~*~ Warning ~*~

Beyond this point, nearly all topics are explanatory and NOT narrative, nor are they in character. This is an explanation of exactly what RhyDin is, not as an imaginary land but as an online creation. For all of you who are under the delusion that RhyDin exists... get out now.
A few issues in these pages are serious; some are funny, but if you came here for the stories, pictures, or poetry, you might want to go
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~*~ Willow Rasakayu ~*~

A spirit conjured from the imagination. A wispy veil of mystery surrounds her origin, as her deep emerald eyes reflect the pain and misery from your own soul.
Some say that she is Death . . . some say she is freedom. With a waterfall of blue-black curls cascading down her back, her smooth porcelain skin glitters in the moonlight like a deadly poison. A long black velvet cape lined with burgundy satin almost conceals her thin, lithe body, adorned with a wash of black silk, shimmering fishnet, and silver velvet. Tall, spike-heeled boots peek out from the bottoms of her dragging skirts, denoting nimbleness and balance. Carrying the deadliest poisons, her last words spoken into her victims' ears are often those of poetry, mysterious and dark like herself. She thrives on blood and beauty, weaving a life alone, with no family but her adopted twin sister Star.
(Written by Diane Hartenstein, the "mun")

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~*~ Ethan Venmar ~*~

His soft golden braids are one of his most distinguishable features, hanging long in front of a gentle face that outlines his features. His fangs are hidden behind soft lips, which usually remain expressionless. Runic tattoos that adorn his body are the symbols from which he derives his power. They glow softly when in use. He usually wears a long black overcoat over a soft black tunic, his pants being loose black fighting cloth. His swords are his second line of defense, next to his true form: the panther.

~*~ Syliya Elvekiene ~*~

Beauty, grace, intelligence, agility . . . all things embodied in one woman. She's a lady of many talents, from spying to seduction, for all she's married now, with three beautiful children. Two pregnancies have not dulled her sex appeal, or the slender, delicate beauty of her lithe body. Her hair is a beautiful, bright red, the color of fire, perfectly matching her Tremarian green eyes that sparkle with humor and keen wit, the light of love and passion shining in her eyes. Her loyalty to her family is  unsurpassed . . . she would do anything for them, and they for her. Her ivory white, delicate hands can weild a sword as well as any man or woman alive. She may look delicate, but never underestimate this beautiful and dangerous woman . . . or you're going to wish you were dead. Remember . . . the creatures of the night are always watching, so you had better too . . . watch your step, that is.

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~*~ Syril and Gareth Elvekiene ~*~

The moon hangs high overhead, a soft glow cast over the dark world . . . its silver light resting on the pair of boys who sit on the hill like a pair of coyotes, listening to the howl of the wind. They seem exactly alike, these twin boys, with a pointed ears sticking out of a vibrant shock of red hair, two upturned noses and a pair of light green eyes like their mother, Syliya's, the "mark of the Tremarian", their aunt Star called it. The boys dress alike and think alike, such perfect twins that their own parents can't tell them apart most of the time. They both have the potential for amazing sorcerous power, due to their strong lineage, and often surprise their family by the things they know. Their magic has already begun to show itself, in their everyday life and the way they think and behave. The moon attracts their attention like nothing else . . . they belong to the night, these twins, and the night belongs to them.

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~*~ Starelia Ragnell Elvekiene ~*~

Fleeting images of color and fading echoes of sound flood into her senses...not her ordinary senses, but those inside . . . a talent gifted to all children before birth that fades only when the world breeds it out of them . . . she has no memory, the things she sees and hears slowly dissapate and her infant mind grasps for it, but it slides through her grip like water through fingers, like the echo of a mother's voice to unborn ears, like womb-dreams that flit through the mind, then fade, never to come again. She opens her deep green eyes; beyond this is an intense clarity of thought she has yet to tap, the bright spark of power still untouched. Were it not for this, it might be said that she is too normal to be the child of her talented mother, Syliya, from whom she inherited the soft red tresses of hair that crown her head. Through the haze beyond her short range of vision, her mother's face comes into view, beautiful and beloved. "Hello, Starelia." She coos happily in response; in her innocence she has forgotten what came before and cannot yet reach the knowledge of what is to come.

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~*~ Mike Spartin ~*~

The light shinning off the early morn dew of the tall trees sparkle in serenity. Birds chirp and insects buzz blissfully as the life of the forest glows on this blissfull morning. Leaves russle and shake as a form drops from higher up to land on one of the lower branches. Slowly, as your eyes focus on it, you are able to tell what it is. An elf. Or, at least thats what it looks like. With another bound the tlf lands on the ground near the base of the tree, as it straitens itself, his pointed ears come into view. The unruly short brown hair lies limp on his head. His green sleveless tunic, dirty and covered with leaves gives hint to the reason he was so well hidden. He seems rather large for an elf in both height and muscle mass. Acrost his chest and shoulder is a wide strap that connects to the wide belt around his waist. Hanging from the belt on the right side infront of his hip is a soft leather pouch. From over the shoulder the handle of a sword can be seen. For the first time you see his sharp blue eyes that seem to shine with youth and a warriors spirit. Then the elf is gone, as quickly as he had appeared.

~*~ Kaytlyn Winterstorm ~*~

She has a dozen or more names in a dozen or more languages. In the Common tongue she is Kaytlyn Winterstorm. Elven people often refer to her as Narquelie (October), and the Drow gifted her with the name of Dalharil (Daughter). She also answers to Jadeite (Green Eyes), Edessa (SpiritChild), and Ceylon (BlueMyst), but it is the name she was born with, in the language of Avalon, that she would never tell to anyone. She appears about sixteen, and is almost pure wraith, with the slightest taint of another blood in her veins, giving her higher power than a normal wraith could imagine. You can see it in her eyes, depthless green orbs that shimmer with an untouched, innocent purity. She can vaguely remember a piece of her past--playing with her mother's long black hair as a baby, hair like her own that brushes lightly at her shoulders, and the delicate, smiling face and slender body she inherited. She doesn't remember her father or her birthplace or even how she ended up in RhyDin; only small pieces of an enormous puzzle she is determined to solve. She can feel it in the light of the stars; the answer is here.

~*~ Clik Thomas ~*~

The people who pass by have become a blur of dangerous strangers, their features unfamiliar and rarely even vaguely human. The array makes him feel unique, being born in the human world of the 1990's, suddenly thrown into the middle of the strange and odd place the nightmarish creatures call RhyDin. He doesn't know how he got there or how he can get back; he only knows his past is real. His only true friend is Kevin Moore, who made him Immortal to help him protect himself, and who he considers a father, even though the choice to become Immortal wasn't wholly his. He looks strange, with his brown eyes and hair, wearing a red T-shirt and blue jeans from home. His name is Clik  Thomas, and he's learned to avoid the shadows of RhyDin. No one knows what's lurking in that darkness, and besides, he's learned another lesson--RhyDinians never look at what's in plain sight. Obscurity is the best way to get noticed.