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Messages - Obsydian
1
« on: June 06, 2011, 12:29:08 am »
Furniture Bench menu, first option "Make furiture".
2
« on: May 29, 2011, 03:42:40 pm »
*A stocky figure in scarlet and white updates the list*
3
« on: May 29, 2011, 01:19:52 am »
*a note is dredged from beneath those covering it, and tacked atop the pile again*
4
« on: January 18, 2011, 09:50:04 pm »
Halrath grunted, feeling his muscles complain as he took up the fifth position. Being yanked back to the world of the living through the bindstones was Vorax smiling upon him, certainly, but it always felt as though he'd just dug his way out from under a tunnel collapse.
He focused on his axe blade, held before him horizontally, and a frown creased his forehead as he saw the sun's light shimmer along the blade. He concentrated on his arms, willing them to steady. I am a Thundergust. We are not merely born, we are hewn from the rock of the mountain and tempered in the forge and fires of battle. My arms are stone. There was a moment, a held breath, and the axe was still.
Halrath let out the breath, and, again ignoring the complaints of his muscles, shifted into the sixth position of the Taazk' Tazrzia, the pattern of stances and transitions taught by Brother Ironfist. The blade was raised above his left shoulder, as if to unleash a devastating cross-cut. Halrath tensed the muscles that would be used to unleash that blow, and held it... held it as he slowly counted to thirty under his breath and his mind slipped back to the misadventures that had left his muscles so sore...
***
Halrath strode into the farmer's fields, noting absently that they seemed awfully fog-shrouded for a clear day like this one. Scarecrows coming to life! He'd seen some strange things since he left the Ulgrids, to be sure, but that was a bit beyond the pale. It was probably just some local kids putting a scare into the man. He'd give them a lecture and send 'em home, and the whole problem would be solved.
Halrath could just make out a tall, spindly silhouette through the fog. That must be one of the scarecrows. He unlimbered his axe, ready to reduce the thing to so much kindling, when its head turned atop its post, and the jack-o-lantern face grinned at him. Halrath stopped, taken aback, and the body slowly turned to match the head. The head was lit from within by an unholy light, and the carved grin widened as the eyes narrowed, and the whole apparition started to walk towards the dwarf in an ungainly fashion.
Halrath held his ground until the creature got within a breath or two of his axe's reach... and then panic overwhelmed him, and he fled into the foggy fields, not caring where he went as long as it was away from this monstrosity. In his head, he fought to quell this panic, but it beat aside all efforts at control, and he fled past more of the creatures, their glowing eyes turning to follow him.
Finally, finally, he gained control of himself, and turned to face his disjointed pursuit. The first scarecrow approached, and he felt that fear brush across his mind again, but this time was able to resist it. He swung his axe and heard a "crack" as wooden bones broke - but the scarecrow brought its heavy wood arm down in a blow that made his helmet ring. So that's the way it's going to be, is it?
Gritting his teeth, Halrath stepped into the reach of the walking nightmare and swung hard...
***
Halrath set out into the high grasses of the plains, doing his best to look for black and white through the stalks that closed in over his head. He cleared his throat, and, with a small wince all that signified the passing of his dignity, called out:
"Elsie! 'Ere, girl! 'alrath jus' wants t' take ye 'ome! 'Ere, Elsie!"
Of all the jobs.
As he kept up his calling, however, he suddenly noticed that the sounds of small creatures scuttling through the grass had ceased. Nothing but silence filled the plains around him. A shadow fell over him, and only his training saved him as he threw himself to the ground and rolled away from the grasping talons which snapped shut just behind him. A griffon - a large one - screamed in fury and climbed into the sky again.
He'd never seen a griffon that big before, but, as the human adage went, the bigger they were... He set himself and waited for the next dive, axe ready...
***
Halrath paused in the shade of a tall pine and removed his helmet to wipe his brow. The heat was intense, but, if the map he'd bought in Mariner's Hold was any indication, he was almost to Bloody Gate.
He set out with renewed vigor, only to be stopped short in his tracks by a growl that reached somewhere deep into the primal areas of his brain and flipped every panic switch there was. He turned, very slowly, to see two very large, striped cats watching him. Tigers, a part of his brain, oddly detached, noted.
For a moment, there was a still tableau, the big cats and the stocky dwarf. Nothing moved. And then Halrath's hand flashed to his axe. But the tigers were faster - one leaped on the dwarf, knocking him to the ground, and a heavy paw struck him in the face, dazing him and blinding him. He felt a bone in his arm break under a blow from the other animal, and then jaws closing on his throat... and then blackness.
***
Halrath straightened from the twentieth position and rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache settle a little. Scarecrows and griffons weren't enough, but a couple of oversized housecats...
He sighed and took up the first position again. Everything in battle is a lesson from Vorax. Today's lesson - watch out for tigers.
5
« on: January 15, 2011, 09:10:44 pm »
I will purchase the Swordsman and Brawler belts, if they are available.
- Halrath Thundergust
6
« on: January 15, 2011, 04:27:49 am »
*in neat runic lettering beneath the reply*
Agreed. I will seek you around Center.
-Halrath
7
« on: January 15, 2011, 04:16:14 am »
And practice, he found.
***
The chilled air at this altitude was a welcome relief, and Halrath gulped it down greedily as he pulled his axe free from the fallen gnoll. The others closed in, and he could see magical light coalescing around the paws of one gnoll standing further back. This was going to be ugly.
One gnoll, a rangy and muscled brute, came forward fast. While most of the gnolls in axe range were themselves carrying battleaxes - but not as nice as Goblin's Bane, Halrath thought to himself smugly - this one was carrying a heavy flail, and looked uncomfortably capable with it. The chain creaked as the weapon blurred, and Halrath only just got his shield up and around to swat the blow aside. The forged iron rang with the impact, and his arm ached. Just bloody wonderful. This must be the pack leader.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the light around the spellcasting gnoll's paws brighten, and its barking voice raised in triumph.
"Tha' cannae be good," he muttered, and, axe leading, threw himself at the flail-wielding gnoll. There, he thought at the shaman, Hit me when I'm standing right next to your precious chief! And then, he did. As the fireball burst around him, Halrath's first thought was that the gnolls were simply insane, so determined to get him that they didn't care about collateral damage. His second thought was drowned out by a surge of pain as the fire seared his axe hand and set his beard afire. He beat it out as best he could with his shield hand, and gritted his teeth. Alright, that's the way it's going to be, then...
Many people don't believe that dwarves are terribly agile. On the whole, this is true - dwarves tend towards stockiness, and usually prefer to go into combat covered in heavy, agility-dampening armour. But those same dwarves are, generally, very strong. And dwarves can jump.
Halrath's legs uncoiled like steel springs, and his axe came around in a flashing arc that took the flail-gnoll's weapon arm off at the shoulder. As the beast opened its muzzle to cry out in pain, Halrath hit the apex of his jump and came down, the axe preceding his trajectory in a very... terminal... fashion. The blade clove the gnoll's skull in two, and the creature crumpled, even as Halrath swung around.
The shaman was chanting again, so his priorities for the next few seconds were clear. His shield arm shot out, smashing the air out of an onrushing attacker, and he dove under another strike, intent on the spellcaster. A lucky blow dug into the seam of his armor at his shoulder and he felt the hot rush of blood dripping from a fresh wound, but that was secondary - he had escaped the crush of attackers and the shaman was suddenly looking very lonely and uncertain as four feet of armored dwarf raced towards him, axe leading. His paws wove more urgently, but the spelllight fizzled and died as an axeblade stung his fingertips. Desperate paws snatched dagger from belt, but the blade was batted aside by the heavier weapon, and with two rapid, meaty, and very final impacts, the shaman ceased to be.
Now splattered with blood, armor blackened by heat, eyes narrowed and axe running red with gnoll blood and viscera, Halrath turned to face the rest of the gnolls. They paused in their pursuit, for just a second, in the face of this apparition.
"Alrigh'!" Halrath said, in a voice that carried, "'oo's next?"
The gnolls raised their axes, howled, and charged.
8
« on: January 14, 2011, 01:57:04 pm »
Wow. I leave the thread for a little while, and this happens to it. Now I'm glad I brought it back up!
I'd be very happy with the reduction in weight and cost. (So would Halrath!)
It would also be a halfway solution to the "wasting a stack of crafting throwing axes" that Jrizz suggested to increase the output (or decrease the material requirements, or both) of the craftable throwing axes. (As in my original post, I suffered from minor envy upon hearing that arrow output had been switched from 20 to 99, and they only need one ingot of metal and log of wood!)
9
« on: January 12, 2011, 03:45:10 am »
Trying to be more active again - any thoughts on this? Halrath is still paying for the throwing axes, but the thought that elves, in any way, have it better than he does hurts his dwarven soul!
10
« on: January 12, 2011, 03:41:04 am »
// I'd suggest 7 PST - 10 EST or later. I don't get home from work until then. But that's just me, and I know it's late for other people.
11
« on: January 11, 2011, 07:33:08 pm »
*Halrath receives the notice, but sends his regrets to the organizer*
// I'm at work at that time, sadly.
12
« on: January 12, 2010, 05:48:47 pm »
What price would you wish to have it melted down and fed to Rust Monsters? I cannot imagine anyone who would proudly wear plate forged by those abominations who were once our kin.
-Halrath Thundergust
13
« on: December 18, 2009, 12:33:10 am »
I am usually found in or around Port Hempstead, but I would be amenable to Hempstead, Vehl, Hlint, Spellgard, or Leringard, provided I have advanced notice of when and where you want to meet.
-Halrath Thundergust.
//PST evenings, if you please.
14
« on: December 17, 2009, 12:14:51 am »
An ox-load is ready for delivery.
-Halrath Thundergust
15
« on: December 14, 2009, 11:33:08 pm »
Or even better have magical ones that return upon use. I don't know that I'd agree with this one, for two reasons. First, Layonara (according to the handbook, anyway) is supposed to be a low-magic world, and magic axes that keep coming back aren't really in keeping with that. Second, it'd mean there wouldn't really be any point in making or selling throwing axes, since you'd only ever need one. I like ScriptWrecked's suggestion of making them lighter, though, to reflect one's ability to recover them, and therefore stretch a certain weight of axes further. 
16
« on: December 12, 2009, 04:03:42 am »
*A note in a very tidy hand is pinned underneath Stygian's note*
I can also provide you with ox-loads of ingots, sir, should you be amenable to a second contract.
-Halrath Thundergust
17
« on: November 30, 2009, 02:38:44 am »
Seplar 28, 1451
--------------------
The Kobold shaman's hands wove in the intricate dance of spellcasters everywhere, and the brightly coloured lights burst forth from his palm. Halrath felt the beguiling tug of those lights, and blinked his eyes angrily, striding forward, axe circling, gaining momentum as he moved. The kobold barked in alarm and scuttled back, but not fast enough - the axe tore out his throat and spun through to take the head clean off one of the archers, and mortally wound another.
A fourth kobold caught the axe on his blade, though, and turned it aside with a high-pitched grunt, stepping forward to drive the dagger into Halrath's shoulder. Halrath's armored boot lashed out, catching the creature hard in the stomach, and his axe followed around and down to finish it. Blood splattered his armor, and he grimaced. That'll take some polishing.
Quickly he rifled through the pouches the kobolds had been wearing, pocketing the few true coins they held, and strode back out into the dappled sunlight of the Silkwood forests. And straight into a trap.
The ettercap spat a gob of silky threads at Halrath's knees, hopelessly entangling them, and he jerked to a stop with a curse. The ettercap chittered in monstrous delight as its cadre of spiders closed on the helpless dwarf.
Well, no. Not helpless.
Halrath's axe gleamed as it was raised and he bared his teeth in a savage grin. "Righ'!", he growled. "'oo wants some?" And the spiders came. Chitinous legs were knocked aside or struck off with spurts of ichor. Smaller spiders were bisected by single powerful blows. One spider no bigger than a rat leaped onto the dwarf's shoulders and sunk its mandibles into his neck. He snarled with pain and batted the arachnid off, and then its big brother closed in. Bigger than a dog, the spider bobbed and weaved, sharp chitinous legs stabbing at unarmored parts of his torso, green liquid dripping from its mandibles.
Halrath swung at the creature, and buried his axe in part of its abdomen, but while he wrenched at it to free it for another swing, the spider lunged forward and drove its mandibles into his leg. Father of Battle, how the bite burned! Halrath could feel the acid burn of poison flowing into his bloodstream, and brought his axe down to finish the creature even as he felt his muscles start to burn and ache with the effort. The ettercap, perhaps sensing that its prey was weakened, came forward, but with a grunt of effort Halrath brought the axe up and around, neatly beheading the monster in a single swing. And then the axe fell with a dull metallic sound, as Halrath found his arms barely able to hold the weapon up any longer.
He panted with painful fatigue, the poison still ravaging his system and looked about. The green-splattered remains of what had once been a nest of spiders lay about him, the webbing at his feet finally succumbing to his tearing fingers to allow him to stand easy - and lean on the handle of his sword against the wave of agony rippling through his body, locking his muscles in place, or making them fail to respond entirely.
"Honorable Father," he said fervently, "Tha' were a good one." So saying, he limped off towards the campsite by Folian's Vale, and some much needed rest.
***
As Halrath entered the Vale, however, something was amiss. He heard cries and muttering voices from just beyond the trees, and painfully made his way towards them. He moved towards the sound as quickly as he could, and stopped in shock as he came across the source of the sounds.
Five figures clothed in black stood around the crumpled figure of a young lass - an elf, from the look of it, but that didn't matter! - and all bore weapons of one sort or another. Halrath had never been the top of the delve's Loremaster's classes, but he didn't need to be brilliant to ascertain that something here was desperately wrong.
One of the figures, an elf, by the build of her, turned around and in a dwarven accent, of all things, growled, "Push aff, dwarf."
"Aye?" Halrath returned, covering his weakness by forcing belligerence into his tone. "An' 'oo be ye t' tell me t' push off, eh?"
A tall human, again cloaked entirely in black, stepped forward from the group to glare down at the dwarf. "If you value your life," he stated flatly, "you will leave this place."
Two of his companions snickered and chimed in. "Begone from this place if you value your life, dwarf!"
"We'll be tha death o' ye, fatty."
Halrath was acutely aware of the blood still sluggishly flowing from the wounds on his leg and shoulder. His very armor seemed to be crushing him under its weight, and he could only just hold his axe in its ready position. But he was also aware of the smaller silver axe hanging on its chain about his neck. And so he planted his feet and raised his axe to battle-readiness. "Aye?" he growled.
The human unsheathed his weapons, two long blades, one rimed with frost, the other crackling with static discharges. His vocal companions spread out to either side. As they closed, Halrath's eyes darted back and forth. These people had him totally at the disadvantage, and he was fairly certain he was about to die, but for the sake of the woman still lying crumpled behind the growing form of the human, and for the sake of his patron deity, what choice did he have?
The elf to his left spoke, the red glow of his eyes now visible and betraying him as one of the Deep-dwelling elves, and Halrath's heart raced. "You will not be warned again, dwarf."
The elf to his right spoke almost casually. "Maybe we should gut him anyways?" Her laconic drawl was at odds with the weapon in her hands. "It'd stop 'im talkin'."
The male elf nodded. "He is a witness, yes." The human, now almost within a blade's reach, nodded and shifted his grip on his wickedly-sharp-looking swords.
Halrath felt panic overwhelming him, and turned to the lessons of the battlepriest under whom he'd trained. "When ye be facin' impossible odds fer a worthy cause," the old dwarf had said, "Know tha' Vorax be watchin' ye, an' let 'im an' yer foes know tha' ye mean t' make it somethin' worth watchin'."
Halrath raised his head, hoping his eyes didn't betray his fear, and growled, "Roight! I'll take ye all!"
The female elf snickered. "In yer dreams, tubby."
Halrath tried very hard to keep his arm from shaking as he raised the axe. "Roight! 'Oo's first?!"
And then movement from by the fallen elf caught his eye. Another figure - another elf, by his build - casually drew a standard bearing Corath's symbol from a pack! Halrath's eyes widened in horror, then narrowed in fury, a fury made all the more incandescent with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to stop the three warriors now surrounding and flanking him.
The elf unfurling that dreadful banner nodded almost idly... and the human vanished, even as Halrath watched. And then with agony unspeakable, he saw two feet of steel emerge from between the plates across his chest. The human yanked the sword out, and stepped around him to watch Halrath, clinically, as he collapsed.
Halrath noted, almost idly, as blackness stole across his vision, that at least his legs didn't hurt anymore. As the world faded, he heard a new voice say, "A witness", and the voice dripped with satisfaction. He heard footsteps, and "Leave it, let's go." before the blackness swallowed up the world and, blessedly, took the pain with it.
***
Halrath woke with a start, air rushing into lungs that felt as if they hadn't been used in far too long. He coughed and spluttered, and looked up into the concerned but firm face of an unfamiliar elf. The elf was wearing white robes, and a golden necklace that bore a gold-foil leaf as its pendant. Halrath's brain leaped back to the classes with the Loremaster - that was... that was the Elven god Aeridin, the one who hated undead. Surely he'd want to help.
"Where are they?!?" he croaked, and took another long breath of air, realizing that the aches and pains of his wounds had all vanished. "Ye... ye brough' me back t' life?" he asked, suddenly astonished.
"Yes," the elf confirmed, "but don't get up too quickly. You need a moment to recover." A frown creased the immaculate face, and the delicate brows drew together. "Where are who?"
"Th' Corathites!", Halrath spat, and the elf recoiled.
"Y-you're a Corathite?"
"Wha?" Halrath drew back as if struck - or would have, were he not already lying on the ground. "Nay, nay, they be th' ones 'oo killed me!"
The elf relaxed slightly, but his eyes were grave. "That's not all they did."
"Wha'?" Halrath couldn't follow all this, so quickly. The elf helped him up, then led him over to a reflecting pool. Halrath looked, and there, staring up from his reflection's cheek, was a crudely-carved scar in the shape of a skull pierced by a dagger. Corath's symbol.
Halrath nearly collapsed into the pool... but as the elf again helped him up, his eyes narrowed, and hardened. "I'll tell ye wha' 'appened, an' all tha' I know o' wha' they were doin'," he murmured. "An' then... an' then I 'ave some trainin' t' do."
***
Halrath knelt in the field, his attention fixed on the axe pendant dangling from his fist.
"Me Lord Vorax. Oh Great Father o' Battle, in this last battle I failed ye. Bu' I willnae lose th' war. I promised ye a t'ousand giants, our ancestral enemies, dead in yer name, an' I'll 'ave 'em yet... but on top o' that..." he drew in a breath, "I'll see a t'ousand Corathites dead beneath me blade, t' pay fer th' atrocities they committed t'day an' any other day."
And he slipped the chain back around his neck, picked up the other axe, and set off in search of some... practice.
18
« on: June 25, 2009, 02:29:20 am »
I can provide that readily. Simply let me know the time and the place. -Halrath Thundergust. // I have limited play time, so do let me know what times work for you.
19
« on: June 19, 2009, 12:52:50 am »
Description of the Katar (at least the copper one):
The katar is also known as a punching dagger, discrete and efficient.
I'm pretty sure it should be "discreet", as in "quiet and subtle", rather than "discrete".
20
« on: December 08, 2008, 04:56:41 am »
Kudos to the players of: - Log Lightrunner, a dwarven druid who "is a good lad t' go teach goblins th' error o' their ways wit', e'en if 'e's a bit 'o a tree-hugger". Trips with Log tend to be fun and interesting, as the Voraxian disinclination towards magic wars with kinship and the obvious caveat that it's not magic-magic if a druid does it.
- Timulty Keel, a human mage who "isnae a bad sort, for a 'uman. 'e's a decent smith, which ye cannae fault, an' 'e 'aggles like a dwarf, an' that be good t'!" So far, he's Halrath's equipment supplier, and a good RPer in those transactions, too.
- Raska Leopardheart, a wemic ranger, and "th' strangest beastie Oi've e'er seen! A noice enough kitten-lass, though, an' a good shot wit' a bow." It was a good RP session tonight, and a lot of fun RPing the language barrier between a wemic who knows a word or two of common, and a dwarf whose common is so badly accented that ye cannae 'ardly unnerstand a word o' it, d'ye ken?
Kudos all around.
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