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Topics - RollinsCat
Pages: 1 ... 9 10 [11] 12
201
« on: March 21, 2010, 01:39:27 pm »
I, Andrew Reid, am looking for a tailor who can benefit from the experience of sewing lion skin bags. I will provide materials and some compensation for completed bags; you provide your skills at no expense to yourself.
Please indicate if you are interested below.
202
« on: March 10, 2010, 09:06:32 am »
I, Andrew Reid, am interested in a magical stone of pink shot through with green. Please contact me if you have one you might part with, and what your expected compensation would be.
203
« on: February 27, 2010, 03:56:17 pm »
Quest thread for the Artist series.
204
« on: February 24, 2010, 01:54:30 pm »
Mirthful Muse Productions has need of an illusionist and/or makeup artist to assist with an upcoming play. Leave word here if you are able to assist. Compensation will be offered.
205
« on: February 23, 2010, 12:20:53 pm »
Happy birthday to my landlady - merlin34baseball.
sorry I'm late on rent, honest, I'll have it Friday *persuade check*
206
« on: February 17, 2010, 12:13:35 pm »
I, Andrew Reid, have one box of pecans and one box (still) of finely powdered sugar, wrapped in bags to keep weevils out. The sugar is thrice-sifted and very pure, excellent for baking and pies.
Please let me know below if you are interested in purchasing either.
207
« on: January 31, 2010, 11:04:51 pm »
I, Andrew Reid, have one box of each of the above for sale. Please leave a name and place to contact you.
208
« on: January 23, 2010, 09:10:17 am »
Carefully packed, for sale - leave a message here where to contact you if you are interested.
Andrew
209
« on: December 29, 2009, 01:29:55 pm »
I, Andrew Reid, have a box of aloe for sale.
Leave message here if you wish to purchase.
210
« on: December 29, 2009, 09:17:13 am »
I want to take Andrew into duelist for five levels. I won't be able to take the last feat required until fifteen, which means I won't be able to take first level duelist until sixteen.
Is 16-17-18-19-20 acceptable or does it have to be 15-16-17-18-19 and twenty doesn't count?
211
« on: December 23, 2009, 10:11:44 am »
Mirthful Muse Productions Presents: AUDITIONS for an upcoming play! Have you what it takes? Is this your moment of fame? Come find out! Auditions to be held Freas, Oclar 20, 1459 for a place in the upcoming play: "The Tale of Lord Pale, or It's Hard to Be Evil; A Comedy of Tragic Proportions"Please be prompt. Audition For A Play
212
« on: December 23, 2009, 10:10:27 am »
*moves the flyer back into view, with a new date* Mirthful Muse Productions Presents: AUDITIONS for an upcoming play! Have you what it takes? Is this your moment of fame? Come find out! Auditions to be held Threas, Novlar 19, 1459 for a place in the upcoming play: "The Tale of Lord Pale, or It's Hard to Be Evil; A Comedy of Tragic Proportions"Race and gender not a consideration for parts. Audition For A Play
213
« on: December 23, 2009, 10:08:48 am »
Mirthful Muse Productions Presents: AUDITIONS for an upcoming play! Have you what it takes? Is this your moment of fame? Come find out! Auditions to be held Wedlar, Jular 25, 1459 for a place in the upcoming play: "The Tale of Lord Pale, or It's Hard to Be Evil; A Comedy of Tragic Proportions"Please be prompt. Audition For A Play
214
« on: December 09, 2009, 08:53:13 pm »
I was getting skins outside Fort Vehl when I was jumped by a bandit. Not usually a problem but I was switching from skinning knife to rapier and a spell hit me; I saw a window pop up and my rapier disappeared.
It is no longer in my inventory and wasn't on the ground. Can a gm help before there is no hope and I'm out 2000 gold?
215
« on: December 09, 2009, 04:52:35 pm »
I, Andrew Reid, am looking to purchase a Silk Hood and a Belt of Acquisition. Please contact me with your prices.
Also, if someone could let me know what raw materials would be required for a Royal Ball Tuxedo (the gowns just don't fit me right)? I will be gathering the things for this item.
216
« on: December 09, 2009, 02:31:13 pm »
*Playing a selection of his songs for beer money at various locations around Mistone, the Ilsarian singer Andrew Reid has been adding a few politically motivated songs for any of the populace who listen:
Pay the price to enter here
A city once deserving
No more laughter in these streets
The Brooding One we're serving
Sign right here, that's good, that's right
You're safe within our gaze
Watching, always watching you
An ear to every phrase
A law on who to worship
A law on how to speak
A law on how the law will work
A law to keep you weak
Under boot-heel of our lord
Your freedom sold for peace
Choice and action hung to dry
Like slaughtered golden geese
Bow your head at morn and night
Don't ask too many questions
Don't bring your gods both fair and just
Worship at our discretion
A law to keep out magic
A law to tax you dry
A law to strip your defenses
A law to keep you tied
Forgotten, now, who he once was?
General to a Bloodstone
Who tried to take the world by force
And carve his bloody throne?
A leopard doesn't change his spots
Nor dictator to a statesman
Keep this close to mind my friends
What came round can come again...
and
Whisper down the wind
The shining jewel of Dregar
Living as an open scar
But no one says a word
Whisper down the wind
Law at such a handsome price
Ruled by a heart of ice
But no one says a word
Whisper down the wind
Ghosts of living everywhere
Shuffling cross the tidy square
But no one says a word
Whisper down the wind
Another public banishing
Another quiet vanishing
But no one says a word
All the trappings of a life but choice and self-decision
All the peace a man could want so long as you obey
The memory of the disappeared is met with indecision
Don't speak too loud don't draw their eye least you to go away
Whisper down the wind
Obedience and haunting fear
Fate decided for you here
But no one says a word...
*His tour includes drinking establishments and free open-air concerts in Leringard, Port Hempstead, Brenuth (where he attempts a dwarven battle song in its native language as well), and Fort Vehl. If asked why he's singing about the lord of Prantz, he will only say he's concerned people have forgotten who Rael was and what he's been doing over on Dregar.*
217
« on: December 03, 2009, 01:38:06 pm »
I, Andrew Reid, have one full box of aloe for sale.
Trades for items I might need will be considered.
I can be contacted via the Tower Academy in Port Hempstead.
218
« on: November 11, 2009, 03:48:47 pm »
*posted around Port Hempstead and Leringard*
I, Andrew Reid, have approximately 25 bundles of hickory arrow shafts and 25 bags of hickory sawdust that I don't have a use for. I'm in need of large numbers of cotton pods. If you need arrow shafts or sawdust, perhaps we can arrange a trade?
If someone wanted to shower me with coin to take ownership of the above items I would allow that as well!
219
« on: November 05, 2009, 12:10:20 pm »
Hi no Tama. Won Jack Lantern from Lord Fortrand in Octlar.
Once, years before even the children of Voltrex in the audience were laid for the first time into tehir mother's arms, there was a bog, a little bog, skirting the shores near a port city far, far away.
The legends spoke of a chest fully as long as a man and twice as wide full of stolen diamonds and emeralds, deep in the center of this little bog. A clever raider had supposedly stolen these gems from the dark elves of the Deep and buried them in the bog while under pursuit so he could get them when the commotion died down.
But that unnamed pirate of old never returned for them; at least, he was never seen or heard from again.
What that pirate didn't know? That everyone avoided this place. The bog trembled, shook as a sleeping man does when he's having a nightmare; little tremors, hither and thither. The ground would feel solid as wood, make a confident tap-tap under one's boots, until it suddenly would give way, dousing one into the stinking muck, and sucking at boots, feet and legs as if it didn't want to let go. And the bog was haunted -- haunted by the spirits of every man, woman, and child that had ever been sucked beneath the slimy surface.
Time passed, and by and by locals started speaking of a globe of light moving over the marshy ground and hearing a thready voice singing on bleak, dark nights in the haunted bog. They spoke of a song of treasure untold...
"Come see my treasure, come over here...buried 'neath the quaking earth...glimmer, glitter, sparkle, shimmer...free me and it's yours...
Search beneath, down, under...deep they came and deep you plunder...rich beyond your wildest dreams...free me and it's yours..."
Well. Word of this song got around town, spreading like only a rumor -- or a bad rash -- can. Most sane folks continued to avoid the area. Fear of spirits and the evil they can say and do is strong, and for good reason.
But. There is always a but, isn't there? But, there were two men who were skeptical, desperate, and poor enough to start planning liberation of the captive gems. They acquired shovels, rope, gaffes, prying bars, staves, planks, and lanterns and one chill winter night, under the black blanket of a new moon, they set off to lay claim to the reputed treasure.
It was not a long trek, but the walk left them numb with cold.
The battered sand road that ran parallel to the beach seemed normal enough; but as they drew closer to the bog, icy tendrils of wind like cold little breaths came at them, whispering down their cloaks and around their gloves.
After quite a time, lugging all their equipment, they reached the marshy area. The two men immediately began to lay a path to the center with the planks. When they reached the center of the bog, and only then, did they hear the singing.
"Seekers, brave, here you are, but only one will leave...riches great but greed is greater, one sets to deceive...who will win the prize, my seekers? Who will set me free?...And who will bleed in this wet grave, to join the rotting debris?"
Nervous though they were, still the desire for wealth without work won the day. Giving each other suspicious glances, they set to probing for the chest. The moment the gaffe dipped into the slime and muck, the song continued, and from behind them there was light...
"Who wishes to see someone dying, who wishes to sees someone dead? Who has even now, a heavy wood bough, to crack over someone's ripe head?"
The men stopped, turned, and stared at each other. One had the wooden-handled gaffe; the other held a wooden stave. Behind them, a circular light about the size of a fist was darting back and forth.
But the men didn't seem to notice.
The men held up their weapons, eyes locked together. Again the thin, reedy whisper...
"Only one can live, but two want riches...who will strike first? Whose weapon twitches?"
The man holding the staff swung, but the gaffe hit first - dead center in the other man's chest. The man with the staff flew back into the mire, sinking ever so slowly as the light flared and throbbed.
The man with the gaffe turned and sunk deep in the center, sparing not a moment to look at his still-breathing former friend dying by degrees behind him. His eyes gleamed, and still he did not seem to notice the light. His gaffe hooked something -- he tugged, eager, leaning forward to hook whatever heavy object he'd found.
But the object was heavy -- and in his blind desire, he fell into the muck. Struggling to hold the gaffe and his treasure, kicking and reaching for something solid, his panicked eyes finally alighted on the aura of light --
"Take hold now, grab on, and preserved you'll be -- reach for the light, reach for me..."
He thrust up his hand, but as his fingers touched the nimbus, he screamed, for the light now seemed to suck on his fingertips with a vampiric force. His eyes sunk back, his teeth rattled, and slowly the light shifted color -- the white lifting, dissipating, while a sickly yellow crept in.
And as the white light faded into the coal dark sky, one last song was heard...
"You preserved and I am free and bound no more because of greed...you now guard a treasure clutch of gems and baubles you may not touch..."
And the last sound heard was of soft, mad laughter drifting on the swamp breezes.
The light remained, frantically dashing about, here, there, stopping to buzz over the dead companion, then returning to the single arm still reaching out of the bog water, fingers reaching skyward in a supplicating plea....
But the bodies sank, both of them. And children in the town of my birth know to stay away from that bog...and to keep avarice and greed from their hearts, so not to be seduced by the song of evil.
220
« on: November 03, 2009, 12:01:50 pm »
*The notes are penned on cheap paper but in an elegant italic script*
I, Andrew Reid, am looking for a used iron rapier with a full basket hilt. It does not have to be ornate and I cannot afford new, so if any kind soul is willing to part with a worn but functional specimen for a little less, please leave notice here.
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