The Archives

Everything the internet still remembers about the Undead Lords and the Icebloods, in date order, with a link to every source. Most of it comes from the Wayback Machine's copies of Origin's official Ultima Online site and UDL's own early websites. Nothing here is from memory: every line points to the page it came from.

1994 to 1999: Neverwinter to Catskills

2000 to 2002: Siege Perilous and Norrath

2003 to 2004: Albion, Mourning and Azeroth

Later years

Every world, 1994 to today

UDL's own record of every game it has sanctioned, with start and end dates, shared by Lord Skunk.

The guild also keeps a public record of every knighting, squiring and campaign in its UDL history repository, and an archive of its old forums recovered from the Wayback Machine.

The Charter, 2007

In September 2007 Skunk saved a copy of UDL Charter, the by-laws every faction of the guild was bound to, in any game. Its devotional passages are left out here; this is how the guild was built.

• Ranks. Four tiers. Slaves serve a probation watched by the Gatekeeper. Squires are assigned a Knight as mentor. Knights are full members, knighted for life in every sanctioned faction, though a new Knight is watched for three months. Above them sits the Inner Circle of officers.
• Officers. The Arch Lich is guild master and the Lich Lords his assistants. The Arch Priest performs every knighting and leads roleplay events. The Death Lord runs questing and keeps the guild's gear. The War Master leads the Nightmare Legion in PvP. The Arch Sage, or Tomb Engraver, keeps the records and the charter. The Arch Shadow, or Dark Inquisitor, oversees intelligence on every other guild and appoints ambassadors to the evil and neutral houses. The Gatekeeper of the Castle of Bones tracks every squire and mentor and recommends squires for knighting.
• Sects. The Nightmare Legion for PvP, the Priesthood for roleplay and the guild's story, the Deathknights for questing, and the Council of the Undead: seven Vested Knights who guard the charter, settle disputes and sanction factions.
• Factions. One sanctioned faction per game at a time. Only a Vested Knight, knighted and serving six months, may found one, and its Arch Lich must have two years in the guild.
• Conduct. Members stay in character whenever they are in public view. No trash talk, ever: "We taunt our prey with style." Real arguments are settled outside the game.
• The Rite of Death. The High Priest recites the passage of Ascension and the Arch Lich prepares the altar. The squire is slain and the High Priest raises him a Knight. The new Knight chooses a guild title or surname, then rides out on a quest to bring back souls.

The charter closes with the guild's cry: Blood and Souls!

The Soulena interview, 2007

As part of her squire tasks, a squire named Soulena was given a list of Knights to research and wrote to each of them. This is her exchange with Skunk, then signing as Skunk Daddy, from September 13 to 20, 2007. It is not known whose squire she was. The years she asks about are told in Chapter Two and Chapter Four of the Chronicle.

Soulena: Why did you join UDL?

Skunk: At first, it was because I returned to Ultima Online after a two- or three-month hiatus and found that my best hunting partner, OS, had joined UDL along with Kanien, and both had become Warlords. As I progressed through my squireship, I stayed because of the guild's rich lore and history and the orderly way in which it was run. UDL also had the perfect blend of roleplay and PvP.

Soulena: When did you become a Knight?

Skunk: In 1998, on the Catskills server of Ultima Online.

Soulena: What class and race did you play?

Skunk: In Ultima Online there was only one race: human. I played a black man with a white mohawk and a white goatee.

However, I assume you are asking about Shadowbane, in which I took many forms to carry out the Dark Lord's deeds. My very first character was a Centaur Warrior. At the time, however, Shadowbane's large-scale battles (sieges) and high latency made a pure melee character not much fun to play. While many in UDL chose Elf or Human Channelers for the class's high damage output (think glass cannon), I chose a Centaur Crusader. A Crusader had ranged attack spells and the ability to heal, yet remained capable in melee. The Crusader could also wear plate armor and carry a shield, whereas the Channeler, though able to use a shield, was largely limited to cloth.

Another reason I chose the Centaur was its speed; if I remember correctly, Centaurs were roughly 40 percent faster than the other races. After my Centaur Crusader proved successful, several other members of UDL created Centaurs of their own, so that we could move swiftly across the world of Shadowbane, laying waste to the breathers. We all shared the same surname, one I had used in Ultima Online for my alternate character: Iceblood. My character, for example, was Warrax Iceblood, and Grymax was Grymax Iceblood.

Kanien and his Channeler group inspired great fear throughout the realm of Mourning, but the Icebloods earned a notoriety of our own. We primarily targeted the high-level zones, routing two or three groups of farming guildsmen at a time, while Kanien and the Channelers concentrated on the cities, laying waste to every mortal in a town and to all who came to its aid. In essence, it became a two-pronged attack: the Icebloods striking swiftly in the leveling areas and the Channelers striking the cities.

I experimented with a few more classes and races, but the next class I seriously developed was the Ranger. During our brief stint on the Corruption server, I created a Centaur Ranger, and everyone teased me that the class was underpowered. By the time I reached level 60, no one was saying that any longer. I was nearly untouchable thanks to my high defense and my ability to lower an opponent's attack power and defense, which made it far easier to bring them down with arrows.

UDL then decided to return to Mourning, where I tried an Elf Ranger, since elves had much higher dexterity and allowed me to raise my defense even further. After I had taken him past level 50, Casi sent me a message suggesting that I should have made an Ireki, essentially a desert elf, instead, as he had a great deal of FC gear to share. (Feature character gear, or "FC gear," was special equipment awarded during special events in the past. It is generally slightly better than crafted equipment, and because those events have been discontinued, it is rarely found on any servers other than Mourning and Wrath, the two oldest.)

After a few minutes of deliberation, I remade my Ranger as an Ireki. That character was truly formidable. Thanks to the gear and the way I built him, he was virtually untouchable at that stage of Shadowbane. No one in UDL, or anywhere else on the server, could beat me consistently, and Casi was none too pleased when he could not.

That lasted only about a month, until Ubisoft released a patch that weakened high-defense characters and made resistances more important.

That is when my finest character was born: Lord Rotting, the dagger-throwing warrior. He had maximum melee resistance and wielded two FC daggers, one of which a Game Master made especially for me. Called the Rotting Dagger, it was, at that time, the only FC dagger with a tier-four vampiric effect; FC daggers normally carried cold effects. Lord Rotting was the main man, a beast on the battlefield thanks to his high resistances, the warrior's ability to resist all magic for a short time, and the skill of our Dwarf Priests, who healed me whenever I did take damage.

Soulena: What qualities and personality traits do you believe a squire should have in order to become a Knight?

Skunk: A squire needs to understand that they are on a path, one that will lead them to knighthood if only they commit themselves to the task. A squire should be overzealous in seeking to please, doing anything he or she can to show proper respect and to make their mentor's and their Lords' lives as easy as possible.

The best way I can explain how I feel squirehood should be is to reference the Star Wars films: consider the relationship between a Padawan and a Jedi Master, and think of the Jedi Council as the Inner Council of UDL.

Soulena's follow-up questions. Her second letter asked whether UDL's lore and history are what set it apart and kept it going; whether the black character with the white mohawk and goatee is where the name Skunk came from; what Skunk's particular role in UDL was, since every Knight she researched had one; whether UDL had the same impact on Archimonde in World of Warcraft that it had on Mourning, and what it meant to have a Game Master make a dagger in his name; whether Rotting was an alt; and whether he prefers ranged classes or getting in close, like his rogue. Skunk's reply to these has not been found.

The Fall of Lex Talionis, 2003

Written by Lord Skunk on June 22, 2003, and posted to the IGN Vault boards for Shadowbane. The siege is told in The Hidden Harvest in the Chronicle, and Skunk's screenshots of it hang in the Vault.

What a gloriously dark evening! The forces of Brotherhood of Shadows, Denied, Bloodaxe Clan and others led by The Undead Lords rallied against the tyrannical Lex Talionis and their pathetic allies. With Shpanky (WarLord of UDL) at the helm, leading the battle, the Dark Lord's army and "allies" slaughtered LT and their friends in every one of the several battles fought.

First UDL laid waste to them at UDL dark portal (tree of life for you mortals) and then progressed to Lex Talionis' main city. As we amassed inside we encountered little to no resistance.

Once the bane circle was activated UDL and company went to work on the tree while Bloodaxe Clan protected the bane. The battles were few and far between at this point. Some small enemy forces tried to amass in various parts of the city, but the forces working on the tree quickly squashed any chance for them to muster enough numbers.

Once the tree had been slain Denied claimed the city and quickly renamed it Xanten as the second to the last blow to Lex Talionis. The final blow came in the form of Denied, again subbing to UDL, and the rest of the guilds present leveling all buildings of the Tyrants' Capital city!

Even though the city, and all its contents, were ours, we are destroying it all. This is the last remnant of Lex Talionis' reign on Mourning and it shall be destroyed, just like its former residents.

Rejoice mortals of Mourning; the tyrannical Lex Talionis has been destroyed!

The Eyes of Death Return to Arms, 2007

A squire's tale found in Lord Skunk's files, dated September 2007. The author is unknown. Lightly edited for spelling. Stoker's homecoming is part of The Caverns of Time in the Chronicle.

Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter

Slowly his eyes scanned the room stopping on a small open table nestled near a large support pillar in the back of the room. He walked over to it stopping to squint at the candle burning in the center on a small brass stand. Stoker reached out and pinched the flame between two fingers dousing it with a hiss. Moving the small wooden chair next to it he sat down putting his back to the wall. He sighed heavily, as he let his weight settle while leaning back into the chair. He had watched the moon rise and fall while he wandered. Now he wondered at how many cycles had passed.

Tap Tap Tap..

Stoker looked down at the thick finger tapping at the edge of his table. Following it up to gravel-like voice now asking him what he wanted to drink he looked into the round, pasty face of the bar maid.

“Ale,” he responded watching her relight the candle in the center of the table with another. Watching her turn towards the bar to get his drink Stoker leaned forward and doused the flame between two fingers once again.

“She’s just going to light it again,” came a voice from the other side of the pillar next to him. Stoker looked over to see a leather clad arm with gloved hand reach out to the table on the other side and pick a goblet off the table. “I’ve put mine out four times so far. It’s no use, she is relentless,” it said with a grumble. There was something familiar about that voice. He couldn’t quite place it though, so he leaned forward and peered around the pillar. As he took a good look at the man next to him his eyes widened.

“Primer?” he questioned in a whispered gasp.

“Stoker?!” came back quickly from the druid sitting before him.

Stoker stood up and reached out for the hand of his old friend and former brother in arms. “I never thought I’d see you again!” he exclaimed.

His old friend set his drink down, stood up and took his hand shaking it firmly. “Good to see you! What happened to you Daddy-O?” he asked sitting back down and motioning for Stoker to join him.

Pulling up his chair Stoker said with heavy heart “I lost my way old friend. I stood before a fork in the road and I chose the wrong path. It appeared to be the best direction at the time, the best course as it were. It turned out to be worn and fruitless after a bit though. Eventually I found myself so turned around I didn’t know how to get back to where I started. I’ve been wandering ever since.”

Primer nodded solemnly and picked his goblet up once again. “What’s past has past. What if you could get back to the original fork in the road, what would you do?” he asked before taking a drink.

Stoker looked at Primer, technically Lord Primer to a mere mortal such as he now was and then looked down. It had been a long time, since he had thought about this. He looked back up at Lord Primer and said “I would have stayed my course.”

Lord Primer grinned at Stoker. “Seek them out then Stoker. Seek them out and see what will be. In the mean time join me in some drink! Let us talk of the wars that once were and good times not to be forgotten!” he exclaimed.

Stoker sat through the night drinking and talking, reliving the past. He had all, but forgotten how much it meant to him to stand as a knight, as a brethren in arms with his old friends. He thought about it all night long. He would seek them out and see if he could stand at their side once again.

Chapter 2: Before His Lords

Stoker approached the battle weary land and brought his steed to a halt at the top of a rise. Not much traveled here, but at one time many had. The pits and scars of war were unmistakable. As he surveyed the area it was as though a dying ember was stirred back to life from beneath the ashes. Much blood spilled here. Not far beyond this ridge he could see the wind worn steps of an ancient temple leading up to a coalescing disk of magical energy. An old man in the swamp told him that this was a gate that would carry him to the Outlands.

Stoker walked up the steps towards the shimmering wall of energy. He could feel it pulsing in the air around him as he moved closer. Reaching forward with the barrel of his rifle he watched as the surface seemed to flush for a moment with dark matter before returning to its previous state.

“Hmmm” he said softly considering what he had just seen. Stoker pushed his rifle through first as he stepped through the gate. As he did the dark matter flushed all around him until it consumed him with his final step into the vicious circle.

With that final step he found himself falling through Void and Kaos. Turning and tumbling until an ancient skull howling in the Pitch came rushing in towards him. As it arrived so did the ground in a sudden rush up from the darkness. Stoker’s body hit hard crumpling against the bone tiled ebon stone. With head spinning and blood trickling into one eye he turned his head to face three dark figures standing over him.

“It thinks it could just leave” came a dark voice. “It thinks it gets to come and go as it pleases!” came the voice again only stronger. “What of its oath?!” shouted the shadowed form standing over him.

“He wouldn’t be the first” stated another.

Grumbling the first looked down at Stoker “What is it you seek?”

Stoker looked up and said “Lord Malotesta, I have wandered aimless a long time. I am but an empty shell. I seek to rejoin my former kin and family. I seek to return home, M’Lord.”

“You do not get to seek, Stoker! You do not get to make choices!” he growled lashing out with the back of his hand across Stoker’s face. “You fool, you belong to Him! You are His servant for all eternity! You swore absolute fealty to Him, to Us! Even if you were deemed worthless your soul would be sent to join the countless others sacrificed in His name! You are nothing more than what we allow you to be!” he shouted down at Stoker’s kneeling form.

Lord Malotesta turned abruptly on his heel. The three figures stepped away from Stoker to the edge of the darkness. Stoker looked down at the white bone ornately inlaid into the pitch stone now spattered with his blood. He felt he was somewhere deep within the bowels of the Dark Lord’s castle of bone. He looked over at what was now two figures. Stoker could only hazard a guess, as to the identity of the third that seemed only to observe. He could hear some whispering, but he could not make out what was being said.

He wondered what there could be to discuss. Perhaps they were considering his past service and loyalty. How he surprised them with his roguish prowess and silent destruction of flesh. Perhaps they were considering how he once called enemy troop positions and makeup during many wars in the old world. How he had led the Knights of the Dark Lord toward the feeble breathers and their inevitable demise time and time again. Perhaps. Perhaps they’re discussing how to roast the flesh from his bones.

Eventually the two Lords returned. “Are you prepared?” asked Lord Malotesta.

“Yes, M’Lord.” replied Stoker.

“You know how it is then.” stated Lord Malotesta, as he stepped in hard striking down on Stoker’s temple putting him to the ground.

When Stoker woke he was laying in the desert freshly branded as a soldier in the Dark Lord’s army. He knew how it was, he thought to himself as he brushed away the crusted blood. Looking around he headed to find the nearest settlement.

Chapter 3: A Chance Encounter

The sun was pushing down hard on the land. Stoker could feel it leaning its weight on him as he traveled across the sand. The eyes could play tricks in this kind of heat. A shimmering oasis revealed a baking empty plain. He’d traveled through these lands for the last few days. Not once did he see anything save beasts roaming around.

Until one afternoon when he cleared a rise and saw a gnome, dressed in bright robes, dancing near the base on the other side. Stoker stopped and dismounted. He stood there for a minute confused. Then the gnome turned and waved at him. He blinked and raised his rifle quickly to his shoulder. He whistled for his wolf to attack and opened fire, as the gnome started to hop around. It didn’t take long before he was watching his wolf gnaw on some fresh bones.

Not far from where he’d shot the ground skeet Stoker found a well traveled road leading to the East. He began to follow its dusty trail until he spotted a tall white tower in the distance. He needed to refresh his supplies and get his bearings, so he turned towards it.

After purchasing some cured meat and water Stoker looked around the area. His eyes fell upon the back of a finely robed figure with an elemental being hovering next to him. A warlock. A warlock who was attempting to convince a young woman to leave the camp with him. Stoker grinned taking a bite out of the meat and he began to casually follow along at a distance.

The warlock led her out of the sight of others and behind a small ridge. They didn’t seem to notice Stoker trailing along behind them. He watched as the warlock reached out to give her something to drink as he stepped in closer. She set down a small cat she’d been carrying and took the drink from him. Stoker watched with keen interest. When she leaned back with the drink he put his arm across her back.

Stoker’s eyes glanced side to side furtively. This was starting to get interesting. When he looked back he saw her slump suddenly to the ground disappearing within her own gown. The warlock stood there for a minute and watched, as a small mouse crawled out of the piled gown. Stoker watched the cat instantly freeze staring at the mouse, its tail flicked and for a second he thought he heard a tiny scream. The warlock laughed and turned to see Stoker watching him.

Now seeing the face before him. Its hard lines, dead flesh peeling off a scowling brow. Stoker knew this face and kneeled. Before him stood one of the great warlords of the Dark One. Stoker had served under him through countless battles and wars. His mere presence commanded respect.

“Hail Lord Casi!” said Stoker.

Lord Casi walked up to the kneeling figure before him. He walked around him once and nodded. Stoker rose to his feet, as Lord Casi reached out and clasped hands with him. “Hey bro, long time.” he said.

“Yes, it has been old friend.” Stoker replied turning his arm over, so Lord Casi could see he was marked as a soldier of the Dark Lord.

Lord Casi grinned and said turning back towards town, “Welcome home bro.. Now let’s go get something to drink!”

Still lost

The Dread City call. Skunk's call to the Dread Lords of Britannia went out in the Town Cryer, Origin's player newspaper in the Town Square section of owo.com. Only a few hundred of its pages survive, mostly from 1999 and later, and none of those searched mention Dread City. The uovault.com site itself was not saved by the archive until December 1998, and Skunk's own email from that era begins in 2001. Lord Skunk also does not appear by that name on the September 1999 Catskills roster.

The fight videos. The 3 on 3 recordings and the Gauntlet Challenge rebroadcast were never saved by the archive.

If you have either, or any other piece of UDL history, post it on the UDL forums or bring it to the Discord.