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Messages - Diamondedge
21
« on: July 27, 2006, 01:06:06 am »
Diamondedge's longwinded description of his escape from the tomb. ------------- I travel everywhere with my pickaxe. Rather than hacking away at the door, I begin tunnelling through the wall itself, around the warded portal and into the corridor outside. I take the diamond dust and as I leave, I tell the feebleminded companion to sit on one of the pressure plates, before running like the dickens away. I sell the diamond dust, buy a small island in some archipelago off of Dregar or perhaps that other continent whose name escapes me (Rilara? Milara? Which one was the villain?  ) Content forever, I live out the rest of my days in absolute wealth, although I do mourn, quite often, the loss of my feebleminded companion, who would have made an absolutely wonderful butler/domestic servant/slave labourer. ...So, who wants to go questing!
22
« on: July 27, 2006, 12:59:06 am »
That happens to me SO MANY TIMES...
23
« on: July 25, 2006, 12:13:10 pm »
Actually, my DM allowed turning solid granite into hunks of meat. It was a wonderful way to beat a dragon. Our two wizards cast a series of stone-to-flesh spells, and the DM ruled that the rules would be like stone-to-mud spells. The dragon was sleeping, and was awoken by a big pile of meat. It began eating happily, and then we turned the ground to mud beneath it, then turned the mud to stone. Warriors hacked away, dragon died, we got bonus XP for tactics, and plunder beyond our wildest dreams. 
24
« on: July 25, 2006, 12:50:13 am »
I, personally, have done this more than a few times. I do habitually leave the computer to go handle something. And what's wrong with that? I'm not going to log out of Layonara every time I feel hungry, thirsty, distracted, the need to go number 1 or 2, or anything else. If you're getting mad by a vacantly staring dwarf who has inexplicably gone mute and deaf, well, he's a friggin' dwarf, what do you expect, a high attention span? Many people have RPed my absences tastefully with "Oh, he seems to be thinking" or "Oh, the fat old bugger has fallen asleep". I applaude that. I don't think I would react too well to someone that started sending me angry PMs while I was on, unless it was my girlfriend telling me to get my butt back to the computer and RP, etc. And even then... 
25
« on: July 25, 2006, 12:39:49 am »
Turor was made (approved, too) on July 11, 2005. It is now July 24 (or 25, depending where you are), 200*6*. I'm happy to announce that on July 23rd or 22nd, somewhere, Turor Sunderstone managed to attain his 9th level Of course, I keep thinking to myself that if ONLY I hadn't kept getting these long absences from the server, he'd be level 20ish by now... *snicker* In short, level means nothing. There are epic levels (the ones that don't do their completely own thing long enough to sit and RP with the 'rest of us', anyways) who have come to respect Turor. Somewhat. Kinda. If you can RP your character effectively, it shouldn't matter what level he/she is, because people will like them. You might even end up running with those epics on a few dandy little quests or something just because you know them, and were at the right place at the right time kind of deal. And that's always fun. In short, Hello.
26
« on: July 24, 2006, 07:00:28 pm »
Reminds me of King's Quest, with the gingerbread people outside the witch's house. Also, do people feel the time pass when they're petrified? I've never actually read up on petrification effects, and so forth. A cruel trick to play would be to flesh-to-stone someone, move them and cast a disguise upon yourself, stone-to-flesh them and tell them that it's two or three hundred years in the future and that everyone they love is long, long gone. I like the idea of a garden gnome. Turor would probably buy petrified goblins to adorn his home or something.
27
« on: July 22, 2006, 09:59:40 pm »
In the year 9114, the first human escaped from the clutches of captivity and slavery to the time overlords of Zi Alpha 4.
28
« on: July 21, 2006, 12:53:39 pm »
Layonara is a wonderful invention. I'm sure all of you can pretty well agree with that. The characters you have developed have blossomed and come quite far. Remember all the fun you had, though, in developing them? The emotions you ran them through, the mindsets you gave them? Remember how, at level eight, your character first began to learn a craft, first felled a group of giants, first travelled into the dungeon in the hills, etc? Good. You shouldn't forget about that. Those were some good times. Why let that character's memory die off? Those epic characters, or those characters who have influenced the world around them greatly with outrageous acts of heroism or intellectualism will be remembered, even if the campaign begins five hundred or six hundred years into the future. Bloodstone might be a vague memory of the past, as is so often the case in the ways of humans, or perhaps the idea of such a terrible power becoming true is very evident in the minds of everyone these days. Whether or not Bloodstone is still almighty and wonderful, the fact remains that the epic characters who fought him will still probably be remembered for all those daring feats they performed. A group of settlements in western Dregar have banded together under a charter of rights and laws known as "The Words of Reventage". A college has been opened four miles out of Hlint, known as "The Royal Llewellyn (Or whatever Ozy's last name is ) Institution for the Musically Inclined". There is a pie that all halflings seem to learn to make for one reason or another, known as "Triba Gues Pumpkin Blueberry Jamboree Deep Dish Wonderpie". The bows of the Va'lashes are revered artifacts on magical display deep in the woods, in the middle of an unbelievably prosperous elven community, made that way because of the wisdom of the elven couple. Their descendents may not be granted any special powers, but surely they are at least partly honoured, or mayhaps pitied for the giant roles with which they are expected to live up to. Perhaps there have been other descendants before them, and indeed, there likely are. These descendents have either lived up to the name and made a name for themselves, or they came short. Will the same happen for your characters? This is just a suggestion. It is pretty much in line with everything Acacea has said thus far. Advantages - Everybody starts at level 1. Nice and fair, there are no special abilities, no wondrous anything. - The people who have put so much into Layonara are able to brag about their old characters some more while RPing whatever other character they are (The apprentice of the great granddaughter of Ozy, perhaps) and thus have the fun of developing a new character while never forgetting about the old character. "As my ancestor Kobal said, Never trust a beardless dwarf." - Everybody wins, I think, except for the few people who will want genuine physical reimbursement for all the work they put into their characters, before realizing that this is, in fact, a role-playing server. Your reward should be extra role-play benefits. - Layonara continues to flourish, expand, and become even more wonderous. Huzzah! Disadvantages - Anyone?
29
« on: July 17, 2006, 09:15:24 pm »
*written first in Dwarvish, with the common translation below it*
Dark-Deep 14, 1403
The Opening of the Doors and the ending of Hermitage
Funny, isn't it, the way the years roll by, the way they pass. My beard is taking on a qute lustrous grey colour now. I haven't written in this thing in more than a decade, so it is no surprise that I have nowhere to even begin writing.
Blood is dead. There's a good place to begin. As I've heard, from my hidden room behind the storage room, praying to Dorand, Sinthar Bloodstone is dead. And that's a good bit of news, for certain. I'm only sorry for the price his downfall costed the innocent people of Layonara.
My sleep has been less troubled. I have talked to Aleister less and less in my dreams. Of late, it has only been a monthly occurance where I converse with him. We speak of nothing important, although in the last meeting, it has been one of those final farewells. For the best, I'm sure; it doesn't do an old dwarf like me very well to go on talking to ghosts of fallen friends and comrades. I wonder if Acacea ever found out I dug him out a day after I was shown where he was buried, and cremated him. That's a proper dwarven way. Cast him in the forge, send him back to the gods to make into something new.
In the last meeting with Aleister, he told me to go out now, I've been planning enough. And plenty of planning I've been doing, too. I've got excavation and battle tactics all written up. Now I only have to find the ruins of Fortress Strongstone. He also wants me to give Acacea his well wishings. If she's even still alive. I haven't met anyone that could tell me of her exploits, or what has happened to her. Of course, I only really went out to accompany some lads down into the Mines.
Which leads me to more ramblings! I was out, walking about, when I came upon a group of elves, a human, and a halfling, all about to head down into the mines. "Elves wouldn't last long against those ogres," was a prime thought in my head, so I accompanied them. One elf was all talk. He spat on me and flicked ogre blood on my already befouled armor. Not a very clever lad, him, but then I guess it's safe to say that of most elves. However, the one that wielded the bow proved to be quite the genuinely skilled lad, and the elf that fought with his fists was something to marvel at. And the human did alright, too, chopping and healing like crazy.
The one who really amazed me was the halfling. I never learned her name, but she was tough as a dwarf, wearing heavy plate and wielding a sword with both hands. One of those exotically made swords, you know, with the broad blade and the wicked curve. A sim-ah-tarr as I believe they are called. I don't know what they are called, truely, but she was quite skilled with it. Possibly a master of that weapon. She fought nearly as mightily as I did myself, perhaps moreso. Truely I am getting older, if I am admitting to being outdone by a hin! She reminds me of what Acacea could have been. Should have been. But no, Acacea wandered about yapping and yammering on about nothing at all. I hope I run into this halfling again in the future. It might be nice to actually share stories. She even mines. I would have never figured a halfling for a miner, but there she was, a-mining away.
I went into town, saw a drow, spat and hissed at the drow, then entered the tavern. I got some healthy bottles of ale and stomped off back home to continue my plans. I will find Fort Strongstone, and I will cleanse it of the dark that taints it. This I swear by my father's ashes, and his father's beard. I restored honour in the eyes of Dorand to my family, and I will next restore glory in the eyes of everyone to Fort Strongstone.
But I had better do it soon. Some would argue that one hundred, four score and four years is getting a bit too old to go off venturing and killing grays, drows, and their goblin slaves. I pray that Dorand forged me with enough temper to last long enough to see my homeland a prosperous kingdom of goodness again.
~Turor Sunderstone, Old Dwarf
30
« on: March 10, 2006, 09:58:25 am »
Diamond edition requires the DVD to play it. 
31
« on: March 10, 2006, 09:12:35 am »
The intention of this thread was not to ellicit discussion, actually, but to provide some form of aid to those that seek to enrich the roleplay of their darker characters in such a way as is allowable by the rules and restrictions of the server. Therefore, I'd ask a DM to please freeze this thread, and perhaps delete any posts that aren't really at all useable as a resource. The bickering ones are a good place to start in that sense.
I'd like to apologize, then, for the inconvenience that this thread has brought. My bad.
32
« on: March 10, 2006, 12:32:16 am »
About time those things were out of there. *grumble* I still have a memorial to Al in my house; a great big fireplace that he put that Turor can't destroy. Thus, it shall remain.
33
« on: March 09, 2006, 09:58:14 pm »
Example of evil actions that would be perfectly legal on Layonara, as far as I can tell: 1) In the thick of battle, you and your wizard buddy are about to get smashed down. So you do the smart thing and goad the enemies towards the wizard, before high tailing it, knowing the life of the wizard should give you enough time to escape to safety. 2) Always taking a reward for whatever actions you have performed, should it be offered. 3) Not only refusing to help someone in need, but laughing at their sorrow, reminding them just what a sorry lot they're in. 4) Robbing loot, likely while hidden in the shadows or invisible behind someone, so that as they kill things, you get rich. Some of those actions aren't -clearly- evil, but they certainly aren't 'good'. Now that I've spilled the beans about Turor, Turor will not be doing anything bad in any way shape or form. He'll continue on with searching for his homeland and eventually clearing it of gobbos and duergars. I see three CDQ's in the future being dedicated to this. And who says evil never comes out on top? Just the fact that wherever there are villains, there will be twice as many heroes to put them down. It's the way of D&D. Evil characters will certainly not succeed in Layonara, unless Sinthar allies himself with them.
34
« on: March 09, 2006, 12:01:27 pm »
Well, I didn't want to get into my future plans for Turor just yet, but it seems I have no choice but to explain exactly what I meant by all of it; I'm sorry, though, Typically_Annoying, if I happened to offend you somehow in my initial post. I don't really see how I could have, but I guess I must have to get you all defensive like that. Yes, I started this thread to help people out with roleplaying darker characters because I have seen no less than four characters so far in Layonara who have in their description somewhere "Glares coldly at you, a murderous haze in his/her eyes" etc. Evil is never obvious when it's surrounded by good. That would be suicidal. If you are obviously evil in the middle of an obviously good town, you're nailed to a post - not tied, ropes would be too good for you - and burned to cinders. Here is a good example: Turor Sunderstone's corruption. If you all remember, Turor was in the midst of creating a big ol' dwarven battalion with which to battle Sinthar, but then I mysteriously disappeared, and the plans never came to pass. My idea was that slowly, over the course of, say, six real-life months, I'd RP Turor becoming more and more corrupted by the vast powers at his hands. He's growing old, after all, and really wants to make a name for himself. Do his clan proud. He'd start by xenophobically routing out all the nearby goblin tribes to wherever the headquarters was. He has a particular hatred for goblins, and if you read the "A Dwarf's Story" thread I have in the Character Development, the reasoning for that will be pretty self-explainatory. So he'd wipe the goblins out. But he would come into the realization that he had an impossibly difficult army at his command. So he'd persuade them to march on Orcs. And then Kobolds. And then whatever else, and the other dwarves would happily go along with it, no doubt, because they're making the world a better place, and killing hated enemies. But then Turor would confront the dwarves and persuade them to attack the elves, because they're dirty, stinkin' bark-lickin' leaf-eaters, that hate dwarves, spit on 'em, grind the bearded folk into the dirt, etc etc. The dwarves would obviously be hesitant but Turor would goad them into it. So a civil war would errupt between the elves and the dwarves. Of course, eventually Turor would be put to death, probably by a handful of dwarves and elves together that see the folly of the conflict. Turor would have been corrupted by ambition and great power, but he wouldn't have come right out and said "Ach, leh's kell wot weh won' ter kell, laddehs, northin' kin stop oos!" He'd have went around it all by giving perfectly understandable reasons for the warring. Nobody would really suspect him of being evil until it was blatantly obvious. And then he'd pay for it. That is what villainy is. Of course, Turor does openly insult pretty much whoever, because he's a grumpy old dwarf. Were he a human, or an elf, he likely wouldn't insult to many people. And on the side-topic of charisma, there is a direct correlation between physical beauty and getting along well with others, having them like you, and drawing them to you. There are several 'areas' that Charisma finds itself within. Physical beauty, oral communication, hygiene and physical communication - Body language.
35
« on: March 09, 2006, 03:59:10 am »
Har, sorry. I pushed submit instead of preview. It is now viewable. Enjoy!
36
« on: March 02, 2006, 04:16:02 am »
Made a shocking return to Layonara.
EDIT: More detailed version of my return story.
I came back to Layo, as Turor, and immediately got into an arguement with some elf lady who tried to heal Turor. After having done this, I wandered off, climbed a hill and wrote in as many CDQ threads as I could, before going back into town, finding a character in the Craft House that had a dark, 'evil' description, and pointedly decided Turor would make as much fun of him as possible, ridiculing him in absolutely every way imagineable.
"Wot, ye lookin' all groompeh jes' cos yer daddeh beat ye when ye were youngahr? Mad cos' 'e didnae lorve ye? Jes' so ye know, ah bin wearin' black an' gold long afore ye were even' boarn, skippeh, an' I ain' doin' it cos ahm mad at der world. Ahm doin' eht fer lorve of me clan. Soomday yeh'll wek oop an' wonner whoy yer dressin' all in black, an' ye'll unnerstan' eht were a weste o' yer youngahr years. Better gear oop now an' stop lookin' so mopey."
I'm back.
37
« on: March 02, 2006, 03:52:55 am »
*Written first in Dwarvish, with the common translation below it*
Cold-Lode 21, 1396
Home once again
I am back. It is comforting to be able to still sit in my chair at home, and scrawl within this old journal of mine, after so long a time gone. I am finally done my griefing. My disease has passed. My beard is back to black - or, rather, is now a healthy silverish salt-and-pepper, moreso than ever before. But I am done my griefing.
It's hard to look back upon those years, though, the good times spent with the wizard Aleister. He was a good friend. A very good friend; it's a shame the Gods themselves have torn him from this realm, turned him away from the plane of the living. Denied him the life that could have been. He was such a good man; an honest man, if ever there was one. He will be missed.
But I am back now. I am back, and done my grieving, as I have said. I have recently spent a great many years alone in the mountains, in solitude, hermitage. After deliberation, of course, I am back. I'm only one hundred and seventy eight years of age; I've a little ways to go still, I should think. I'm still young, and I've still got a great deal of life ahead of me.
Plans, now. Many, many plans. I have returned, and so should go forth with the Dwarven Battalion, as I had thought. But I must know the status of the war with Bloodstone; the last I heard, he was knocking upon Blackford's castle. My guess is he's been pushed back, because I've still got a home to come back to.
And now, too, a recent fascination with my past. I think I shall have to head back into the mountains, and find Strongstone, cleanse her, and bring her to honest glory once more. But with all the grays and drow in the way, not to mention the hordes of goblins at their control, I daresay it'll be an impossible task. Could very well be the last quest for ol' Turor, but at least he'll go out with a bang!
~Turor Sunderstone, Dwarf
38
« on: March 02, 2006, 03:30:03 am »
"TRAGEDY IN FORTRESS STRONGSTONE"
-----------------
The goblins had obviously had some amount of help. Strongstone was in flames; anything wooden at all was burning, and even much of the stone. Turor looked on in sheer terror at it all through his hard, sullen eyes; all four of the Sunderstone boys did. They looked from one end to the other, brows raised in abject fear for their homeland. Duror and Demlar sped off in one direction immediately, cleaving a bloody mess of a way through a band of goblins. Trunor, too, sped off in some way, and the decidedly young Turor wandered off straight forward, heading down the cobbled path towards the great hall of Strongstone.
Strongstone was a four level complex, chiseled deep into the great Mount Ponaazgzhart. The highest level was where the great furnaces were kept, in all their glory. Massive things, they were, built in such a way that the chimneys did not have to be terribly long to get the smoke from the massive coalfires out of the fortress. The second level was the Great Hall, with the only exit to the outside world, Agah'urnt Gate. The Great Hall was the most open area of all of them, with an impossibly high ceiling, great massive pillars hoisting it up. The stone floor was smooth, but a mosaic of gold, silver, adamantine and iron tiles making up the great standard of Strongstone, before a plush red carpet rolled itself right up towards the throne. The throne was defensible, of course, with several short breaking walls narrowing the path towards the grand throne, as well as a high dais of stairs.
Below this was the City of Strongstone, a plateaued realm of stairs and cramped homes, twisting, turning corridors that were called 'streets', and a vast array of pubs. And below this layer, of course, was the mining level, home to the Great Gate, and now, to rampant, utter chaos.
Turor dashed forth towards the corridor that would lead to the stairs upwards, slashing left and right as he hustled. "Happeh birthdeh, Turor," he muttered to himself, cleaving an especially gore-filled swing that coated his fine sword in a great deal of black goblin life-juice.
He heard all around him the screams of anguish, and he knew for certain that the City of Strongstone would be in utter disarray. A particularly ugly bugbear, missing half a face and seeming happy about it, blocked his path, of course. With a swing of it's spear, it nearly felled Turor right then and there, but his shield bore most of the blow, splintering into pieces thanks to the sheer power of the swing. A second swing came in high, and Turor flicked his sword up, carving the tip of the spear from the rest of it, sending it flitting away harmlessly, before Turor stepped in. Now he faced an opponent with a quarterstaff, which was considerably less deadly.
The bugbear came in low, looking to trip the dwarf, but though the blow connected solidly with the dwarf's calf, he didn't budge an inch. "Ye'll hafta troy harder'n that ter bring down a Sunderstone, laddeh," came Turor's explaination, before the bugbear was suddenly missing the other half of it's face, as well, a clean cleave from Turor's sword effectively - and garrishly - ending the creature's life.
Turor wasted no time in flitting up the stairs, grabbing a torch as he ran to light the passage before him just a bit better. He climbed the spiraling, wide staircase, and reached the top in short order. Smoke hit his lungs and brought a sting to his eyes as he looked left and right, dark bushy brows furrowing deeply, causing a terrible crease in the dwarf's forehead. The screams were louder, and the cries of battle echoed hard in the ore-carter's ears. He flashed his sword left to right before him, knees going weak for a moment. Strongstone was sacked; there was no doubting it. Of course, Turor forged ahead, unabated.
He met little resistance in his path, of course, most of the goblins fleeing at the sight of the enraged dwarf. Several stood their ground, though whether through bloodlust or fear, Turor couldn't tell. He didn't care, either, flashing his sword through them with a possessed ease.
Then he saw it in his eyes, and a tear openly fell down his grisled, gore-covered cheek. His house, door splintered open, light shining through into the street. He dashed forward and rushed inside, sword at the ready, murder in his eyes.
And there was his mother, the dear thing, covered head to toe in goblin guts, wearing a housedress and hefting a big axe over her shoulder. She offered Turor a cheeky smile and a wink, and Turor calmed down almost immediately.
"Ello, me son. Been gone a while, left poor lil' ol' me t'fend fer meself!" She giggled quietly, almost madly, and Turor's mind was set at ease. Then he saw it; a deep gash in the dress, near the collar-bone, that was seeping a fair amount of blood. Obviously not all the gore she was covered in was goblin-guts. Turor rushed forward but his mother, Durga by name, waved him away almost before he started. "Don' ye dare. I'll be fine, an' we've got an infestation in our lands wot needs t'be cleansed, aye?"
They didn't share many words, of course. Durga was to stay home and await the return of Trunor, and together they'd go out and clear the streets, to find more dwarven families, perhaps put together a contingent to deal with the problem once and for all. Turor, on the other hand, was to rush up and gather some dwarves to clear a path through the City to Agah'urnt Gate, a retreat line, in case the dwarves needed one.
And Turor set off immediately, sword in hand; he picked up a shield from home, Duror's, no less, and waded into the street. He had a task now, and he was going to see to it that the task was a success. A great deal depended on him.
39
« on: January 05, 2006, 04:46:00 pm »
In closing, I'd like to make one single remark. All these adventures taking up residence in Hlint that kill all sorts of monsters... One of these days a group of monsters ought to 'retaliate'. Ogres or goblins or something... I dunno.
40
« on: January 04, 2006, 12:50:00 pm »
I'd like to play the Devil's Advocate card now, and point out that...
A) Yes, it's just a game. Meaning that you shouldn't be so worried about your character dying if he gets in a jam. Similarily, however, those of you that feel this way also need to take what you dish out and realize that yes, it's just a game, and you shouldn't get too bent out of shape when someone drags a few spawns to town. If your ox dies and your heart rate increases tenfold and you find it hard to breathe, it may very well be time to take a step away from the computer for a few hours to look over your life and try and figure out what it is you're doing wrong.
B) Again with the 'It's just a game' idea: Everything you've already spent time doing can be done again. You die and get your 10th death token? Oh no, make a new character! It isn't the end of the world. Your ox died so you lost a crap load of mithral and want to exact vengeance? Go for MORE mithral! Make a quest out of it for crying out loud. Vengeance against whatever-guards-the-mithral-veins. Or, if you see the monsters in town, decide that they need to be wiped out and gather a group of hearty adventurers together to eradicate them. Even if you're level 5 and a bunch of giants meant for level 12 parties come to town, you can still get a bunch of level 12+'s together to wipe them out. Make an adventure out of it, since that's what characters are supposed to be: Adventurers. Not commoners, not peasants, not people that sit on benches and complain about how "those bloody orcs are in town again". Go collect some orc tusks or something.
C) You're supposed to have fun. So... shrug off the anger and be happy and stuff and have a good time. Don't get bent out of shape for this kind of thing. It really isn't as annoying as you say it is, and if it is, you have your personal priorities a little bit askew. Like I said, take something of a break.
C'mon guys, it's just a game, you shouldn't let it get you down. If your character gets killed by a couple stray ogres, well, that's too bad. Learn something from it and move on. (Example: If someone else can outrun the ogres, chances are you can probably evade 'em too!)
That's all.
Diamondedge, over and out.
*ksht*
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