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Messages - Fian Bearsark
61
« on: July 18, 2006, 04:36:24 pm »
Repeated attempts did the trick, thanks.
62
« on: July 18, 2006, 02:26:04 pm »
"Wake up already!" The Innkeeper shook Mimir harder this time, almost pushing him off the becnh. " I got paying customers who want te rest their feet!" He hurried off, muttering about dwarves as Mimir looked about him, dazed.
He was in a corner booth in the Scamp's Mug Inn, his backpack and weapons strewn across the worn and stained surface of the table. Gathering them slowly, he scowled in the direction of the Innkeep. Fool human, he thought. They think they run everything.
Standing slowly, he moved off toward the door, unsteadily picking his way through the noontime crowd of sailors, merchantmen and craftsmen. He pushed a man aside near the door, eliciting an expletive from the startled patron. Once outside, blinking at the bright light, Mimir moved off toward the nearby halfling Temple to whatever god it was the little ones worshipped. He needed to restock his healing kits, didn't matter what god it came from. He recalled a few days before, when he had used many kits and potions. The clammy, sterile smell of Storan's Tomb jumped immediately to his thoughts. Underground and cut stone was usually a relief to his kind, but this place was different. It smelled of lost things and misery, it reeked of anger and hate and confusion. Those that dwelt there were beyond description. He counted himself doubly fortunate in retrospect that he was in the company of stalwart men in that hole. Balazar, Mandalorian, a cleric called Tha', a monk who fought weaponless named Silver, and a few mages of elfkind he thought. They spoke of Bodaks with Death's Touch and Mummies exuding Fear. It was a horror to remain there and in his heart of hearts Mimir knew he was outclassed there.
The kilted dwarf paused at the entrance to the halfling temple, thinking just how unprepared he was to set foot in that Tomb. They were all stronger or more - more protected by their gods he realized. Everyone discussed the fear and the risk of the Bodak's Death curse. Yet for Mimir it mattered not. Sometimes he recieved protections from the clerics, sometimes not. It didn't stop him from entering and fighting. Against the mummies he grew cold with an unresoning fear, gripped to immobility at times. It was beyond shaming. He also found that his iron hammer dealt little or no damage against this foe. Yet still he went in and fought, like a fool, like one himself possessed by some otherworldliness. On reflection, it was absurd that he even was there, amongst men stronger and more skilled than he. But there he was, swinging away, with a weapon that did not always damage the Deaders. Somehow it didn't matter anymore. A divine fool perhaps he was. Finally they broke into the room of Storan himself, a room of dread and fear and anger etched in its cold stone. They were victorious and clambered out toward sun and fresh air.
He had heard the tales of kuldjargh - axe idiots- and had known one in his youth. Mimir laughed out loud, catching the eye of the pawn shop halfing nearby. He scowled at her and set his pack on the ground near a fountain. Reaching in with both hands, he drew water out and dumped it on his head, coughing hard. Kuldjargh. A term of respect and folly and trepidation all in one. But what was it to him? Nothing of course. He was a simple unemployed tunnel guard.
If only that drive had been there on that day, all those months ago. Or has it been a year now since he clawed his way out of the rubble and bodies? He glanced up at the sun, beating down on his head, cooking his brain and his thoughts. He muttered a dwarven swear word and picked up his pack. It was then he noticed he had left drops of blood behind him from a wound on his arm. They probably went all the way back to the Inn. Analysing the cut emotionlessly, he spit and turned to go buy more healing kits.
63
« on: July 16, 2006, 04:44:08 pm »
Mimir crept forward slowly, searching the rocks ahead. The trail of blood he was following clearly passed
between two big rocks ahead, a narrow defile especially for a wounded Ogre. He paused and sniffed the light
mountain breeze. Nothing. Normally the reek of an Ogre was plain to even his dull sense of smell. Shifting his
weight from his left leg to his right, he grimaced in pain and looked down. His calf was deeply cut from the
Ogre's ax, and the hastily wrapped bandages were little help at the moment. Worse yet, his kilt was frayed a
little at the hem. It would need stitching as well.He needed to sit and use a few Healing Kits and possibly a
potion of curing to stem the blood and repair the injury.
Instead, he grunted and slipped his free hand into his belt pouch. Withdrawing a steel flask of cheap ale, he
took a long drink and coughed hard. Then another drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, he
looked ahead, trying to guess which way his prey had fled. It was only a matter of time. The brute would fall to
his hammer sooner or later, despite his own leg wound. It meant little to him. He thought of the looks he got
sometimes in Hlint as he wandered in wounded. It was no matter. The pain was of little consequence. Others may
think him a fool. Let them. All that mattered was ending this melee, cornering this last Ogre of the hunting
group he had stalked today in the Greypeaks. He needed to hear the song of his hammer one more time before
healing mattered.
Suddenly he heard rock sliding on rock - behind him. Mimir froze, shifting his warhammer over to his right hand
and readying his shield. He crept forward, sliding his compact form into a niche in the rocks. Then he waited.
Another shift of rocks could be heard closer, something was approaching on foot. As it grew near enough for a
swing, he leapt out and swung his hammer. Surprisingly, it met with a shield, a shield bearing the markings of
his own clan.
"What in the ...?!" Mimir drew back in shock and looked behind the shield.
"Mim, is that you?" A sandy-haired dwarf showed himself, slinging his axe and looking about in surprise.
"Aye, it is me.....Bilskir? What brings you this far out?" Mimir slowly smiled, clapping a hand on the dwarf's
shoulder.
Bilskir nodded and looked Mimir up and down. "Its good to see you alive, old man. I was out scouting the Ogre
Clans and the last thing I expected to see was you." He took a critical assesment of Mimir's wounds. "Looks like
you need a cleric. As I recall, you never knew when to say 'enough.' "
"Nay, tis nothing. I can fix myself up well enough." Mimir coughed and his hand moved to his belt pouch. With a
self-conscious pause, he turned the movement into rubbing his left leg.
Bilskir pretended not to notice. " Mimir, you are missed in the Deeping Halls. I hope whatever keeps you away is
worth it." He reached for his axe, preparing to set off on his scouting again. Mimir wiped his face with a
handkerchief and nodded slowly. "I need to -I need to test myself. And this new hammer of course!" He raised it
and let out a laugh.
Bilskir nodded silently and forced a smile. "Heal yourself. No shame in it." He gestured to Mimir's leg wound.
"Take a potion or two during battle if you can. No sense in enduring it and endng up laid out on a mountaintop
somewhere. Aye?"
Mimir looked off toward the trail of blood, toward his next foe. He said nothing. Bilskir moved off, pausing a
moment and looking back. "May Dorand smile on you Mimir Deeping." The wounded dwarf continued to stare in the
direction of his next foe.
64
« on: July 12, 2006, 01:55:35 pm »
Mimir lifted his head from the tavern table and looked about. He did not know which tavern he was in, nor how long he had been there. It had happened again, and the usual feelings of frustration and bewilderment coursed through him. His watery eyes gleamed beneath heavy brows as he glanced about suspiciously, searching for anyone who might have been watching him. Running his hands through his hair, he sat up and pulled down on his rumpled tunic. Noticing the open journal on the table before him and the neglected stylus lying on its pages, he pushed an empty glass aside and began to write.
My hammer's been singing. I felled many goblins in the Red Light Caverns and Bones in the crypts. Met two Men who were good traveling companions - Mandolar and Balazar. Each is a godly type, One of Rofierin and the other of Toran (I think). It makes no matter - gods are only for those about to die most times.
We traveled north along a trade road, and wiped out warrens of kobolds. How it pleases my ears to hear them yelp as they are struck down! Their dirty habits haven't changed from the times I fought them in the tunnels. Further along we met and defeated some wierd creatures, great long noses like a stork's, evil eyes and magics to conceal themselves. My hammer found them regardless.
Ogres! Ogres we felled. Mandolarian and Balazar fought well for Men, I spent some time with them. Mandolar saw me digging in my bag, he offered me ale. I took it. Of course I took it. I took it and drank it down, like I was taking a breath. It makes no matter. I am too far gone. My ill-temper fuels my attack, I should be fearless and unstoppable inside of a year, if it doesn't kill me first. It makes no matter. I am first at the enemy and my hammer sings.
Next into the swamp for lizards, great scaled beasts of foul breath and evil intent. The swamp was difficult to move in, but my hammer and I sang along with the two Men and all the vermin sunk into the mud. We claimed coin, coin for food and coin for drink. It makes no matter. All else pales in comparison. A glowing Essence was won as well, and taken to a fool of a mage in Llast. He paid well for it, no doubt for some wicked and cowardly spell. Mages - good for use as ship anchors and tunnel posts.
*He begins to scribble a line here, heavy and repetitive*
Of course - almost forgot. A dragon I saw! Yes, a great red dragon who spoke, who spoke ill words playfully, who spoke of consuming and chasing little folk like me. I told him I would poison his gut if he swallowed me. Another man was there too, then I ran to town and got others to come and look for it, but it had vanished. Some say it was a mad Mage bent on evil tricks. I am not so convinced. There is much rumor of dragons having returned to dismiss it as a prank.
65
« on: July 08, 2006, 04:30:53 pm »
Donated 20$
66
« on: July 08, 2006, 10:12:23 am »
Though its a tough pill to swallow, a total wipe and starting everyone at level one is my first choice. I think the fear of it is greater than the actuality. I understand the loss of a cherished character but I think we all are creative enough here to come up with a new character for the new PW. Also, if you love a character you presently have, just re-make them in the new world. Now you get to play them all over again and explore their personality.
I will mention I do also see the advantages to option 4. I also play on a server called Stormnexus, where there is something called "Ascensions". Many of you have probably seen this idea before. A character reaches level 40 and submits for an Ascension. They are give a number of points to spend on stats, feats, or skills. Then they make the new version of their character (changing the name slightly) and once the ascension is appproved and the waiting period over, the chosen bonus skills, feats, etc. are edited into their character and it can be played. This gives an extra edge to the Ascended character. They start at level one but have an extra feat or two, or their DEX or STR is higher than what a "normal" 1st level character is capable of.
Personally I advocate Option 1, however painful initially. I think we all at one point or another deal with the loss of a character here and on other servers. I just saw the post about a character named Glenn who got his last DT and was sorely missed by the player and his friends. Its sad, but I would imagine the player will make a new character and develop a whole new aspect of RP with it. So in a way we all already face the imminent fact of losing our characters here.
67
« on: July 07, 2006, 08:10:16 pm »
Hi Vyris! I'm back too *waves*
68
« on: July 05, 2006, 10:52:54 pm »
Rapier on hold.
69
« on: July 05, 2006, 10:50:22 pm »
Rapier held for Aegidriel.
70
« on: July 05, 2006, 01:54:59 pm »
Still have it, so I'll hold it for you.
71
« on: July 04, 2006, 08:05:12 pm »
I am at it again. I can't shake my depende- (*this part is marred and erased*)
I met a strange man a little while ago. He spoke only in that blasted bird chatter of the elves and such, though this one was different. He could change or transmute into animals and seemed to be able to hold an animal's Will by his own. He held a deer and made it move as if a toy. This is not like the miners in the tunnels who made friends of rats with offers of food. No, far from it. This deer did as he willed and would no doubt run off a cliff for him. It was a bit unsettling. He said his name was something like "Wmev" or somesuch, I can't say for sure. I told him mine and I think he understood.
He came upon me when I was in a mood. I just had drunk my last drop and I was foul! He offered food and drink (water ! Ha! if only he knew) and showed me where to get honey. My poverty must be a millstone around my neck for all to see. I must wait even longer to buy decent armor, though I did manage to get a better shield. I smelled kobolds nearby and together we cleaned them out. (*the hand is shaky and heavy here*). O, how they squealed and fell under my hammer! A scourge they are, the lot of them. I felt the old rush again - senses blurred to one foe, my body shook with rage. We made made quick work of them and I grabbed their gold from their carcasses too fast . I felt him watching me in my eagerness. He often only watches without speaking. A trait to be admired in one of the Elf folk since they normally chatter insessantly. I asked if he wanted any. He declined.
I missed that feeling of fighting with a comrade at my side. We cleared the lot of them in a blaze. He was quick, in the skin of a big cat, though I can not say which. His wordless aid was more than I have received since I left....
I have found Orcs to the north of the town and I have fought hard against them. Armed with axes and light armor, they would not present to great a challenge if I had better equipment. I have dropped several, but suffered deep wounds. It matters not.
I need to learn to make mead. Then I'll be truly independent, eh? (*a heavy blunt mark ends this*)
72
« on: July 03, 2006, 06:14:51 pm »
updated stock and prices
73
« on: July 02, 2006, 11:30:54 pm »
Reasonable offers accepted on the above items, the pricing listed is flexible.
74
« on: June 30, 2006, 12:22:40 pm »
Aloe held for Honora.
75
« on: June 27, 2006, 02:29:05 pm »
I would very much like the Lion Leather Armor you carry. Please hold it for me and I will look for you.
Drawna Eldreal
76
« on: June 25, 2006, 02:19:35 pm »
Drawna stood on a sandy inlet, Haven castle looming in the distance behind her. Facing east, she gazed over the
ocean, noting with a hard expression the grey-brown cast to the sky. It seemed to endlessly drift in from the
East now, a cloak of sickly ash spread over Mistone. She dropped to the sand and took out a stylus and paper,
smoothing it flat on her bent knee, and began to write.
Mother, Alaric and Tal,
This is my last letter home. Because home is no more. Its been taken from us, all of us who love
Pranzis. Alessa's Dress Shop, The Emporium, Anstar's Inn, that little fruit stand by the fountain that always
had such delicious apples. Its all gone and I won't see it again ever the way I used to. *the paper here is
crumpled slightly* I am sorry about your roses mum. I hope some are still growing. Alaric, please, I hope you
didn't fall in the defense of the City. Or maybe I hope you did, so you won't be held prisoner or worse. You
always wanted to be the noble one after all.
Tal, I hope you are safe somewhere. I hope you ran and ran and never looked back. I hope mum and you are
somewhere like Lakeside, by that house on the hillside, the one by the evergreens. We always liked to hide in
those trees. It always felt safe. I will miss the plays that we would go to in the Square, on those hot summer nights when we would whisper and gossip about people in the crowd, pretending to watch the latest theatre troupe on tour.
I hope the house is safe, I hope it didn't burn down. I hope the view from my window is still the same. I hope I won't die wondering about all of you. I hope dad's gravestone isn't broken. It was so hard for mum to pick it out and he wouldn't like a broken gravestone. I hope all my friends are out of the city, I hope the defenders held the line long enough. I hope Blood's general is not like that Demon, I hope he can see the beauty of the city and protect it. I hope he dies a horrible death.
I hope I can lead an army back to Dregar, to take back our city. I hope I will win. I hope. I hope I am strong
enough someday to make a difference here.
I hope.
Slowly she dug in her bag and drew out an empty Tower Malt ale bottle, drained in sadness the day before. She
thought of Armolas, the quiet man who gave it to her, who said they tried to hold them off long enough for the
citizens to leave. He tried. He seemed nice, as if he would try. The pain in his eyes was sufficient to tell her this. She believed him. Uncorking the bottle, she rolled the letter and slipped it inside, pushing the cork back on. With one quick movement, she flung the bottle in a high arc over the waters, watching it tumble lazily end over end to land in a white blossom of spray. It bobbed up and down, drawn slowly out into the ocean, up and down, up and down. Pulled along by the course of events around it, not knowing if it would ever reach Dregar.
77
« on: June 24, 2006, 04:44:54 pm »
login: Fian Bearsark
Characters: Fian Bearsark (11)
Drawna Eldreal (11)
I think I got back to Layo a little too late to really jump in and help...Good Luck to all those able to quest.
78
« on: June 22, 2006, 02:04:00 pm »
If you are still looking, I have 1 box available.
Drawna
79
« on: June 22, 2006, 01:47:30 pm »
Alaric,
I just wanted to let you know I am settling back in over here in Mistone. I have already run into some old faces
who still remember me. (shocking isn't it? *smiley face drawn*) It was nice spending time with you and your
wife, even though she hates me. (I think that was a joke.) Little Tal actually made an appearance too, which is
amazing that he found time away from slaying dragons in the service of the King of Dregar, et al. Ah well, we
all can't be so noble! I hope you will be able to check in on mum every once in a while. She was stoic at the
funeral, but I could see her ready to bust apart at the seams. That rose garden isn't going to be able to cure
all her ills. So please check on her from time to time. Or at least give her a grandchild will you?! Ha!
I am better than I thought I was with my blade. My first week back I traveled to the Dire Wood with a large
group and held my own there. It is infested with ghosties and creepies who are very tough to hit, but I
surprised even myself in how well I did. Next we poked at a nest of Ogres in a well-known cave and I did great
there. And I am still modest too, did you notice? *face with a big round mouth drawn* I am trying to decide if I
need heavier armor though, my dodging in combat is good, but not good enough. I may need to drop some metal
links on myself or carry a bigger shield, though being weighted down like that is gonna hurt my poor widdle
sleek body. Oh well. A hunt into the Greypeaks here resulted in the usual beating, with 3 of our group dropping
in a field of Ogres. I know that place like the back of my hand, and I still get caught unawares sometimes. On
the plus side I got a nice rest in a soft bed in Lar. I think the guys there are all descended from bears
though. They are waaayy too hairy for my tastes, thank you very much.
I haven't tried crafting too much, I think I am still rusty. I desperately need some coin for all my trifling
wants, like food, clothing and shelter. I may try and collect resources for other craftsmen. We'll see how that
pans out. Gemcutting is ok, but getting the minerals is pretty difficult most times.
I'm glad you service is over with the Army, now you can work on getting fat and happy. Tal has how long to go
yet? I can't remember. Please keep in touch, I will send notes when I can, and tell mum I'm thinking of her.
Hugs, Drawna
80
« on: June 06, 2005, 06:23:00 pm »
Added stuff.
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