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Messages - TriangleKat
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« on: August 02, 2008, 01:05:49 PM »
Junar 14, 1436
The people of Hlint and Spellgard were simple to understand. Do your work, pray, and try to do the right thing. Life was not all this jumble of avenging and smiting and running around killing things. Am I cut out for the life of an adventurer when all I seem to do is bring about the death of creature in the same place day after day after day.
Ollie and I went on a true adventure exploring areas we had never seen. We were joined by a few others and it was one of the most enjoyable trips I have had since I chose this path. We had some scary encounters as we knew not was around the corners but the thrill was worth it. The fellowship on that trip was immense but as lovely as that was I or I should say we had an opportunity to venture again into the unknown with another group. This was far less rewarding. One had only the thoughts of "killing things" and jested at my find of beautiful flowers. Two others were only interested in smiting and avenging rather than exploring and discovering. The little halfling was as pleasant company as Ollie but when they began bickering over the elf's rude and self centered behavior I left and went fishing.
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« on: August 02, 2008, 01:04:27 PM »
Mai 12, 1436
Jacchri was right that fishing with a bow does improve my skills. The light and water play tricks on my eyes that the fish seem to take advantage of. I would like to practice this more often by I cannot justify the slaughter of innocent fishes for my benefit. I will grow fat and lazy on the filets have smoke now. I've turned to things that I can harm less but still challenge my skills. Acorns make nice targets as long as the squirrels and chipmunks don't decide to challenge my selection. I've tried stringing leaves on a fishing arrow. The most I've been able to get on my shaft in the center of the leaf in one fire is three but they were almost perfect centers.
3
« on: July 28, 2008, 02:38:16 PM »
Febra 21, 1436
I knew it!. Fire can be bonded to an arrowhead! It was the best day so far since I left home. I was waiting on a friend to do some dealing with a priestess for healing potions when this older man in leathers was eyeing my bow. At first I thought he might be eyeing something else but it was my bow. We got to talking about bows and arrows and magic and fire and before I knew he fired a fiery arrow into the pond. I must have looked like a fish with my jaw slack, but it was the most amazing thing.
He started showing me all the things he could do with arrows. I have never seen the like of it. My drill instructor taught me to use arrows as in instrument to bring down and enemy, yet those at them temple would speak of archery as art. Until this day I really never knew what they meant. Now I do. This archer, Jacchri promised to guide me when I had mastered the few bits he showed me this day.
I look forward to our next meeting.
4
« on: July 28, 2008, 02:36:38 PM »
Jenra 19, 1436
More time, more lands to be seen. This time I was prowling in the swamps and practicing on trolls. I wasn't much use. One hit across the head and I work up in Port Hempstead again. That was an eerie feeling to be sure. I spent the rest of the day sitting in the fields trying strings to my fishing arrows. It was all I really had the strength to do.
Well, that and study. I pulled a few scrolls that someone had found and given me and took the time to copy them into my book. Then I went over and over the words and movements in the air until I had them right. There were a few I still could not complete, so I will work on those. The one that intrigued me most was a evocation of fire that could be bonded to a metal blade. If a metal blade then why not an arrow head? My first attempt made a nice pile of ashes.
5
« on: July 28, 2008, 02:35:26 PM »
Decilar 17, 1435
Giants; I saw rock tossing Giants. I went with a group deep into the mountains to the south. They said they had to deliver something to the dwarf fortress there so I tagged along. Safety in numbers I am learning very quickly. It was a different sort of trip. I guess I am just not used to people airing their personal baggage like laundry on washing day. These people who run about pushing swords into things have more angst than a school room full of teenage human girls.
I tried to stay out of it as best I could. At least there was one other with us that shared my discomfort. I instead worked on my footwork in the snow and how to plant my feet on such slippery surfaces in order to hold my bow steady. When we did face the giants I did so from a great distance and while my arrows did not fell the beast, our leaders suggestion that I aim for the soft spot behind the knee worked as I did manage to hit a few. It was a most morose trip back as one of our group fell to some ice throwing thing. I stood well out of range of it and its large chunks of ice. That I think is my advantage as an archer; my ability to be useful from a distance.
6
« on: July 28, 2008, 02:34:11 PM »
Oclar 28, 1435
For the first time in year I traveled back to Hlint. Mother was happy to see me and now from my new vantage the town seems much different. I delivered a few packages while in town and ran an errand for the garrison. Most enjoyable was the time in the garden. I met a priestess there while I resting and we talked. I was telling her of the hawk I had learned to call by way of my magical training. She was most intrigued. She told me that those devoted to the Lady Archer can call her servants to aid them but only if they are most devout to her cause. I inquired how one learned to do such and she pointed me to the temple and an object called a censor. Somehow this device would alter the spell I learned to call the hawk from its state of existence to a beacon to my Lady's home and summon one of her servants instead. Alas such a wondrous magical artifact is well beyond my means. I am having difficulty sleeping in inns as most of my coin I can gather and earn goes to paying for bandages, food and arrows.
7
« on: July 28, 2008, 02:33:20 PM »
Augra 24, 1435
I ventured farther a field of the city and visited the port town of Vehl. What a contrast to the shininess of Hempstead. I felt like someone was watching me the whole time I was there and kept my bow at hand and my sword close. I was there to try my hand at the undead infestation of the city crypts. It would seem those interred there are not happy with the arrangement and walk. I found a few companions to share in the task and training. I am afraid that arrows have little effect on skeletal remains, though those with more flesh on them seem to be driven back better. I was taken to a place called the Gloom Wood to try my hand at more vigorous specimens. It was not an enjoyable experience. I think I should leave the dead to the care of the clerics and enjoy life more.
8
« on: July 28, 2008, 02:32:28 PM »
Junar 20, 1435,
Rats, and more rats but arrows and more arrows. My aim improves and while I sit and watch the people of the city I find time to review the lessons I learned both in the sewers and from the wizards. Magic and archery really are not that different. Both require patience and practice. Without practice my hands can not make the passes and my mind can not remember the rhythm of the spell. Without practice I cannot feel the passage of the arrow from my bow to the target. The practice I seem to have plenty of. It is the patience that I lack.
9
« on: July 28, 2008, 02:31:16 PM »
Apreal 16, 1435,
I threw in with a caravan heading to Port Hempstead today. I decided it was time to stop dreaming and start doing. I used the money I had put aside from the tavern to purchase supplies and the caravan master paid me with gear to help guard and my passage.
Our trip through the desert was for the most part uneventful. A wagon wheel broke about half ways and one of the older oxen was bitten by a scorpion and had to be destroyed. This meant the trip was longer than I had anticipated. For someone with not much to do this was not a problem. I made a few bow strings from some sinew and practices on the desert plants. We did scare of an ogre that wandered too close for comfort. It was fall when we finally made it to the city.
Port Hempstead sure is different than Spellgard. No explosions and far fewer elves. Halflings abound in the city and while the stories of the cobbles being made from gold are false, there does not seem to be any lack of coin here. I see shining armor and fine blades everywhere. I also see merchants and sailors plying their trades and plenty of travelers passing in an out of the many gates. I think I like it here, but there is not much to do for someone like me. I heard a rumor that the city pays to have rats cleaned out of the sewers. Even I can hit a rat.
I think.
10
« on: November 21, 2005, 11:13:00 AM »
Dear Grandfather,
I am writing to you again today in the hopes that I may someday give you these letters. It also serves as a way of chronicling my journey since we were parted and the events in my life that led up to this quest of discovery. It has now been twelve months since we were separated and thoughts of what has become of you still haunt me daily. Are you well or has some ill come to you? Why did you leave upon your journey without telling me? If you quest out of anger and seeking retribution then could I not have helped you in this endeavour? Was I not wronged just as much or more than you? Oh grandfather, you know so much more about this wide world than I do! I am so in need your guidance right now. Hopefully someday…
I have travelled far in the past months and I have now reached the outskirts of the Sielwood Forest. It feels so good to be back amongst such vast enveloping beauty. While I enjoyed the experience of traveling over the plains I still feel most at home in the woods where you first began my teachings. Travel through the foothills of the Greypeak Mountains was bitter sweet. While I was awed by the expanse of them and have gained a new appreciation for the variety of Mother Nature’s creativity I must admit I could not relax enough to enjoy myself fully. My eyes were ever watchful for my newfound life enemy and I set many traps along the way in the hopes of picking them off one by one (the script here is noticeable deeper into the parchment showing the force with which the statement was written). My trapping skills have improved greatly since we last met, though I am still learning, I think you would be proud of me.
I suppose if this is to act as a personal journal as well then I should begin to record the events of my early life and the cause of the hate I now carry as a constant companion. I have dwelled long on these thoughts and believe I am finally ready to put them to parchment. I guess I am the Story Teller of our clan now, being as I may be its only survivor (tear stains mar the page here).
Our clan had (the word “Has” is scratched out here) lived on the edge of the High Forrest near the northern foot of the Greypeak Mountains for six generations. We were a sedentary people with a deep love of agriculture and the comforts of home. While we did trap the occasional wild beast from the forests most of our time and energy were spend nurturing the soils around our village and living off what the good soil could provide, and our beloved chickens. My parents were good sturdy people who worked the land faithfully and procreated joyously. I was the ninth of eleven younglings. The deep family secret (although not so secret really even without all the clan gossip), was my grandfather. Unlike every other recorded halfling in our rich history he was the first since our founding fathers, whom first migrated in order to form our clan, to choose a nomadic adventurous lifestyle. He was commonly referred to as “The Ranger” as if it were a sin to shake the roots from his feet and explore what else Mother Nature had to show him. Although absent for most of my young life,and much of my mothers adult years, he returned home when I was at the still impressionable age of twenty-five. While my father and the other elders viewed him suspiciously my mother welcomed him into our home. I have the feeling that she was the only one other than me who understand him. I think my mother may have been destined for much grander things were it not for her love of my father. While the other younglings in my family and the clan observed him as an oddity and his stories as nothing more that grand fantasy tales, good only to entertain by the fireside, I was fascinated by the lore that he shared with me. We soon became the best of friends and this led to many an excursion into the “wilds”of the High Forest. As the years past I learned much from my grandfather about nature and the ways of the forest. He also taught me the art of archery, trapsetting, and stealth. While it was obvious my father did not approve of my activities I believe mother kept him quiet for the most part. The game that I learned to trap and bring home with increasing frequency over the years nodoubt helped too as the stomach could often override most objections among my people. How differently I am forced to use my trapping skills now.
All was well within my world for many happy years. My youngest brother Bramble had even begun to travel into the forest with us during the last year before the tragedy. But then it all happened. The Orcs of the Greypeaks had been expandingfor decades but rarely entered the great forest. Then grandfather and I began to hear things from the forest of the damage the reckless Orcs were causing. We tried to warn the clan of the trouble encroaching on our little village but the elders would not listen and soon became angry at our pointless rumours. Grandfather and I began to travel farther into the forest to stalk and observe the Orcs as well as to set defensive traps to warn us of their encroachment. It was while we were away on one such expedition that the Orcs struck. The clan being a simple people were unprepared for the ferocity of the attack. With a single minded disregard for life the Orcs slaughtered everyone, even my dear Bramble. My beloved brother had begged to accompany us that fateful day but was refused permission by my father. Oh the fates were cruel that day…… (more tears stain the page) .
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