a little boy There was this little boy, just your average next door 7 year old boy, and he just loved fairy tales. You remember, the ones with the knights fighting the dragons and saving the princesses? That was his life, that was his pass-time, those were his dreams. That was his little world, as he was walking the streets, he was not there, but in a fantastic kingdom of fairies and trolls, and he was saving the world. When he grabbed his little bag to go to school, he had to walk through dark and dangerous woods, pass through narrow mountain ravines, and explore the bovels of dangerous dungeons. He grew up eventually. Not because he wanted to, even worse, he sort of felt himself forced into it early, but he had no choice. He started to look at life differently. There was no dark forest, it was just an average city park…there were no dungeons, it was just that light was going on the streets at night. But there was a lot of other interesting stuff, he just discovering so much about life, and that kept him busy, the dragons thought long forgotten. Until one day, when he sat in front of a computer connected to the internet, and someone showed him a few magical words he could type…”DikuMUD login” showed up on his computer terminal…and all of a sudden, out of the shadows of the past, out of the dust and the cobwebs of memories long forgotten, here they were all again..the dragons! The knights! The giants! The dwarves! They were there, in this little bluish world of gray letters and colored dots, he had found them all again! And as people passed by him and stopped to look over his shoulder, he did not notice them, for the world around him had faded and magically warped him to a place of mystery, where he was a child again, marvelling at the magical surroundings…And where the world was just looking at letters and words on a computer screen, he had instead found the most prized treasury of his youth again…his childhood dreams and wishes long forgotten…But everyday life, as we all know it, was not beaten yet, it struck back. Emerged in the tiny computer screen, time just flew by him, until one day he woke up and noticed there were things here, in our world, waiting for him, problems to be solved and tasks to be taken. The demons of our existance grabbed him, and shattered his little imaginary world. There were no dragons anymore, no knights…there was illness, tragedy and death in his world. So he stood up from the little computer screen, locked the memories away and grabbed his little bag, ready to continue in life. The path ahead was dark and mysterious, but it was real this time, and it was time he started to walk it… Years passed. The youngster that set out to conquer the world had grown into a man. He had faced a lot of demons of our everyday life and he had become what we like to call “mature”, at least so he thought. Until one day, passing by a newspaper stand, in a moment of nostalgy, he grabbed one of the computer magazines there. He opened it up, to have a quick look, and gasped in amazement…there was a picture of a dragon on the page he was looking at! It was mighty and red and it was breathing a fiery breath, it was like he had imagined it all the time! But this was no imaginary picture, it was a real, well as real as a computer screenshot can be, dragon there, red and huge and it was like he could plunge his claw right out of the computer screenshot and grab our little hero! He rushed home, and he devoured the article framing the pictures. It was about a computer game, he learned, about a game called “Ultima Online”. It was not out yet, but soon to come. From that day on, he eagerly anticipated that game. Browsed the internet, looking for information, bought computer magazines, posted on web pages, dreamed of it, planned his way in it. Almost half a year passed, an eternity when you have to wait, but then the day came. Packaged in a cartboard box, wrapped in what must have been hundred of sheets of plastic, a package arrived. He tore through it like the proverbial knife through butter, and triumphantly he held the game box in his hand. It was no ordinary game box, no no no. It was the key to a kingdom like he had never seen before. He cautiously put the silver disc into his computer drive, and a few minutes later, he was ready to enter a wondrous land by the name of “Britannia”. As the darkness finally backed away from him, he openend his eyes in awe. He was standing in the middle of an ancient monastery, the air heavy with the smells of late autumn and the ringing of church bells nearby. People were swarming all around him, hurrying, saying things he did perceive yet not fully understand, like “Bank guards!” and other strange words. He stepped out of the old building, and under his bare feet he felt the green grass. He took a deep breath, and gazed in disbelief at the forest ahead of him. It was huge, and dense like he had always dreamt it would be. He could almost feel hundreds of hungry eyes staring at him through the dense foliage, and if he was really quiet, he could hear the sound of mighty paws rushing over the thick vegetation. He was home! As he was standing there, he realized that the 7 year old boy had won! A battle he would have never thought to win, and one no one else would be able to relive or understand, but a battle nonetheless. The child inside had fought, a long and hard battle, with nothing to defend himself but a bunch of old and dusty dreams, rusty swords and weary knights to aid him, and funny looking little red dragons to take him on a ride on their backs. He made one step. Hesitated. Then another. Started to run around in circles, happy like he had hardly ever felt since being a kid. Minutes later only, he was moving around like he had never been elsewhere. An hour later, the monastery was no mystery anymore. Nor the nearby woods. Armed with a rusty sword, looking less impressive than a knife would have, and a cracked open wooden shield to defend himself, he sat out to conquer this new world. He started with a very simple task, or so he thought. He would wander the world eastwards, away from the sun that was slowly setting, and he would not stop until he had reached the end of it. He wanted to stand on the edge of this world, to breathe the air there, to shout it out from the depths of his lungs “Look at me, cruel world! My dragons, my knights, my fairies! I have found them! Ignore them now, if you still can!”. As the evening sun was setting, he was not that brave anymore. Actually, if you were looking carefully, the forest was a lot darker and more dense than it had seemed in the mid-day sun. And those yellow eyes continuously watching him did not contribute to his sense of comfort. But there was no turning back. Not now. He had come so far, he was sure he was almost there, “The edge of the world must be nearby”, he kept telling to himself. And then, in a blinding flash of light, everything changed. Out of the mist ahead of him, a strange shape appeared, a beast made of earth, standing twice as tall as a grown man and at least thrice as broad! Our hero was stunned, but of course, not for long! He remembered his trusty little sword, and his sturdy shield, hanging at his side! He strode forward, pointing the sharp end of his sword towards the creature, just as he had read in the books of his youth that the knights were doing, and stabbed it! Not much later, in the blink of an eye, everything in sight turned dark and the hero fell to the ground, mortally wounded. But, lo and behold, this was not the end of it all! Marvelous as this world was, he was not dead, but in some sort of after-life, where he was invisible to the mortal world, and yet he could listen to the people walking by, to the sound of the little streams flowing through the forest, to the whispers of the night. He kept on walking, dead and yet not, and soon he was brought back to life by a wandering healer. His back was aching (yours would have too if an earth elemental would have stepped on it!), his stomach was empty and yet he was feeling so homely here, everything seemed so right! This was it, that sought for place of magic, of undead and living horrors, of treasures and of adventure! He had arrived! He was home! He had to “log” now, because it was getting late. But he was back on the next day, as early as possible, and he continued his journey. He passed through deserts, through icy glaciers and vast jungles, died by wolves, died by bears, died by evil people, but he kept on marching forward. With each time he broke to the ground defeated, he learned. He grew stronger and more determined, or at least so he was telling to himself. The little knife he was wielding soon became a deadly toy and his best companion. The cracked up shield could be turned into a cushion at night and an umbrella when it was raining. He was happy, definitely! And just as the sun rose on the third day of his journey, he heard the sounds of the waves thundering against the rocks on the shore. He threw his little shield away, let go of the hilt of his sword, and rushed forward. Here he was, gazing upon the open sea, stretching as far as the eye could see, inhaling the salty breeze that was tugging at his clothes and at his face, tired, but content. He had made it, made what he had never thought possible, he had traversed the world! He was so happy that all he could do was fall asleep and dream of lands and adventures far away. From that day on, having been that successfully an explorer, he decided to become a warrior. He took his little sword and went to a “trainer”. Spent day after day whacking some stupid dummy in a training courtyard. Slashed the dummy open til he was banned from there for destroying the training dummies. And with every day that passed, he was learning the mechanics of this strange and enchanted world. People stole from him, people lied to him, people made fun of him. But this was not mattering at all, for there were people that helped him, people that accompanied him and people that he made friends with. One day, he entered Britannia just to notice that he had grown up. His skin was covered with scars of battles past and his hand was clasping the hilt of a mighty broadsword. The ridiculous barrel lid he used to call shield in the old days had long vanished, attached to his arm was a shining shield made of greenish metal, with the emblem of a winding silvery serpent on its surface. People were looking up to him and called him “Lord”, the dragons were fleeing before him, the princesses too, but that is another story, and the land had gained a mighty defender. He was happy, happier even than he had been before. Life was beautiful here. And it all made sense! He was this worlds champion! He was here to defend it! Just as he walked around, he noticed he was not the only one wearing that shield. There were many other warriors, mages, healers, archers, men and women alike harboring the silvery serpent. He stopped and talked to them, and that day his life changed again. Because all of a sudden he had found brothers and sisters in arms, people fighting the same dragons and the same monsters as he was. And he was blessed, for he had found the greatest treasure that one could find in that world. He had found good people and good people had found him. And together they fought, from the black demons that harvested souls to the misty poison elementals and liches of long forgotten horrors. And they laughed together and wept together, grew close together and lived together there. Life was wonderful, he was thinking as he was rushing home every evening and plunging into the endless adventure on his little computer screen… But one day, something terrible happened. In this world, where death was unknown and youth eternal, he had grown old and weary. His sword arm, while still strong, was refusing to wield the blade the way his mind was commanding. It was as if the heart itself was heavy, heavy with thoughts and sadness. He had been everywhere, done everything. He had defeated every single challenge the game had to throw at thim, there was nothing he could do, no adventure to embark on, no dragon more to slay. He had lived through his own fairytale and he had won. The worst possible thing, he had ended the dream by winning his way through it. So, “what was left to do?”, he thought, as he slowly fell asleep that night. It struck him like lightning on a rainy day. He jumped up, wide awake, run to his little computer screen and turned it on, impatiently. He was afraid that it could be too late, oh how he was afraid! Counting the seconds til he could enter the world again, he was trembling anxiously. And finally, the magical portal appeared and sucked him right into Britannia again, thank heaves, he couldn’t have waited any longer! And, upon entering Britannia, upon feeling the familiar sword at his side and the heavy armor clanking with every step he took, he knew he came just in time. Here they were all, lined up like on the first day he had met them. All waiting for him. Here they were, his companions, travelling the world like he did, all welcoming him, all greeting him in friendship and sympathy. Here was what he had longed for, in this world full of dragons and knights of old, in this world heavy with magic and dreams. Here were the best people he had met, sharing his dreams, sharing his wishes, sharing his desire for adventure. Together they sat camp around a fire that night and swore to never let the dreams and adventure end. And they never broke that oath. Magical worlds came and went away, fading into the mists of memories past, but they stood together, side by side, through whatever dragons came their way. They grew more and they grew less, some leaving and some joining, but in the end they were bound together so close that they never faltered, no matter what fate threw at them. They fought the lich lords of Deceit in Britannia just as they fought the sand giants of the Oasis in Norrath, or the evil drudges of Dereth , and the fire giants of Midgard. And with every new day and every new world they entered, they grew more numerous and closer together. Each of them had his share of dreams to contribute, his share of childhood imagination to bring by. They were not strangers anymore, trapped in a foreign and hostile land. They were the Storm Seekers. This is my story, my friends, and in times like these it does not hurt to hear a good story. I dedicate it to all of you, to the ones that have helped and accompanied the little boy that entered Britannia on a cold day of december ’97 become what he is today. It is for all those that crossed my path and to whom I might not have shown the appreciation they deserved, or even if I did, I certainly did not do enough. For those of you that shared my dreams and that helped me live them the extraordinary way that you did. I bow to you and I salute you, I owe you one. Dedicated to (in no particular order, just as some of the many names come to my mind, please don’t be mad if I have forgotten a particular one, I fondly remember each and every of you): Terodic al'Asyrr, Coragon Pyrdakor, Perrin Aybara, Guthwulf, Sid Amos, Adurias, Athas Tyris, Adgurt, Lady Didlinde, Kosh, Mythus, Gull, Lady Chastity, Lady Grace, Kaysi Stormbrow, Cranberry, DeCapitator, Beldin, Polgara, Samtpfote, all of the White Hawks, all of the Ur-alte Hasen, Lady Sol Vajaz, Lord Foul’s Bane, Dolgann, Lady Taeeni, Skrichan, Zuberi, Conan, Vlad, Malek of Zaibatsu, Mugan Tiwaz, Yorik, Al Blade, Kray, Kharon, Narsia bin Sarma, Krawak of Lowangen (yes, you too, for once we have been companions, and share good memories), Lothar ibn Sarma, Lady Lyeth, Lady Yvaine Stormhold and the many many more that I have forgotten to name. Dedicated to the Storm Seekers. Many names, so many good people, and all of them I have been proud to fight with, to cheer with, to weep with, and even happily died at their side. You have made a little dreamer boy somewhere very very happy.