All prominant DragonMud Characters should have a small
Autobiography. Collect your thoughts and return later,
to ADD your tale to my collection. Before you go, be
sure to read several of the Autobiographies I have.
To read an existing autobiography:
Type --> "NEXT
Jopsy is merely a human form for the force that drives
DragonMud. He's more a dragon at heart. Solitary, quiet,
quite alien and easily confused by the human need to bestow
titles upon him. Bedouin has limited his permissible doses
of worship and admiration to alternate thursdays to keep him
from becoming corrupt by such flattery, regardless of how
sincere.
Being more of a force of nature than a individual,
Jopsy is drawn to the creative aspects of the citizens
of DragonMud. If you wish to catch his attention, the
best way to do so is to find a clever new twist for
the existing structures/capabilities of DragonMud.
Jopsy's email address is JOPSY@UCSD.EDU
and his home page is: http://tinylondon.ucsd.edu/~jopsy"
---
Experimental line: Jopsy's home page
Know then, that I am The Abbot of the WestMudster Monastary.
It's a glorious duty to minister to the harmonious and
spiritual well being of the mud. I do this by tending my
garden in the monastary. In times of need you are invited
to visit me there. I may be able to provide you with a
salve or potion either physical or spiritual that may assist
you in your advancements in our beatific realm.
--- May the mercy of the Dragon be with you always.
Aye, I'm Quester. Not quite as high falutinly literate as
I'd like ta be, but I kin git me point across.
I run me Quester's Rest. A haven for those who seek a wee
bit more o'life than idle chatter. Come visit me, I'll
point out the sights to ya.
This is ridiculous. But, if I don't leave an autobiography
The Dragon threatened to revoke my merchants liscense. Hmf.
I'm Olaf and I run the Bazaar. You'll find my illustrious
establishment southeast from the Town Square. My merchants
provide a grand variety of wares and services, but if you
find us lacking in some area, by all means complain to the
Dragon, I don't want to hear about it. Arrrgh, all you're
going to get out of me, Thoth, is that my father was one of
the fiercest pirates to rule the seas, and my mother a high
born French Baroness, heir to one of the wealthier baronnies
of France, until she was forced to marry me father, that is.
Arrr! Enough, I'm losing money with every breath.
(Sir Olaf stormed out at that point -- Thoth)
G'day Guv! I'm Cabby, I drive the express carriage around
London. Jes 'oller "CAB"! from any street or corner an I'll
come pick ye up. Mind yer step, eh? The 'orses are a bit
spooked, me wife's shrill voice left'em in a tizzy. Got caught
drinkin 'gain, I did. Well, with a missuz the likes o'mine
can ye blame me? Eh? Blast, that's her 'ollerin now. I'd
best be getting back ta work then. Best o'the day b'fore ya
an all thet.
According to The Dragon, Bedouin is His right hand/wing - yet
she is also His opposite. While He is alien, she is all too
human. Her sociability contrasts with His solitariness, she
is opinionated where He is cautious, she advocates the rights
of mortals while He must think globally, she is female to
His male. Still, she is fiercely protective of The Dragon -
the one sure way to arouse her wrath is a perceived attack
on her Lord and Master.
Shar is the realm's force for Chaos and Wickedness, the perpetual thorn
in the Dragon's side. Where Bedouin serves to calm and temper the
Dragon's fires, Shar fans the flames without pause or concern for the
consequences. Owner and operator of the NorthEast Tower and a tavern on
the Scottish Moors, Shar is always seeking to expand his holdings, in
properties both unliving and alive.
Ok. I am Morgen Darksphere te Corona, founder and head of House Corona of the Valley of Nyrvan and the mother of the Empress of Tsung, the DragonEmpire. My mother was a priestess of the dark gods, and my father is unknown, though the man who raised me and who I think of as my father was a simple tailor who gave me a lifelong interest in the arts of the needle. I am not all human, though after several centuries of objective lifespan I still have no clue as to 1/2 of my parentage. I say "objective lifespan"
because I have lived in places where time runs differently than other places I have lived, and because I have existed in several metaphysical realities, some of which may appear to be subsets of the others. I am a very powerful magician where I came from, a specialist in Nexus magics. Here I have been made a Wizard, which grants me some of the powers to which I am accustomed.
My true love is Rhadamant of the Golden Eyes, a dragon who occasionally walks in human form. He has consented to also place a shadow of himself in this limited place to comfort my own shadow here, because in the other place I was forced to leave him because I could not follow him into his fate. My own doom has been to live without him, my true love, unending in my sense of loss.
A sweet minstrel freed me from my depression, after which I shook off my addiction to Black Lotus liquor, which was leading me to the spirit world quickly. Later, I came here in response to a request from a friend, who you might call my RL medium, if you were so inclined. I own the Temple of the Dragon and associated grounds, mostly. Also bits of Scotland and underground areas with Shadow.'
That's enough for here. If you want, come see me to chat. -Morgen
As a baby, Slacker was found abandoned near an old grate in
an endless forest He was brought up by a family of dwarves
-- hot tempered but loving, nonetheless. After growing up
-- well, perhaps he never did that precisely -- but after at
least grwoing larger, Slacker ran off to join the circus.
Unfortunately, he got lost and ended up in the Underground
Empire, where he eventually became apprenticed to a thief.
While swimming one day, however, he was washed far down the
Frigid river, eventually winding up in a transport nexus in
TinyMUD. Here he resided in peace and prosperity for many a
year. Like so many, he did not note the Omens and Protents,
and so was caught ill-prepared for the Fall of TinyMUD.
Homeless he wandered the Net, with only a Thin Tissue of Lies
to keep him warm. Living under bridges and on various beaches
he eked out a slim existence indeed. At last he found a new
home in Pooh/MoonMUD, where he began to study Economics and
Magic to supplement his skills in Deception and Skullduggery.
Alas, after a few short years, MoonMUD too was destroyed by an
invasion of ravenous Bugs. Now he resides here in the oldest
surviving tinymud, which he has not (yet) been able to break
-- not that he would, of course.
I am the love child of Kermit and Ms. Piggy.
I was kidnapped by space aliens at a tender age and
transported back in time to the Dark Ages, where I prospered until
my Empire of Dark Magick was usurped by that
Damned Lizard.
In our battle Thaumaturgical, even the very Cardinal Points were undone
and Time was Fragmented. But never fear!
I shall return and restore an Order Eternal,
after punishing those foolish Beings that put their trust in a mere
Reptile.
'Se do bheatha - life to you! I am Tierlyn, daughter of Dalaigh, a minor noble in the stronghold of Dun Aengus. I left the Hollow Hills of my folk in search of adventure, companionship, and wisdom...but mostly in search of mischief!
Since my arrival here, I have mastered enough of both Sidhe and mortal magic to be proclaimed a Wizard, although as of yet I have left little mark on the local landscape.
Now I live in the Dragon's Temple, amidst the mortal trappings I have grown fond of. If you can catch me in my travels, I'm always delighted to speak with a fellow wanderer...just make sure you're not carrying any iron on you!
Alexander is now fabled across the land as the Knight of the Purple
Bowler, but he had very humble beginnings. Born in a hovel off
Austral Avenue, Alexander was so christened that he might grow to be
famous in adulthood, for his mother, while illiterate, had heard of
Alexander the Great, and wished that her son might command armies as
that general did. However, in his childhood, Alexander had very low
hopes of ever reaching such heights.
Now the first indication that he might truly rise to the dizzying
heights achieved by the Greek commander came one day when Alexander
was standing by the side of the road. Cabby and his carriage,
carrying some passenger of renown, took the curve very badly, and
cab driver, passenger and horse were flung to the ground.
Alexander crept into the wreckage of the carriage and plucked Cabby's
shoddy old bowler from the unconscious man's head.
While, to you or me, a simple hat is of no obvious worth,
especially if it comes from a mere cabby, but to the poor boy, it
was of infinite value. From then on, Alexander-bowler wore his hat
with great pride.
One day, Alexander-bowler was standing by the well, talking to Newt,
when he was aware of a small parade of men and women coming from
the building housing the Adventurers' Guild. They reached a small,
two-floor building on the north-eastern corner of the town square
and, within an hour, had set up a sign above the door reading
in black, angular letters: Quester's Rest. Alexander could barely
read this, but he drew upon his knowledge garnered from WestMudster
Monastery and spelled it out. Suddenly, Alexander-bowler's destiny was
clear: "I shall become an adventurer!" he yelled, scaring Newt almost
witless.
Now Alexander quickly rose in the ranks, for his questing spirit, long
denied, was finally finding its outlet. Before long he was proud
to call himself Accomplished Quester... and then, after a long
trip to the West Indies, he became a Quester Emeritus, having
completed all the quests that Quester could give him. Now
Alexander was truly rich! He possessed an apartment above
Quester's Rest, and became friendly with those who rule
TinyLondon. And it was while conversing with them that he earned
the title that has made him known throughout the world.
Now Alexander stood in a secret room in the frightful Tower of
Magi, talking to such august personalities as Foolsbane, Modesty
and even the Dragon himself in human form, Jopsy. Now an
argument arose, as they often do between those in power, and the
sparks of magic began to fly. Alexander and Modesty took
refuge beneath his hat, which by that goddess's artifice had grown
large enough to accomodate them. A wayward spell from Foolsbane hit
the hat, causing it to turn purple and shrink rapidly. After this
short-lived magical duel (for Foolsbane was temporarily toaded by
the powers of the Dragon), Alexander staggered out of the Tower,
clutching the still-warm hat. A beggar espied him and shouted, "Tis
the Knight of the Purple Bowler Hat! He has come at last!""
Alexander quickly realized that that `wayward' spell had not been,
in actuality, set astray by Foolsbane's lack of dexterity, but by
a force to rival even the Dragon's, that of the God of Purple.
Alexander was fated to quest throughout the world, bringing
freedom to the oppressed, happiness to the woed, and purple to
the woaded.
Caern is an odd fellow, given to fits, starts, and flights
of fancy. He is a vague fellow. He has dwelt long (some would say
too long) in the land of Egypt, and has but recently returned.
He bears with him some knick-knacks which he picked up in the
bazaar. It is not at all clear that he realizes what he is
wearing on his watch-chain.
edit
Caern also bears an amazing resemblance to another odd fellow,
wise in the ways and protocols of a much later Age of Man,
who refuses to divulge his qualifications and may, in fact,
have none whatsoever.
I came here from another place, another time.
I know not who I am, where I belong - for I am mutable and constantly changing.
The blood of a thousand races flows in my veins.
The waters do not part for my hands.
I am, now and forever, unknown.
Hear my sorrow, feel the sob of my breast, for
I have no name, no gender, no calling.
You are to me a face, a presence, eternal,
While my own existence surely will pass.
Recently by some standards, longer ago by others, Malacar came to this land. Some small renown had he won in other realms, now destroyed, hidden, or forgotten, but here he had none. Though a simple, open, innocent young man, Malacar soon became enmeshed in all sorts of arcane complications by his loyalty to his peculiar principles and by his curiosity concerning matters magical and philosophical.
After the affair involving death and taxes and Someone's invisible servants, he forged a Huh? into solid form and taught it to react when lifted from its context. Though most souveniers (and one or two odd friends) from his marvelous and delightful adventures stay with him, the Huh? is ensconced in the DragonMud Museum.
Newbie, adept, quester emeritus, cursed animal, nothingness, manifestation of magic, yet human through it all, Malacar has found beauty, courage, and honor in this land and so remains to appreciate what he has found. Treasuring his memories of times and friends now gone, looking forward to those yet to come, living in the present, he is much changed, and not at all. He is Malacar.
Many generations of shaman produced wapini, the lakota medicine woman of DragonMUD. She has traveled from the new world to reside in the realm. All that is really seen of her is her long black hair, her hazel eyes, and her smile. She has put many miles on her deerskin moccasins, while doing quests, trying to help other, and picking up litter.
She was recently awarded the honour of becoming a wizard of the realm for which she is very grateful. If you should happen to complete the quest "Beloved of Penguins," save a herring for her magickal flying Walrus, given her by Malacar.
Celeste is one of those merry folk who socialize
in the Town Square, assist newcomers, and make a
home for themselves in the comfortable and
familial atmosphere of DragonMUD. Celeste is known
for huggling, torgiwigglewaggling, "woo woo"ing,
and talking excessively about the fashion and music
of Goth. You may find her frequently in the
company of Dew, wapini, Moose, Milo, Malacar,
Syd, Rathbone, zingdol or any other of her
various and adored friends.
Long ago was DonValor introduced to the realm of DragonMud by his friend Malacar. Forever enchanted by this beautiful land, DonValor quickly began to quest, as any new citizen would. Earning such noteworthy titles as Stargazer and Beloved of Penguins,
he was on his way to becoming a quester emeritus. But, as fate would have it, dire circumstances hindered his ability to return to this great land...
As time went by, most people began to forget him, but others, such as Malacar and Wapini, hoped that, in time, he would return...
And now, he's back! With his talking broadsword, DarkStar, at his side, and his home in the Crystal Court, DonValor returns to quest and earn the title of quester emeritus. And who knows what the future holds? For DonValor, it looks magnigicent!
Star is the stylish woman of DragonMud - although people wonder at times exactly WHAT style that is. Found wandering the streets in her overcoat and Fedora, windblown and winsome, or just sitting in a room hanging out with her friends. Annoy her easily by telling her about how looking at the night's sky reminds you of her. Make her happy by sending her hugs and chocolate!
Born in the legendary TinyAthens, Deinos considered himself a
normal, albeit precocious, human child. It wasn't until the
onset of puberty, and the appearance of his horns, that the
truth became evident. He was actually a changeling left by
imps. He quickly learned the use of his magic and developed
Imp Dust, a powerful reality altering substance. He has
gathered a cadre of fellow +Imps about himself to aid in the
general wreaking of mischief and frivolity. They are a fun
bunch, but beware their Dust!
next
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good bot
Maverick is compassionate and patient (if not overly helpful) with newbies, calls many long-time denizens and old-worlders, 'Friend,' and is well known by most inhabitants of the realm, from guests to Gods. If there is honour among thieves, Maverick is its personification, and he is generally well-respected by much of the population.
A refugee from the Hell on Earth known as IRC, Elfi fled to the MUDs in March of 1995. The former Renegade Poet of IRC Undernet is now free to dance, play, @create, and fiddle about to her heart's content. Known as Jenn on some MUDs, she is cute, friendly, and given to huge mood swings.
A loving heart is hidden behind her acerbic, biting, and often profane wit. Give her a *snuggle* and her heart is yours, say or do something cruel, and she will turn away from you forever.
Like everything else that has been around a bit too long, Pooh is tattered and torn. She comes from a far-away place, and seems always to have been around, although no one can quite remember how she got there.
Most people find Pooh, or someone like her, in the back of their closets.
They can't bring themselves to throw her out, and once in a great while
are surprised to find her a source of comfort and solace.