- List of most played character names
- Shards you play on
- Age (must be 18 or over to submit an application) (You will need to sign a contract)
- How long you have played UO.
- Why do you want to be an Event Moderator?
- Few paragraphs to describe an event you would like to run. Also give an example of a reward that goes with the event.
We know we told everyone the maintenance would be finished by 2 pm today but due to unforeseen issues we are having extend the completion of maintenance to 7 pm this evening. We are so sorry for the inconvenience and thank you in advance for your patience.
We are under going maintenance on the following data bases and should be completed by 2 pm ET today.
Account Center which means code redemption is not working.
Forums – Since the Account Center is down this will not be working properly.
If you are having issues with paging a GM please be patient with us during this maintenance.
Thank you for your patience and we will have these systems up and running as soon as possible.
We are pleased to announce our next event, Tears of the Ice Dragon, will be live after each shard’s regularly scheduled maintenance beginning December 8, 2020 at 12:01 AM ET. The points from this event will expire on January 15, 2021 at 11:59 ET. For those brave enough to venture into the Ice Dungeon to slay the frozen creatures within will find great treasures to be had!
To accompany this event we are also happy to present, The Locket of Winter
By EM Malachi
The winds screamed as they raced past the tall mountain peak. Even protected from the worst of it by magic, the climber felt the numb of deep winter. Still, Drogeni continued her climb.
At the top, the mage dropped her pack and removed what she needed for the ritual. Drogeni opened a delicate silver locket and placed it on the snow. It was the work of a decade’s research and a year’s enchantment.
Standing tall against the howling winds, Drogeni began to sing. The anthem was filled with magic, inviting the winter itself to dance. The winds shifted, and the frost started to collect into swirling shapes: wing, tooth, and scale. As Drogeni continued her song, the enchantment bound the winter into the form of two dragons.
In the final verse, the dragons took their first breath in this world and let out a howling cry. The mountains were filled with notes of rapture as the pair joined the mage’s song.
When the song finished, Drogeni closed the locket, and the dragons vanished. The ice dragons lived inside the bespelled world of the locket, protected from the springs and summers to come.
Years passed, and Drogeni reached the end of her life. A man she cared for had gone off seeking immortality, but that wasn’t for her. One life was enough. Her family were her dragons, and they had been fruitful during the many winters since she first opened the locket.
Withdrawing from the world, the mage moved into a cottage at the base of a glacier, so the dragon brood could always be free. Each year brought more hatchlings.
While her magic kept them alive, the dragons returned the favor. They brought her venison from their hunts and kept her cottage safe from wolves. Drogeni would collect the blood spilled by the nipping games of the young dragons to make salves for her arthritic limbs. The dragons’ songs would sing the old mage to sleep.
Still, even cared for and loved, one day, Drogeni closed the Locket of Winter for the last time.
The present winter…
Each night, the thief dreamt of losing all his ill-gotten wealth. Sometimes, a great chasm would open to swallow his treasure horde. Other nights, he was running through the snow, arms filled with coins, jewelry, and magic weapons, only to have the wind snatch all of them away. Purlonio could not allow this to happen.
The thief had burgled a mage with a reputation for collecting powerful artifacts, hoping one of them could protect his treasure. Purlonio moved his stash to the frozen caves north of Wrong prison. It was far from the city’s bustle and avoided by people like him.
The thief decided to start with the smallest of the stolen baubles and work his way up. Picking up a silver locket, Purlonio waved it in the air. When nothing happened, the thief pried it open with a knife.
There came a great cold and terrifying roar from the locket, and the thief threw it across the cavern. Frost and snow billowed from the silver trinket, and Purlonio could see monstrous forms in the chaos. The terrified thief fled.
The locket was open, and the winter was free.
We are pleased to announce that our next event, Forest of the Dark, is now live. The champion spawn associated with this event will be live for the next 30 days, concluding on or about December 19, 2020.
To accompany the release of this event we also invite you to enjoy The Dark Monk,
by EM Malachi
I was lost in the forest.
My journey had been one disaster after another. I had lost most of my supplies fording an icy river. The string of my bow snapped trying to bring down the elk that would have been dinner. With the replacement strings at the bottom of the river, I could hunt nothing on the trek to the logging camp. If I was even going in the right direction…
It was nightfall at the end of the third hungry day when I saw the campfire. I was desperate, so I approached without caution, waving my empty hands to show I was unarmed. Seeing a lone druid in a dark robe, instead of a group of bandits, I thought my luck was changing. The stranger was startled to see me, nearly dropping the spoon with which he was stirring his dinner.
I asked for a place by the fire and any food he could spare. The druid nodded and took a simple wooden bowl from his bag, which he filled with stew from his cook pot. It was the best meal of my life.
No longer starving, I attempted to talk with the stranger. I managed to learn that his name was Ciaran and he was some sort of monk. While we sat by the fire, an owl landed near Ciaran, and he tossed it meat from his bowl. I found myself growing tired after the large meal, so the monk offered me a few pelts in which to wrap myself. I quickly fell asleep.
I awoke to find the monk kneeling next to me, binding my hands. When he noticed I was awake, Ciaran drew a sharp blade. “I’m sorry about this, but I don’t have a choice. We are all pawns of prophecy in the end.”
I managed to push the monk away and stand up, but his blade caught my side. Despite the pain, I ran. I fled though the cold night, tripping in the darkness and working to free my hands. Sometimes, through the trees, I would see an owl in the night sky above me.
At dawn, I found trail markers that passed close to a stream. More lost than I had been the day before, I had no choice but to follow the trail. It eventually led me to a logging camp. I almost let myself hope, until I noticed the lack of lumberjacks.
Before I could flee, I was knocked unconscious. I was shaken awake by a Meer in a dark robe. “Very good. You are awake. The Guide has led you here to us.”
Trying to stand, I looked up at a twisted tree, taller than a tower. The tree’s great roots were drinking from a pool of blood.
We are pleased to release the next piece in our Grim Moments fiction series, The Three
By EM Malachi
A page from the journal of Queen Helena of Rhiannon
Something is very wrong. My husband, the great and mighty Praecor Loth, rides into battle with the three I trust least in the world.
When the Magician Umbria came to court, I feared that he was a charlatan. Oh, if only that were so! In truth, he is a terrifyingly powerful necromancer. I have witnessed the dark arts he wields in his tower. One of his failures still skitters in the dungeon, begging for a death that can never come. When Umbria looks at me with those cold eyes of his, I know he is plotting something horrifying.
Then there is General Lethe. I wish she fought for us. She is one of the greatest warriors of the northern tribes, wild and untamed. It is said that during the Fyrna Rebellion, Lethe defeated a dozen armored knights herself. Her appointment as Rhiannon’s General was a peace offering, but her fealty is not with our country or our king. Lethe has sent my husband’s most loyal knights to the far corners of the world, far from the king they serve.
Finally, the assassin Morphius who killed my brother. I know this in my heart even if I have no proof. When my husband declared war, my brother, the Lord of Logris, suggested sending mages and scouts to understand the source of the invasion, but Logris was rebuffed by the Three. My dear brother instead chose to go on that desperate mission alone.
While Logris returned to his castle after completing the mission, he died that very night. They say it was exhaustion from the journey. However, a castle maid who liked to nibble the lord’s leftovers died that night as well. I searched my brother’s library after he died. There was a piece of black stone and an unfinished letter to the King that warned of a terrible door. What could be happening on the icy plains of Fyrna?
I suddenly feel so weary, an overpowering urge to sleep.
Dungeon Deceit, now
In the deepest crypt on Dagger Isle, three wraiths fed on the font of undeath. Their escape through the Black Gate had destroyed their physical forms and stolen much of their power.
When they were sated on corrupted mana, the Three set to work making bodies. Lethe pieced together the skeletons of fallen warriors, where rusting iron and bone had become one. Morphius chose putrid flesh and rot, forming organs from the most poisonous molds he could find. Umbria shaped the darkness and shadows of the dungeon into his vessel, making Deceit itself a phylactery.
When they were finished, Lethe tested a wicked axe she had found. “Now we rebuild our kingdom.”
Umbria replied, “Yes, midnight always arrives.”
We are pleased to present, The Black Gate
By EM Malachi
The Black Gate
The sky was a swirl of colors, as raw mana poured in from the other worlds in orbit around Sosaria’s sun. Eight columns focused the magic toward a massive slab of blackrock etched on the border with runes: the Black Gate.
The Fellowship forces fought with zeal and desperation. The Black Gate was everything Brother Batlin had promised, and failure meant death or imprisonment. The cult was not alone. Humanity had other enemies, brought here by the Fellowship’s influence.
Britannia’s forces were much smaller. The location was discovered at the last minute, and there was not enough time to send a larger force by ship. Mages, weakened by months of mana poisoning, had dragged themselves from their sick beds to move as many fighters as possible by magic.
Dupre wiped sweat from his brow and considered the situation. Ashfall from Fire Island’s volcanoes made the air hot and caustic. Skara rangers and Zhah’s gargoyles rained projectiles down on the enemy lines. A wall of plated paladins held against a rush of orcs. Arcanists and mystics dueled with elementals, the exchange of magical power forming a deadly dance.
A ninth blackrock column had crumbled when the battle began, but not before transforming the lying druid Batlin into a towering daemon. He was not invulnerable, but too many of Dupre’s forces had to focus on the Fellowship leader.
This chaos gave time for the doorway to open. As magic pooled like ink across the dark surface, it looked as though a great hand was reaching through.
Dupre looked behind him. A group of mages had brought an artifact to try to deal with the Black Gate, but they were trapped across the battlefield. He was the only one close enough. The paladin looked at the sword in his hand, a blackrock blade reforged by the daemon Arcadion. What choice did he have?
Dupre charged the gate, ignoring a pair of cultist guards whose spears pierced his side. The paladin struck the Black Gate with all the force his battle-weary body could muster. The sound of clashing blackrock magic drew the attention of everyone on the battlefield before the door across worlds exploded.
When the dust cleared, the Black Gate and Fellowship lines were broken. The son of Trinsic was simply gone.
Dupre was gone.
We are pleased to announce that following each shard’s regularly scheduled maintenance after October 8, 2020 12:01 AM ET Treasures of the Undead Lords will be active in Dungeon Deceit! Visit Deceit to slay the Undead and collect artifacts to turn in for some great rewards!
See you in Britannia,
We have deployed a hotfix to resolve an issue where the Black Gate Champ spawn would not correctly distribute participation rewards. Thank you for the reports and we appreciate your patience while we worked to resolve the issue.
We are also in the final stages of finishing setup for the coming Treasures event, keep an eye on UO.com announcing when that event is live.
See you in Britannia,
We are pleased to present, Daughters of the Eclipse
By EM Malachi
Daughter of the Eclipse
The trail through the woods was blocked by decades of overgrowth, but the house and its gardens were untouched by the years. Sparkling fae flitted about, tidying and repairing the home of the woman who slumbered inside. The Seeress Penumbra had withdrawn to this sanctum forty years before.
Several pixies fluttered close and watched the approaching paladin. Dupre removed his iron blade from the scabbard and gently placed it on the ground. This seemed to convince the sprites of his good intentions. They returned to watering the flowers with tiny crystal pitchers.
At the door to the house, Dupre found a collection of wooden figures. He examined a few: a baby, a butterfly, a man, and a skeleton. The puzzle was another of the seer’s safeguards. Penumbra’s kin had told him that the solution was personal to each visitor: the story of their life.
Dupre found a figure that reminded him of his father. A wooden mallard stood in for a childhood pet. A goblet dyed by mulberry was his life as a paladin. The skeleton reminded Dupre of the conflict with Juo’Nar and the night he lost Trinsic, but a toy siege engine was when he took the city back. Finally, he found a crown for the kings and queen he’d served in the faction wars and beyond. Dupre placed the figures in a line on the threshold, and the door unlocked.
Candles came to life as the paladin stepped into the house. The air was unnaturally still, held in stasis by magic. Dupre found Penumbra on a stone table in the center of the main room. She looked unchanged by her long sleep. Dupre placed four of Blackrock pieces around her as instructed, and time flowed into the room.
Penumbra opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Dupre, it is good to see you. You have destroyed the blighted monuments. Thank you. Like wolves, the three prowled my sleep. Had I been awake, they would have made prey of my mind and soul.”
Sitting up, Penumbra examined Dupre’s face. “My paladin, I see the pain and sorrow written on your face. So the Ranger King has already fallen in the night? I have overslept. You need me to do a reading.”
Dupre nodded. “I must know what happens next.”
Penumbra closed her eyes. “I have had the same dream again and again for the past few years. I have seen the end to your time on this world. This you cannot escape, but you can still save everyone else. The midnight door must not open completely. I have seen the ruin and darkness that steps through. You must prepare for the battle at dusk.”
“What can I do?”
“Three things stand before you: You must find a blade darker than obsidian, revered by a daemon. You must find the soul of Virtue in eight sigils for the Tinker’s ghost. Then you must follow the Lying Druid who led many into ruin, but do not let him steal the reward of the gate.”
Dupre silently considered Penumbra’s words.
Penumbra put a hand on Dupre’s shoulder. “You must hurry, my paladin. You do not have long…”
Batlin watched as hired smugglers opened the crate and showed him a black pedestal on a bed of straw. Batlin smiled approval and tossed a bag of coins to the ship’s captain. As the pirates departed, Fellowship workers carefully lifted the artifact from the crate onto a cart. They set to work removing dust and debris from the surface.
Batlin ran a hand along the surface of the artifact, tracing the symbols before stopping on an “Ort” rune. “I need you to raise this one near the others.”
One of the cultists asked, “I thought we already had the columns necessary to focus the alignment of the eight? What is the purpose of this ninth column?”
“We need a replacement ready should there be a problem. We must not fail. Trust thy brother.”
The workers seemed convinced. With the column polished, they began moving the cart up the path toward the ritual site. When they were out of earshot, Batlin whispered, “The final one is for me alone.”