Travels of The Norseman

[miltonyorkcastle]

I knocked on the door of the house.  It looked like a normal house as far as I could tell, but Gulnyr and I did notice training dummies set up all around the island.  The door opened and a big man with a white beard punched me and knocked me flat before I even had the chance to say hello.  My temper flared and, as if on que, the man railed, "Do you know Discipline?"  Dragging myself to my feet, I glared at the man and told him I was familiar with it thanks to the military.  I quickly added I was looking for a Swordsbane, a master swordsman.  

"You'll must learn Discipline if you are to train with me."  He tossed a sword at my feet.  "Discipline will be your constant companion.  You will take it with you when you eat, sleep, and use the jacks.  It must never leave your hand."  

I gave a quick glance to Gulnyr who shrugged.  I kicked the sword up to my hands and examined it.  The thing was hardly more than a thin piece of metal with a handle.  You couldn't call it a sword.  It was knicked, blunted, and bent to such a degree I doubted it would cut through anything.  The balance was better than I expected.  

"Go on," he said, pointing to a dummy.  "Get to work."

I started with simple military drills, slowly working in the more intricate moves I'd developed or learned through the years.  I could barely make a dent in the dummy with that stupid sword.  It was more like beating a rug than swordplay.  Swordsbane left me at it for about an hour before walking up behind me.  

"Give me the sword," he said.  I was ready for a rest anyways.

He took that hunk of metal and, with a single stroke, cleaved the dummy in two.  Gulnyr, who'd been watching me work, took a step back, while I just stood there in shock.  Swordsbane, without so much as a grin, pointed to another dummy further down the islandand said, "Again."

I don't know how many times I heard that "Again."  Much of the rest of my time there was a blur of sweat, blood, and metal.  It was dummy after dummy, drill after drill, until I was crawling on my hands and knees from one broken combat dummy to another.  That much I can remember- that and some sort of blindfold being put on me.  I hurt until I didn't hurt, and as long as he said, "Again," I swung that sword.  Gulnyr tells me I was yelling and taunting the dummies like they were real enemies.  I don't remember that much, but Gulnyr doesn't lie.  

I woke up on my back next to a campfire outside the house with Gulnyr and Swordsbane looking on and chatting.  I still had the sword in my hand.  Swordsbane looked me up and down.  Every bone in my body ached, yet somewhow I managed to stand up.  

"You've done well," he said, "but we're not done yet."

I followed him inside his house and down into a basement area that was filled with books.  He pointed to a glowing portal.

"Get ready.  These dummies fight back."

It turns out flesh is alot easier to cut through, even with "Discipline."  I don't know if the creatures were real or illusion, but that portal kept spitting them out, and I cut them down one by one.  I could feel the ease with which each stroke found it's mark.  The ease that I had been craving, that I had been so long in search of.  

Yet how it finally came to me is still a mystery.  All I did was beat on dummies until I was senseless.  Was that it?  Was that the secret for which took me so long to find?  Sparring until it was fighting until it was fighting to keep moving until I collapsed, then getting up to fight some more?  Or was it simply a gift, that can only be handed down from a master?  If such is the case then there will be a time when I must pass this gift, this secret.  If only I knew what it was.

But I cannot deny the sweet comfort I have with any greatsword.  Swordplay is no longer work; it truly has become *play.*

[miltonyorkcastle]

*As submitted to to get his character approved, this is a synopsis of Cole Norseman's life before adventuring, before the call of the Great Dragon*


Cole Norseman hails from the port town of Leilon on the continent of Mistone.  He is descended from former inhabitants of Krashin (The Barbarian Isles) who migrated to Mistone some generations ago.  However, his parents, as far as he knows, died of a flu-like disease when he was a toddler.  He too contracted the disease, but did not die, although it left him with a damaged immune system, hence he is prone to sickness.  To counteract this, he spends a great deal of time training his body, pushing and conditioning it.
     
He grew up in orhan houses until he was of age to enter an apprenticeship.  His parents' surname was unknown to the officials of Leilon, so the last name of Norseman was given to him because of his known heritage. He has always been very smart, but tends to let his curiosity get the better of him, and often finds himself using his brilliance to get him out of the trouble he has already gotten himself
into.

His wit was recognized early on, and so he was apprenticed to a dwarvenbookkeeper.  This is where he was first introduced to the Arcane arts, as some of the texts dealt with such phenomenon, but at the time he was more obsessed with maximizing his body's potential; he was already smarter than everyone else in town (at least he thought so).

He quickly took to reading and, within a short time, was familiar with all the books in his master's charge.  Unfortunately, the tedium of daily chores and copying texts wore on his wild spirit.  He longed to know more, to seek out knowledge from around Layonara, to see for himself the things he read about.  Every morning he looked out over the ocean and it called for him.  His master recognized this and tried to satisfy the young man's wanderlust by sending him on journey's across Mistone to procure copies of new texts from other libraries.  But this only increased Cole's determination to become an explorer.

At 19, he said farewell to the master bookkeeper, and headed south to Blackford's castle.  He enlisted in the military there, serving the minimum 4 year term.  To his dismay, his unit never traveled from Mistone, and now he had a new obsession: to master the sword.

He is now 23 and feels ready to pursue his dreams of travel and discovery.  It it likely that there is now only one thing that can stand in his way.  His own personality.  It was well known in Leilon that there was never more honest man than Cole Norseman, nor more blunt.  It was this lack of subtlety that, more than anything, kept the female population at bay.  He doesn't care much for grooming, but also finds hair to be a nuisance, so he can often be found in a scraggly state, somewhere between trimmed and overgrown.  When it comes to diplomatics, he generally says, "Y'all go ahead and argue. I'll come back when you're done."  This is not to say he isn't on the compassionate side.  When it comes right down to it, the man's a bit of a softee and couldn't live with himself if he didn't offer what skills he has to someone who might need them.  It's possible this stems from his experience as an orphan.

Well, that's the story on Cole Norseman of Leilon.  Let me know what you think.

[miltonyorkcastle]

It has been long since I have spent the time to wander among my writing book.  I have traveled extensively, studied intensely, and practiced heavily.  I cannot begin to comment on the things I have witnessed and heard in these last months.  Hlint has become the epitome of a racial melting pot.  The dead speak and the elements war.  Rival gods make pacts against a demon so fierce that all tremble at his name, a name fulfilling the demon's desire.  

Through all this I wander, seeking to know more, to get stronger, to quench my thirst for the unknown.  The Great Library has proved invaluable in preparing me for foes I have never fought and spells I have never cast.  Yet the piece of knowledge that has proved the most curious to me did not come by way of a book, but through a young black-haired fellow by the name of Thomas Vot.

Thomas Vot is an able wizard, if not a bumbling coward.  Yet he'll follow me into the depths of the earth, trembling all the way.  And why should he be so enthralled with the likes of Cole Norseman?  Because he claims to be my cousin.  That's right.  He looks nothing like me, I have no known relatives by any book, and he will not be shaken in his resolve that we are cousins.  He claims to have proof... proof that is supposedly locked away with a school of mages that he was expelled from.

Of course, I don't believe him at all, but it's been so long since I have even thought of family.  That is, all I've known, all I've ever been, is an orphan.  And it's never bothered me.  I looked for a while when I was first apprenticed to the bookkeeper, to see if his contacts knew anything, and I learned no more than what I had been told as a boy.  I haven't looked or even given it thought since then.  Yet here it is before me, and I wonder, I do wonder, if there might be someone out there who is actually of my blood.

[miltonyorkcastle]

With the support of a few solid investors, I think I have finally found constant place to sell the raw materials I gather, rather than having to find individual buyers.  With my advice and their own business savvy, Klugger and Company will start a store that will buy and sell resources thus making it possible for anyone to sell the raw materials they find themselves with, as well as being able to find the goods that other vendors don't sell. People won't be forced to treck across the continents battling the dangers that only a few of us crazies enjoy doing to get at uncommon and rare goods.  We should be able to get things up and running within the next few weeks.  Quantum and I are working out a pricing guide for raw materials and we will meet again to discuss and compare our work within a few days.  The store will be based out of Haven, which I think will be a perfect place for such a place to start, being so close to the Haven mines.

On another note, I have actually managed to discover the secrets of a fair amount of spells within the second circle.  I still have trouble getting them to work all the time.  The strain is immeasurably greater than the first circle.  I will soon need to work on finding a way to produce the magic with much less physical exertion, because I still cannot cast my spells during battle, being far too hindered by the scale armor I wear.

[miltonyorkcastle]

This is where it begins and ends.  My purpose is being seen.  Why does a sickly orphan survive to learn the sword?  For one who is nothing to anyone, who is worth less than the dirt he walks on, to still be walking.  For one who has lost his love, feels the sting of eteranl death even now scratching at his sides, who has more blood on his hands than all but the oldest soldier at Blackford, to still be allowed to swing a sword.  For one who will never have a home beyond the streets he traveled since he was a boy, there is yet a purpose.  

The bane of the earth I walk, the death of the life I live to see and breath:  *burnt into the paper* Bloodstone.  He will feel the point of my Blade.  This I vow, as I will make my Blade, the Blade of Cole Norseman the greatest, the largest of all blades.  A blade that will stretch across the lands, across continents, even to the far stench of Xantril.  And he will know the Dread he so inspires among those that walk this earth and watch over it.  He will see this Dread Blade prick his side and see his own Blood spill onto the earth.  This Dread Blade I shall call forth and no army will be able to rise against it.  Beware, Bloodstone, The Dread Blade will reach you, and it will cut you.

Let it be known there is a mercenary who takes his payment in Blood!!!
Aragen guide the hands that swing the Dread Blade!!!

[miltonyorkcastle]

How many?  More than I could count on my fingers; more than I care to count.  I am nearly alone, and nearly gone.  My generation has passed, and I am soon to pass with it.  Letter after letter, ale after ale, yet there is no consolation.  

The shadows envelop me.  Their whisperings fill my mind. Their tendrils have infused themselves into my flesh and my once sickly body has ceased its constant bleeding.  Both a blessing and a curse.  Licquor no longer offers solace.  No amount can keep me inebriated for much longer than an hour before the whispers return, and I'm coherent again.  

Bloodstone draws nigh.  The world pulls to a point and teeters.  It's Blood, or freedom, they say, and, indeed, we cannot let Bloodstone win.  Yet...  Yet what monsters must we allow into the world to defeat him?  The world teeters, and there are many ways it can fall.

[miltonyorkcastle]

There's been a discovery in old Storan's crypt.  A Bloodpool.  A cursed mess of magical power once belonging to, created by, Bloodstone himself.  Now, it's owned by the Black Wizards.  They stole it from Blood, wrestling it from Blood's general Eon.  And the Dread Blade has now been hired to wrestle it from the Black Wizards.  At least, to provide support in the matter, as I have quickly discovered the Black Wizards have very near an equivalent power to Blood's.  

This may very well be my last stand.  When the time comes, if no negotiation settles the matter first, I will fight to see that Bloodpool destroyed and out of reach of any other faction that might opt to use it.  But the time will be a while in coming, and much planning has yet to be done.  We shall see just how competent my employers are.  If things go poorly, I will not suffer the Blade to fall and will pull back my forces.

The Lord of Knowledge guide my sword.

[miltonyorkcastle]

As more and more of my generation pass on, as I find myself wandering- much like I did in my early days as a freeblade, only now I do not wander the lands of Layonara so much as I wander the depths of my own soul- I find myself turning back to those days long past, seeking out those that remain who might trigger the memories I seek.  

In this search I have come across a halfling with a louder disposition than even myself.  This halfling made her way into the heart of Aleister, the old codger, and now I turn to her heart and seek its contents, hoping to find more clues to my past.  Clues that explain my present, and, perhaps, my future.

I have come across the fortune teller, the card reader, who once laid out my cursed life before my eyes and forced me to become painfully aware of the path before me, of who I am.  Even to simply look upon her sends shivers down my spine.  Derrick employs her now.  It seems my spine will stay very loose.

I have been reaquainted with a girl, now an impressive young woman, I once had the amusement of giving a little lesson in life as an adventurer.  She is now an aspiring champion.  Her skills as a warrior rival veteran soldiers and her beauty makes the young men falter.  It would be my pleasure to once again teach her.  

Perhaps I will yet leave something worthwhile behind before the shadows finally overtake me.

[miltonyorkcastle]

After the meeting with the King, Queen, and the Sisters, dealing with the Bloodpool in Storan's has dropped significantly on the priority list.  We may yet do some dealing with the Black Wizards, but for now, restoring Shadow is of prime importance.  I just hope the cost of doing so is worth the prize.

On another note, I have begun taking apprentices, offering my knowledge as a freeblade mercenary to a select few in whom I see potential....

[miltonyorkcastle]

My newest apprentice is the young Kahna Krows.  She is both bright and fierce, but, most importantly, a willing student.  She shares in much of the common problems that plague young warriors, namely, impatience and the reliance on brawn rather than brains.  

I began her training with a test of martial skills and tactical ability, as well as a test to determine her information gathering skills.  As I said before, she's a bright girl, if a bit too eager to please, and thus she completed both successfully.  However, she took the hard road on both, and had her luck run out, she might have found the tasks to be the death of her.  But she took the criticism without grudge, as I then took her out and showed her what she could have done to make the tasks easier, not to mention significantly increase the chance of success.

She has three more lessons, and then, the test.

[miltonyorkcastle]

Starting about the time I founded the Dread Blade, I began visiting the old Leilon orphanage I spent my boyhood in.  I now spend time there on a regular basis, making sure the caretakers have all the supplies and money they need.  The children are still somewhat afraid of me, but a few have come around.  There are two children that my intuition tells me will have a very interesting future ahead of them- something beyond the dockwork, smithing, or tailoring that most of these children will find themselves doing as adults.  These two, a boy and his younger sister.......

[miltonyorkcastle]

.......who I found in a ditch on the side of the road near the lake outside of town.  The boy had to have been no older than fourteen years, and his sister looked to be around the age of seven.   I dragged them out and threw one on each shoulder.  The boy put up a weak fight, but quickly gave up after I began walking.  I told the headmistress, that cranky hag, to get those two into shape.  She gave me a funny look, so I left her an extra bag of jinks that day.  

The two recovered suprisingly fast.  The young girl adjusted to her surroundings just as fast, and I could tell she was becoming a favorite among the other orphans.  She's a pretty girl, but her spirit is twice as sweet, and she does a great deal to help the mistresses in their work.  The boy, on the other hand, is very quiet, and keeps to himself.  His one saving quality is his love for his sister.  In that regard I've helped him.  In the last few years I procured him a job working freight at the piers.  He's been able to use that money to get the extra things his sister might need, and she's conviced him to use some of it to help the others in the orphanage.  He's a strong boy, and sharp witted.  When the time is right, I'll offer him a sword.

I've asked him, on many occasions, where he and his sister is from, if he knows of any relatives, and so on.  All I get from him is silence.  I've told him of my start in life, my curses and my failures, my loves and my victories, all in hopes that by sharing he would share in return.  But while he is an excellent listener, I think his tongue must have rusted as little as he uses it.

He's a young man now, and there have been many offers for apprenticeship.  He has turned down every one of them, refusing to leave his sister.  I expected as much.  What I didn't expect came just after one of these refused offers.  I had sat down with him and was trying to explain that he needed to get himself a secure occupation.  That's when he looked up at me, and I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there looking at him, but the boy spoke.  Someone must have mentioned to him that I had taken on a few apprentices, because he looked me straight in the eye and asked me to be his teacher.  I asked him why.  He told me he wanted to be strong like me.  For that, I told him no.  Strength he can get on his own.  He would have to give a better reason than that.  And thus, he returned to his usual silence, at least for a day.  

His sister is coming of age.  It won't be long before the headmistress will want to put her name in the job pools.  I'm going to see to it she stays right there.  She cares so much for the other orphans, what better occupation than that of a mistress at the orphanage.  I'll make sure they have enough gold to keep her on as staff.

[miltonyorkcastle]

I was just leaving the Leilon Arms after having a drink with Derrick when the boy approached me.  He was on his way from work at the docks to the orphanage to see his sister.  

I nodded to him, and before I could even get in a word of greeting...

[miltonyorkcastle]

.....  the boy threw a hefty sack of gold at my feet.  

"It's true I'm a mercenary,"  I told him, "But some things cannot be bought and sold with gold."

His demeaner was set, hard, and he did not move.

"Why?"  I asked.  "Why do you want strength?"

He continued to stare at me, and I could tell he was deciding whether or not to speak.  So I turned, leaving his gold lying in the street, and began to walk away.

"Find me when you have an-"

"To protect her.  To avenge her."  His voice was as steady as the wind blowing over the ocean.  I took my time to stare, to examine.  His eyes were true.

"So it's for your sister, then, eh?"

He responded with his usual silence.

"Pick up your gold, mate.  I've got something to show you..."

[miltonyorkcastle]

I took him to the Great Library.  I'm not sure he expected this first part of training, but aside from the confused looks, he did as I asked without question.  He quit his jobs at the docks and spent the next two months reading and copying books for the Master Librarian.  I directed him to all the pertinent sources of knowledge for current events and phenomena.  The Librarian had him copy books containing fighting styles, swordplay, and creature descriptions.  I had him copy books relating to the Weave.  He liked this task the least, it seemed.  

It was a twelve hour per day process.  I had to make sure this boy could handle the real training.  Not knowing his background, this was the best preparation for him and the best method for me to discover where his true interests lay.  Naturally, I covered the cost of his living expenses during this stay.  

The boy's smart.  Maybe not as quick-witted as I was at his age, but above average in that department nonetheless.  He is, however, phyiscally tougher than I ever was, and quicker with his feet and hands.  I also have a feeling he's not interested in using a greatsword.  We'll see what weapon he chooses.

One more note:  the boy is certainly not of the sociable types, which is understandable, with the blue skin and curvy little horns in his skull.  And I can definitely sense something about him, something... well, let's just say horns generally denote a connection to less than savory beings...  perhaps he has some natural abilities with the Weave... or perhaps it is something else, something worse.  However he was less than interested in the books on magic.  The answer must lie in his past.  But is it a part of his past he knows about?  In other words, is it something I can glean from him in time?  Perhaps.

At least for now he has a good record.  People fear such oddities as that boy.  It's been all I could do to keep him in Leilon, for all that wanted to ship him off the Krashin.  Not has he's caused any trouble.  He's actually well mannered for a guy who never speaks.  Of course, there are those that have thought to pick fights with him, but I made sure to put an end to that.  It's well known he's under my care, and no one crosses me in my hometown.

[miltonyorkcastle]

The boy has advanced faster than I had imagined he would.  In fact, he is the best pupil I have ever had.  He seems to have a natural feel for battle tactics and handles a sword like it's an extension of himself.  I've taught him the use of a myriad of weapons, everything the militaries use and more.  His favorite weapons, however, are the curved blades.  I've never been fond of them myself, but as I mentioned before, he's a bit more graceful than I ever was.  He's to the point that I allow him solo training, and we have done some traveling as I've taught him the use of maps.  It seems he's learned a bit of direction-finding elsewhere.  Perhaps some of the sailors at the Leilon docks taught him.  Every night we are not in Leilon, he writes Lyn a letter.  What goes into those letters, I have no clue, as he has never once shared anything to me about their relationship.  That boy is closed up tighter than an oyster.

On another note, I've discovered there exists such an Ale that can literally knock me off my feet.  After which Acacea stole my boots.  Even more strange, the hostess, Lily, at the Arms, seems to enjoy my company almost as much as Acacea.  I'm working out a deal with Kali and Derrick to give her some self-defense training with a dagger.  

Retiring from mercenary work has left me to spend most of my days, when I'm not training someone, in study.  I've become quite interested in the history of Layonara, specifically, each race's culture and language.  Perhaps I'll pay Kali to teach me the Elven language.  I'm not sure who I'll be able to find to teach me the Dwarven language.  Most of the old fellows I would have sought are long gone.  But I have time yet.

[miltonyorkcastle]

Steel has left Leilon.  I could have taught him a thing or two more, but he was bent on leaving, and he's his own man now.  I'll be watching to see how the world takes to him.  

On a less somber note, I finally got around to fixing up a corner with throw-pillows and a blind to accomodate Acacea when she feels like staying.  And just to spite the old devil, Aleister, himself, I had Kali make Smiles a new dress.  It's red, of course.  

Speaking of Acacea, she tried to bet me jinks that she could discover the entire life story of a lass I met the other day.  Naturally, I didn't take her up on it.  I don't like throwing my gold away, even if it will be used for pie and ale.  

I met the girl while travelling with a band of dwarves and their entourage.  We found her in Dalanthar after she had tried exploring the Rift.  She learned the hard way not to try that again.  She recovered well enough, though, and asked to accompany us.  We were all a little hesitant, except for the guitar-toting Bard, who said she was worth her salt.  So we let her follow, and it turns out, she is quite handy with a blade.  She uses the same type of curved blade that that crazy skirt-wearing Lokri uses.  I believe Ireth's fellow Jet also uses it. I myself am not familiar with that blade, having never trained with it. It's not a sword customarily used in the Queen's army.  She wore a breastplate, but fought in a long skirt, which, again, I find odd.  And that's saying nothing of how she dyes her hair green.  An interesting young woman indeed.  I am curious to discover who did her initial training, and where she is from, for that matter.  All in good time, I suppose.

[miltonyorkcastle]

Acacea claims she'll teach me elven.  I'm guessing that's only if she figures out how to sit still for more than five minutes.  Still, I did learn one word from her.  "Lasicala."  At least, I think that's how it's spelled.  It means, "Smiles."

[miltonyorkcastle]

Surprisingly, my Elven is coming along.  Thanks to Acacea's constant rambling and occasional translations, and Yard's meticulous explanations, I can pick out bits and pieces of most conversations in Elven.  I'm still a long way from fluent, however.  I need to find a teacher of the Dwarven language, but that is proving a difficult task indeed.  I only seem to be in a dwarf's company during the tide of battle, and many aren't willing to share the language, much like my old master.  Stubborn lot, those dwarves.

[miltonyorkcastle]

In these past few months, many old friends and acquaintances have surfaced.  Gulnyr, Ray, Key- to name a few...  Each meeting has been a solace to me, a good memory, a pleasant wave fondness for the days of my youth.  

Most importantly, this new time spent with old friends has restored my hope.  Hope that not all is lost.  Hope that maybe she is still out there; that the sea did not swallow her up; that the Lady of Storms may yet spit her back to shore.

But herein lies a new problem.  Interests have arisen.  I am well known and my fame has turned the eyes of women in my direction.  And I have found interests of my own among them.  

How long shall I wait for her return?  How long can I allow myself hope in what has been long lost to me?  Perhaps it is time to release myself from that hope.

I will seek counsel with Acacea, and perhaps with Kali, when she returns.