The World of Layonara
Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: Pseudonym on July 08, 2006, 02:27:32 AM
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Following are excerpts from the journal of Arkolio de’Averlain;
Arrived in the township of Hlint with Charlotte today - it’s a strange
place. Seems some sort of way-station for all sorts of adventuring folk.
Within an hour I had met a greater range of races, nationalities and
professions than all my previous years! Charlotte was as wide-eyed as me I
think although she did her best to act worldly and cosmopolitan. The whole
place, whilst really not much bigger than a hamlet, contains more sights and
wonders than I had previously dreamed possible.
Being new to town and short of funds I asked about the place where someone
like myself, handy with a blade, might find some employment. Well, the job
offers rolled in! Recovering stolen tax records, collecting goblin ears,
delivering mail and finding an array of pelts for a fur trader to name a
few. Seems easy money - my favourite kind!
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I met a fellow by the name of Tempartiar Gayle earlier today heading into
the Hlint cemetery. I had briefly considered relieving him of his money
purse but there was something in his stance, some confidence and assuredness
that made me hesitate. Anyway, he must have noticed me noticing and we got
to chatting. He was headed down into the crypts under the cemetery searching
for skeleton knuckles of all things! He invited me to join him - I was
reluctant at first but after his assurances that it would be ‘worth my
while’ I decided to go along. It was great and I’m very glad I did.
Tempartiar or ‘Temp’ as he asked to be called wasn’t such a bad sort for a
priest - nothing like my brother Haugrim. He had a sense of humour and
didn’t try and sell his religion to me the whole time. All in all a decent
fellow. He even laughed when I explained my theory on the gods - that they
were all a bunch of old seniles carrying out cosmic jests on us mortals to
relieve the boredom of their dotage. Somewhat different to my brother who
would quickly become enraged when I touted my theories in public. Temp even
let me keep all the gold we found down in the crypts - saying these
creatures had departed the great cycle and had no need for material wealth.
Whatever. I was several hundred gold coins the richer after our little
excursion - he could keep the knuckles!
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Today I received a mission from a little half-man named Ronar to fetch a
goblin chieftan’s head to him. Didn’t seem like such a hard ask - several
times I have ventured into the lands east of Hlint and hunted the goblin
scum that seem to infest the place without a problem. As I traveled the
short distance to the caves where the goblin chief was reputed to reside I
met up with a ranger by the name of Roy Ainsworth who had also received a
charter to kill the goblin chief. He too was a recent arrival in Hlint. What
a disaster! Immediately after we entered we were beset on all sides by
goblins, these much fiercer than the ones we had encountered previously.
Fighting our way deeper into the caves I was forced to use my entire stock
of healing potions that I had bought from a priestess in Hlint. After
sharing the tenth and last (expensive) potion with my new acquaintance we
decided we were outmatched by the goblin scum and decided discretion was the
better part of valour and we retreated - our tails between our legs. 500
gold coins worth of potions the poorer Roy and I parted ways. Hmmmmm.
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This afternoon I was wandering around Hlint with my sister Charlotte and we
encountered a paladin (paladins, self righteous, high and mighty, bast .
.mumble, mumble) by the name of Tarradon something-or-other searching for
companions to accompany him on some mission involving rooting out a nest of
bandits. I figured bandits = gold, and I convinced Charlotte to come along
too. Also joining us were a cute lass named Myrr and my high maintenance
ranger friend Roy from a few days ago. I cannot remember exactly where we
travelled over the course of the next few days - it was a blur. Through
forests, mountains, deserts and swamps we wandered high and low. Tarradon
the golden and mighty paladin might have been searching for bandits but,
whatever - the gold we found was great! That was my only concern. If only
shining-light, my-way-or-else holy warrior knew I was but one step removed
from the bandits he was hunting . . .
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Today I tried to make myself a batch of arrows. I had picked up some falcon
feathers and some hickory sticks and thought how hard can it be? By the
senile gods - what a trial! I resolve from this point on to never begrudge
the merchant who asks for his three gold coins in exchange for 99 arrows!
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Met up with a group today gathered around the local inn at Hlint who were
headed for a place called Haven mines. There were about eight of us altogether
and although the place sounded dangerous I figured I could just hang out
near the back of the group out of harm’s way. I seem to have developed quite
the knack for firing arrows into melee when my foe is least expecting it and
catching them in particularly vital spots. It’s a bit sneaky but effective!
I remember the names of Beli Tenker, Gelden, Finola (and her bear!), two fellows by the
name of Erik plus a couple of others accompanied me into the mines. Never
had I expected that many ogres to exist in the whole wide world let alone in
one place! We battled our way deeper and deeper into the mines eventually
confronting a chieftan that seemed to be running the place. A mighty battle
ensued and although our group was eventually victorious, three of my new
companions fell in in the chaos of combat. Sad. Sadder still was the lack of
opportunity to loot their corpses. It was the first time I have learnt about
the interesting workings of life, death and the void between in these lands
of Layonara.
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Haugrim, Charlotte and I met a young - well young by elven standards anyway - priestess by the neame of Serissa a couple of weeks ago. She wanted an escort to her home of Pranzis and Haugrim was keen to visit anyway and see firsthand the damage supposedly sustained in the city. Charlotte and I decided to tag along, having little better to do. I had spent most of my accumulated funds in the last couple of days . . . I really can’t remember where it all went. All I remember through the haze is lots of alcohol, scantily clad women of loose morals , dancing on the bar, more ale and wine, more women and . . . where did all the money go?
Anyway, the journey to Pranzis was pleasant enough. We encountered little trouble, nothing that the four of us could not handle. Haugrim insisted we rout every group of bandits we encountered including a dangerous group of bird-men that crossed our path. We set sail to Pranzis, via Fort Himlad where I still had some mail to deliver for Postmaster Vale, and found the city in smoking ruins. The temple to Rofirien still stood, albeit somewhat worse for wear, and it was there we met two colourful characters in whose company we were to spend the next couple of weeks. Barion, a warrior and Rakay, a half-orc barbarian. I especially like Rakan, a simple enough fellow but with a good sense of humour and a direct and simple approach to life that I understood and to which I could relate. The chasm between our relative intellects was not a barrier for a newly formed friendship. We spent the next couple of weeks battling various tribes of nasties including ogres and giants. I personally have no trouble with either race . . . the loot was great!
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I finally completed the task set for me by Mage Dalton of Fort Llast. He had been onto me for weeks trying to get some Will-o-Wisp essence for who-knows-what reason. I'd been putting it off - mainly due to laziness - but made my way out there yesterday with a bard by the name of Karn I had met a week or so earlier. We had to fight a few lizardmen in the swamps but retrieved the essence without too much bother.
More importantly, for the last few days I find myself in a state of . . . flusteredness? to which I am very unaccustomed. I have never had too much trouble attracting the attention of the fairer sex. I'll be the first to admit there are many men getting about out there that are better looking than my good self, however I've never lacked a female companion when the desire to have one struck me. Simple farm girls were always easily impressed with the 'bad-boy' image I had perfected. Town ladies, bored wit hthe lack of attention paid by their merchant husbands were no more difficult to woo. It has always been just a matter of finding the right bait for the hook.
A week ago I met a woman by the name of Muireann, a priestess *sigh*. However, she was as different to my boorish clerical brother as black is to white, or more appropriately, white to black. Fiesty, funny, a whirlwind in battle, men tripping over themselves to obey her every whim, she is gorgeous beyond mere words . . . suffice to say, I had a new target for my rakish charms! I decided on the brash, confident, never-do-well persona which had worked effectively numerous times on priestesses in the past. Any joy? Nothing! Every witticism I summoned she bested. Every lewd comment I made was either thrown back in my face or worse, it was made obvious she was far from tempted. I found myself thinking about her firstly at odd times during the day. I was almost opened from sternum to groin by a sword-wielding orc in the woods when I found myself day-dreaming about Miss Muireann! Then the thoughts were upon me at night as well. I had lured a barmaid at the Wild Surge inn back to my room there and was in the process of . . . well, in the process and bam . . . there's the face of this woman floating in my minds eye again! I ended up ushering the confused barmaid out of the room and spent the rest of the night formulating ideas to win this priestess - this vision of beauty - to my bed.
Yesterday, my opportunity presented itself. I had decided to accompany Muireann and Eghaas Treebringer for a short trip to a lake Muir knew for a bit of a dip. During the walk there, as had become standard practice during the last week, Muireann was having fun at my expense and letting me know how very far I was from wooing her when I had an inspiration! I had a new plan. I had been going about this the wrong way the whole time. She had seen her fill of arrogant adventurers and over-confident rogues . . . the way to get this woman into my bed was going to be through a totally different tact. I quickly decided what Muireann really wanted - at a subconcious level at any rate - was an innocent. I think she has become so jaded from her own . . .waywardness in the past that interaction with an 'innocent' would open up that part of her heart that had left such innocence behind years ago. I think she remembers her own innocence lost many years ago and longs to connect with it again. It was perfect. All I had to do was convince her my brashness of the past week was really only a clumsy mask for my innocent, glossy-clean inner-self and she would lap it up . . . and it worked a charm.
Within 5 minutes, I had her convinced that my behaviour from the last week was some kind of 'macho' shield I had erected to hide my real self behind. She swallowed it all up! The clumsier and more boyish I got with my advances and flatteries, the closer she got to me. Within an hour Eghaas had been dismissed - her thinking his brush-off was her idea no less - and we were alone. We spent the rest of the day together, me gradually - not so quickly that she became suspicious - opening up my 'real' self to her. I would have bet any amount of gold that she would have been warming my bed that night . . .
Ii is at this point that I found myself a little flustered and confused. At the end of a brilliant day with a beautiful woman swimming in a perfect lake setting, I suddenly found myself not wanting to . . . wham, bam, thank-you maam . . . as had been my intent. Had my deception become so involved and convoluted that I had started to convince myself that I wanted more than just sleeping with this woman? At the end of our day together Muireann told me that she didn't want to rush our burgeoning relationship, and I found myself nodding in agreement!!!
What am I doing!?!?
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Next day . . . another day spent thinking about Muireann . . . this is not good. I think I might have to hit the road for a little while, clear my head and get my sense of perspective back . . .
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Another day of confusion. I had decided to keep clear of Muireann for a couple of days in order to get my head straight for the continuation of the grand seduction, however, of course who should I run into by the pond in Hlint, but the woman herself. She saw me before I had a chance to make myself scarce. It’s funny, one moment I was minding my own business, walking down the main street in Hlint - founding member and current President of the hedonistic, selfish, womanising, Arkolio de’Averlain Appreciation Society and the next . . . blushing, bumbling idiot - fawning all over her. That would be fine, a bit of fawning was going to be part of my seduction plan . . . only problem, I wasn’t acting.
She mesmerises, hypnotizes, enchants me. Is it an enchantment? Have I been the subject of some sort of charm? I followed her to her temple in Leilon like a little puppy -panting at her heels. At one point on the road to Leilon we were attacked by the biggest wild boar I have ever seen. Arkolio a month ago would have been running for all he was worth in the opposite direction - an approach to combat that has held me in good stead my entire life. Did I do that this time? No, I threw my self between Muireann and the beast like the lovestruck fool I fear I am becoming. I was lucky to survive this rash of nobilty/stupidity.
We eventually arrived at the temple of Mist in Leilon . . . what a sight. Muireann is the perfect mortal representative of this Goddess. Fiery, chaotic, temperamental, beautiful, powerful . . . she, and her Goddess, are all these things. I found myself enjoying being at the centre of this tempest with Muireann at my side. I have never had much time for any of the Gods but this was . . . dare I admit, exciting. Thrilling. Momentous. Every one of my senses was alive and throbbing both with the power of the Goddess in the air and the presence of Muir next to me. It is getting harder and harder to remind myself that it is my goal to bed this woman and then be on my way. Arkolio de’Averlain wasn’t made for love. It is not my thing. Love leads to pain. What am I going to do? I’m going to go and find a nice, plump, docile farmer’s daughter or wife that doesn’t challenge me, or my idea of me, in the slightest way.
I wonder what Muireann will be doing tomorrow? I saw some flowers as we headed into Leilon by the side of the road that she might like . . . NO. No flower picking. That’s not me. Drinking, whoring, debauchery. That’s me. That’s right.
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A little bit of 'normality' . . . Haugrim had some business that he needed a hand with. Turns out he needed some help dealing with some ogres outside of Krandor. It was a bit of mindless killing . . . just what I needed. I saw Muir earlier today but we chatted only briefly before I had to meet up with Haugrim. She looked lovely.
Lovely?
When did Arkolio de'Averlain start using words like lovely?
When did Arkolio de'Averlain start referring to himself in the third person?
Arkolio de'Averlain is going to have a lie down now.
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I grow weary of starting each journal entry with “Another day of confusion . . .”
Is it love with Muir?
Do I desire her body or her heart?
Am I deceiving her into believing I feel love when it is only lust, or, am I deceiving myself into believing I feel lust when it is really love?
What a tangled web I have woven . . .
I left her today after her declaration that she does not love me.
So?
What do I care?
Onto the next maiden. Charade over. Great. Good.
I can stop wasting my time. Fare well. See you later. Whatever.
I had a wander through the red light caverns near Hlint with Karn after leaving Muir. I enjoy the bard’s sense of humour and irreverent approach to this mortal coil that is a mirror to my own. I fear I was not as stimulating and amusing a travelling companion myself however . . . my thoughts were still in turmoil. The goblins which I had routed some weeks ago had slunk back into the cavern complex and clearing them out again was a welcome diversion. Karn and I met a young half-ogre (?) or half-something down in the caves by the name of Hoss. He proved to be of limited intellectual discourse and amusement to Karn and myself but was undeniably useful cannon fodder for goblin archer attack as I collected the spoils of his kills! I love newcomers to Hlint, they have no idea how much gold some creatures carry and I can normally skim at least double my rightful share from any looting in a dungeon foray!
From the goblin caves we wandered around the Sielwood Forest for a bit, fighting the various nasties that tend to lurk in the vicinity. My heart really wasn’t in it however. Her face was constantly before me. Every minute in the forest was a minute I could instead have been by her side . . .
Seeking further distraction, I parted company with Karn and Hoss and wandered over to the township of Krandor. I knew Muir was in Hlint and I was wanting to avoid her . . . I didn’t need the aggravation. I was loitering near the crypts - sometimes grieving relatives will leave coins or trinkets at a loved one’s grave site - when I encountered a woman who introduced herself as Dalvenus. Seemed okay, my sister would have liked her. Dalvenuw was taller than I, muscular, clad in plate armour and wielding a maul that looked heavier than me too! She explained that she was heading into the crypts to retrieve some ashes for a local boy in Krandor. Whatever. It was unlikely that I was going to bump into Muir down there so I came along.
Lesson in humility. What we encountered in the Krandor Crypts was unlike anything I had ever seen in my venturings into the cemetery in Hlint. Ghouls,’Burning Men’, Skeleton Chieftans that threw fireballs and acid storms like archmages! My knack of firing arrows into an opponent’s vulnerable parts availed me little. The undead we encountered seemed immune to my ‘special’ way of attacking. We eventually retrieved the ashes for the Krandor boy, more through luck and good fortune in battle than by skill and strategy. Whatever . . . I found more than 2,000 gold coins in the crypts! Hooray! - a fortune by anyone’s standards for a couple of hours ‘work’ . . . Hooray! . . . why then, don’t I feel happy?
Muireann . . . .
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. . . . Muireann
Well, it’s happened. I’ve finally bedded her. Had my way. It . . .she . . . was amazing. She truly is like the Goddess she serves, Wild, tempestuous, unquenchable. It was like nothing I had experienced in my times with countless other girls and women before. The world ceased to exist outside the space of our entwined bodies. For the first time in my life, a foe could have snuck upon me unawares and I would have been blissfully ignorant. But, it is done. Time to hit the road again, no strings attached. See ya later. Nothing more to be done here . . .
Great theory.
One little problem. I have fallen in love. For real.
Last night, for the first time, as I held Muir in my arms, the words I whispered in her ear were not calculated and planned. They were not spoken with an agenda. These words of love were also words of truth.
How do I feel?
One, elated beyond any joy I have known before. I feel like singing at the top of my voice and shouting my happiness to the heavens. Raise the senile Gods from their slumber with the echoes of my laughter.
Two, I still feel confusion. Now that I have won my 'prize' I feel a . . . guilt? . . . that it was obtained through such cunning planning and manipulation. I feel as if I have sullied something that should be so clean and pure and shining. Guilt from Arkolio the remorseless?
What is becoming of me? This morning I passed on the chance to a trip to Haven mines, always a profitable venture for the . . . possibilty . . . not even the likely probability . . . of spending more time with Muireann. A woman over adventure and gold for Arkolio the Carefree?
Also, for the first time in my life, I have offered a prayer to the Gods. As I lay in Muir’s arms, I invoked a silent prayer of thanks to the Goddess Mist for the opportunity to share a place in the heart of one of her priestesses. A prayer to a Goddess!!?! A prayer from Arkolio the Agnostic?
With whom can I share these concern? My friends, Roy, Eric, Karn? I fear they would make a joke of my feelings and worries. My brother? Not likely. Asking a priest of Rofirien for his views on my relationship with a priestess of Mist? Hmmmm.
Why do I so fear these effects of love?
To be completely honest, for the entirety of my life there has been little love and concern for anyone else other than myself.
Is this selfishness a habit I have to break, or is it . . . the real me?
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Earlier today I ventured into the goblin infested red light caverns near Hlint. It was the first time I had been back since I was part of the group that slew the goblin leader weeks ago and the first time solo. My foray was without notable incident, my skills have improved enough over the last few months to the point that the goblin warriors that I encountered posed little problem . . . up until I found myself on the lowest level suddenly surrounded by about twenty of the little savages! It was the first time in weeks that I thought to myself - uh oh - in over my head here. I eventually escaped . . . half a dozen healing potions and one (very expensive) stoneskin gem later. There wasn’t even much gold to be found as compensation, maybe a couple of hundred coins at most and I would have had to spend at least that to replace my healing potions.
Perhaps the most valuable thing I took out of the caverns this venture was a lesson . . . I am a . . . capable warrior at best. Where I truly shine is as a support to other fighters. Does this ‘limitation’ bother me? Not really. What’s the appeal about standing in the front line of a battle going toe to toe with someone or something that desires nothing more than seeing you splattered on the end of it’s club? I have confirmed I am more than comfortable up near the back of the party - out of harms way - firing my arrows into the melee. Let the brave (and stupid) paladin have the glory and the bard’s songs - i’ll be content with the gold . . . and the girl.
Speaking of which, saw Muireann in town after my little adventure. Again, one thing lead to another and before too long we couldn’t get out of Hlint quick enough and as soon as we were in a secluded spot we were all over each other. This time we coupled on top of a windswept mountain near Haven . . . why she prefers these exotic locations I don’t know. I don’t feel the need to ask such questions! I don’t question my fortune. Perhaps it has something to do with her devotion to Mist? Whatever!
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I had to run an errand for package master Freya today . . . package master? Seems a somewhat grandiose title for a pretty mundane sort of job in my opinion! Anyway, I headed off to Fort Hope with a delivery for somebody named Larry. Muir came along for the trip which passed without notable incident. A bit of a shame really, she sure is something to watch in the heat of battle. Almost as thrilling as watching her in the heat of the bedroom . . . note the usage of the word ‘almost’. As my mother used to say, it’s a little-big word!
Spent the night with Muir again, this time by a waterfall. Was amazing and wonderful although I did wake in the morning feeling as if I had come off second best in a fight with a Malar tiger. The first time she started up with the scratching and the biting I must confess I was a bit taken aback. Now, i’m quite getting into it!
Only other thing of note, while Muir and I were reclining by the waterfall . . . afterwards . . . a man she addressed by the name of Shamur happened by. Was definitely some awkwardness between the two of them. I was tempted to ask about it but refrained. Already I know that nothing raises that girl’s hackles like an insinuation of possessiveness or jealousy on my part. Actually, referring to her as a ‘girl’ does so as well!! Anyway, I left it alone. I had tasted Muir’s fiery nature in a very, very positive way already that day and really didn’t need to be on the receiving end of it’s flip side!
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I’ve ruined everything.
Today, I told Muireann the truth. What in the hells was I thinking? I was looking at her . . .I was awash with an immense love . . . I was happily afloat on a sea of warmth and togetherness, then . . . I capsized the ship.
One moment I was looking into Muir’s eyes, the next thing I knew I was telling her of my plan of seduction. If we are . . .if we were to continue to be together, I had got it into my head that I had to be totally honest with her - no matter the consequence.
So I did. I told her that initially it was her body that drew her to me and I only had the intention of bedding her and then being on my way. I told her that I felt jealousy towards other men in her life, both of the past and the present. I told her it was difficult for me to ‘feel’ more love for her than I knew she felt in return for me. I told her of my fears and insecurities regarding her Goddess. I told her it was important, no matter the consequences, that she knew the truth of my ‘wooing’, so that if we were to have a future it was a future that started with a clean slate.
She didn’t take it well.
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// Just a post to get me off the rank of goblin welp . . . Goblin welp? Why doesn’t Leanthar just slap me across the face and be done with it!?!! *looks indignant, mutters* Goblin welp indeed . . .
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Saw Muir again. It was not a planned encounter, after a sleepless night I decided to go spend some thinking time over by the lake near Blackford Castle . . . the site of our first kiss. Who knows if it was fate but that’s there she was at that time.
I shall try to the best of my ability to recollect the conversation . . .
There she was, never more beautiful to me than right then and there.
Me: May I . . . interrupt?
She nodded, not looking at me.
Me: Muir, all night I have been searching for words to say . . . words of apology, words to explain how I feel . . . searching for justifications for my behaviour . . .
Muir: You owe me nothing
(as if you’re going to let me off that easily)
Me: There are no words that lessen the . . . baseness of my behaviour . . . no words that make my lies to you easier to bear . .
Muir: No
(I wasn’t getting a good feeling at this point)
Me: You deserve a greater apology than I can manage to put into words, yet . . . I say to you I am sorry.
Muir: And your jealousy of Mist?
Me: I am 19 years on this world, I cannot be perfect . . . but I can promise you I can try.
Muir: Didn't you promise that once already? And yet . . .
Me: Aye, I made a promise . . . I made a promise to an unknown woman who was fair of face and fair of form . . . now I make a promise to the woman I love.
Muir: Do you actually love me?
Me: Yes Muir
(there it was, all out on the line)
Me: Whether it be a love that is destined to be forever one-sided . . .
(let’s hope not)
Muir: You could live with that?
(let’s hope not)
Me: Life without you is not an option, I have been asleep for 19 years Muir . . . with you, I feel as if I have finally awoken . . .
(nice one Ark!)
Muir: I can't help but wonder how many times words such as these were spoken without truth, I trusted you against my better judgment. I expected you to leave after the first time.
Me: Aye, I betrayed that trust, that was my intent.
Muir: I would have killed you for using me.
Me: And then, then I discovered who the woman was beneath that form. . you Muir. I set out to woo a nameless woman, one who was nothing to me . . . I was not planning on love.
(It would be simpler without it)
Muir: Yet you told me that is what it was...
Me: Aye, I told that woman whatever I thought she needed to hear
Muir: What do you want from me Ark?
Me: I want to see your smile Muir. I want to hear your laugh. I want to be the reason.
Muir: You did and you were, but it wasn't enough for you...
Me: I want that to be the case . . . with no secrets.
Muir: You questioned me
Me: Aye. I had no right. I think of you with another man . . . and I think of . . . violence against that man.
(Shamur, Eagle, Kiva, her other suitors, they may be warriors but that was no defence against the crimson smile I would give them as they slumbered unawares)
Muir: There has been no man since you, There easily could have been if I wished it.
Me: Do you not think that is obvious to me with every man that looks at you?
Muir: No, I didn't, I have never really been of interest to men until after I left the Temple. I am not used to it.
Me: Well, you are making up for lost time
(I can’t help myself sometimes, was I trying to get her started?)
Muir: Was that a dig?
Me: No
(yes)
Muir: Because what I did before you is not of your concern...
Me: You are not accountable to any man, least of all me, for your actions, but . . . These admirers . . . it burns me to see them look at you with the same look that I once had . . . It is not fun to watch . .
Muir: Should I hide myself? Scar myself? Would that help?
Me: No Muir, it is not your problem. It is mine.
(Could you wear a veil, that might help?)
Muir: And you, when you flirt. Do you not think it bothers me? Or are you the only one who matters
Me: Muir, there is only you.
Muir: So you say...Yet you flirted with Akki without even asking me how I faired that day. Or did you think I failed to notice that? Karn tried to gently point out to you what you'd done...
(Thanks Karn! If I were attracted to other men maybe I’d notice such things too!)
Muir: Will that happen often Ark?
Me: Akki? I honestly would not be able to point her out in a crowd . . .
(She was naked in the Mist temple when I last saw her. I have no recollection of her face...)
Muir: Don't lie to me
Me: It is truth, There is only you Muir.
Muir: I'm sure you have an excellent memory for womens faces!
Me: I truthfully cannot even remember the conversation with this Akki . . .
Muir: It is second nature to you no doubt . .
(she was sneering)
Me: If it bothers you. you will never have to suffer from it again . .
Muir: I told Jaleel, and half of Hlint we were togther....and it wasn't enough for you.
Me: I cannot be perfect. I can only try to be perfect. Jaleel? I imagine he told the other half anyway . .
Muir: But no, I did not tell Shamur, I had not had chance
(Of course not)
Muir: And yes, he is interested in me
(no kidding)
Me: You never acknowledged me as yur man when I was there . . .
Muir: Nor did you me Ark, I aasumed that is what you wished.
Me: You do not invite such possessive actions Muir
Muir: Is it possessive to express affection for the one you claim to love, or to at least acknowledge them past a common aquaintance
(ouch)
Me: Muir, speak not like that . . . you know that is not true.
Muir: Maybe
Muir: You didn't act like it
Me: Would you have me beg? I would but I know you would treat such an action with scorn . . . yet I would anyway.
Muir: If, and I say if I trust you again and you lie to me I will flay the flesh from your bones as you still live
Me: You would not ever need to . . .
Muir: Will you trail in my wake? Where ever my goddess sends me? Will you live in her shadow?
Me: Mist's shadow? I am a rogue Muir. I like shadows
Muir: You know if she wished you dead I would kill you don't you?
(stop rubbing it in, i get it. And you’d try to kill me, there’s a difference)
Muir: Even if I did love you
Me: Then let us hope I do not offend her.
Muir: I've been told you will destroy me, even if that isn't your intention
Me: Destroy you? How so?
(Karn again? No, I bet it was from another suitor - completely objective i’m sure!)
Muir: By making me choose, By not accepting I am hers first and always.
Me: I know already how that choice would be made . . . It is part of you Muir . . . I would have you no other way.
She looked at my face then, for the first time in the entire conversation. Ifelt brave enough to reach out and caress her cheek.
Muir: Fine Ark....Have it your way....But this is truly it
Me: I have just spoken words Muir . . . little noises that blow away on your Goddesses wind (nice!) . . . but you will see the truth of what I say in my every action.
She nodded, still silent.
Muir: Maybe in time.....
Me: You will see the truth of my words.
Muir: You know that will take time also....
I brought her hand to my lips then and she returned the gesture. Her lips against my skin felt like heaven.
Me: Muir - I touched the place above her heart - You. In here Muir. You are beautiful in here . . . That is the important thing Muir. What is inside . . . and I will show you what's inside Arkolio de’Averlain.
I kissed her then again, very gently upon her cheek.
Me: Goodbye Muir
Muir: Be safe Ark
-
I'll see if I can make journal entry without making a refernce to Muir . . . oops, just did. This journal is becoming more about her than me. Funny though, I don't mind a bit.
Met a fellow who went by the title of Pendar the Hooded One in Hlint today. What happened to good old fashioned surnames like Smith and Brown? Anyway, somehow one thing led to another and we were trading insults in the middle of main street! I used a couple of my old favourites. Slurs against his mother, a questionable sexuality and his personal hygiene. He did make it easy, he was wearing robes that looked suspiciously like a dress. Eghaas and Muir (oops, did it again!) dived for cover but the taunts were mostly good natured. After trading insults for a little while a group of us, led by Pendar the Skirt Wearer, went to a small cavern complex not far from Hlint to retrieve some Bodak teeth. Everything went pretty well without too much risk to my handsome self (mostly thanks to Muir's (that's three times now!) wards against the negative energy attacks of the undead that infested the place).
We all made our way out without too much mishap and some 500 gold coins the wealthier to boot. Only other thing to report from today involves she who will not be named (for a fourth time at least) which I will save for another day.
-
Saw Muir in Hlint today. As was her wont, she was seated in the middle of town talking to a couple of others, Barion, whom I had adventured on Rilara a while ago, included. I snuck up on Muir and blew softly on the back of her neck. It was then that another man, Donnchadh by name I was to learn, threateningly put hands to his sword hilt at my approach. Supposedly Donnchadh was newly arrived in Hlint and was a Mist worshipper himself and now self appointed guardian of Muireann. Whatever. Did she stop Donnchadh and say ‘No, this is Ark whom I told you about’. Did she acknowledge me as any different to the host of other men that constantly clamber for her attention? Did she give me any sign that she held me in any regard?
I think it was maybe Roy Ainsworth who said ‘Never fall in love with a priestess’...
Or Jaleel. No, actually, probably Roy, Jaleel would be more specific and say never fall for a priestess of Mist.
Muir has been telling me for weeks now that she has no place in her heart for love of any man. She has been telling me this in both words and deeds. A few days ago I heard of a fight between Muir and Jaleel, something to do with Jaleel abusing Karn and his preference for members of the same sex. I’m not entirely sure, but anyway, as Jaleel wasn’t around at the time I heard of this confrontation, I wrote a letter to Jaleel warning him to be very careful about with whom he picks his fights.
// Copy below
Later, after I was gone, Jaleel tracked down Muir and wanted to pass on a threat of his own to your truly. Muir said to Jaleel that the letter I wrote had nothing to do with her and if I wanted to go and get myself killed by Jaleel’s blade it was nothing to her. Today as she recounted this confrontation with Jaleel to me I looked in her eyes and saw the truth of her words. Were I to die, it would mean nothing to her.
Only a fool falls in love with a priestess.
Only a ...ed fool.
-
// Copy of letter to Jaleel.
Jaleel,
A word of warning. When you choose friends and enemies in this life, consider carefully the friends of those you choose to name as foe.
Some of us will not feel the necessity of restricting the thrust of our blade to within the confines of an arena.
As I stated, consider these words very carefully when next you speak to Muireann.
signed,
Arkolio de'Averlain
-
Two things of note to report from the last couple of days.
I finally recovered the Oil of Vukas for Juanita the horse trader from where she lost it in the Grey Peaks. I accompanied a group of like-minded adventurers from in and around Hlint including Tarradon Duvall, my sister Charlotte - why were they together when I arrived? hmmmm- Grulwz, Jake Saltpetre and a likeable enough dwarf named Alokki. I had heard from various sources that I would find it difficult to retrieve this oil for Juanita as she lost it deep in lands infested by various ogre tribes. I don’t know if we were just lucky or our skills have developed to a point where we have become . . . formidable, but regardless of which, the ogres we encountered fell like so much wheat before our scythes. I survived the entire trip without so much as a scratch! The worst incident I had was I chipped a tooth on some corn bread I had found on one of the ogres bodies . . . serves me right.
The whole trip, over within a couple of days, was very profitable. Between the reward and what I looted off the ogre corpses, I added about 1,500 gold coins to my bank balance! The other good thing about this venture is it gave me some time and perspective to think about the Muir . . . situation.
My grandmother used to tell me story when I was a little boy. The story involved a little boy who used to look after a rich merchant’s flock of sheep. One day the rich merchant invited the little shepherd boy inside his grand manor home. This was very exciting for the boy for though he had worked for the merchant for many years he had never seen inside the man’s home and it was reputed to be filled with wondrous treasures gathered from the far flung corners of the world. The rich merchant allowed the little boy to look through his house of treasures but his permission to do so came with one condition. He gave the boy a chicken egg to carry on the end of a silver spoon as walked around the house with the instruction that he must not drop the egg at all costs. Eager to impress the great and wealthy merchant the shepherd boy made his way around the house, concentrating very carefully on not letting the egg fall from it’s precarious position on the spoon. After several hours the merchant found the shepherd standing in the great hall of his home, the egg intact on the end of the spoon. The boy had not let it fall during his journey through the house. The merchant asked the boy, ‘What did you think of my house? What about the great treasures I have on display in my home?’ The shepherd boy answered, ‘Sir, I did not see any of these treasures, I was concentrating on not letting the egg fall from the spoon.’
My (long-winded) point? During my excursion to the Grey Peaks I realised I was the shepherd boy. I was concentrating so intently on my goal of winning the heart of Muireann I was blind to the treasures before me.
Maybe she didn’t love me now? Maybe she never would.
Did that change the fact that she was beautiful?
Did it change that she chose to spend time with me?
Did it change the fact that I enjoyed the time I spent with her?
When had I turned into such a worrier that I could not tear my eyes away from some elusive goal and not just enjoy the here and now?
We may end up together for a long time. We may part company tomorrow. Who knows?
I found Muireann in the temple of Mist in Leilon - I really need to buy a warm coat! - she was beautiful and here before me and it confirmed my realisation. I spoke to her at length and it was . . . good. We reached an understanding. Where it goes from here, who can say?
I will not worry and I will enjoy all the treasures I see in the great house as I journey through. If I ‘drop the egg’, so be it.
// With apologies to Paolo Coelho!!
-
Again, a couple of things of note from the last few days.
Some few weeks ago, whilst talking with Muir, she told me of the destruction of the village in which she was born and raised. In the raid her parents were both slain and her sister now missing, possibly murdered, more probably sold into slavery. Muir told me that her Church was conducting investigations and, at the time, I offered to Muir that I could make some enquiries through various sources of my own. When one chooses to lead a . . .shady life . . . one of the benefits is that one tends to make acquaintance all sorts of people who make it their business to know the business of others - reputable or . . . otherwise. I put out the feelers amongst some contacts and spread a little gold to get the wheels turning.
Then, as occasionally happens to those blessed with towering intellects, I had a brilliant idea. On several occasions I have had opportunity to travel with a paladin by the name of Tarradon Duvall. As a general rule, I normally don’t have a lot of time for paladins, however this one is . . . not too boorish. I did grow up with Haugrim, the original Mr Preachy himself after all - I have built up a tolerance over time! Anyway, often I have travelled the wild lands around Mistone in the company of my brother and sister and Tarradon has joined us. He is a proficient bladesman and I have always welcomed another body between my foes and myself in any battle - so he has been welcome each time! On our travels I have noticed a certain . . . fondness developing between Charlotte and Tarradon . . . nothing untowards but often I will see them sharing a secret smile. That’s the good thing about having a paladin interested in your sister - (a) he won’t touch her before there’s a ring on her finger, and (b) no-one else will touch her while he’s around!
So, my brilliant idea is this - I hinted to Tarradon that Charlotte is heavily influenced by what I have to tell her and things could go better for him if he was to help me out with some investigations into the disappearance of Muir’s sister - a win-win situation for all. Between his amusingly furious blushing attacks, he agreed to make some enquiries into the matter through his Church contacts. Now there was not only the Church of Mist investigating and my own somewhat less repuatble network, but also the Church of Roirein! Am I the first genius in history to get these two faiths working towards the same goal!!? I am, just a little, impressed at my own cleverness! In return for his investigations, Tarradon also required me to perform some ‘good deeds’ with him in addition to speaking to Charlotte, so we spent the rest of the day ferreting out various bandit nests and lairs of nasties that plagued the common folk . . . I personally think if they are stupid enough to grub out an existence on a farm their entire lives, they deserve little better. However, if that was part of the price to pay, so be it.
The other matter of note is . . . Jaleel. I may have made an enemy there. I wrote a letter when I was in a temper (and had had a little bit too much ale to drink I might add) and he seems unwilling to let it pass . . . Muir and Jaleel seem to have reached some sort of truce or arrangement but Jaleel seems not quite so ambivalent towards yours truly. Today he threatened me and informed me it would bring him no pleasure to inform my brother and sister the news of my death at his blades. I almost laughed in his face. The fool. Does he not realise I am a thief, a liar, a cheat, a bully , a rogue and I do not fight fair. I prefer to engage my challenges as my opponent blissfully slumbers! Jaleel would never even wake to draw his blades . . . When someone picks a fight with Arkolio de’Averlain it won’t be an honourable arena battle with the best swordsman the victor. Also, someone doesn’t fight just one child of Averlain, it doesn’t work that way. If you swing a blow at one of us, you’d better be prepared to receive three blows in return. If Jaleel and I ever do ‘battle’, it might not even be my poisoned dagger that takes his life - equal chance it will be the sword of Charlotte or the mace of Haugrim. Maybe even the holy blade of Tarradon Duvall if Charlotte gets dragged into a conflict! Sad part of all this is I don’t even mind Jaleel. The fellow and I used to get on quite well. What does one do? I fear it is maybe too late to resolve this with mere words . . .
Well, that has been my last few days. My last few nights? They have been filled with hours of bliss with Muir . . .
-
Rather mundane entry today. Usual stories of slaying monsters, accumulating wealth and just generally saving the day for one and all.
One... interesting point I suppose. I happened to meet a fellow by the name of Kiva yesterday by Lake Palden. I'd never met him before but Jaleel had told me once before that he was one of Muir's ex-partners. With my newfound perspective on my . . . relationship with Muir, I was willing to speak to the man in a civil manner and be as pleasant as could be. He verbally attacked me, threatened for me to stay away from Muir and drew his blades when I told him to mind his own business. He certainly didn't have a very high opinion of me and my intentions with Muireann. Now where could he have garnered such an opinion? Only one possible source. Which begs the question, why is she painting such a negative picture of me to a former flame? Hmmmmmmm.
-
** Journal filled with drunken, illegible scrawl. Only here and there can a reader make out any words.
Muir . . .
Kiva . . .
. . . and at the bottom of the wine soaked page, underlined twice and written twice as large as any of the other text,
LIAR
-
Well, amazing what a difference a couple of weeks can have on the direction of one’s life . . .
Where to start?
Adventuring? Plenty of it. I have had lots of time on my hands for a hundred and one assorted quests, adventures, forays and explorations. I’ve mined topaz after slaying ogres, travelled the length and breadth of the Berhagen Mountains, crossed the Blood Desert a couple of times, sailed the high seas, collected venom sacks from spiders in the dire woods and battled lizard men in the aptly named fens. I’ve fought alongside wizards, paladins, priests, half-giant druids, elven archers, dwarven berserkers and brownie sorcerors. I’ve collected a king’s ransom in gold and jewels - more money than a year ago I would have ventured existed in all Rilara! I’ve done so many things since Muireann and I permanently parted company . . . actually, perhaps I should have started with the Muir story first.
There is the long version of this story and the short version. Frankly, I am only motivated to pen the abbreviated tale.
Arkolio wants Muireann.
Muireann wants Kiva.
Kiva wants Tegan.
I think I may be the only one missing out in this chain unless Tegan (whom I’ve never even met) secretly wants me.
From Muir’s own lips have I heard the words that if Kiva calls to her, she will come. Simple as that. She tells me that she doesn’t think it likely he will do so, thus why should I care? . . . as if that is relevant at all. I am to put my life, my heart, my everything on hold subject to the whim of another man? How can I be with a woman who would rather be with someone else? This is not even bringing into the equation her feelings for the one named Ardal - a man whose name and place I have had to hear from others.
Am I bitter? Not at all. Muireann has taught me a very, very valuable lesson.
Friendship is for the weak.
Emotion for the misguided.
Fidelity for the foolish.
There will be no place for love in the heart of Arkolio de’Averlain.
-
What was I saying last time? What a difference a couple of weeks can have on the direction of one’s life . . .
Where to start again?
Adventuring?
Have had my fair share, again with an assortment of individuals from in and around Mistone. Have spent quite a bit of time with Jaleel and Roy - both of whom are often about town when I find myself in Hlint. Both are accomplished fighters and when we travel together, not too many beasties can cause us a whole lot of grief. One . . . unpleasant experience we did have however the other day involved a fairly routine trip to the Broken Forest to help Jaleel clear out some orc bandits that had taken root there. After we had done this task, again without too much mishap, we happened upon a cave entrance which we conjectured might have provided a base of operations for the orcs. Venturing inside we did not encounter any more orcs but instead a host of diseased rats, a plague of oozes and jellies and puddings, and finally, but by no measure least of which, a wyrm. I cannot remember it’s colour - I only saw a hint of darkness rushing towards me before I found myself walking the void road again. A valuable lesson learnt about my own over-confidence and, perhaps just as importantly, that of others.
A similar mishap nearly occurred yesterday in the Grey Peaks fighting some ogres. Another trip to the void was narrowly avoided as I decided discretion was the better part of valor and ran from a melee which had deteriorated for our group quite suddenly. My skulking skills came in very handy. Sticking to the shadows, I snuck past a host of ogres all the way back to Fort Llast without incident. I didn’t even have to share the take as I was looting and everyone else who was there did not possess my knack for hiding and thus perished in a most grisly manner!
Muir?
We have seen a bit of each other recently. She is impossible to avoid really possessing an uncanny talent for turning up wherever I may be. Not that I really mind. Since my . . . epiphany regarding the true nature of love, it has actually been somewhat more relaxed and pleasant to spend time in her company. We have warmed each other’s beds a few times this week, travelled together, fought together and, as to what she does when I am not there, I no longer care.
A few days ago, standing in Hlint, contemplating a journey to Hampshire with Roy I witnessed Muir asking Roy if he would lay down his life to protect hers . . . what a question for her, of all people, to ask someone. I almost slapped her face right then and there, the hypocrite. Again, I must thank her. A month ago if she asked me the same question, like Roy, I would have answered yes, I would. She’d receive a very different answer now. Her choice.
-
Things are going pretty well with Muireann. It’s kind of funny. For the last few weeks, since she made her feelings clear about the state of our relationship, things have been better. I continue to get ‘mixed signals’ from her as to her wants and desires, but since I have officially given up worrying about it, her, the future, whatever; we, together, have generally been happier in each other’s company. She constantly tells me that she doesn’t know whether it is in her ... make up? soul? to love anyone at all. Often it seems she is convincing herself about this as much as me.
An interesting story to tell. Well, a run-in really.
Kiva. Where to start? He’s arrogant and obnoxious. He thinks he’s all that, but to the great majority of people who know him, he isn’t really much at all. Earlier today, in the main street of Hlint, he kept pushing and pushing, wanting me to challenge him to an arena combat. As i’ve said - that’s not how I fight. Toe to toe? Kiva would cut me to ribbons. Yet today it seemed I was being pushed into a corner, in front of Muireann no less, and would have no choice but to fight Kiva. He is intolerable. His thinly veiled threat to ‘deal with’ Muir after he had dealt with me in the arena was the last straw ... a fight was inevitable. A fair fight that I had to admit I had very little chance of winning.
And then, like a little ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, help arrived. Jaleel and Tarradon came out of the Wild Surge Inn only twenty feet or so away from where I was about to accept Kiva’s challenge ... and from there it was a reasonably simple matter to draw them into the argument. Jaleel was all too easy - he hates Kiva more than me and was already spoiling for a fight. Tarradon was a little more complicated and needed just a bit more . . . massaging? manipulation? to involve him in the dispute. I hinted that Kiva had threatened Muir and myself and drawn blades without provocation, threatening violence against our persons for no reason. I could see Jaleel’s hands caressing his sword hilts in anticipation. Unfortunately, I couldn’t quite persuade Tarradon into challenging Kiva in the arena - although I think he got close at one point. Kiva’s manner with humans, whom he openly admits to thinking that we are an inferior race rubbed Tarradon up the wrong way immediately. It amuses me that paladins can’t abide arrogance in others but are blind to their own. Anyway, the ‘situation’ eventually was diffused without bloodshed. A shame - it would have been almost as satisfying to see Kiva dead by either Jaleel’s hand or Tarradon’s as much as by my own.
I have written up a list of Kiva’s faults and am considering posting it on the Wild Surge’s notice board.
Kiva is prone to belly button fluff.
Kiva is not very bright and not very pretty.
Kiva is a liar and a cheat.
Kiva has poor standards of hygiene and homicidal tendencies.
Kiva looks in the mirror too much.
Kiva thinks he’s really popular, think all the girls want him...he's wrong.
Kiva eats with his hands.
Kiva has bad breath.
Kiva has a stupid name.
Kiva can't sing or dance.
Kiva has eyes that are too close together.
Kiva will pay for women.
Kiva tries to fit in - bur never does.
Kiva fancies himself.
Kiva needs constant mothering and reassurance.
Kiva wears silky women's underwear beneath his clothes.
Kiva is pompous and overbearing.
Kiva used to be a wooden boy.
Kiva can't play ball sports very well.
Kiva wonders why no-one will shake hands with him.
Kiva is often seen in a dirty raincoat.
Kiva tries hard... but succeeds rarely.
Kiva can't handle his beer, smells of mayonnaise
Kiva thinks that he's all that he says he is.
Kiva goes to the toilet twice a night, doesn't always get up for it.
Kiva always has a bit of his last meal displayed on his clothes.
Kiva wears cheap and loud clothes.
Kiva is a good person to talk to when you have a problem - his is worse.
Kiva wants to be in a boy band but he's not pretty enough.
Kiva only goes out with Tegan so that he can steal her clothes.
Kiva thinks he's tough and proves it with young girls and boys.
Kiva picks his nose, a lot.
Kiva laughs like a demented dog.
Kiva sometimes forgets to bathe.
Kiva wants to be 'exotic', but only manages to be 'strange'.
Kiva looks better with the torches doused.
Kiva wears clothes 2 sizes too small.
Kiva wears a lot of make up.
Kiva sleeps with a teddy-bear.
Kiva wears odd socks.
Kiva giggles excessively in a high pitched tone.
Kiva likes gherkins and sympathises with harpies.
Kiva hangs around with old blokes and let's them buy him stuff.
Kiva is prone to sulking.
Kiva wears a wig.
Kiva was a teenage groom.
Kiva wears white stilettos, dances round his handbag at the Wild Surge Inn.
-
A little while since my last entry - nothing much happening that seems journal worthy . . .
I have participated in adventures and quests here and there, some only moderately successful, some very much so. A trip into the Berhagens netted another small fortune in gold and various items. I've met some new and reasonably interesting people - Karana, Quilus, Jin, various others. All seemed like reasonably decent folk. Haven't seen Muir in a few days, haven't seen Charlotte or Haugrim in a few weeks.
Just a quick note about a snippit of a conversation that made me laugh - i'll try to record it to the best of my recollection;
Karana (on describing the fall of Pranzis) - "Karana fought like a champion that day"
Arkolio - "Did Karana just refer to herself in the third person?"
Jin - "Jin thinks that Karana did"
-
Today I heard a merchant in Port Hampshire ask for one hundred ‘trues’ from a customer. I’ve heard this expression before for gold coins but the thought lingered with me today for some reason. Trues. A funny name for coins but I think it would be impossible to come up with a more appropriate one. What is truth? Truth is a matter of opinion and perspective. Truth for one individual can be quite different for another. What is a true statement? The sky is blue? Is that true? For me that statement might be true now but for someone on the other side of Layonara, at that very same moment, my true staement would be false. For them, the sky is black. There was a girl who used to live on the farm next to ours when I was a boy who was unable to see colours. My statement was not true for her either. Is there a universal truth? Religion? God? I laugh at the notion of a true God or Goddess. The Gods are pettier than the foolish mortals who give them worship.
To me, my truth, the one and only real truth is gold. It is mother, father, lover, provider. It make friends of enemies and enemies of friends. It buys all emotions, love, hate and everything in between. It is power, It is the difference between life and death. It transcends religion, race, sex, all boundaries become irrelevant.
It is the one and only truth.
-
My life would be immensely simple . . . if not for women. Well, simpler anyway.
Part of me longs for my previous ‘existence’ where every woman I met was but a potential conquest. One night, or two nights at the very most if she was something extraordinary, and I would be on my way. No hassles, no emotion, no goodbyes, no problems.
And then came Muireann.
With her by my side, everything can be wonderful. There is laughter, warmth, fellowship, romance . . . love? Well, maybe there is strong ‘like’ at the least!
Other times . . . arguments, worrying, bickering, uncertainty and deceit. She challenges me and infuriates me. She is unyielding, stubborn, demanding, hypocritical. I start to wonder sometimes if she is mortal at all or more likely the incarnated avatar of Mist herself come to make my life a misery for some perceived sacrilege or blasphemy.
Then, again, I will think, would I want Muir any other way?
-
Had a quick 'jaunt' to Hurm to earn some gold in a dispute between rival pirate factions. To be truthful, i'm not even sure who or what the different factions were, what they represented or why they were against each other. I wasn't really interested in the whos and whys. One faction was paying more than the other and thus my allegiances were pretty clear.
Also signing up as part of the pirate crew were some people that I had met previously and some new faces as well. Lin'da - an impressive elven wizard. Is it wizard or wizardess for a woman? Whatever, Hilda the dwarven axe-wielding maniac. Is it maniac or maniacess? Sniverous Coldpepper and various others. All in all, it was a short and prosperous trip. I had hoped to secure some more information regarding Muir's sister as pirates are often linked in with the slave trade but no-one had heard or seen a human lass matching her name or description in those parts.
After finishing up with this task I returned to Hlint for a little rest and relaxation. Seen a little more of Muireann than in recent weeks which as been nice . . . can't help but wonder how long it will be before our next shouting match! Enjoying her good mood while it lasts!
Only other thing of note was a quick trip to Storan's Crypt with Tarradon and Serissa. I haven't had a lot to do with Serissa over the last few months ... she and Muir have no time for each other (putting it mildly) and there would be no quicker way to put an end to the peace than by being caught chatting to Serissa! Anyway, snuck out of Hlint down to the crypts. Was a relatively easy fight. I stayed behind the other two mostly, my sneak attacks are not particularly effective, but several times I had to utilise my knack for disarming traps and unlocking doors. I think all in all I did enough to justify my half share of the loot.
Oh, that's right, the loot should have divided by three! I'll catch them up next time *laughs*
-
A quick tale to recount, that of an interesting journey organised by a chap by the name of Jin Lun Lee. I had met Jin once or twice before and he was as tolerable a companion as many I have encoutered in my time in and around Hlint. I saw a notice at the Wild Surge that this fellow was looking for travelling companions for a trip he was planning. Payment was to be in the form of equal shares of any booty found.
Normally such a notice would not have excited me to the point of getting out of bed, especially without the promise of a payment of a minimum fixed amount in gold, yet one thing about the notice captured my attention. Whomever was interested in accompanying Jin on his trip was to meet at his house at 136 Leilon. I coincidentally had been to the street where I knew this house to be a few times playing around with the idea of a bit of night time larceny and this was a perfect opportunity to have a closer look at a few of the houses with a legitimate reason for being there. I arrived an hour or so early for the meeting at Jin’s house and had a good look around the area ... very interesting. Elegant houses belonging to fat merchants with coin purses that are fatter still.
At the appointed time I made my way into Jin’s house ... I thought monks were supposed to be simple living, peace loving folk that were focused on the spiritual plane and not the material? This monk liked his creature comforts ... the house was huge and lavishly decorated. I couldn’t help but eye off an expensive looking candelabra but I think some of the others that had already gathered to Jin’s summons were keeping a pretty close eye so I didn’t try to swipe anything!
Some of those gathered I knew and some were new faces I had never before seen. Muireann of course I knew (intimately!), Tarradon Duvall, Alleina the priestess of Aeridin, Shamur the quiet yet effective fighter, Eghaas - who seems to have grown in power and stature since we last adventured together, Hilda the dwarven lady (lady? Ha!) battle machine and of course, our host, Jin. New to me was another priestess by the name of Ranewin and a little fellow named Thorn Someone the Fifth. All in all it seemed a more than capable group and after a brief conversation we headed out. A short trip by sea to Hurm and then we headed off into the wilderness following Jin’s urging and encouragement.
We travelled for many days and nights without, it seemed to my reckoning anyway, a particular destination in mind. We fought an array of foes, humanoid, monstrous, fantastical, whatever and whomever opposed our progress posed only a minimum of problem. The thing that concerned ... well, maybe not concerned, maybe more like interested me the whole time was that Jin seemed to be watching and evaluating each member of the party. Whatever I did, I could feel his inscrutable gaze weighing my every action. After a while it started to grate on my nerves and I decided the most amusing thing to do was to try and be as obnoxious as I could possibly be.
At one point an impossibly large and ferocious bear tore out of some nearby brush and attacked Ranewin who had wandered too near the beast's den. The monstrous beast was killed without too much hassle, a particularly fine shot of mine (if I do say so myself) that eventually dropped it, but Eghaas, ever the wannabe druid, was quite upset that we had slain one of nature’s creations! Who cares? Anyway, we probably could have pacified Eghaas - the bear did attack us first after all - but I decided to have a bit of fun. For the next hour or two I tried to fit the word ‘bear’ into every sentence that came out of my mouth!
“Watch your step Eghaas, I couldn’t ‘bear’ to see you trip”
“Is it getting chilly? I ‘bearly’ noticed”
“Got something to say Eghaas? Come on, I ‘bear’ you!”
Muireann changing into her armour - “Muir, you almost ‘beared’ all to the rest of the party!”
“My favourite food is definitely straw-bear-ies”
After a particularly fierce battle - “That was a very, beary close call!”
I did feel a little bit sorry for Eghaas, he did seem genuinely upset by the bear getting killed, but to watch Jin furiously scribble notes in his little diary at every provocative thing I said was hilarious and far outweighed Eghaas’ distress! Most amusing!
The further we travelled, we started having a few companions drop off to return to their various duties until there were only five of us remaining - Tarradon, Eghaas, Jin, Shamur and myself. We continued deep into the Anuroch Desert and must have accounted for a legion of giants. Eventually however, we were all laid low after we were overcome by a large band of giants that must have been put togther as a counter strike against our foray into their stronghold. The war band attacked us from ambush whilst we were being treated to a speech by Tarradon ‘Like the Sound of my own Voice’ Duvall - I can honestly say death was almost a sweet release.
-
I have decided to end things with Muireann for good.
No big fanfare, no screaming arguments.
I just decided that I am not interested in trying to find love. In an arena match between love and lust, i’ll be on lust’s side every time. All the other . . . stuff is just unnecessary prelude.
I don’t like being accountable to any other person for my actions or my whereabouts. I don’t often feel the need to explain the whys and hows of my moods to any other person and to be brutally honest, I’m not really interested in what most other people have to say about anything . . . unless it’s about me of course.
-
20 things I have learnt in my life.
1. Never, under any circumstances, drink more than 10 ales and eat a lot of bran on the same night.
2. Don't worry about what people think, they don't do it very often.
3. Going to a church doesn't make you a good person anymore than standing in a stable makes you a horse.
4. If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before.
5. Not one shred of evidence supports the notion that life is serious.
6. It is easier to get forgiveness than permission.
7. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, unless your action involved the spurring of a woman and then the reaction is disproportionately worse.
8. Eat well, stay fit, die anyway.
9. A balanced diet is an ale in each hand.
10. Junk is something you've kept for years and throw away three weeks before you need it.
11. There is always one more ogre/giant/spider/(etc) than you counted on.
12. Experience is a wonderful thing. It enables you to recognise a mistake when you make it again.
13. By the time you can make ends meet, they move the ends.
14. Someone who thinks logically provides a nice contrast to the real world.
15. It's not the armour that makes your bum look fat.
16. People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.
17. Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.
18. Never lick a steak knife.
19. You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.
20. There comes a time when you should stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday. That time is age eleven.
-
My Ode to Truth
Serenity
Peace
Harmony
Humility
Relaxation
Enlightenment
Friendship
Love
Understanding
Who needs it?
I am more than content with the remainder,
Women
Success
Gems
Horses
Prestige
Jewels
Food
Drink
Weapons
Houses
Ships
Glory
Clothes
Truth
-
Muireann's pregnant.
Not by me - thank the senile Gods!
She told me the news the other day, the father is someone named Enzo Reynalt? Reynolt?
How do I feel? Relief mostly. Annoyance, too, I suppose if truth be told. Not that I want her, not at all, it's just that I prefer no-one else have her either. One minute I really don't care, next I find myself thinking of ways to make her pay for the ease in which she moved on from me. Somthing that implies I do care in some way. Muireann a mother? Poor little blighter, I cannot think of a worse mother to have.
Then I think of a newborn baby, I shudder, and thank all the Senile Gods that I will be far, far away when the brat is born!
-
An interesting and profitable trip.
I received word through some of my . . . shadier contacts, that the pirate captain Liselle Arcanbow of the Trueflight was looking for a crew for a voyage out of Hurm. With little else to do, I decided to check out the potential employment opportunity. I made the trip to the pirate haven, by way of uneventful sea voyage, at the time Liselle’s ship was meant to be docking. Also gathered were more like-minded men and women such as myself who had been attracted by the lure of booty! A few months previous I had signed onto a trip on one of the Red Bear’s vessels and the Pirate Lord had proven to be a generous employer for skilled crews.
At the docks of Hurm were some faces I recognised and a few strangers. Dogboy - a suspicious looking halfling *wonders if that is a tortology*, Jake - the one-eyed (self styled) salty sea dog, Alandric - the arrogant and disdainful mage, Pig - the half-giant warrior, Revone - the quiet swordsman and Akki - the saucy bard.
We set sail with only an ambiguous detailing of our destination and purpose. Eventually it was made clear that we were heading west past Dead Man’s Point into the Forsaken Sea. No wonder our illustrious captain was being so vague as to our destination.
We arrived at a missionary settlement on a small island to find it abandoned and with no sign of any recent human habitation. Following an ancient map that Liselle had on her person, we trekked inland searching for the supposed final resting place of the pirate lord Ghant Vodoun. Not long after we set off I saw the first of the pygmy people.
The little fellow was almost cute, so tiny and childlike.
Ummmmm, I was soon disavowed of this notion after the little fellow and a couple of his tribe dropped myself, dogboy and a couple of the others in a storm of arrows. After eventually overcoming the pygmy warriors we snuck the rest of the way to the pirate lair - avoiding any more encounters with the vicious little pygmies *another tortology*.
The restless shades of the long dead pirate crew of Ghant Vodoun that we battled inside the caverns were almost welcome respite from the pygmy people outside.
We made our way deeper and deeper inside past ever more insidious traps and dangers - myself narrowly avoiding a visit from the soul mother - until we came to the tomb of Ghaunt Vodoun himself. After (yet) another fight, Liselle collected the mysterious treasure for which we had been hired to help her locate and the rest of us survivors of the crew split the other loot that we found in the lair, most notable of which was an awesome adamantium greatsword. Pretty, but entirely useless for yours truly. How come none of these long dead pirate kings ever wanted to be buried with their favourite adamantium shortsword?
-
What have I been up to?
Lots of little things.
Some medium sized things.
A few big things.
I have sailed a few times aboard diferent ships in service to the Pirate captain, the Red Bear. There is currently a power struggle goping on between the forces allied under the Red Bear against those of the Silver Crescent slavers. Personally, I don’t have a huge problem with the concept of slavery - well not to the point of waging war against those who engage in the traficking of slaves anyway - however, the Red Bear has proven to be a generous employer on numerous outings now.
This time, myself and a group of others, were employed to salvage some mysterious treasure that would assist the Red Bear in his little war from the hulk of a shipwreck somewhere in the Forsaken Sea. Along for the excursion was Muireann, Thorn Thistletoe, Dogboy, Eghaas, AnnaLee, Akki, Alandric, Revone and a couple of others that I didn’t know. The recovery of the sunken treasure progressed fairly smoothly, without serious injury to yours truly, despite a few encounters with schools of sharks that infested the depths.
Again, the Red Bear proved to be generous and the whole venture added a couple of thousand trues to the bank balance.
I . . . how do I put it politely? . . . been spending some quality time with Akki of late. She is an enigma to me, comes across as vague and flighty yet I know from experience is possessed of a keen wit and razor sharp perceptiveness. I haven’t yet worked her out but I have worked out she is a brilliant natural-born entertainer. Both on stage and in the bedroom.
I have spoken to her about renting out a spare room in her house in Krandor . . . people might not be seeing as much of me outdoors for a little while!
-
By all the Senile Gods! I no sooner get out of one relationship with a crazy woman and jump straight back into bed with another!
I encountered Akki coming out of the Wild Surge the other night. I spotted Eghaas walking in the opposite direction. They both seemed upset. I immediately thought to myself, ‘I can be Mr Nice Guy here and score some brownie points (what a strange expression, I wonder how it originated as all the Brownies i’ve ever met are not terribly concerned with doing nice deeds!) and comfort her in her distress’. Not two minutes into my comforting, it’s-all-gonna-be-okay routine and she looks up at my with tear streaked face and asks me if I love her?
My first thought;
Run!
My second thought;
Run fast!
My third thought;
Run to the hills at monk speed!
Three things stayed my feet at that moment.
One. Akki was a friend. Whatever else, this woman was a friend who was upset over something. It would cost me nothing to help her now.
Two. I had just handed over a large amount of true for my room at her house in Krandor and I was yet to receive my key.
Three. Garent already looks at me suspiciously as I walk past now and i’m sure he would have felt the need to detain/question me if he saw me depart town at a speed normally reserved for criminals caught red-handed.
I calmed her down and as the day was getting late I rented a room at the Wild Surge for us both. She repeatedly asked what I wanted of her, what I needed of her. She seemed close to a break down. She basically presented herself to me on a platter if I assured her that I wouldn’t leave her alone that night.
I stayed with her all night. I held her in my arms. I didn’t take advantage of her.
Why?
Was it a bit of short-term pain for long-term gain?
Was it to protect my investment of true?
Was it a carefully weighed decision of the cost of my missing out on a night of pleasure versus gaining a powerful ally and friend?
Or, was it because I am a darned fool?
-
*Arkolio notices his journal sitting atop the armoire, a thin layer of dust blanketing it's cover*
*He muses aloud*
Haven't written in that for a while...
*eyes grow distant as he remembers events of the recent past*
I should write down about that trip into the necromancer's lair before I forget...
(// mixafix's Seeds of Change quest)
*smirks*
I swear I have never laughed harder than when Jser walked into that trap . . . actually but for the time I laughed even harder when he did it for the second time!
*his keen hearing picks up soft footfalls from the hall outside his room and through the partially open door he catches a glimpse of Akki walking past. She is wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping wet from the bath*
Ummm, sorry journal, maybe i'll get to you later...
*he addresses the journal with an apologetic shrug before scampering after Akki's retreating form*
EDIT: Typo
-
Things are going well with Akki.
She is smart, funny, entertaining and beautiful.
It’s a very different relationship to the time I shared with Muireann. With Akki we have fun whenever we are together yet neither of us seem to feel the need to spend every moment of every day living out of each other’s pockets. There are no explanations required for my absences and no accusations made about my behaviour. Physically, she is stunning. Beyond words. Emotionally, she is not demanding or needy (apart from her little meltdown at the Wild Surge a few weeks back) yet free with her friendship and support when she feels it is needed.
Akki asked that I teach her a thing or two about lockpicking. I definitely have the knack for getting into places where others would have me ... not be, but i’m not sure how i’ll go at being a teacher. I can only try. I’ve been thinking about getting Akki to teach me a thing or two of music and singing in return ... I have no great gift for this but I am generally pretty good at picking up most things to which I apply myself. Unfortunately applying myself to anything has never been one of my strengths!
Spent some time with Muir the other day on a trip that she had planned to gather materials for scribing or some such. She is looking pretty good - her son is about one now I think. A couple of times there were looks shared between us that were absolutely NOT the looks shared by two platonic friends. I’d been down this path once before with disastrous results and was not keen to put myself through the grief again. However ... one more for the road never hurt anyone? Did it?
Everyone’s favourite paladin Tarradon Duvall sent me a letter the other day asking whether I was interested in a trip to Dregar that he was planning for some do-gooder crusade. I didn’t much care about the morality of such a trip, as long as the likelihood of gold is promising ... I am in!
-
// Should’ve really gone into the last entry - same time frame.
Both Akki and Muir have told me that Eghaas is hurting over all the time that Akki and I have been spending together.
To be truthful, my first inclination was to step up our public displays of affection a notch and really rub his nose in it . . . not that I really enjoy making others miserable, but come on. He and Akki had . . . whatever they had was months and months ago . . . get over it son, move on. Go out and find a nice, quietly spoken, meek as mud, Aeridinite, wannabe-druid, Elven sorceress out there who thinks that you are her soul mate and settle down and having boring little pacificist elven kiddies together.
It’s not that I don’t like Eghaas. Really. I count him as one of my few friends that I would actually trust. Make that one of the VERY few friends that I would trust . . . but enough of the doleful, heartbroken looks already.
-
Met a newcomer to Hlint, a fellow by the name of Kerrin ... Killon ... something like that anyway. I don’t normally bother committing to memory people’s names that are of such limited utility to me but I do remember it was something like that.
I encountered this fellow as Eghaas and I appeared next to each other at the Bindstone in Hlint - a less than successful venture into the Black Ice caves - blinking at each other and thinking ‘What the heck just happened!!?’.
I noticed this other chap exiting from the rat-infested crypts nearby covered in telltale bites and wounds. I didn’t know the guy. I healed him with one of (my many) potions for healing minor injuries.
Why did I do it?
A newcomer to town ... in my debt.
The startled look on Eghaas’ face ... amusing.
I could demand inflated payment after ... profitable.
Showing off ... it really cost me nothing. What’s a potion like that worth to me? If I dropped one on the ground I don’t know if i’d even bother to bend down and pick it up.
Maybe I did it on a whim?
Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Tarradon Duvall.
-
Took a trip to Lar with a group of folks the other day, Alleina, Akki, Ireth, Eghaas (whom I have taken to calling 'E', the look of annoyance on his face every time cracks me up!) and a couple of others.
The trip was pretty much without incident, one of the travellers - Kerrin, the new guy I had met the other day, was killed by an ogre mage. This wouldn't normally bother me even a little but he had been nominated to retrieve the valuables from any creatures or monsters that we slew in our travels. Ireth picked him. I said, not unkindly I think, can we pick someone else who is less likely to be horribly slain? I'm quite sick of seeing half my loot disappear when some inept fool is killed. Did anyone listen? Nope. Ireth, for all that she is a seasoned warrior, really has no idea sometimes.
I am yet to totally work her out. Ireth's pretty enough I suppose but, to be truthful, I wouldn't even bed her if I could get away with it. There is just something about her that grates on my nerves. It is her superior attitude. It is her disdain for opinions other than her own. It is her arrogance. Mother and Father once had some friends, the Westans. Missus Westan was okay I guess and their daughter Cyndary was better than okay, but Mister Westan ... well he reminds me of Ireth. We couldn’t have a new milking cow without Mister Westan pointing out that he also had a new cow and his was yielding more milk. Mother would have them over to our place for dinner and Mister Westan would be admiring a boar on the spit that Father and Haugrim had hunted but just wouldn’t be able to help mentioning that he had caught one a few days before which was of course bigger and somehow tastier. Ireth reminds me of Mister Westan. It annoyed me then and it annoys me now.
Ireth aside, it was nice to spend a few days in Lar with Akki. Well, we didn’t see too much of Lar to be truthful. I can, however, say the inside of the inn was nice!
One last point of note. On the way to Lar, somewhere in the middle of the Grey Peaks, our group had just fought off a band of ogres. Upon one of their bodies was a case that somehow, when you placed items within it, would lessen their weight. Akki commented that she found such things useful because she always had to carry around so many spell components. Anyhow, it was decided for whatever reason that someone else got the item.
Now, I have three lion skin bags in my possession (that also have this ability of lowering the weight of whatever you put in them). I traded for them a couple of years ago and occasionally have put them to use in my travels.
Of course I didn’t volunteer that information to Akki at the time. What sensible rogue would? Then, several days later, we were standing in the hills above Lar together and I happened to look over to Akki beside me. She had snowflakes in her hair, a red nose from the cold, yet I have never seen her looking more beautiful. Wordlessly, I reached into my pack and handed over two of my (expensive!) lion skin bags to her. She didn’t know what to say. Frankly, nor did I. By the senile Gods, has there ever been born a bigger fool than I?
-
A couple of days ago I stood in Krandor with Muireann. We had just finished an impromptu trip through the forests surrounding the township and we were about to part company. She had recently, for reasons that I don’t really understand, risen in favour with her Goddess and she had been keen to unleash some new spells that were now within her ability to cast. I had tagged along with little better to do.
Anyway, we were just in the process of exchanging our farewells when there was a . . . moment. Nothing happened. It just . . . could have.
I was confused. I’m normally a man of pretty straight-forward motivations but this time there was a little internal conflict going on. Not really about the moral rights and wrongs of an ‘encounter’, or that possibly/probably another man, the father of her child, might be hurt. Really, who cares? I don’t know him and from what little I have heard, he sounds like a boring tree-hugger who won’t hold on to her for very long anyway. No, at the time when I am normally only receiving my instructions and commands from ‘little Arkolio downstairs’ and good sense is rapidly fleeing, I started having a conflict of . . . self.
I didn’t want to hurt Muir and more confusingly, I didn’t want to hurt Akki. It was as if there was a little celestial on one shoulder and a little infernal on the other, both whispering their advice to me in the middle. Perhaps 99% of the time, I choose to heed the little infernal. His whisperings are a usually enormously more fun than those of his counterpart on the other shoulder.
This time . . . by the senile Gods I am a fool . . . I headed back home, via the florist to buy Akki some roses, and went to bed early. Alone.
-
// (Dezza’s quest: The Lair of Bricket the Journeyman) //
Last week I was called upon for yet another job for The Red Bear. This time our mission was to locate the final resting place of some gnomish bard, Bricket the Journeyman. Bricket supposedly traveled the world centuries ago (decades ago? I can’t remember exactly as I was checking out Eldarwen at the time (Hmmm, should I have a go there?) when Red Bear’s off-sider was telling the story) looking for interesting communities with rich oral histories to learn their stories and compose new ones in dedication to them. Yawn. Anyway, the pay offered, as always, was good so I decided to head off into the great blue unknown.
As it turned out the great blue unknown this time was actually a dangerous journey into the lands of the Iceweavers, pirates of the Southern polar regions. Brrrrrr. The Red Bear needed something that it was rumored Bricket had in his possession when he travelled to the lands of the Iceweavers.
A group of us barely escaped from the clutches of some irate guards in Karthy that Kobal had aggravated in some way before rowing out to the Sea Tiger where it was at rest in a hidden cove near Karthy.
After that we set sail as fast as we could to evade any potential pursuit. For over a week we sailed south as fast as possible to avoid the ever-worsening winter and trying to avoid being caught in the ice as it solidified beneath us.
Eventually we reached the shores and located the pirate enclave of Haran’s Rest. Here we docked and met Hirupp the kobold, steward (of sorts) to the small settlement. After AnnaLee offered a story as payment the we were allowed to leave the compound and also bring the sick crew into the building where they could be tended.
We set off into the icey wastelands and immediately discovered one of the pitfalls (excuse the pun) of the area. Ferrit fell into a hidden chasm within hours of our departure, plummeting to her death, despite AnnaLee’s best efforts. While Annalee tried to save Ferrit the rest of us fought off a horde of Frost giants and their minions in a furious battle.
Losing the taste for the venture, half the party returning to Haran’s Rest which left only a few hardy souls well enough to strike out deeper into the icy wastes.
After a number of lethal encounters we stumbled upon a frost giant city. Using caution and stealth we tried to skirt the city however a few of us were spotted (bloody fighters!) by the sentries and a large scale battle ensued. A number of us, most notably me, were captured and the rest scattered across the icy landscape.
Battered, bruised and despairing the remainder of the party, incompetent boobs that they were, managed to locate each other and build a shelter against the harsh conditions just so they could survive the night. Only Talan attempted to sneak into the Frost giant city, located me somewhere in the city dungeons and we managed to escape before the next morning.
Eventually we located a cave we believed to be the resting place of Bricket. Entering the cave we found it inhabited by ice spiders and a devestation centipede amongst other unpleasantness but by the time we reached the lower levels the place was deserted and oddly warm.
Here we finally located the resting place of Bricket the Journeyman and claimed the casket that the Red bear wanted before making our way slowly and uncomfortablly back to where the ship waited.
-
All hail Arkolio - Arena vanquisher of Celgar!!
Sure, I won by default because he broke the rules, but a victory is a victory!
But how we got there is a long story . . .
I had agreed to purchase a couple of rings from Angela (of Raven Trading) the other day. Rings to enhance my strength and general fortitude. Not cheap I might add! Their purchase pretty much cleaned me out of true. Truthfully, I was about 5,000 short but I had fortunately overheard Talan Va’lash in Hlint the other day talking about his need for gold nuggets. As such, I organised a trip into the 'xxxxxx' Hills to the gold mines I knew existed there. Accompanying me were Axeman, the crude simpleton (yet undeniably effective in battle), Rose, Jorad (Jonad? Jonas?) Somebody and Christine. It was a group that I was confident would be able to handle the perils of the mining expedition.
And so it was, a few days later, our group returned to Hlint laden with 30 nuggets of the precious mineral! At the price that I had agreed upon with Talan per nugget it was just enough for me to be able to afford my new rings. Little problem. I had enough for my new rings - but ... and a big but ... only assuming I didn’t have to share any of the sale proceeds with my 4 travelling companions. We had spilt the loot from the journey fairly and there had been no discussion or agreement about the proceeds from the sale to Talan. Bad luck to them. I hadn't actually given any undertaking to share the sale proceeds of the nuggets, they had just assumed. Christine was fit to draw blades and have a go, Rose the same ... even poor, slow old Axeman was contemplating my reasoning with a look of suspicion growing upon his dull countenance.
Before long, with trouble brewing, along comes Ireth and Celgar who both seemed determined (for some reason, seemed odd behaviour for so-called champions of good!) to want to step in and escalate the situation. Really it had absolutely nothing to do with either of them ... neither were party to my negotiation of terms with Talan, neither were present on the actual mining expedition yet Ireth (as always, wanting to be the centre of attention) couldn’t help but want to be involved.
Anyway, I advised Rose and Christine to go to the courthouse and seek legal counsel as I couldn’t be held accountable for their stupidity in not seeking clarification on the mining proceeds split at the start of the expedition. I could see both wanted to take it further but, hey the laws the law! Did I just write that?!? Well, the laws the law when it suits me!
Cutting a lengthy story only slightly shorter, as tempers were getting heated we took our argument outside the gates of Hlint. I didn’t need to guess whose side Garent would take if a fight broke out. Somehow, not five minutes later, i’m standing outside Hlint, argument with Rose and Christine forgotten, somehow accepting a challenge to an arena fight with Celgar!! How did I get there? Seems Celgar took offense to me saying to Ireth to mind her own business. Hmmm, hardly provocative enough to have him challenge me to an arena duel I would have thought, but who knows his motivations? Maybe, like Talan, he is yet another fellow who seeks the favours of her bed?
Axeman also seemed to take umbrage at Celgar’s involvement in a matter that didn’t concern him in any way. Axey certainly didn’t appreciate when Celgar summoned some sort of automaton made of mithril to stand threateningly right next to him! And so it was, Celgar challenged myself and Axeman to a duel in the arena of Velensk with the druid Brisbane to preside as judge.
After the trip to the arena, it was decided that I would be first up against Celgar. Bris stated the rules very clearly - no spells (suited me as I can’t cast any!) and the fight was NOT to be to the death . . . just near it. Everyone understood and the battle commenced. What does Celgar go and do straight away? Cast some kind of death spell and I am killed within seconds. Ha! He broke the rules on two accounts and Bris judged me the victor due to Celgar breaking the clearly stipulated rules. He challenged me to an immediate rematch however I declined. I now had a 100% victory record to preserve!
Then, almost as good, in the next round, in a toe-to-toe fight where Celgar actually abided by the rules, Axeman won anyway! I swear I have never rejoiced in a victory (but for my own of course) like I did when Axey laid the mighty Celgar low. I laughed and laughed. Then, even funnier, after he had just gone down two to zip, Celgar asked if we had learned our lessons today!?! Assuming by learning our lessons, he meant did we learn what it was like to see a powerful mage humbled by a lowly rogue and a fledgling fighter, then yes, lesson learned!
-
What next for me?
I have a home of my own. My skills have reached a point where I can travel the length and breadth of the lands without fear. I have a beautiful woman to share my bed. I have friends, family, wealth, magic, influence and power. I have already surpassed all expectations that I ever held for myself or i’m sure that anyone else ever held for me.
Why then am I not happy? It is a thought that has been haunting me these last few weeks since I was in a conversation with Eldarwen and Ozy. We were talking about something metaphysical - to be truthful, I had kind of switched off to the chatter and was only listening with half an ear - when all of a sudden the two started discussing the topic of the multiverse’s greatest treasures. To sit and watch these two pillars of the world casually banter about the hoards of kings and the treasures of Gods as if it were of no import ... I felt a rage build inside of me. They were so casual, so flippant about the power they held.
For too long has such power, such majesty, such destiny lay in the hands of the undeserving.
Standing on the humble main street of Hlint, I had an epiphany.
A moment of clarity.
I knew then the answer to why I was not happy.
It was past time for the new breed of hero. Past time for those who would not squander and waste their power, their wealth and their might. Past time for those who were not bounded by the irrelevant moral restrictions and limitations of the common folk.
It was the time of Arkolio. I will climb the ladder of the Gods and woe be to any who would attempt to stand in my way.
-
I am not normally given to prolonged periods of introspectiveness or self analysis but I have, of late, been in a contemplative frame of mind.
Wealth and Power.
They are the keys to happiness. It is really very simple. There are things that make everyone happy. Friends. Food. Wine. Respect. Possessions. Laughter. Combat. Whatever. Different things bring pleasure for different people. I don't judge other people by whatever makes them happy. I know something that others don't however. It is all ephemeral. All these things, they can all be given, and they can all be taken away ... by those who have power and wealth. It motivates. It corrupts.
There is another thing I have realised. Wealth and power, the cornerstones of true happiness, they are both easier to obtain and easier to keep when one doesn't care who gets hurt in the pursuit to get one's hands on them. It's taken me a little while to realise all this, but now that I have . . . . I have plans.
// Rubs his hands together in anticipation of CDQ!
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A wise man supposedly once said “Money cannot buy happiness”.
I love that! This axiom was surely created to establish an illusion in the minds of the poor that their unhappiness was -NOT- due to the fact that they did not have money. I honestly think this ‘wise man’ must have been a bigger rogue than yours truly in what amounts to a truly fantastic device to pacify the poor.
May the poor ... the masses ... the great unwashed never find out the real truth.
My statement, that of "Money can and does buy happiness" can be true both directly and indirectly. Money, importantly, buys all things material. Possessions. Carnal pleasures. It also buys you freedom and power. Freedom and power, in turn, is what makes humans happy. Freedom to do what you want. Freedom to eat and drink what you like. Freedom to go where you want. Freedom to possess what you want. Even the do-gooder priests and paladins should surely get this? It gives you the freedom to be generous. You cannot be generous if you don't have money.
I now realise that anyone who says they are not interested in money must surely be hypocrites and liars. They are usually the ones who hanker the most after money and say that they are not interested in money only to mask their real intentions.
Perhaps I am the most honest man in all of Layonara?
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In my life there have been two women that I have been unable to put in the … neat little boxes in which all my other conquests are stored and remembered.
Muireann, the Priestess of Mist.
Akki, the Bard of … well, the bard of herself really.
Today, I was able to find a box for Muireann. To be honest, it was a category in which I did not know this woman, any woman, any person for that matter would ever find a place, the category of friend.
(// Conversation partly copied from chat log with permission from DMOE)
We found ourselves on the small hill in the Goblin wastelands that overlooked the badgers. How any person finds them cute and worthy of defense is beyond me but anyway, I digress already …
Me: Well Muir, just you and I
She: Indeed
Me: Like old times
She: (with a wistful smile) Aye
Me: (with a leer) Except we are clothed!
We sat in a comfortable silence for a little while.
Me: Do you ever get the feeling that one day ... one day ... you’re not going to be here ... and the world won't even notice?
She: No....But then I have the church and the mark I can make there. If nothing else I will be remembered in Haven.
Me: In a generation or two you think you will be remembered? You overestimate the common folk Muir.
She: Maybe, maybe not … but I'll hardly be around to care in two generations time … and I didn't do it to be remembered.
Me: Why do we do anything Muir? If not to be remembered? If not to leave your mark?
She: I did what I did in Haven because it was Mist's will. I do it for my Lady of course … and she will never forget.
Me: Some of us don't have a Lady Muir …
She: I know Ark.
Me: Some of us need to make our difference another way ... My time is coming Muir.
She: Has it not occurred to you that I have seen this within you from the beginning? That for all the words I think you meant at the time ... you would never have been happy with just me as your life.
Me: Do you know Eldarwen, Muir?
She: I have seen her. I don’t really know her.
Me: I was talking to her a few weeks back and I realised something … All my life I feel as if I have been chased by something … Something has been just behind me ... driving me forward ...
She: The desire to be remembered?
Me: It's the spectre Muir …. It's the Spectre of Mediocrity … The desire to be remembered … to be great … to be rich ... to be powerful … to be … remembered.
She: It's why I’ve never believed you when you told me you'd be happy to just be with me Ark. I’ve known this from the start.
Me: Want to know why I know I will be remembered Muir? There is nothing that I will not do Muir to be remembered. Nothing. No-one that I will not crush, if necessary, on my climb to the top of the mountain.
She: (smiling softly) I know Ark … probably better than most.
Me: (whispering) I don't want to do that to you Muir ...
She: Well then I'd better help you and you won’t need to …
She: Do you understand why we have pushed each other away till now?
Me: I think I understand very well.
She There is nothing I won't do for my Lady.
Me: Just as there is nothing I won't do for me Muir ….
She: We are very alike Ark … We will either find the balance or destroy each other.
Me: I think I know myself better than ... before …
She: Was there ever any confusion? You always seemed very confident to me.
Me: Confidence? Aye ... I have never lacked for a large measure … but … know, I just know myself better. What I must do. What I will do.
She: Ark ...(gently touching my chest above my heart) I can be here … without being there (nodding towards my groin)
Me: Years ago … I would have said why bother? Now, I welcome this Muir.
Again we sat in silence for a while, our arms around each other … in friendship only.
Me: The time draws near Muir ... when I will call for your help (// Come on Talan, get the CDQ happening!)
She: As long as it's not bedding you … you have many others who will oblige!
Me: (with a grin) Rhynn? She wanted me bad!
She: As long as my Lady does not need me or you go against my Lady … I will be there.
She: *looks at him a moment* I am curious … in Saudiria … Why did you walk away … And if you've never spoken the truth to me before and never speak in to me after … speak it now.
Me: The intimacy … Muir … I wanted you ... I did ... I do still ...
She: But?
Me: The … 'other' … the other is too important.
She: Other?
Me: You are my reminder of who I am . . who I must be.
She: I am? How?
Me: If I can refuse myself you Muir ... there is nothing that I will not do to achieve my goals.
She: You desire me that greatly Ark?
Me: I desire to be remembered Muir ... I desire greatness … What I felt for you, it is that which will prevent me from getting there. I do love you Muir … almost as much as I love me. Almost.
She: That is all anyone could ask of ones such as us Ark. Can we stop trying to score points of each other now? Can we accept how we feel about each other and help one another?
Me: I think that is a very good idea Muir.
She: I do so need a friend Ark.
Me: I think you are my first friend Muir!
She: Well unless I am silly enough to stand in your way and then I'm asking for it!
She: I think ... truth be told … you might be my first true friend. We walk our own path but aid each other … I pity the person who crosses one of us.
Me: Aye ... I almost do too … they will die.
She: (reaching her arms out for a hug) You know ... I might want the occasional cuddle if you can resist me …
Me: Cuddle? Why? Aren’t they are a means to an end?
Me: Goodnight Muir
She:: Goodnight Ark, fare you well.
Wow, I have a friend. Feels ... interesting … good. Now I just have to work out where Akki fits in to the big picture.
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You know, whenever I walk into any room, I am quite comfortable in assuming I am the smartest person present. Every so often, not a hell of a lot, just every so often, I really outdo myself and amaze even me. Today was one of those days.
I was at the poison tables in the craft hall of Hlint … as per my wont, I had ensured there was no-one around to watch me at work before I began before setting forth on my manufacturing. There is nothing like making vials of potent poison to bring out the condemnation and disapproval from any do-gooder priests and paladins in the vicinity. Lo and behold, there I was, engrossed in the task at hand when the biggest do-gooder of them all, Eghaas, wanders right in to say hello …
It was then, in the middle of a vehement denial about what I was doing, my moment of brilliance happened! It seems the only way to make any true in these parts … well, until my grand plan comes to fruition … is by crafting. Making stuff that other people, like me, are just too lazy or incompetent to make themselves. My little problem, the only thing I am even halfway decent at doing is distilling poisons and this is a product that very few people seem to wish to purchase. There is a stigma … a perception … a misconception that poison is the tool of evil-doers. This misconception is quite probably reinforced by the undeniable fact that the people who seem inclined to distill poisons are generally evil-doers themselves! What I needed was a person of high moral standing … above reproach … above suspicion … above the possibility of condemnation to be the face of Arkolio’s Poison Sales Inc.!
Eghaas and I emerged from the dank, oxen-smelling interior of the hall into the only slightly less dank, oxen-smelling surrounds of East Hlint.
My sales pitch on the idea began …
Me: E (my little nickname for Eghaas)... I got a question for you ...
E: What is that?
Me: Are ... say ... knives evil? Swords? Clubs? Arrows?
E: Well not evil ... I don't think so. It depends I suppose, personally I wouldn't use a bladed weapon.
Me: Is it not the hand that wields them the relevant thing?
E: Agree.
Me: What's the difference? A club that crushes a skull versus a knife that slashes the throat?
E: Well with a club ... if i hit you, I guess it doesn't draw blood.
Me: (Gods Eghaas, you couldn’t even lift a club you weak pastry puff) You think i'd care about the difference? Lying on the ground ...
E: A club or staff is not typically a maiming weapon. I mean I could knock you out but I would hard pressed to kill you with it … or permanently maim you.
Me: I think you're splitting hairs there E, If you were strong enough you certainly could. Monks kill with their bare hands. The means is not relevant ... the ends is the important thing is my belief.
E: That’s true, but then it goes to your argument about the hands that wield it.
Me: No argument ... I one hundred per cent think that is the important factor ... Which leads me to my next point … Poison. It's just another weapon
E: I think the largest reason poison is frowned upon ... is because of the people that generally use it are (his voice trailed off, I knew he was about to say evil) … well, that’s the perception anyway.
Me: Aaaah … generalisations
E: Mind you i am not saying that you are one of them (but I am Eghaas!)
Me: I find generalisations are dangerous ... unworthy of the individual (yet normally true!)
E: For me personally … I would not want to see the use of blades or poison if one can help it.
Me: I'm not trying to convince you of anything E ... (Yes I am!) To me ... just talking about my own beliefs I might point out ... it is just another weapon.
E: It?
Me: Poison. Like your staff ... or your spell ... or my dagger. It can weaken foes Eghaas ... Foes who may possess evil intent Eghaas. Foes who may threaten the innocent (was I laying t on a bit thick?). It is the lesser of two evils would you not say?
E: If you can come up with a poison that can slow down someone then i would think that is a good poison (Come to papa) because it doesn't take the life of that person.
Me: (mentally rubbing my hands together) That's exactly what it does ... You are right ... it is probably better than a blade. It is non-lethal. (Eghaas was smiling at this point – the sucker!) Eghaas ... I have an idea.
E: What I would be against are those poisons that slowly kill a person or cause undue pain and suffering.
Me: That goes without saying of course. (Ooh, I’ll have to look into some of those types) As you so accurately pointed out Eghaas ... poison has a perception problem ... It is ‘seen’ as evil … when as you just told me it is less evil than a sword or dagger, yes?
E: If it is the correct poison yes. (Ha, I’d just got him to start using positives and affirmations in the same sentences that he was saying the word poison. He was almost there) the one that slows people down. What are you suggesting Ark?
Me: People don't want to buy it because of the incorrect generalisations that the many folk make … like you pointed out ... the perception. (I think I pointed it out first but slowly, softly make out as if the idea was coming from him)
E: Hmmm (he was nodding)
Me: People don't trust me, I don't know why ... (//metagamers!) but ... but … People trust you Eghaas. You have a well founded great and honest reputation. People know you are reputable. Honest. Considerate.
E: You want me to be a front for you? (at least he was still smiling when he asked this)
Me: If they know the benefits ... as you see them ... they’ll be more likely to buy them from you than me ... yes. There will be less people killed ... more people … slowed down as a result. A good thing yes? We could call it Eghaas' Non-Lethal Weapons Shoppe! I like the sound of it! Maybe we could call it the Aeridin friendly weapon shoppe?!?!
E: Whilst I appreciate your point of view... I cannot see how I can promote using poisons that would be used in battle. You see, the more that i sell, it would mean that it would mean people are fighting more.
Me: But E, it makes battles LESS lethal. They'd be fighting anyway.
E: Battles should never happen at all.
Me: I agree (as if!!) ... one step at a time however Eghaas. First, we make them less lethal ... then we worry about removing their need altogether. (Could he really be buying into the absurdity of what I was saying? I surely think he is)
E: It’s an interesting thought.
Me: Think about it at least?
E: Definitely.
Me: For the sake of less bloodshed ... at least think about it.
For the sake of less bloodshed? Senile Gods, it was all I could do to keep from cracking up laughing!
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Well, Eghaas did think about it ... and his response was no. Actually, maybe I should have used capital letters there, NO. It was as emphatic as that. Seems Allei, whom Eghaas follows around and obeys like a good little lap dog, was consulted and boohoo'ed the whole idea.
I have to come up with an alternative plan. Ah hah! An idea is born!
http://www.layonaraonline.com/forums/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=34062&posts=17&start=1
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Last night, lying in bed, I asked Akki to teach me elven. I've picked up a few words here and there over my years but I had the thought that if I could diligently apply myself to learning this tongue, it certainly would come in handy. It annoys me beyond words to not know what is being said in front of me, about me, about someone else, about anything when it is being spoken in another language!
I think Elven (Elvish?) would be the handiest language to try and pick up for a few reasons. One, I have an elven teacher living under the same roof who is willing to teach me (although she seemed excited last night having me as a student, we will see how long the enthusiasm lasts). Two, Elves seem the most populous of the non-human races that I encounter and the alternative language I hear most often. Three, elves, being the generally arrogant race that they are (Akki excluded of course), are the ones most likely to rudely start speaking their own language in front of you ... and normally it's about you! Ireth did it to me again the other day and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. There was a discussion ... well, ok, there was an argument taking place on the main street of Hlint and Ireth goes and starts talking to some of the others present in Elven and they all look at me and start to snicker. I can't retort if I don't know what is being said! Akki is not always there to either translate or stand up for me in her native tongue. All I could do was silently fume.
Anyway, the language learning process began last night. On second thoughts, I'm not sure if the bedroom was the best place to begin the instruction.
Thus far I have learned the elven words for '*#*#*#*#*', '*#*#*#*#*', how to '*#*#*#*#*', my '*#*#*#*#*', her '*#*#*#*#*', a few alternatives for '*#*#*#*#*', a couple more to describe '*#*#*#*#*' and although I couldn't quite believe it at the time, she knew a few synonyms for '*#*#*#*#*' as well! A couple of times she screamed something that I think translates as '*#*#*#*#*' but i'll have to check up on that. Maybe I should ask Eghaas?
The Red Bear is seeking a few hardy souls for another one of his excursions against the slavers. As always I am a bit low on true, I think i'll sign on again, he has always been a generous employer previously. Then again, thinking about it, I haven't actually enquired about how generous the slavers might be with a useful employee ... food for thought.
*Arkolio closes his journal, forefinger absently tapping his pursed lips, deep in thought*
Edit: Typo
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*Aboard the storm-tossed vessel of Lion the Brutal somewhere in the treacherous archipelago south of Molten Island*
Arkolio, Arkolio, Arkolio. You handsome and devilishly clever bastard!
Hmmmm, it all seemed pretty simple a few weeks back. A trip for the Red Bear ... plenty of easy gold, maybe kill a few slavers, a pleasant ocean voyage with Akki, little risk to yours truly, all in all, an enjoyable few weeks where everyone’s happy and everyone wins. Actually, Arkolio’s happy and Arkolio wins, that’s really the best bit.
Where did it start to go wrong?
Would it have been when I found out Ireth was on board the same ship?
Would it have been when we found out that our mission was actually to rescue Captain Liselle (the woman who was singularly my best hope of furthering my ingratiation with the Red Bear) who had been captured along with her vessel by the Silver Crescent slavers and was presumed dead?
Might it have been the first battle we suffered when Akki was killed and her body thrown overboard?
Maybe it truly started going bad when we finally arrived at the slaver outpost where our information led us to believe Liselle might be, only to be smashed in battle by a combination of lizardmen slashers, beholders, slaver weapon-masters, duergar warriors and death-spell hurling evil mages?
I think perhaps it really hit rock bottom when one of our group was charmed and led the rest of us into an ambush where everyone, except myself (who hid underneath a corpse as the beholders swept the battlefield) was either killed or captured.
I really didn’t fancy returning to the Lion’s ship with news of our groups failure. He struck me as a man who didn’t seem inclined to tousle my hair and call me a crazy scamp when I returned without Liselle.
It was then, hiding as still as a gin-making machine (// great time for a nat 20 on my hide check!) in some brush, avoiding a search party of lizardmen, when I was struck with another of my moments of brilliance! I remembered something someone far wiser than myself once said, ‘Fortune favours the bold.’
So, from the precipice of admitting our dismal failure, I decided to turn all of the above to my advantage. Taking a slight detour from where we were meant to rendezvous with Lion’s ship, I headed instead to the fortified hold of Zithgarlock, Slave Master.
I won’t repeat the whole conversation word for word here, but here’s the gist.
Nervous Ark: Hello, Zithgarlock, I am Arkolio, trusted lieutenant of the Red Bear.
Lizardman-Demon thingy Slave Master: Hello Arkolio, do you have a death wish?
Very Nervous Ark: No, Zithgarlock, I have a proposition.
L-DtSM: What could you possibly offer me?
Hopeful Ark: I can offer you information that only a person who was in the confidence of your greatest foe would possess.
L-DtSM: Why would you do that?
Cocky Ark: Because you will give me the survivors of my party AND Captain Liselle AND large amounts of gold to do so.
L-DtSM: You think I care about the Red Bear? I think I might just kill you now.
Nervous (again) Ark: Errr, preferably not.
Enter the saucy temptress, Madame Tikiri, former head of the Black River Pirates
Saucy Temptress: Wait Zithgarlock!
L-DtSM: I rule here Tikiri! Do not forget!
Saucy Temptress: Yes, yes, he cannot have any of your prisoners of course, but I wish to speak to this one.
L-DtSM: Do with him as you will, but none of my captives leave alive!
Exit Zithgarlock
Saucy Temptress: So ... Arkolio ... I know all those the Red Bear holds in his confidence and your name is NOT one of them. I remember you from my capture, you are a useful tool for the Red Bear, but that is all.
Smooth Ark: Yes Ma’am, but imagine how highly they will regard me when I return to them Liselle, the True Flight and ... *remembers comrades* .. the others.
Saucy Temptress: What do you know of the Red Bear’s movements? His whereabouts? His strength of numbers? His intentions?
Double-crossing Ark: *Tells all he knows*
Saucy Temptress: *hands Ark bag of true* There will be more of this when you have more to tell.
Hiding-his-glee Ark: There would be more to tell if I could be the noble and valiant rescuer of Liselle, the True Flight and .. the others, but, Zithgarlock has spoken.
Saucy Temptress: Do not worry about Zithgarlock, I will get for you Liselle and arrange a place and time where you will ‘encounter’ the others. Giving the whore Liselle back is a small price to pay for the ‘friendship’ of a fellow with such useful information as yourself.
Last-piece-going-into-place Ark: I will lead the rescue team back for the others. Lion will not come himself for fear of a trap anyway. I’ll be at the spot where the others will be at the agreed time.
And so, several hours later, I find myself at Captain Lion’s and Kayid’s ships, complete with not only my bag of slaver gold (less the bribe I had to pay to Seroga the Beholder to gain entry to Zithgarlock’s fortress) but also the prize of the drugged, unconscious, tortured ... but alive Liselle. All hail Arkolio, brave and noble rescuer of fair pirate maidens!
Lion, almost smiling for I what I would guess was the first time in his life asks, “Did you find Tikiri?”
Me, crossing fingers behind his back, “No Sir, no sign of that evil woman!”
‘Where is everyone else?’ asks Lion, looking perturbed and angry.
I answer, truthfully, that they are still back on the island, prisoners of the slavers.
I offer my services to lead a small team of the Lion’s men to rescue the others and sail the battered True Flight away.
Lion agrees.
I remind Lion of the little matter of the reward for the rescue of Liselle and her ship.
Lion scowls but Lion pays. I add this bag of gold to my other bag of gold.
Now, as I prepare to be the rescuer yet again, I can only hope that Tikiri will live up to her end of the bargain and the others will be where they are meant to be.
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I have made my decision. The die has been cast.
Why did she have to be there? What was she doing there? She was chattering away as she does, her melodious voice almost, but not quite, drowning out the sounds of the dying Toranite paladin. It was a dark room, full of dark souls. What was she doing there? Mother Kithnalu, unamused by her manner and her witty banter, cast a spell that drained Akki’s very soul. It happened right in front of me.
What could I do? Why in the hells was she there in the first place? What could I do? Should I have attacked the lich or the Dread Priestess first? Maybe I should have hurled myself at one of the several grim-faced guards scattered about the room?
The thoughts that raced through my head.
Power versus Love.
Self versus Other.
Greed versus Compassion.
It was as simple as that. I knew one day the choice would come between my feelings for Akki and my continued journey on the path to greatness. Here and now it seemed was my time to choose. Why did this day have to come so soon? The Priestess saw this moment in her foretelling. I loved no other like I loved myself. My family had taught me this. Muireann had taught me this. Every companion with whom I have ever travelled has taught me this. Now it was Mother Kithnalu’s turn to continue my lessons.
I have made my decision. The die has been cast.
Who could love a man that trafficks in slaves? Who could love a man that trafficks in poisons? Who could love a man that will always place the desire to advance himself above his desire to protect? I don't need it. Love is an anchor. Love is a shackle. I don't need it.
Akki, why did you have to be there?
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Earlier today I found myself sitting in my room in a rare moment of serenity. I had just finished reading a book written in elven that Akki had put her hands on for me. At first I was embarassed that I was reading a book that had been designed for the enjoyment of elven toddlers but after my pride dealt with that, I did find it quite helpful. I now know the very useful elven phrasing for cats sitting on mats, how to describe a dog named Spot run and, although I can’t see it ever coming up in conversation, the words for moss-coloured eggs and edible parts of swine.
Anyway, enjoying my rare moment of serenity, I happened to catch from the corner of my vision a small spider that had made it’s home in the junction of wall and ceiling. For close to half an hour I watched the very busy little spider spin it’s web, anchoring strands here and there, slowly building an intricate web.
The symbolism was not lost on me.
My strands are being cast. The web I am building is taking shape ... and my prey is profit. Money has no morality. It does not see good or evil, chaos or law. The strands of my web bond to the surface of ‘evil’ as easily as they do to ‘good’. What do I care if my gold is passed to me by the hand of a Corathite or an Aeridinite? What do I care if it is covered in the blood of slave or slaver?
It all washes clean.
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Akki and I tried to have a 'relationship defining' conversation last night.
I was reminded of the time when I was first called by the dragon and newly arrived in Hlint. I spoke to the bard in the Wild Surge Inn who had misplaced her necklace (again) and ventured off into the Sielwood to retrieve it for her. After a fierce battle we recovered the bard's necklace from the insides of a gelatinous cube. In order to send an object message to the kobolds of the caverns that it would be unwise for them to try anything of this nature again, I had the bright idea of nailing the remains of the gelatinous cube to a tree outside the cave entrance.
I couldn't help but be reminded of this incident during our conversation last night.
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Contrary to what my actions must seem to say about my state of mind, I really don’t enjoy seeing other people hurt.
Okay, I like the finer things in life.
I like privelege.
I like excess.
I like power.
I like indulgence.
What’s the crime?
Doesn’t everyone like these things?
It is my desire to have these things. That’s all. It’s not my preference to have these things at the pain and expense of another. Not my preference at all. If that’s the way it has to happen, so be it, but it is certainly not my pre-meditated approach to self advancement. It is unfortunate however that this seems to be the way, more and more often, that events are taking place.
This week? I had no desire to tell the Silver Crescent slavers the particulars of the rescue attempt out of any perverse pleasure of knowing that people would die as a result. None whatsoever. I’m sure some of the people attempting the rescue are terrific folk. Chances are good that they are.
It saddens me that some (all?) of them will die.
Is it my fault that the Silver Crescent Slavers pay so well?
My lessons in the elven tongue continue. I got very excited when Akki said to me yesterday that we were going to do some conjugating. I had never dared hope THAT was an important part of the process. I was already half undressed when she (unfortunately) explained what she actually meant.
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Now here is where the decision making gets a little ... murky.
The Red Bear has suffered some major setbacks in the last couple of months. The ‘arrangement’ he has with Saviar is shaky. Three out of four ships are badly damaged. Tikiri is at large. Liselle is still recovering from her recent capture and torture.
I think it might be prudent that the Red Bear benefit from Arkolio’s services for a little while. Balance is needed. Balance is profitable. I cannot continue to play two sides against each other if one of them disappears from the game.
I am contemplating making a trip to Bloody Gate. The dwarves there have supposedly rebuilt and rededicated the town. I believe it wont be long until they start producing some of their excellent work of the forge for export. I just have to find out what they are lacking in their new development and procure it for them to offer as trade. I hear on the grapevine that it is stores for the winter they are lacking. The slavers have food on their tropical islands and more importantly a hunger for quality weapons to arm their foot soldiers ... it is just waiting for an enterprising intermediary to connect the two. Without either party’s knowledge of who is on the other side of course! I think dwarves, as a general rule, tend to look down on slavery as a concept.
My elven lessons continue slowly. I haven’t seen my usual sources for lessons, Akki or Eghaas around much the last few weeks. The progress slows when one has to rely on the kindness of strangers.
Spoke to Alandric about his order for poisons. I’m not entirely sure what organization he represents ... I actually think it might be best for me not to know. I have a feeling it rhymes with Tyrtechon or Borath.
-
A swarm of children, their high-pitched chattering sounding remarkably like a large flock of gulls fighting over scraps, ran alongside my heavily laden cart as I approached the small village. Perhaps ten or twelve of them ran alongside me, their bare feet perilously close to the wooden wheels of the wagon. The arrival of a ‘merchant’ was a rare thing in these parts, I knew a visit might only occur perhaps two or three times a year and it was an event that always brought much excitement and celebration, especially amongst the children. I could see farmers, men and women both, in the fields bordering the road cease their bent-back drudgery for a moment and greet my arrival with happy smiles and waves. They all knew my wagon was filled, along with more practical items, bolts of brightly coloured cloth, spices, liquors, sugared candies, sweet-meats and strips of dried fruits. As soon as I rolled into any of the innumerable villages such as this one along the coast, I became every child’s instant and greatest friend. It was my experience that sweet oranges, shipped an unfathomable distance, secured a child’s trust and love stronger than any bond of kinship.
In these wild lands, the infrequent trader peddling their wares was often the only source of news of the happenings in the greater world around them. Many of the lowlanders had never travelled, and never would travel, more than a day’s ride from the places of their birth. Towns and cities but a hundred leagues away were as mythical and inaccessable as the majesty of Prantz and Katherian. The news that I carried with me was as valuable as the trinkets in my wagon and that alone would always ensure my safety and welcome in villages and hamlets such as this.
In the near distance, emerging from one of the mud and daub huts, came two lowlanders. I had met one of the approaching figures on my last visit, an older warrior, perhaps forty or fifty winters, carrying the name Wynnis. Like the rest of the village folk he was built squat and square, his face ruddy and weathered from long exposure to sun and sea. His hands and arms were filthy to the elbow, caked with dirt and mud. An unidentifiable clotted brown substance that looked suspiciously like some kind of animal dung had splattered his simple tunic. The long bladed sword, swinging in a leather harness by his side, was the only thing on the man that was not encrusted with filth. Indeed, it looked well forged, scrupulously clean and razor edged. It was the only thing on the man that marked him as anything other than a penniless peasant. I knew better. This simple warrior owned a herd of cattle numbering close to half a thousand.
The figure beside him was a different matter entirely. Tall where Wynnis was short, her skin unblemished where his was coarse, the girl was a true beauty. Her red hair hung in curls almost to her waist and her figure, although a little on the slender side for my own tastes, was enough to set many a man’s blood to boiling. If she was a daughter, one couldn’t help but wonder over the miracles of the Gods that permitted one as ugly as Wynnis to produce offspring as remarkable as the girl beside him. I had met Wynnis’ wife last visit and I knew the girl’s beauty certainly didn’t come from the mother’s side of the family either.
A crack of my riding whip with a suitably threatening scowl scattered the village children who had clustered around the wagon in all directions. Their squeals of delight and laughter revealed that they all knew from past experience that this trader was more gruff bark than bite. They would return, begging for treats, when the business of their parents was done.
Wynnis spoke after the briefest nod of acknowledgment in my direction. The lowlanders lived simple lives where social courtesies and pleasantries were considered to be of no great importance. His voice was as crude and as rough as the appearance of the man himself.
“Arkolio.” My own name was almost unintelligible when spoken in the man’s ridiculous gutteral accent. “Did you bring it?”
I summoned my most charming grin and taking the small package from the seat beside me jumped down from my cart to the street below. Street was perhaps an exaggeration of grandness, more accurate would be to call the street a dung-filled pool of filth that just happened to lie between the houses to either side. Careful as I was, mud, and worse, still splattered the bottom of my leggings and it was only by a supreme effort of will that I managed to maintain my fixed smile. I handed over the package to the flame-haired girl, her fingers already at work untying the string bindings before it had completely left my grasp. Inside the bindings were two dresses of the purest white linen, lined with thread of gold by the skilled seamstresses of Burgundy. The small crystals sewn across the bodice caught the pale morning sunlight and sent small rainbows across the fabric. Flame-hair’s squeal of delight as she gazed upon the dresses immediately removed any possibilty that Wynnis might ... just might ... have possessed to beat me down on the exorbitant price I had set for him on my previous visit. His low growl of dismay that followed the girl’s exclamation of pleasure revealed that he knew this as well as I.
“You like?” My smile had turned genuine.
A grunt, I assumed of assent, was the only answer from Wynnis but I was blessed by a radiant smile from flame-hair in response to my question.
“And a full two cycles until the wedding, yes? Got here in plenty of time.” I knew Wynnis was the type, really all these lowlanders were, to haggle over the smallest detail in order to get a lower price.
Flame-hair spoke. Although beautiful, she still spoke with the same intolerable accent as all these lowlanders.
“Father, may I go and show Gertran? May I plee-eeease Father? May I?”
Father? My suspicions as to the girl’s relationship to Wynnis were confirmed. He nodded, once and briefly, and flame-hair skipped off without a further word. I watched her disappear down a narrow alley between two of the lowlander hovels. A shame really, she certainly was about the best thing I had found to look upon in any of my visits to this village. It was a pity about her barbaric accent ...
“My money plee-eeease.”
The mockery of his daughter’s words and tone was followed by yet another throaty growl from the unamused Wynnis but both of us knew there was no room to negotiate around our agreed-upon price.
He handed over a small purse of coin. I didn’t need to count it, these lowlanders, if nothing else, were honest in their dealings once a price had been finalised. I was tempted to count it right then in front of him regardless of the necessity, just for the sport.
“Will you stay for the wedding? You are .... welcome.”
He spat this next question, the spoken invite obviously not made with any real desire for me to accept. An all too obvious pause before the word ‘welcome’.
I contemplated accepting his unwilling invite, again if only to see the look of annoyance that would surely be swift and thinly-veiled. It was a brief thought, quickly dismissed as I remembered the far greater reward that awaited me when I relayed the news of the date of the wedding to Seroga. This village was not going to be a place one wanted to be in a couple of months. The beholder slaver had promised to pay a sack of true for definite confirmation of the time and place of the wedding of Rhiannon’s daughter. The thought of a fat purse of gold, enough to see me through a full winter of feasting and whoring on the docks of some less frigid coastal city, was such that I answered as the man had surely hoped I would.
“Nay goodsir Wynnis. I fear this will be a short visit. I shall be gracing your fair township for but a night or two and then I shall be on my way once more. An enticing offer however ... were the season not so late I would gladly accept your hospitality and stay for the happy day. Sadly, I must decline.”
The heavy sarcasm, obvious to my own ears, was lost on the simpleton. An ugly man from an ugly village in an utterly unredeeming corner of the world. Seroga really will be doing no great evil when he comes a-reaving.
-
*In a barely legible scrawl*
You just carnt trust women ...
*next few lines are completely illegible, further down the page the rambling continues*
... diirty cheetin women ...
*ink stain*
... such nun shmeeny ... no, not at ally thnun ya lyer ...
*a crude stick-figure picture of an elven woman (definable by the exaggeratedly drawn pointed ears) with multiple knives sticking out of her*
... why? ... ya ######## ... ##### ... ######
*the next few words are obscenities, a mixture of mis-spelt common and elven*
LiaR!!
*ink stain*
Watcha ... waddywnna ... panedy
*another drawing, this one appears to be a stick figure man roasting a sausage over a campfire*
... cen NOT trust nubudy ... nahpup ... NUBODY!
*ink stain*
-
Whats been happening?
The last couple of weeks Ive been ... hitting the bottle pretty hard. Its all been a bit blurry to be honest. Had to work out a few things in my head.
This period of (generally drunken) introspection came to a head yesterday when I had a long chat to Akki.
Why does it take she and I four hours to say what most others could get out in four minutes?
I was rational. I was calm. I had left my swords in my room at the Scamp so I was not tempted to do anything silly. I was determined to either end things, or, have things known. For sure.
I am not normally a man with a need to have things in such order. On the contrary, I love the excitement and chaos of the unknown, the danger of the uncertain, the thrill of the random. Why then do I feel the need to have things with Akki so defined? So known? So certain? It is not me. Not my way.
In the end, it was all very calm and civil. I asked her what she wanted from me. From us. What she expected from me. What was allowed. What wasnt. What made her happy. What made me happy. What didnt. All in all, it was probably the most grown up conversation we have ever had together. Correction. All in all, it was probably the most grown up conversation I have ever had .. with anyone.
Where did it end?
We are together.
We are mindful of what may hurt the other.
We said the L word to each other for the first time.
We had great make-up snuggles.
Other than that ... been doing a bit of buying and selling. Trading this for that. True for items. Items for favours. Favours for more favours. Those favours for true.
Interesting developments with the Red Bear. I am a bit sleepy now ... getting old, cannot snuggle like I used to ... will write down all about my cleverness with that tomorrow.
-
CDQ
We returned from the voyage to Isla de Vhodoun where Ireth had negligently blown up our prize. It seemed the alliance that the Red Bear had with Hurm was now doomed to fail and my plans of playing the two factions against each other along with it.
A group of us were having a drink with Captain Lion at the tavern in Hurm when Liselle joined us, having come straight from Saviars compound where she had acquired some interesting news.
Liselle told us how Saviar still wanted the alliance but that he could not commit to it without the things he had asked for in case he lost face in the deal. She also told us that Saviar had received an envoy from the Silver Crescent Slavers and was organising to send some of his people to meet with them to see what they were offering. This was not good.
We tossed around some ideas on how we could shore up the alliance and eventually decided to try and meet the slavers before Saviars people did and to put them off.
We discovered the place of the meeting and set off to find it ... once there, Sallaron and I climbed a ridge into the next valley of the Vipers Teeth and moved down to the slaver encampment. Here we managed to be noticed and brought to meet the mysterious slaver leader, the Sheik.
The negotions went badly as I had planned, but more importantly I also learned that Saviar was as ruthless as myself and definitely not a player to be underestimated. He had planned on making the Red Bears head part of a trade deal with the Silver Crescent Slavers. Cunning.
In the end various threats where made and we were advised to leave and carry the Sheiks threats to Saviar himself.
Another job well done. I become more and more indispensible to the Red Bear.
-
I thought I had a great idea. A couple of years ago I was wandering around the Nameless Dungeon near Haven with Tarradon and a couple of other do-gooders. The lotting was fantastic. What vampires and their ilk need with true and magic I have no idea. Don't care. Just keep the loot flowing. It was a win-win situation for everyone. The paladins and clerics were fulfilling their need to feel as if they were making a difference - returning these things to the great cycle, blah, blah. blah. Whatever. More importantly, I was collecting a mountain of gold.
Anyway, I was rifling through the remains of a vampire when I discovered a rune-covered whip. It verily thrummed with power and evil. After a cit of research, I discovered the item was actually a whip of an Erinyes, a powerful demon (or is it devil? I always forget). I really wasn't comfortable using it, the thing was unwieldy and didn't seem to sit right in my hand at all. I popped it in a crate at home and promptly proceeded to forget all about it.
Then come my great idea. One night, admittedly after a few drinks, I decided to pretend it was the personal scourge of Corath and sell it, hopefully to a dopey priest of Toran or something who bought it to keep it out of the hands of the Corathites! I thought it was genious!
Here is my advertisement.
-------
Millenia ago, when the world was young, the foul and rancorous God Corath first stalked the lands of Layonara. In his passing, crops withered, babes grew sick, malcontent roiled where there was previously harmony and peace. All who felt the presence of the Black Sun knew evil and hate deified and chaos and discord were rife.
In these early days, prior to the establishment of law and order that we enjoy today, dark souled individuals, ever obsequiously ambitious, sought the favour of the Mad One. It is rumoured an assembly of damnable men and women (mayhaps eventually becoming the first Dread Priests and Priestesses of Corath), through means deceitful and deceptive, obtained and offered as sacrifice to the Black Sun one hundred virgins of noble birth.
It is remembered in ancient histories best left forgotten that Corath, pleased with this offering, took a hell-forged whip from his side and flayed the multitude of victims in an orgy of unspeakable horror that taints the land to this very day.
What became of this whip, this instrument of overwhelming evil, was lost in the passage of the years that followed. Over time, there were rumours of it surfacing in lands near and far and whenever it did chaos, war and pestilence followed.
Eventually, through a sequence of events of fantastic chance, this whip has come into my possession. My first thoughts were to take it straight to a temple of Aeridin, Rofirein or Toran so that the whip might never again fall into the hands of evil-doers. I am a lover of peace and the thought of this filled me with dread.
Then, I remembered the realities of the world in which we live, the children going hungry, the multitude of orphans, the sick, the needy, the poor huddled masses. As I stood on the docks of Hempstead, tears in my eyes, watching a beggar, a boy child, no older than eight or nine, I had an epiphany. I would sell this whip, hopefully to a cashed-up crusader or good and light and use the money to help these unfortunate souls.
Though it initially seemed at odds with my altruistic heart, I decided it must be the best course of action.
And so, I offer for sale, the Whip of The Black Sun. Starting bid, whatever one might think is reasonable to keep this in the 'right' hands.
Arkolio de'Averlain
-------
Lo and behold, Ozy put in an offer for it of 240,000 gold if I could substantiate that it was the artifact I claimed it to be just to keep it out of Corathite hands.
Hmmmm, here was a complication. Ozy is a duplicitous #######. I didn't trust him as far as I could throw him. Not by a long shot. Actually, I trusted him nowhere near as far as I could throw him, which was probably a fair distance. He look like he weighs no more than Akki whom I can manage to ..... nevermind.
My first thought was to make contact with my 'associate' in the Church of Corath, get a letter claiming we had met and that they had seen the whip and verified it as the real deal and were willing to buy it, then this would be enough to convince a purchaser of it's legitamacy.
Here is the first draft of my letter from the Corathites to me.
-------
Arkolio the rogue
It is a dangerous game you play and I warn you that when one plays with fire very often one gets burned.
You were told to come alone and yet you disregarded this instruction. Do you think your wretched band of companions could save you from the invoked wrath of Corath? Do you not think that if I did not see some value in keeping you alive as one of my innumerable pawns that even now you would not be rotting in an unmarked grave, your flesh being stripped from your bones by bloated maggots?
Beware misplaced arrogance Arkolio. Very often it is the last perceived triumph before the inevitable screaming descent into my Lords cold embrace.
As to the whip. We have searched for years and I wonder how it came into your possession. My servant @@@@@@@@ tells me you are a resourceful profiteer. It would appear his assessment is correct. I can tell you, if you truly be a pragmatic man, that it is far better to serve the Mad God than be his foe.
I am able to raise my offer for His unholy scourge to 200,000 true. I advise you to accept it. Refuse it at your own peril.
signed,
@@@@@@@@
-------
In the end, I got a bit nervous and decided to concentrate on the next big plan. Something that make 240,000 true look like pocket change.
-
What or who exactly makes a God or Goddess?
I am told they are, with the exception of Rofirein and Pyrtechon, ascended mortals who attained great power and were chosen to Lord (or Lady) it over a particular domain for which they held a great passion or skill in their mortal lives. Is that what it takes?
I do not really know. If they were indeed once mortal, they were certainly very one dimensional mortals. Surely someone with the intellect, or the ruthlessness, required to ascend to deity status, would have a reasonably divergent range of interests? Why then, do the Gods as we know them today, each represent such a narrow range of endeavour?
Xeen - Pleasure, excess.
Dorand - Excellence in crafting.
Rofirein - Law and Order.
Corath - Death and Destruction.
Mist - Chaos and Storms.
The list could go on.
It makes one start to wonder if the Gods were ever truly mortal .. are they just manifestations of a collective consciousness?
Have all the people in the world with their petty jealousies, their hatreds, their bitterness, their unworthy thoughts ... made ... created Corath? Have we done the same with Lucinda? All the mages manipulating the weave have created by their collective efforts an entity who is The Ultimate Weaver?
Do we ourselves make the Gods and Goddesses? If we were to all ... switch off our thoughts about one of them ... would they cease to exist? More importantly, if millions of commoners started to worship Mister or Missus Blah-blah, would that be enough for whomever it is that appoints deities to take notice? If so, would not the God of grubby farmers be the most powerful and influential deity that exists?
Who appoints the Gods? Who decides on this ascension process? How does one get in contact with THAT person?
Why is there no specific God of Thieves?
Food for thought.
-
*This journal entry is written entirely in stilted and spelling-error riddled elven.*
Hello, my name Arkolio is now wearing on.
I live in Krandor, from where do you live in?
Much nice to meet your acquaintance.
My best wishes on the meritable occasion of your voyages.
I believe with very most certainty it is my turn on the pony.
He will be to avoid the perilous I would be advising.
My plate of the green beans is fulfilling to my hunger.
The fur on the cat is softly patted by my hand.
The time on the sundial is revealing to me as almost sundown.
I many like learning elven, I have it learning down onto the pat.
-
*In a shadowy alleyway in a shadowy city a shadowy figure hands over a folded piece of parchment.*
*Weeks later, on the other side of Layonara, soft fingers break the wax seal on the letter and hard eyes peruse the writings within.*
My Dearest Tikiri,
I trust this letter finds you well and comfortable.
The plans of our friends in Hurm were thwarted. Negotiations proceeded between the Sabre, Saviar and the Red Bear uninterrupted. This will continue to happen so long as they send inferior underlings to do their work.
You will no doubt hear of the important work done by Group 37 in ensuring the peace in Hurm during this time. Company 37. The thorn in our friend's side.
Company 37. A rather arbitrary anonymous number, no?
Would it be more helpful to think of this thorn as,
Kobal Bluntaxe.
Hargrenar Craggenhilt.
Eghaas Treebringer.
Varka Cleaveson.
Autumn, an alleged cook.
Eldarwen of the Church of Lucinda.
Malor the Mage.
Shiff Dragonheart.
Dur'thak the demon.
Ranewin of the Church of Ilsare.
Pendar o' the Hood
Alantha the Mage.
Rhynn the illusionist.
I trust this of some value.
Yours,
A
-
Chasing monkeys.
This is what I have been reduced to .... chasing monkeys across the countryside. Was nice to stretch my legs and good to see Reaver again. I've asked him to make me a yew bow. Senile Gods, he must have some time on his hands to be bothered learning how to make all that gear.
*shakes head*
I suppose I can write down what has been happening with the slavers now ... I was not at all comfortable with putting quill to parchment on this matter previously, no matter how well hidden my journal. Up intil now, I had been playing both sides of the fence as they say, trying to maximise my profits. Frankly it had started to get a little messy ... I had thought to convince myself that the true outweighed the guilt ... now, I just don't think so. I eventually sought a meeting with the powers that be of Hurm and confessed all I knew of the whereabouts of Tikiri. Well, not quite all I knew, but enough that they should be able to seek her out and take her out of the 'dance'.
Gods, I feel as if I am getting old. It never used to worry me .. this thing others call a conscience. Now ... i'm quite happy to maximise my profits ... more than happy really ... but not at the expense of the freedom of a child.
When did I get so old?
What have I to show for my time upon this world?
Is chasing monkeys the reason I was called by the Dragon?
-
There you are!
*Buried under a mountain of lewd clothing (that Akki had put aside for one charitable cause or another but had never gotten around to actually delivering), Arkolio finally manages to locate his journal after months of searching*
Where do I start?
I have decided writing in a journal is kind of like catching up with friends. Those friends that you see every day you never have any trouble searching for conversation as you end up chatting about the minutiae of your respective days ... stuff that probably no-one else would find interesting or noteworthy. Haven't seen someone for years? What do you talk about then? I wouldn't just launch into an anecdote of my trip to the bank that morning - i'd probably try to summarise the big things.
Which, journal old friend, begs the question, Where does that leave you and I? I have done little things ... and big things. Things of which others may deem 'worthy' and some things that might make my old Aeridinite preacher spin in his grave. I have sailed many times with Lion and some few times with Liselle. There was some ruckus in the crypts in town that I probably should have investigated .. but I accidentally slept through the call up for 'heroes' that eventually saved the day.
Of Muir I see little, I suppose she has retired and looking after her little rugrats ... actually, they're probably big rugrats now. Akki has been away lots, sometimes she drifts in when I'm away at sea myself, sometimes our paths cross and we are at home together - it is a life that suits us both I guess. Part of me wonders if she ever yearns for ... more? Who knows? Sometimes I attempt to raise the subject with her and more often than not, end up with a blinding headache after an hour of confusing word games.
Then there is Sasha. Cheerful and a fun companion, I wish I had known about what those Rofi's got up to years ago. Maybe it's all her years of training, the repressed emotion, the maintenance of this stern visage for all the world to see but I tell you dear journal, when she ***** ***** ***** ***, *** ***** **** ***** **** *****. ** ***** ******* ******* ****** *** ********* ****, ******** * ******* ******** **** **** ****** *** ** **** ***** *****. ***** * *** ****** *** ***** **** ****** *** ***** ** *****. Really quite took my breath away, who would have thought she'd be willing to try that?
Anyways, where was I? I've quite lost my train of thought now. I shall attempt to be more diligent with recording my goings on now that I have unearthed this journal, I can tell it all about my trip to the bank this morning.
-
You know something? I'm in my mid thirties. By the senile Gods, who would've thought i'd ever see the day?
Looking back, in my thirty odd years, I've done a few things here and there. I've learned a few things ... forgotten some others. I've loved some women .. then accidentally called them the wrong name and, well ... anyway. I've held fortunes ... I've squandered fortunes. I've killed men, mostly bad men ... some few that I now think weren't so bad afterall. I've threatened Corathites, I've slept with Toranites ... then the next day I threatened Toranites and slept with Corathites. I've looked into the eye of a dragon and told the most outrageous lie I could think up .. just to see if I could get away with it. I've sailed with slavers and then with slaver hunters. I've threatened the biggest beholder that I have ever seen with a supposedly magical device that was actually a a smooth river stone that I had picked up hours before. I've eaten at the tables of the nobility one day and the very next went hungry for lack of coin to buy a meal.
Thirty something years. What have I learned?
Not much really. Would I do things differently if I could have my time over? Probably not by much.
One thing I have learned and i'll share my one pearl of wisdom here and now with you journal. I've learned that life is a series of moments. Worry not about the next moment, regret not the last moment ... just enjoy the one you're in now.
-
I saw Eghaas had placed an advert (http://forums.layonara.com/trade-market-hall/140252-box-silk.html) in the trade and market hall a few weeks back. A few days later, after admittedly a few too many ales, I staggered back in to the hall and saw that his advert remained unanswered.
I figured this must have been because any would-be purchasers would have to engage Eghaas in conversation to complete the sale, something i'd probably pay a couple of thousand true to avoid, and as such, were dissuaded from bidding on his silk.
So, I decided to spice up his poster a little with a stupid story and attribute it to Storold .. he being a paladin with what I thought was at least a skerrick of a sense of humour .. but apparently I was mistaken! By the senile Gods, the sensitivity of some people. Surely he has better things to be doing? I was only trying to help Eghaas out and draw some attention to his sale.
I have had a long standing theory with the Gods ... one which I have been, over the years, somewhat vociferous in sharing. Them being a bunch of senile chaps (and chapettes) who have completely lost their minds. It is the only explantion that fits. The only theory which explains everything neatly. The older I get however, I start to think there may be one God who is not so senile. One who looks at things with an appropriate perspective.
I wonder who I can talk to about Shadon?
-
Forget Shadon.
I'll be the first to admit, I am a man of many and varied vices.
I like pretty women.
I am somewhat less than motivated when it comes to the more recognized as completely honest ways to make a living.
I have a liberal perspective of rightful asset ownership.
Senile Gods, now that I think of it. I am, admittedly, quite the flawed example of virtuous behaviour!
I am frequently drunk, infrequently completely honest, frequently unfaithful, infrequently charitable, frequently vulgar, infrequently tolerant and frequently impetuous with a frequently disastrous outcome.
One vice I don't have is gambling. It is a vice for fools and for all the multitude of sins that I unarguable possess in abundance, I am no man's fool. Games of chance are always stacked against the player. Sometimes not by much but .. always by at least a little. It is a statistical certainty, the more you gamble at a game where someone else has determined the rules .. determined the odds .. the greater the likelihood of losing.
However, there is one exception and it's the only way to gamble.
One bet
All in.
Great risk, great reward.