lamented and then retorted, "but alas fool, I will only achieve 3 attacks!" Still, she found a way. Stabbing and fireballing her way through an army of Orcs, Iron brotherhood fools, and even ogres, she began to feel the sting of nonviability when she ascended the mountain peaks. Undeterred, hold and confusion and slow brought a difficult but achievable slurry of new powers. Again fellow adventurers were dismayed when the Weezerd resisted knockdown attempts, and stood toe toe with giants 3 times her size. They asked "Why do you pray to a divine God? Dont you know your kind is forsaken here!"

She fought on without hesitation. With wit and skill and heavy handed effort she acquired a team of adventurers who could see past her weakness, and accept her empowered buffs as an ends to a means. Her weak spells supplemented all but the strongest parties, and for a time, The Weezerd had found her place. As she watched her friends grow more powerful, she barely could attain half of their experience and skill, due to a debilitating childhood illness that left her with intense frailty (woo 6 con). Somehow, someway, her one and a half rounds of heightened combat prowess found a role in her quests. For a moment she believed she could succeed, slaying the fer dragon, assembling the tools to cross a fabled portal to new lands.... but it was all a pipe dream

Arriving in Harata, the Weezerd found her self underskilled and equipped poorly. Many tried to help her, but her spells were just too weak and the enemies too many. One cliff fiend was too much for her, even with 6 innate summons and the epic parry rank of 73. Sure, she could block any blow she atempted, but her counteratacks were too feeble to match her foe. In time she gave up trying to help Harata and headed back through the portal, intent on reclaiming a niche as the red giant hunter.

But along the way a more seasoned adventurer approached her, and mocked her to the point of insanity. She was now hellbent on proving her skill and worth. She tried and tried with no success to put an end to this smarmy ranger's hate. But alas she failed. In an outburst of anger she responded to the purportedly neutral but seemingly evil Castratikron's insults by lowering her guard. The ranger quipped "my bear could own you!". She readied for batle and went into the arena pit.....

She calimed, " I will slay this foul beast, Derp, if it is the last thing I do!" She promised she would leave this realm and return to the depths of the underdark if she failed in her attempt. Alas, the master Ranger's bear laid waste to the Weezerd, struck down in but an instant, she remembeed her father's cries "PArry doesnt stop critical hits!". The ranger revelaed his true alignent as tears ran down his face as she turned to leave. "NO!" "Wait! what about at level 40! Youll be good then with pm 10 and lvl 9 wiz spells!". She cried and said "we will never know, I fail here now to smite a simple beast, the fabled manonera will give me no respite......

And into the shadows she went, never to return.

//wiz pm bg = suxxor

Castratikron will think of you for every million-attack cliff fiend he effortlessly slays in half a round! May the memory of Weezerd live on forever!

Ah.. the laughter and the tears.

I'm sorry, mistake there, more like lots of laughter and no tears - WAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I remember weezerd... such a sad story


you WILL be really good at 40 Just find a guild to help you level