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Messages - MasnDixn
1
« on: June 17, 2006, 01:02:33 AM »
I have to correct Stephen's Japanese a bit. Otaku ka?  ? Does not mean "are you a fan?".....It means are you a "nerd"? It doesn't mean manga specific. There are many types of Otaku in Japan. I won't get into the descriptions but it gets down right hilarious. I lived there (Japan) until quite recently for more than a few years. My wife calls people who like NWN "Pasokon Otaku" or computer nerds.
2
« on: May 09, 2006, 02:05:28 AM »
I read that...3 times, before you were gracious enough to post it for me to read again.
I am not sure which DM's to whom to post it.
I am looking for a DM to have some patience with a person new to the system and a bit thick in the head.
3
« on: May 08, 2006, 08:58:26 PM »
A breakthrough in study finally occured. For the longest time he had observed the crypts in Hlint, but never ventured close to them for fear of intruding upon these land-born peoples' beliefs. Engole chanced on a group that said they would take him into the crypts and show him, first hand, how the humans of the area cared for their dead.
It was frightful and tragic. They interned their dead in cold stone with little effort given to their memories. Those dead, hateful for being forgotten, walked the halls. Engole could sense the pain of loss that lay at the root of their hatred. The dead raced toward him and in Engole's mind he could hear them screaming their names, screaming they once lived. The entourage he accompanied tore through these poor souls, heedless that once they were men and women each with their own story forgotten.
Engole sang to them as he too used sword and spell to send the lost spirits to rest. Tears welled in his eyes and strings pulled at his heart, he sang about the glories of simple men that lived and loved life. With each blow that sent one of their number to its final repose, he could sense the spirit thanking him.
Were all the land-born's dead thrown away so carelessly? Engole knew he must find the ones that needed his succor. He must seek them out and sing to them of deeds forgotten by others. Allow them to rest in comfort knowing that one still sees that their undeath is but a shade of the life they did not wish to give up.
4
« on: May 08, 2006, 01:42:30 AM »
That was long ago now. Engole had learned that the land-born were not as ignorant as he once thought. They could be trusted at times, but he did not wish so much contact with them. Engole was only curious about their rites and rituals. He was learning but felt something missing, a certain reverance that he thougth must be there
5
« on: September 04, 2005, 03:41:00 AM »
Storm giants were kings of the sea in their own right, terrible in power and legendarily fickle of mood.
Engole learned more about these surfacers each day. He had seen half-giants in town from a distance. He never closed the gap to get a clear view of one, of course. Anything with giant blood was a danger to be avoided.
One half-giant in particular, had made Engole's life stressful. He often ran through town carrying a tambourine and bellowing at every individual he met on the road. As always, Engole felt discretion was the best course of action and cleared the area when he came. However, this tambourine carrying abomination felt it necessary to speak to Engole.
Engole managed to evade it and lead a semi-normal existence in Hlint, if such a thing was possible. Days later, when Engole was pursuing a contract with the city to obtain goblin ears, a strange twist of fate occured.
As the surfacers' saying "Like a fish out of water" went, Engole was still not quite accustomed to fighting on dry land. He engaged the goblins and the fight was going well, then everything went black.
He awoke to the smell of fetid breath and an overly large misshapen face a fraction away from his own. "Mes saves youz frum gobbys."
Engole needed to relearn everything he had been taught.
6
« on: September 03, 2005, 11:27:00 PM »
Or instead of a trident, special bolts for crossbow....makes a speargun
7
« on: September 03, 2005, 12:06:00 PM »
"Unbearable"
That was the only word that came to his mind.
He had been among the surfacers for the best part of a week and still he did not feel comfortable. "Fetch me a badger skin." He would if only he knew a badger.
"Would you like some of this grilled pork?" He didn't know how to answer. What was pork? Did one eat it or stuff it in packs the way the others did. It smelled funny, maybe it was meant to keep away the incredible amount of bugs on the land.
"Why are you so nervous?" If they were surrounded by sharks, would they be so calm?
Engole longed for the quiet of his friends. The dead who did not speak, but let him tell their stories, even if they were only fables.
8
« on: September 03, 2005, 12:36:00 AM »
He awoke naked and scared. No, it was more than scared. It was the brink of hysteria. He remembered traversing the realm of dream, though he did not sleep. A dragon, a quest, and his pledge were clearly marked in his memory.
However, how he came to be on this parched land the surfacers called home, he could not remember.
The blaringly gawdy sounds, smells, and sights assaulted his sensories. The sky pushed down on his frame with a pressure more uncomfortable than the depths of the great rifts. He had always wondered about these surfacers' lives above the waves, but dear Mother Ocean he wanted to return to the peace of the surf. He felt madness creeping upon himself.
Then they noticed him, the surfacers. They started coming towards him from every angle, great hairy horned things with packs upon their backs. "Mooooo," they brayed on their approach. The smell was more than he could tolerate and he bolted for a sanctuary.
The domicile was familiar but alien in design. Its entrance had none of the beautiful symmetry of the great abalone gates of home, but a door was still a door. He entered quickly to escape the pack creatures.
It was some kind of macabre feast hall. Engole was sure he did not want to know how these creatures of the lands prepared their meals. Fire and sparks flew from machines around the room. The hides of beasts adorned the walls and scraps of various metals lay haphazardly on the floors and tables.
Nothing in life beneath the waves had prepared him for this. Engole reached for his trident; the thought of ending his torture took over his thoughts. A voice spoke out of the shadows to him.
"I have never seen a sea elf in Hlint. Are you ok?" a purple-robed female surfacer came from behind one of the tables. "Relax," she said.
9
« on: September 02, 2005, 04:41:00 AM »
updated
10
« on: September 02, 2005, 02:23:00 AM »
No offense to be taken by my comment please. I like the first one because your nose looks less...well..big. This is a comment coming from a man with a large nose. 
11
« on: August 31, 2005, 10:08:00 PM »
Cernos woke up in a field with his head pounding and images of dragons fading from his groggy eyes. "Damn pixies must o' 'spiked' my hooch-still wit' manticore piss agin," he muttered. He surveyed his locale and was astonished to find himself in town. "What've I gone and done this time?" he thought.
Cernos had planned to come to Hlint, just not so soon. Hoisting himself up on whiskey-weakened legs, he squinted across the field toward a small boulevarde. "So this be what the town is all 'bout," he thought.
In thirty years he had never set foot inside.
"Well let's git this over and done wit', find me a bride and git the heck back home" he said to himself.
Just where he might buy a wife turned out to be a mountain of a dilemma. He hadn't an idea where the marriage broker was located. There were women enough in town that he might talk to the parents about a dowry, but none of these girls were to his liking.
"Girls round here seem be not gettin' nuff to eat. They be lookin' like a pheasant supper: stringy legs and no breast meat. I needs me a big-boned woman that ken handle crag cats without cryin' to me. If'n I head out yonder road, I reckon I'll meet up wit' some good ol' farm gal."
And Cernos left down the road, but not getting very far. He realized, albeit a little abruptly, that the roads were fraught with goblin (or worse) perils.
"Durngum dadnabbinest corn-suckin' green-toothed sons of goats. I ain't never goin' to git nowhere unless I done got me some supplies."
12
« on: August 23, 2005, 06:43:00 PM »
Talan Va'lash - 8/24/2005 5:54 AM
Sounds like the skins arent being displayed. Are the regular heads textured correctly?
Texture problems are sometiems a video card problem, and I seem to get more problems like that since I'm on a mac.
Its possible your DL got corrupted. Could redownload and reinstall in see if that fixes it.
-TV Regular heads look fine. I have an Invidia card and never had problems before. I will retry the download and see if that changes things.
13
« on: August 23, 2005, 07:07:00 AM »
I also have a question about the deity field.
Can the names of two deities be put into this field or will it cause trouble?
14
« on: August 22, 2005, 05:26:00 PM »
Very. Thank you.
15
« on: August 22, 2005, 10:12:00 AM »
Thanks for that. I'll do it my way 
16
« on: August 21, 2005, 01:04:00 PM »
I love this list of quotes. A very nice collection of the roman/byzantine mindset, I must say.
17
« on: May 09, 2006, 12:45:49 AM »
Hello
I would like to do a CDQ for my character to go from bard to palemaster.
I have done the RP to make him follow along this path, all the way from conception.
It doesn't really need a specific quest in my opinion, but if the gamemasters wish to do this I am more than happy to play something cooked up.
My first request, so please excuse my lack of decorum.
Thanks
18
« on: September 03, 2005, 11:48:00 AM »
Just a request.
Elves get the rapier plus a bow bonus.
Sea Elves get the trident. Could sea elves also get a bonus to light crossbow...as speargun?
19
« on: September 03, 2005, 12:07:00 AM »
Name: Engole Aiarel
Race: Sea Elf
Class: Bard (eventually would like to PrC Pale Master using this history as basis [I realize that I must apply with a CDQ at that time])
Alignment: Neutral
Deity: Shindaleria
Engole had long watched the armadas of men fight on the waves above him. He watched their lifeless bodies float in the swell of their sinking ships. The embrace of Mother Ocean eventually pulled them down to the depths. They were the lucky ones that died.
The others drifted on the crests where the sharks awaited, always aware that the noise of battle brought food. Even if the sharks or other predators of the Blue did not find them, dehydration or starvation would. Precious few surface-walker souls escaped the leagues of sea.
Engole felt pity for those souls who waged their wars and lost their lives above his home. They had no family within the brine to give them passage to death’s final rest. They had no songs of glory for the battles they fought.
Those dead marines only had Engole to keep them company. He collected the dead and made mausoleums of the broken ships that lay on the silt floor.
He regarded their lifeless faces and lauded songs for lives that might have been. They were fictions he knew. He had never known one of his guests personally. He sang to them so they might not become restless.
They were his guests, his friends in the depths. He tried to be a gracious host and stayed many long hours over the years, talking and singing to them.
He often wondered about their world, the world with no currents. Did his songs do justice to the lives that he imagined they had led?
20
« on: August 31, 2005, 10:03:00 PM »
Cernos
Race: Human
Alignment: TN
Class: Ranger (though possibly later grow into a PrC if the RP goes that way)
Age: 40ish
Languages: Common, Elfish, and Animal (Not actually speaking to them but knowing the various calls and their meanings.)
Deities: All really. But special favorites Kithairien and Branderback (In his role of self-preservation (and greed to an extent))
Old Cernos the Trapper doesn’t know his age but guesses about 30 winters have past since he started counting them. He has been living by himself in the Greypeak mountains since forever. Yes, he remembers his childhood, if that is what you call those years when people don’t care to listen to you, only that you listen to them.
He grew up as an orphan at a small temple of Toran. They were good to him and kept him fed. He learned letters, numbers, and of course, theology from the priests there.
His parents were a matter of mystery at the temple. Some tutors claimed that he was demon-spawned because of his malicious shenanigans. The most reasonable explanation was he was the son of an unwed mother who feared prejudice and left him as an infant to the care of the brothers.
Well, about the age of 10, the brothers started to think about the child’s future. It was unanimously decided that he would be sent to a larger temple to don vestments and join the clergy as an acolyte of Toran. This idea didn’t sit well with the already headstrong young Cernos.
He left the temple as mysteriously as he had arrived, unannounced in the night and bearing nothing but the clothes on his back. He wandered the roads near Hlint, begging for his meals or going hungry most of the time. In the nearby foothills of the Greypeaks, he started trapping muskrats and small animals/birds for food. He also learned that the passing merchants on the road would pay for a good skin or colorful plumage.
As the boy became the man, so his skills grew as well. The taller he stood, the larger his prey became. He began to earn a decent bit of coin from selling pelts of elk or wolf and game meat that he could forage. He learned to pan gold from the rivers when he had idle time. He was happy alone in the mountains, never a need nor a want for the city or those who lived there. The mountains gave him the things he needed. He could trade with the passing caravans for the rest.
Now it is true a man can live in solitude for a long time, but old Cernos wasn’t the only thing that walked on two feet living in those mountains. Elves, orcs, and all sorts of other critters lived there.
Orcs, they were just downright foul. The big brutes were sons of pig-stickers in Cernos’ lexicon. If you were lucky to see just one, then a rock dead between the eyes was enough to scare it off. But more often than not, they came by the dozens. Cernos learned early on that it was better to be unseen or in the company of decent folk when the green skins got into a party mood.
The elves, Cernos found, were good people that just had a funny way about them. Like Cernos, they didn’t care for the towns much either. Lucky for Cernos, they cared for the orcs even less. During the worst times, he shared their camps and managed to pick up a few of their words. Over the years, the elves even held a bit of fondness for him and sometimes teasingly said he must be a half-breed because he knew the mountains so well. Heck, Cernos didn’t know his parents, they could’ve been right, he supposed.
Cernos lived for many years never wanting nor needing. That suddenly changed one evening in the mountains. A group of adventurers had made a camp near the lake and squatting that Cernos called his home. On that evening, Cernos saw a lady who traveled with them take a bath in the lake. Cernos felt a hitherto unknown feeling, desire.
He wanted a woman. Headstrong since youth, Cernos decided to go down into the cities and see if he could buy a wife.
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