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Messages - RollinsCat
Humming. Always the humming. The place is clean and kept-up, but here and there the years show; in the way his feet scuff on the floors where polish has given way to unsanded wood, in the slight gouges and nicks on the bar-top that feel like musical braille under his fingertips. His whiskey-aged baritone hums what his fingers feel; an orchestral score of decades of revelry, tears, and drunken debates. He should write it down. He probably won't.
A lone man drinks at the end of the long slab of wood, pulling on a pint of something dark. Thick-built with skin like old panther leather, the man says nothing as the bard strokes the bar. He does not even look up. But a few bars in, his voice - rough as a plank - joins, deep and untrained, a thrum that feels like solid rock to the bard's flights of vocal fancy. There is no audience save a singularly unimpressed, plump, butter-colored cat that seems to have taken up residence in the great hall, and no interruptions for several minutes until a thunderclap punctuates the strange duet. The man sitting at the bar ceases his singing, staring into his beer, and the bard stills his hands as the vibrations spread until the waves of improvisation have rippled out of the room. Then, with a slight smile, the bard takes up a parchment and begins to tally the liquors.
Slow. Measured. A scuff of flicked dust breaks the tap-tap of wooden heels; a shuffle here, a pause there. The fleshy whisper of fingertips across oak. Another seven steps, each holding back just a little.
The sound of a drum - not full, no reverberation, just a tap that fills the space around it like a pebble in a pool. A gentle thump, and the whuff of cloth.
Then, silence but for a shiver of wheezing.
« on: September 16, 2015, 12:49:46 pm »
...a woman's voice, husky even at full volume. "EIGHT. YEARS!" A hand slap punctuates each word, flesh on solid wood, echoing in the dining hall. A dwarf slurping soup at a nearby table lowers his shoulders and slurps more quietly."Elaina. It's not the first time he's gone on sabbatical.""SABBATICAL." "...retreat? I don't know. It's his way.""Michael, eight YEARS. With NO. NOTICE." The dwarf slides his bowl across the table and takes a chair against a wall, eyeing the tall, furious ebony-skinned woman. Leeks, barley and broth dribble over his beard as he tries to feed himself without looking down."I never said he was sane. You knew that when you married me."Her voice drops an octave. "Gods in heaven. If his skinny rear says even ONE thing about anything you, I, or anyone else who has kept this place running for nearly a decade while he was off - off - COMMUNING with ILSARE, or whatever he was doing, it better be good - I swear to - ONE THING. Just let him complain ONCE." Two children, nearly teenagers with dusky skin and dark hair and eyes that favor their mother, are watching from behind the bar. The boy polishes glasses, the girl stacks plates. Neither seem fearful of the large woman's fury, although they do not interrupt. The tall blonde man facing her is similarly unruffled though his manner hints at long practice. "If he does, my wife, you and I will have to draw straws to see who gets to go first." One black eyebrow on her anger-darkened face rises a flea's girth. Her lips twitch, twitch again, then compress into a quivering line. She tips her chin up, cheeks betraying a held-back smile."Something we can agree on. Very well. I'll let the others know." As she heads to the Residence Hall, her muttering is clear to anyone within ten feet. "And if Elly doesn't rip his happy stick off for this stunt, I WILL." The dwarf slumps down as she passes, tossing a sympathetic look to the blonde man when she's gone."Daddy." The girl speaks as her mother strides out of earshot."Yes, Cassie?"She rolls her eyes at the nickname. "Should we clean our toys and things out of his office then?""That's a good idea." She nods, placing a Reid pottery plate down with a clink. "...but..." Her brother turns an ear to listen. "...but...leave some surprises. I'll let you decide what, and where."
Trade and Market Hall / A Prominent Note on the Decaying Door of the Angels Shop in Hempstead Fields« on: September 15, 2015, 11:02:14 pm »
UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
We are not closed, however...
All wood items must be picked up at the Angels Guild Hall in Port Hempstead. Please contact any Angel Guild member to make arrangements. We appreciate your continued patronage during this latest trouble.
People with information about the disturbance in Hempstead Fields are encouraged to find an Angels Guild representative. Adventuring types doubly so.
The Angels Guild
//Visitors to the shop will note that most of the wood appears to be rotting or in bad repair, including the floors, doors, and walls. The wooden chests have been swept empty of instruments, bows, staves, arrows, books, and all other wood-based items; metal and cloth items are on metal racks. Expensive and magical items have been removed or relocated to solid metal chests. The rear entry and door to the back room are in the process of being replaced with metal, but as the surrounding framework is wood, it's a patchwork radiating protections to the magic-sensitive.
« on: October 02, 2014, 08:52:59 pm »
Fliers are posted in numerous locations around Mistone and Alindor, and specific cities on Dregar. Not Prantz.
Announcing the Silver Buckle Lore Contest[/b] A Bardic Event Open to All![/b] Bring your clearest, cleverest mind! Points awarded for right answers, clever answers, answers that come from first-hand knowledge, and answers that make the participants laugh.[/b] The Winner shall have a song written for them by Andrew Reid himself! [/b] And maybe some coin, if the winner is kind of skint. Who knows. And there might be a runner-up. I'm making this up as I go along. Work with me.[/b] This event shall be held two week's hence on Threas.[/b] //Thursday, October 16th, starting at 8:00 Eastern.
A Bardic Event Open to All![/b] Bring your clearest, cleverest mind! Points awarded for right answers, clever answers, answers that come from first-hand knowledge, and answers that make the participants laugh.[/b] The Winner shall have a song written for them by Andrew Reid himself! [/b] And maybe some coin, if the winner is kind of skint. Who knows. And there might be a runner-up. I'm making this up as I go along. Work with me.[/b] This event shall be held two week's hence on Threas.[/b] //Thursday, October 16th, starting at 8:00 Eastern.
Bring your clearest, cleverest mind! Points awarded for right answers, clever answers, answers that come from first-hand knowledge, and answers that make the participants laugh.[/b] The Winner shall have a song written for them by Andrew Reid himself! [/b] And maybe some coin, if the winner is kind of skint. Who knows. And there might be a runner-up. I'm making this up as I go along. Work with me.[/b] This event shall be held two week's hence on Threas.[/b] //Thursday, October 16th, starting at 8:00 Eastern.
You know you want one.http://www.nbcnews.com/technology/worlds-largest-walking-robot-fire-breathing-dragon-course-8C11150626
The following users thanked this post: miltonyorkcastle
Guessing that those of us with Access Denied issues can't read the responses to the other posts being made on that topic, I know I can't - perhaps use social media to post the issue/resolution, until it's fixed?
The following users thanked this post: gilshem ironstone
I've been playing around and decided to put up some helpful stuff. Here we go:Server Status Page is in dropdown under "On NeverWinter Nights": To adjust how you want to view posts in the forums (last first or first last), look down at the bottom left of any forum under "Comment viewing options". If the forums are loading slowly or some things won't load at all, I found that adjusting the number of posts shown to ten (thanks Serissa!) helps. Your settings will be saved for the entire Layo forums here so you don't need to redo this on every forum. You may have noticed your messages are in one giant inbox. To apply tags for sorting, first select the messages you want to tag by clicking the box to the left; then type the tag name in the box to the left of the "Apply Tag" button and click the Apply Tag button. In this example I am tagging a pm from Elly. Edit: It appears that the tag function is page by page, meaning you can't go through all eight (say) pages of your pms and tag them all at once - you have to tag for each page.Your messages will still all show, but to filter by a tag, click the "Filter messages" dropdown (above the "Delete" button) and select the tag/filter you wish to see: Orth says there are no limits on pms in your inbox, so cool for that, no more "inbox is full" messages. I'll post more as I find them, anyone else got a helpful hint for making these new forums as easy as the old ones?
« on: February 21, 2013, 07:05:41 pm »
I understand the reasoning behind the hyperlinks (example, Mariner's Hold) but I find them distracting and would like to disable them for my character's public and private development threads - they break up prose and ruin the flow of the writing. Can that be done?
The following users thanked this post: Hellblazer
"Heard about it?"
"Cain't say as I has, Jorg."
"Says that fancy-pants lodge on the docks is holding another auction."
"So, ladies only, heard."
"They's auctionin' off wimmin? I need me one! Loan me a fiver!"
"NO, you moron. Only women can bid."
"On what? They already done them costumes, an' the fancy clothes thing, I took a peek in there that night - ya shoulda seen 'em Jorg, two elfs all dressed up like hunnerd-gold hookers in red an' white, but they shore did look nice...where them wanderers git the money...bet there's a pile o' it in that place, hidden."
"Don't know, don't care, can't afford it if I could bid. Does make a man wonder, though, eh?"
Just about one year ago today, Orth posted for assistance keeping Layo running. Per his calculations they'd have enough to run the servers for a full year. By my calculations, it's time for we players to pony up some Trues for another year.
Someone told me once about a "donate your level" thing, and so that seems like a great idea. To kick this off: Andrew, thirty-one plus Ty, fifteen plus Mari, ten = fifty-seven dollars donated to Layonara. Heh, should be fifty-six so one bonus dollar!
Links to donate from Orth's post:
Donate to Layonara in AUD
Donate to Layonara in CAD
Donate to Layonara in EUR
Donate to Layonara in USD
[SIZE=18]Fashion is ephemeral, dangerous and unfair. It is a language that creates itself in clothes to interpret reality.[/SIZE]
Andrew Reid hosts a fashion show at the Silver Buckle. Come model your finest couture. Judging will be done on the outfit, not the body underneath it. Audience invited to vote for their favorites in three categories. One judge still wanted.
Create in cloth, leather or metal. Mix media. The possibilities are endless.
Awards in the amount 2000 True for best female (judged), best male (judged), audience favorite (female), audience favorite (male), and Best of Show.
Winning outfits may be purchased with barter credit (with agreement of designer) by the Angels Guild, to be sold as exclusive original designs in our Port Hempstead Fields shop.
No dark elves. Orc and goblin bloods by recognition only*. Giant kin okay.
//This is an ideal way for a newer character to make some quick coin and (possibly, no promises) get their rp xp switch turned on. The new loom is fun. Get a cheap outfit and play. Create, invent, reinvent new combinations of what you already own. Improvise. Become more creative. Not because you have to, but because you want to. Evolution is the secret for the next step.
*Characters known and accepted by Andrew, Jetta, Elohanna, or by petition from a Silver Buckle renter.
« on: November 30, 2012, 12:01:33 pm »
Patrons - for as long as we've been able, we've provided drinks either very cheaply or gratis.
With the current situation in Mariner's Hold and the famine this must sadly end. We face supply issues, my friends. Rest assured we are working to resolve this but for the time being we must begin to charge to cover the costs of obtaining brewing materials.
We appreciate your patronage and your patience while we sort this out.
The notice is shared with the entire Buckle staff and renters; servers are made aware that they can let people know before they start to drink.
The following users thanked this post: cbnicholson
Daylight seeps under his door and he's not slept at all. A night of writing letters to any food vendor he knows, to Denock Wisefoot of Wisefoot Trading, to White Mouth Harbor, to Bydell...anywhere he might find a source of sustenance. The fishermen he'll deal with in the...oh, yes. Well. In a half an hour, probably.
Despite his depression, despite the music that he feels unable to make, he is hopeful. They've come, his Bucklers; Charlie and Kat, Rook and Melody, the Captain, Vell, even Keela and SehKy have thrown their hands into the effort. And his wife, trying so very hard to help him, and this once completely unable. He aches for her. A healer who cannot heal, even as he is the cause of her pain.
It doesn't change anything to know that. No music he makes will ever come close. He is a fraud, and he's passed up perfection in favor of his moral compass. He can look at himself in the mirror. He just doesn't want to.
Enough. There is too much to be done to indulge in another round of pity-me. That hundred thousand dollars he didn't spend is about to be put to use, for he's certain the fishermen will not part with their catch cheaply these days. He and Minu are handling that as they are well-known on the docks. Melody and Kat have agreed to go to the merchant's quarter and take note of the vendors, what they're selling, and to ask about what farms are still farming and what farms are failing and who's already left. Keela and SehKy are going to spend some time in the poorest parts of town learning what the people really need, what they really want, so the soup kitchen does what it needs to do and not what he thinks it needs to do. Vell has agreed...well, that's not quite right, he's been voluntold to figure out how to mushroom farm. They grow fairly quickly, after all, and he can cook the pits out of a mushroom. Good protein, excellent flavor...Melody's idea to rent the warehouse and use it to grow the mushrooms until they have a food supply is brilliant as well. Another ripple of hope, not a wave but he feels it. He has good friends. It is a blessing.
Argali has proposed some locations to put farms that are not targets for the dark elves or the pit moths, one of which she's visiting - Bear Island. If farms there can be protected from bugbears, they're certainly out of the way enough to not attract attention.
One last letter to write and it isn't long. He seals it with a read wax clef. Instead of her name, he sketches her on the envelope - the curved ears, the flowing hair, the luscious figure draped strategically in green...alright, perhaps it's a bit much detail, and perhaps he's spending too long getting those details just right. He's tired and making mistakes that have to be re-drawn. That's his story and he's sticking to it.
And...there. A black bear by her side, and it's done. He prays a moment that she'll answer, and she'll know. He's prepared to bankroll a lot of testing to bring those farms back. It all depends on knowing how.
For the hundredth time he picks up a cigar, then puts it down. Lola is in here, curled in his red chair and fast asleep. Minu does not like him smoking around the child; she begs for a puff too often. So long as she's in here he cannot indulge and his teeth are starting to itch from want. Which means time for Miss Lola the night owl to be taken to bed and for him to get started on his day.
Night owl. That's a good name for her. His little night owl...