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Topics - Eyvind
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« on: January 18, 2009, 07:31:59 am »
[SIZE=24]Gog's Pile of Fings[/SIZE]Gog marches into the Market Hall and unceremoniously dumps the contents of a big sack on a table. Some of it rolls onto the floor. He announces: [SIZE=16] "I hev fings 'ere."[/SIZE]
All trades welcome!
All jobs welcome!
Gog is not particularly astute and will likely settle for much less
than the item is actually worth, even though it might not be much.
Gog will trade worthless items for other, potentially more,
worthless items as well as one item for a practically identical one.
If something pretty wants to buy something, he might forget to
take -- full -- payment.
If someone wants to buy something on credit, it would likely be
easy to convince Gog to allow it.
Other big people might never have to pay more than a few true
for anything. They might also get into a fight.
Some purchases might accidentally come with additional items.
Stealing items by especially sneaky sneakies is allowed.
Gog takes occasional naps.
Gog can be bribed with sweets.
[SIZE=10]((Roleplay here or in game when appropriate. I won't necessarily
ask for any dicerolls, just RP responsibly and let's not mule.
In order to hold true to the stealing and PvP rules, stealing will be
mechanized as any trade after an outcome has been determined
by roleplaying, OOC reasoning, and perhaps some dicebag fun.
Any form of communication is welcome.))[/SIZE]
It is difficult to determine exactly what the pile consists of. It is composed of large amounts of garbage and worthless items, this much is clear; certain things can be identified, however. - Arrow, Copper Tipped Hickory Falcon Tail x 20
A bit better than normal arrows ((+1 piercing damage))
- Copper Battleaxe x 1
Hardly spectacular, and quite stained. Not just with blood, either.
- Copper Bullets x 99
For all your slinging needs. These just roll around on the floor, go ahead and pick them up.
- Copper Greataxe x 1
A remarkably not great axe, at least it's big.
- Corn Kernels x 14
You wouldn't want to eat these.
- Cotton x 7
Wads of dirty cotton litter the pile.
- Cure Light Wounds (potion) x 8
These are the only two that are still intact.
- Discarded Pitchfork x 1
Ideal for angry mobs. Though not particularly powerful as a weapon ((-1 enhancement penalty)), it could be used as a weak torch ((Low yellow 10m light)).
- Endurance (scroll) x 1
Weaklings rejoice!
- Expeditious Retreat (scroll) x 1
Cowards rejoice!
- Gum Arabic x 1
For gluing together hamburgers.
- Mineral Amethyst x 2
Purple.
- Mineral Greenstone x 1
Green.
- Mineral Malachite x 1
Also green. A different shape, perhaps?
- Minor Spike Trap Kit x 1
Just add water.
- Plain Cloak x 1
Makes a spectacular blanket, if you can clean it.
- Raspberry x 7
Will stain shirts. Also yummy.
- Raw Feline Meat x 18
Boil before eating.
- Set of Tinker's Tools x 1
For all your tinkering needs.
- Shield Crafting Kit x 1
Will turn any board into the pretty shield of your choice.
- Skinning Knife x 2
Can be used for stabbing. Or skinning.
- Tinder x 1
Taken from the nest of a sparrow.
- True (coin) x 23
There are holes in Gog's pockets.
- Venom Sack from a Small Spider x 3
"Small" is a relative term.
Gog sits down on the floor next to the table, waiting for customers.
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« on: January 11, 2009, 01:11:10 pm »
I wrote this background story (some parts omitted) for a Lawful Neutral Half-Giant Monk before I came to know that it was forbidden. At this point I would like to know if this story is true to the lore of Layonara, and if my rationale for a Lawful Neutral alignment (not necessarily Monk, mind you, I omitted those parts from the story) at the end.
(Also not exactly sure if this is the right place to post, but I'm reasonably certain it's close enough.)
I don't want to hear that the only reasons are (1) that Half-Giant Monks are overpowered and (2) it would be tedious to make technically possible. I understand these two reasons and I am not arguing or looking for reasons for this to be allowed. I want to know what the lore reasons for not allowing it are.
I appreciate your time and apologize for any defensiveness this might unintentially invoke.
_____
A darker than normal day in Apreal of 1418 and a giantess approached a farmstead on the outskirts of the Gloom Woods. The lit windows and the dark forest behind it made for an isolated but cozy appearance, something the giant cared little for. She tromped on across the field.
Well at the house, she leaned down and looked through one of the lit windows. Inside she saw a man, a woman, and a young girl eating a meager meal at a small table. The girl sat across from the window, consequently she saw the giant first and froze, eyes wide, mid-chew. Several seconds passed before the mother noticed her daughter's rigid attitude, she glanced out the window and seeing nothing unusual she sighed and began an absent-minded drone of reassurances. The father hardly reacted until he heard the loud crash and splintering that effectively interrupted the drone of his wife, putting her in the frozen state quite similar to that of her daughter, who in turn fell out of her chair in terror. The father -- Jack was his name -- stood up, grabbed the hatchet that had fallen from the wall, and began moving toward the sound of a giant trying to fit through a human door.
Jack approached the door and was promptly helped through it by the arm that stretched in after him. The woman and girl could do little but watch from the window as their husband and father was dragged off in the direction of the Brech Mountains. What happened to them is a bit uncertain. After a corner of the house caved in, it is likely they moved to one of the small towns nearby, or perhaps Fort Vehl.
It would, however, be a good guess that they survived since shortly after the incident at the farmstead, a small the community of giants on the outskirts of the Ulgrid Kingdom was attacked by a reasonably wrathful -- but short-lived -- mob. Incidentally, this community is where Gora -- the giantess -- had dragged Jack.
To explain the reasoning behind Gora's actions would be futile, and to explain Jack's attitude toward the whole ordeal would be equally so, for he -- and this is no lie -- welcomed the change in scenery. Granted, it took a few days, but he came to enjoy spending each day taking care not to be crushed, taking care not to be ripped apart, taking care not to be eaten, and not having to plant plants, wait for plants to grow, harvest plants, prepare for more planting of plants, plant plants, wait, and so on.
A year later John -- whom everyone but Jack called something else, sounded something like Hug -- was born to Gora, details omitted. By this time Jack had become an honorary giant and was allowed to roam essentially wherever he wanted to roam. As John grew up, Jack took him on walks about the foothills, along the Taro River, and occasionally farther. They developed a tight bond, at least as tight as any normal father-son relationship, and the recollections of his former life faded from Jack's mind.
In 1439, shortly after John's tenth birthday in Apreal, the giants once again came under fierce attack. The giants held their ground for several days but as there seemed to be no end to the attacks, they began grumbling and hastily sought a scapegoat. The most natural and easiest choice would have been Jack. John assumed as much, and was prepared to defend his father from the other giants. A group of them came but they were in fact seeking John, not Jack, so when John stood ready to face them they shrugged and grabbed him. They took the struggling John to the Tora and threw him in. Uncertain what happened to Jack, or the rest of the giants for that matter.
John's fate was more certain, at least for the time being. He was swept downstream to the sea and was thereafter washed far into it. If chance had had her say, he would have died too, but a couple of fishermen netted the half-dead half-giant and essentially saved him. They took him to their shack a few miles west of Fort Vehl which they threw him into after tying his hands and feet.
The shack was cluttered with fishing paraphernalia. There were also quite a number of fish about, some rotting on the ground, some drying on a stand. All things considered, there was little open ground left for John to fall onto as he was thrown in, and as it turns out he missed the little there was. He hit his head on something hard and unyielding, and was unconscious for the better part of the night. He then slept off his daze, shock, and confusion through the following day. The fishermen came back that evening and jostled him out of the shack only to dump him in a freshly-dug pit some ways inland. They said nothing, they didn't even chortle. They waited just long enough to make sure they hadn't broken John's neck, then they left.
The next day, John had regained a considerable portion of his aggressiveness and loudly challenged the fishermen. When they didn't respond, he challenged them in giant as well, just to be on the safe side. The second day in the pit there was cause for celebration: John had managed to free his hands and it also rained. It didn't quite sate his thirst, but it sufficed. Days passed -- a few of which brought more rain -- with no sight of the fishermen. Some more days passed -- the rain was becoming a nuisance -- and finally the fishermen came and though an explanation would have been nice, they did bring some food. The quite small hunk of meat, and more like it over the coming years, was enough to keep John alive, but little more.
As alluded, John was kept in the pit for many years. During these years he was kept as barely alive as the mysterious fishermen decided. John's aggressive behavior waxed and waned and as the first few years passed, though the bouts of aggression grew further and further apart. By the end of two years, he had regressed into a quiet loathing of the fishermen he saw so little of. He alternated between sitting in the middle of his pit and pacing around it. Though his mental capabilities were not particularly sharp, he could on an abstract level ponder his predicament and eventual fate.
As he grew older, he realized the futility of struggling, that doing so would only diminish him more than his meager sustenance already was. He learned to sit still -- consciously -- for longer periods of time, at first not more than several minutes but as his seemingly endless time in the pit came and went, he learned to control his impatience and restlessness and took the first step to developing a significant patience.
Of course, it was not a completely smooth and sober experience. He did occasionally convulse mentally and scream some obscenities in Giant, he would hammer at the earthen walls with his hands and head, take jumps for the surface, and fall back down to the cold and uneven ground. He would compose himself and often fall asleep from the exertions and malnutrition. He would wake up, regretting his outburst with an aching stomach and intense hunger. Each time he told himself that it was unnecessary to intensify his suffering with uncontrolled behavior -- perhaps not in so many words, but it was a concept that made much sense to him.
He turned 18 in Apreal of 1437. By this time he had lost all track of time. He had all but mastered a level of self-control all but nonexistent among giants and even most humans. He was, however, growing weary of his eternal existence within those earthen confines. He began contemplating methods of escape. He was no great thinker, however, despite countless hours pensively spent. Nevertheless, he did get ideas. One he was particularly proud of involved making a rope out of his ragged and threadbare clothes, which hadn't been much to begin with. He eventually managed to create a decent rope, and grinning with joy he realized it would be of no use to him. He tried throwing it up above the edge of the pit, but there was no chance of it getting stuck on anything that could bear his weight. Ideas such as this occupied him for quite some time. In his 21st year, while executing yet another futile plan, he realize that the edge of the pit was now just within reach. It seemed the fishermen had not been Promethean enough to accommodate the pit for the growth of a young half-giant -- and perhaps erosion.
John began jumping to get a good grip on the worn edge of the pit. He did manage a number of times, but he was simply too fatigued to pull himself out. To make a drawn-out story shorter by a few sentences, he did manage eventually. It was a calm night, the stars were peeking out from behind nothingness, and various insects were making various insect-like noises. He looked around and came to the conclusion that he was utterly lost. He sat down to catch his breath for a moment.
After a moment he stood up, he felt a slight breeze and decided to follow it. He came upon a well-traveled road and followed it in an arbitrary direction. Eventually he saw what he soon found out was Fort Vehl. John now, for the first time since coming of age, had reason to use his name. He didn't think too much on the matter, and began introducing himself as Hugg, his Giant name. This and similar realizations forced upon him by the world took him by surprise. His life picked up in pace considerably, and it tested his self-control in ways he had never before encountered. He found work in Vehl, doing menial tasks that his employer thought fitting for a half-giant. Through this work he soon regained his natural strength and stamina and had enough True to buy himself his first decent meal in an eternity. This marked, to him, a rebirth into the world. He was now his own giant-man.
This is where we find Hugg today.
_____
Alignment rationale:
Due to being utterly isolated for nearly half of his current lifespan (between ages 10 and 21) -- the portion of his life during which he is most likely to have developed his own attitudes and principles -- he has no preconcieved notions of how communities should operate.
During his time of isolation, he developed a number of personal principles essentially to keep him sane and alive. Keeping his life along these principles for so long would make them quite ingrained and he would nary consider disregarding them as soon as his isolation is terminated. These principles are, fundamentally what make Monks Lawful.
His low intelligence (9, see below) keeps him from developing complex artificial ideas of his own, as would be necessary to challenge existing laws, regulations, and such.
With these three factors in mind, I feel a Lawful alignment is appropriate.
The Neutral part is also, I feel the only possible for him to adhere to his personal principles. His imprisonment and consequential isolation are what made him develop strong personal principles, in fact it is what made him as a whole. If he sees this cruelty as morally wrong, he would be belittling himself and his principles. If he sees it as morally right, well, I can't make an Evil character yet even if I wanted to.
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« on: January 07, 2009, 01:06:42 am »
I haven't been getting any of those "Instant email notifications" for replies to subscribed threads.
I have made sure my email is corrent, that I have the option set, and that all my subscribed threads are set to "Instant."
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« on: August 28, 2008, 03:51:40 pm »
It had been a few months since she first ventured out of her childhood home in Port Hempstead. It had been almost 9 years since her brother had been murdered, 3 since her father had passed away, and a few days since her clerical mentor had continued on his pilgrimage to North Point.
These months were some of the most eventful in her life. She could never have anticipated the excitement of life outside the walls of the place she had never before thought of leaving. The people she met were unlike any other, their ways incomprenhensible at times. The wilderness was brutal, its ways as incomprehensible as its denizens. Taliera was treated with animosity at times, but utter kindness at others.
She did her best to stay true to what she had been taught from her beloved father, the mistakes of her brother, and the mercy of Az'atta. To many her ways were as incomprehensible as their's were to her, but with her strong will she kept her spirit alive.
Her speech seemed to be the most puzzling to others. Many presumed it to be an accent from some far off land and the reality -- that she had lived all her life in Port Hempstead -- was surprising enough to push many of them into disbelief. As more people began publically noting on her peculiar speech, she decided to find a teacher. Learning how to speak Common like a true Hempsteadian seemed vital in earning the respect of others.
Since her father had died, she had been living on the grace of the Deliar clergy. She had become friendly with some of the priests and priestesses and amongst these she found her tutor, Jayla. Jayla was very willing to help Taliera and she did so gleefully. Being a relatively low-ranking cleric, few looked up to her and she rarely had the chance to teach anyone anything. Jayla took tutoring Taliera up as a hobby and every few days, sometimes every day, they would sit down together and spend hours on proper pronunciation and grammar.
Taliera learned quickly and after almost a month she was speaking Common relatively well, albeit with some residual quirks and some accents passed on from Jayla. All in all, she was improving.
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« on: August 22, 2008, 12:42:59 am »
Hi everyone!
I am very excited to be here.
I have introduced myself so many times in different places, I don't quite know what to say here. I suppose I can always say that my very strict gaming philosophy is "Be kind, be fair, be fun." I hope to apply that to Layonara to my fullest capacity!
See you all in the game!
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