Tales By The Fire

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  Silence [Elvira Blakely]
  12 years ago • Thunderbird 11 years ago

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  11 years ago

  XIII The cold cave wall against her back made Elvira cuddle more against the soft cloak wrapped around her. She was grateful for this place, which had been introduced to her as a possible safe haven. She rubbed her eyes and tightened her hold on the cloak. The thought… it floated around in her head. Made her angry. She didn't get angry. At least, she did not want to believe she could. The idea seemed like someone else's. Since when did you began to need other people's help? Elvira shivered and turned around so she was resting on her back. She stared up, towards the ceiling of the cave. A small crack was visible between two rocky bumps. Perhaps the cave would collapse, crumble down like a child's work of sand after the first tide wave hit the shore. She frowned. The idea was not pleasant. So, what else is new? The thought was fleeting and quick, but Elvira managed to catch it. She couldn't stop the first thought entering her mind: The Raven. It had been a bumpy ride, through storm and death one could even say. Death quite literally, with that ghostly ship and its rather boney inhabitants She didn't know whether she should feel good or bad about the fact that it made her feel alive. A smile spread on her lips. Good, she decided. Or was forced to decide, since she couldn't specifically find a real reason to feel bad about it. Tired, that's what she was. It had been a long day, and her eyes were hurting again. Elvira turned to her side in an attempt to crawl over and extinguish the fire, only to find the remains of the charred up logs still burning dimly in their orange flames.
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  The Chronicles of Martoushca of Peltarch
  16 years ago • Kayleb 11 years ago

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  11 years ago

  New diary continues here.
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  Uh-oh... Mommy knows! (Jonni's story)
  12 years ago • DrDreadLock 11 years ago

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  11 years ago

  "Things to do, so many things to do it seems overwhelming at times. Ser'khal is destroyed, his undead creations scattered or gone. It feels good to accomplish something - see it through to the end. My first "official mission" for the Ceruleans where I was sort of in charge. Even in the last battle with the Teddy Bear of Doom and Ser'khal himself, I wasn't even afraid really. I kept telling myself to focus on the job ahead of us and that's what I did, it seems I can call upon that single mindedness that dad has when needed. Success is what we ended with, everyone worked well together and I admit, being the "leader" during such times isn't that bad. I only wish the other times would go as easily. It seems many look to me to lead the groups we have without it even being anything related to the Defenders. To actually "lead" these groups is to just be the person who listens to all options as we proceed and say yes or no to one course or another, or make sure everyone stays together, not running off in all directions and it's amazing and annoying at how many times that happens! It's hard to think on at times, when it's not a Defender issue, I don't want to be a leader. I want to be a friend, I want to be somewhat silly, I just wish someone else would stand up -sometimes- and do it themselves? It's the way of things though, I suppose. I guess in a way I sought this out and need to accept what I chose. I've been spending a lot of time out lately, even with my little sister. I can't let on, but she's actually pretty smart and strong and I enjoy the time we spend together. It's amusing how you spend most of your childhood trying to ditch your annoying kid sisters and yet now that I'm older, I draw strength from having Nica near me when adventuring. She offers a smile and nod to me, to encourage me, or just by standing at my side it's like having the pack with me. Those moments when mom, dad, Nica, Siri, Zoma and myself would be with each other and the world just seemed like it couldn't take us on, no matter what it tossed our way, no matter how young we were. Add in Elaine and all the friends I've made, it fills me with a rush, makes me think we can take on anything that the stupid evil guys can come up with. Maybe it's silly to think that way, dad said over and over that there will always be someone stronger then you, the bad will always get you in the end, but this is what hope is built on, right? This is what makes people great, the will to keep going, to never give up, this is why I look at Mom and Dad in such awe even to this day for what they've done. They never said no, they never put down their swords, they looked defiantly at the worst the world could offer and walked away from it. I know both hold darker memories inside, but they're alive, they've kept their children and home safe. They're my heroes still. We are the pack, the world and it's terrors should fear us. Bare your teeth even when you know you have no chance and tell the world that you will go down fighting and your pack will be with you. I just hope they don't send spiders my way or I might run away, screaming like a girl. OH! I almost forgot! Checklist is partly done, we made it to the smurf-nibblin' city, I got lots of winter wolf hides and made some nice clothes for the pack and that's about it for now, will talk about it more later!"
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  The Teachings of Elvewyn Di'Mastine
  11 years ago • MCPlay 11 years ago

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  11 years ago

  After you have established your schedule, and achieved balance through Discipline, your training can start. A good way to begin is by strengthening the mind. While it may prove to be qute difficult in the first few days, soon you shall see that some of the routines I will explain later will come naturally to you. But what is the mind? How can I force it under my control? The answer is simple: You cannot. While the mind is only a tool, much like your body, you are not able to bend it under your will, for it dictates your thoughts, and thus it always controls you. But that does not mean you cannot train it to only produce the desired outcomes. Cleanse yourself of impure thoughts, by understanding that nothing is barred to you, but there are things you do not need. Because it was built for efficiency, unnecessary thoughts taking room in your mind are purged, so if you identify all that is good for yourself, your mind will purge all that is bad. This knowledge is critical, for through it, you will be able to use your mind and leave the flesh dimensions behind. But beware child. For sanity is often the toll that leads to the core of your soul. The key here is to see past the illusions of the world, to achieve true understanding of what your mind is capable of and to harness that power to propel yourself ever forward. But a word of warning for the over eager: The Quest for nexus has brought many men of genius to insanity, and this quest is never over.
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  Rith's Poem Book
  22 years ago • Emerwyn 11 years ago

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  11 years ago

  Heart of Voyage He looked like a troubadour, the foreigner that wanted to teach me to kiss at the wharf of Suzail. It was the spring of a love like an autumn afternoon in Reth it was crimson and also was short. There are those who say, I know, I was foremost to forget when I met a Luskanite cadet In a Ruskettle's B note. In the fatuous Calimport shelters more from the rain Liira's statue than a bird in the sky, but in Westgate's naval row the loud sirens of docking serf freighters allow not to smile nor to fly. And in Skuld's dark streets and halls winged ones are way off pitch. No law rules truer than the law of greed in the desert of the pharaoh gods. Finding the flame was an art, the virtue, some outstretched arms, and the sin was to show your concern, in Narfell I understood; to the place where you have found bliss you should never attempt to return. When in one of countless trips I ploughed through my homeland's blue, I was greeted by two eyes I knew, but they did not remember me. Against the tides, wealthy of courage, without helmsman at the helm, through my dreams sails, very light of baggage, on a sturdy walnut shell, my avid heart of voyage. Brandishing proud the markings from a buccaneer past on a reckless boarding flagship of not wanting to want you too much. But how to flee when there are no left islands where to be shipwrecked, to the beach where the wise go hiding from the grievance of finding lips that get on your nerves.
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  Hjoichi Olsen
  22 years ago • gahlord 11 years ago

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  G 11 years ago

  His head hurt. Not a small amount. But a very serious amount. He wasn't sure if it was cracked or not. But the sound was gone. That infernal sound had finally stopped and his mind could begin it's workings once more. Slowly shaking his head to clear it, if ever it would clear again, he rose to his feet. It felt like ages since he rose to his feet, though his muscles were still there and still did respond to his wishes. Where was he? The angle of the light through the feathery clouds was familiar. The color of the earth and the stone in the buildings about were familiar. But everything was arranged in different way and his mind would not fix upon the memory. The old man took a sharp breath through his nostrils. Peltarch? Again?
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  Faelar and the Drow Assassin
  14 years ago • Karion_Silverbow 11 years ago

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  11 years ago

  Faelar has a reoccurring vision when he enters into the elven meditative state of rest. Faelar finds himself in a dark underground city. Thousands of purplish lights, with the combined illumination of but a single candle, blanket the city. Yet, he sees perfectly. Upon exploration of the city he soon discovers that it is a city of the vile dark elves of the underdark. It seems strange that he feels no ill will towards them not them to him. In fact, the males seem to have the utmost respect for him and the females avoid him as if afraid. For when they speak, he can understand every word. The male would refer to Faelar as Alak or Weaponsmaster Coloara. The females failed to address him at all but, would only whisper a single word, assassin. Upon awakening from his meditative state, Faelar, felt that the vision was not a vision at all but, in some strange way, a memory. Soon, the light from the sun began to bother his eyes. Also, he began to feel as if he could commit murder and enjoy it. He began to feel indifferent towards his elven kin as well. He knew, in his mind that it was wrong but, it felt so right, deep down within his soul.
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  Jenseits von Gut und Böse: The Fiendish Godmother
  12 years ago • cardamon 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  Sirion's Plot Bible: Ambrion Sol’denbrae: Progenitor of Sirion's line. Sol'denbrae means the Golden Bough in old elvish. Sirion took a common corruption of name, Goldthane, as his surname when he traveled West. Nivahlashiel: Eryines, ancient and immortal, has existed and maintained her power since at least as far back as the Crown Wars, when elves ruled the world and faught among themselves. By a bloodpact and consummation, she is the progenitor of Sirion's bloodline. She appears to be attempting to corrupt Sirion as well, but has made no pacts with him. If anything, she seems to be waiting on something. That hasn't stopped her from monitoring him and even taking advantage of mistakes. Like all Eryines she is almost tragically beautiful, but she insists Sirion call her Grandmother. Though cruel and unafraid of violence as a tool, she has not shown a particular rashness of nature. The Coldheart: The source of Nivahlashiel's power. Perhaps its was the fiendish power that first corrupted her, or perhaps something she herself conquered. Sirion has some evidence that a portion of it is accessible to himself. He has been wary of it. Aramuil: Moon elven Wizard and Arcane Advisor to Norwick. Self appointed Sirion's guardian/parole officer after his temper boiled over once too often during his youth. Sirion speaks of him fondly. Zatharzut: Imp familiar once bound to Sirion. Aramuil broke their pact and Nivahlashiel bought the debt. Zatharzut now serves her. He is not fond of his old master either, viewing the broken pact as a mark of disrespect more than anything else. Maria: Headmistress of Spellweaver Keep and Sirion's former master. They argue no less since she appointed him Professor, neither afraid to criticize the other. Sirion admits she is more powerful. Ardent: Half-elven ex-lover of Sirion. He was as caring of her as he has been of any creature, yet after the occupation of Norwick the two parted ways. After he was arrested at her request and tried for treason and necromancy against the city, she left the region with the rest of the Shesae, marrying one of them. Fendon: Former Herald of Norwick, Fendon fell to, or embraced, the power of the Lichblade. He had a long history of antagonism towards his former home, and rose from the dead repeatedly as well as having the power to raise more undead to his cause. It has been alleged Sirion incited him attack the bugbear controlled town of Norwick. The subsequent attack and the loss of most his forces (along with the lives of two hundred true and innocent citizens of Norwick) precipitated Ostromog's retreat and peace treaty. Sirion was tried for his involvement by a Peltarchian Magistrate Borodin who pronounced his guilt as Not Proven. Fendon did not un-live long after. A number of adventurers, Sirion among them, lead a two pronged attack against him. Sirion led his ally, the sentient flesh golem Alchemist, himself a product of Fendon's dealings with other forces but whom had turned against them, and a number of bone golems, alongside paladins of the Order of the Divine Shield against Fendon's body. The Alchemist survived the final battle but has not been seen since. The Lady Daisy of Tyr sacrificed her life to sunder the the Lichblade before Fendon could reconstitute himself, and he also has not been seen since. Reportedly, Fendon taunted his old "friend" before the last battle. The fight was not without its consequences beyond the deaths of the involved. The reaction from sundering the Lichblade echoed against the already weakened planar fabric.
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  The Diary of Dexter
  12 years ago • genetic-av 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  Went to the giantspire foothills near Peltarch on one of our little forays the other day. Never fought a giant before, and now that i have, i can be very patient before ever fighting one again… Those manticores are something else too, but i hear their hides hold magic very well, i may have to go back to get some later. Ofcourse, nothing we ever do can go without a hitch. one giant, quite a bit different from the others, started casting spells and although i'm not sure i think she was helping us... Never did find out, the mages set her on fire and dropped massive chunks of ice on her. Then it got dangerous ! Her husband and his fire elemental pets came looking for her. We decided to make a strategic retreat and came back later to finish him off. No progress on the Jergal followers.. it's becoming frustrating not to catch sight of them for so long.. something HAS to happen.
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  A Squires Journal
  12 years ago • destinysdesire1 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  New writing fills the journal, a note of sadness and frustration We have been here two months now searching and yet I don't even really know I want to find my birth parents. Is that really that sad? I search every day for any sign of them yet there hasn't been a trace of them noted in years. Salin needs to realize that his parents were more like parents to me then my own. I still can't get myself to stay in the manor, its still giving me nightmares to even think about it. I can't tell Salin that of course, he's stressed enough as it is, especially with Mr Wand hassling him constantly to have a welcome home party that really isn't suiting, so all I can do is flash him a smile that makes him believe I am fine as I claim to be. He doesn't need the added stress about me not sleeping much, so I keep to myself on these hunts since I look a wreck most days. I found his parents grave yesterday, I will take him there soon but yesterday I just sat there talking to the dead, telling them how much Salin has grown, that he has once again accepted magic, and how much he loves them. I can't be sure how Salin will take seeing the grave, but I need to be ready to be stronger for him. I have asked the temple to provide me with some sleep medicine to knock me out for the night, they have warned me that while it does so I will still dream. Either way, I must have sleep before Salin sees how exhausted I really am and starts demanding answers, or I pass out. Well, time to take the medicine. Good night.
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  Letter to Kessimah
  12 years ago • destinysdesire1 12 years ago

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  Yana at the Docks
  16 years ago • Robyn 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  The room is large, and lit with a series of magical lanterns. Moonlight tiptoes through the open windows. The sounds of the gulls and Icelace are recognizable but distant. The man that stands before me staring blindly ahead is slightly tall, unkempt and not much to look at. His frame carries strength from years of servitude and a warrior’s training. He shifts nervously as I walk around him. His name is Matthew, but Salin and I just call him Mat. His blindness was voluntary, granted as divine penance for breaking an oath to Salin who stands beside me. Of the many things mom taught me, the value of an oath ranks highly. “A person’s word”, she told me, “Should be true and have honor”. This man broke broke an oath and asked for penance. I respect that. If I have made any recent friends it’s these two. I don’t know why or how, it just more or less happened. I tended to the wounds of both. We’ve chatted over inconsequential things, and traveled together. I find myself drawn to Salin over his handsome features and friendly smile. I know appearances are superficial, but the man is blessed with a degree of charisma. Mat just seems to tag along quietly in the background like Salin’s shadow. But what Mat did tugged at my sense of honor, so for the time being I’ve offered to train him twice a week, and teach him that sight can be over rated. My footsteps are soft on the straw floor as I walk around him. I’ve tied some of that straw to the end of a pole, so that it swishes when I move it. I teach him to pay attention, much as I taught Shallyah. I had hoped that I would see the spark of intuition in Mat that I couldn’t find in Shallyah, but the absence of it was very apparent. I could only teach him the basics. It would have to be enough. “Notice the pitch change as the staff moves toward you”, I say, moving the staff quickly past his ear. He flinches, but not until the staff is past. “If you’re going to react to the staff”, I tell him with a smile, “It’s better to do before it hits you, and not after”. I bop him lightly in the nose and he blinks reflexively. I do it again and he looks frustrated. I do it a third time and he puts his hand up in anticipation. I smile a bit, but say nothing. “Listen to my footsteps Mat. When I swing, there is a pause. Most people need to pause in order to shift their balance to strike with a slash. With a thrust, the lead foot may come down a little harder. Sometimes your opponent will scream. People scream a lot when they fight. They’re scared, angry or both. They will breathe heavily. Moving quickly in armor is tiring.” “All these things are clues”, I continued, “But you have to pay attention. You have to divorce your mind from contemplating your next move and just do it” I shifted my stance in exaggerated fashion, and swung at him, pulling the stick way back so he would have time to hear it. He rewarded me by stepping panic-stricken away from it, but that was good. “That’s great!”, I said encouragingly, laughing a bit. “Not the most graceful of moves, but at least it was in the right direction!” He regained his balance and rewarded me with a smile We continued like that for the next thirty minutes. There were a few successes alongside the many failures, but I was pleased with the results. The man was eager to learn, and that helps considerably. I had promised Salin that I would help him to learn to simple sword play, but time got away from me like it always does. The next class had arrived and these were guardsmen, my primary responsibility. I felt terrible, and looked over at Salin apologetically. “Salin? Would you mind waiting another half hour while I tend to these two? There’s bread, cheese and water in the back. If you look hard enough you might find some honeyed corn bread. I’ll get to you after these two, I promise” Salin just gave me back that quiet, eyes-twinkling, moustached smile he had and said, “Sure. I’m hungry anyway and I’m sure Mat is too. Take your time” As I watched him head to the back room a lot of thoughts went through my head. I remembered another set of friends just like these. In time they left this land, and I wondered to myself as I turned back to the guards, how long it would be before these two left as well.
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  A Haggard old dwarf returns
  12 years ago • genetic-av 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  The next day a sign is put up around town. "Horse for sale, contact Tolin at Grapevine inn" ((double post again gah, can this be removed? ))
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  If Troff Could Write
  15 years ago • SickFish 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  _Steel clangs in the legion yard. Longsword humms in the short elfs hands as he practices sparring on a fresh dummy. Chop high and low alternating. Making sure to bring his glinting new sheidl to bear between strikes. He curses his speed trying ot pick up the pace, swet beeding on his brow._ Well I'm back I guess. Hadn't really planned to stay long just wander through again. Not sure what stopped me this time after all these years. Many of my friends are not arround these days. Died twice since returning. Not exactly the best track record. The first time was helping recover a uh thing needed to free the elven spirits fromt he camp. A bunch of succubuses tried to stop us after we fought through a pocket plane of undead. They killed me with kisses. Didn't really have a defence for that one. Rary brought me back right away and I got a new shield out of the spils. It is powerfully enchanted to fight death magic and demons. I felt bad taking it though. Lytes shield is still one of the best gifts I've ever had. Hen said she'll keep it in storage to give back to Lyte. That was many years ago when she gave it to me and it came from the evlen camp. I think Hen felt bad that I died. She tried to give me a ring from the spoils that she spent all her gold on. Really should have taken it, thought my rings were good enough and I felt bad making her waste her gold on me. the ring would have saved me from my second death in the Orc caves up in the giantspires. Mages burnt me to deaht with fire. Damn magis. Ring protected agaisnt fire and I turned it away. After all the elven spirits were put to rest or freed or whatever one of them asked me what I wanted as a reward. Not used to not killing undead. And they keep popping up asking what we want and hanging shit out. So its causing problems in Pelt when people see ghosts poping up all the time. I think one of the ghosts is out to kill Rary. Really makes me want to axe her, but agaisnt my better judgement i haven't yet. Since she was an elf Rary probobally wont fight it unless he has to. Oh yeah and I'm a corperal now. Theaon made me one after I had a talk with Vic telling her to be more active in the legion if she wanted us to do anything. Got to find some privates and recrutes to help traint hen I guess. Still so slow form all my deaths. Need to pick it up. So Slow.
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  Letter left at every inn
  12 years ago • destinysdesire1 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  looks to the man as he speaks * Ah great, when can we meet to discuss the details of the tattoo?? (( im on EST monday - sunday, generally available anytime ))
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  A Haggard old dwarf returns
  12 years ago • genetic-av 12 years ago

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  To find Jerrick...A trip made by Eilonna Moonshadow.
  12 years ago • destinysdesire1 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  Many months had passed since I headed for Praka, too long and too cold it has been. The cold wracking my body on my endless search for Jerrick and the answers needed. I have lost a lot of my original weight and even some baby fat to toning and sheer exhaustion and many times I was called a fool and sometimes worse for pushing on so hard. I found myself often questioning this trip and wondering if I would make any progress to even find Jerrick or if he even had the answers I sought for. Yet what more could I do but try and find him and those answers. Those many months are behind me now as I sail back from Damara. I am worn out heart and soul and I have been seriously ill for all my hard work. In a few days I will redock in Peltarch and I can't wait to see Elessar again, to be in his embrace once more to finally shake the cold that refuses to leave my bones, to see my sister again and be reminded that I still have family out there that misses me, and to see Elder Raryldor. I find myself missing his wisdom and ideas and wonder how much he has accomplished since I left. Well….may as well nap now and wait till we dock.
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  A tale for a cold night
  12 years ago • MCPlay 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  sigh Ok folks, I'll just tell the whole thing. Feel free to jump in at any time though. Peter's sword clashed against the metal of the bandit's front dagger, as the other went straight toward the boy's neck. In a split second reaction, Peter pulled himself backwards, something the bandit wasn't expecting, because he lost balance and went spiraling towards the sandy floor. From there, it would be easy for Peter to strike the killing blow, but instead, he observed the circle of men around them, their faces awaiting the outcome of the battle, and just waltzed past them, leaving them dumbstruck as he went along his merry way. "Get him!" - The leader said as he pulled himself up from the ground - "Do not let him get away with this!" As he saw the over twenty thieves rushing toward him, Peter ran as fast as he could, because he knew he couldn't defeat so many people at once. The bulk of his armor was taking its toll, but he kept going, never looking back as the bandits got closer and closer. After a few minutes of running, Peter was panting and gasping for air, his vision blurry and greyed out, so he unwittingly let himself tumble to the ground. Oddly enough, once his sight returned to him, it seemed that the bandits had given up on the chase and were retreating. Peter figured if they were running, either he was saved or doomed to an even worse fate. Looking to where he was going, he saw the walls and the archers already stringing their bows to help the poor man who had fallen close to the gates get rid of his pursuers. "Welcome to Waterdeep" - One of the watchmen told him. - "You seem like you could use some rest. Head for the Yawning Portal, and tell Durnan Ivo Goode sent you. He'll take good care of you." "Thank you sir" - Peter replied, and gave the guard five gold pieces for the information, which were immediately turned down. "Only doing my job Sir. Have a good day." - Ivo said with a smile as he sent Peter on his way. For those of you who don't know Waterdeep, The Yawning Portal Inn was the best in town with the owner, Durnan The Wanderer, being a former adventurer himself, known around the entire Sword Coast for being one of the few men to enter Undermountain, the dangerous, riddled with traps, monsters and wild magic portals, maze realm of the mad mage Halaster, and returning safely to tell the tale. So Peter went to the inn… yawns And I think I'll go too. I've really gotten tired suddenly. I'll continue the tale tomorrow. he says with a smile as he wanders back to the Grapevine
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  Kessmiah's Chronicle
  12 years ago • Mooncandies 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  Anger, passion, channeled rage, destruction. The desire to see all those in your path who cross you consumed in burning flame. I am completely livid. But focused… the goal will continue, through the tragic events of today, I have found new resolve. There will be no peace for me. I have accepted this. No peace for me should I free my people. I am truly beginning to understand Kossuth's teachings through the Order of the Salamander. As a slave, I merely made a friend of their faithful, and practiced exercises that offered distraction from the rigors of servitude. Something to distract my mind from the pain and sorrow I felt. I was taught to empty my cup before I can learn the truth as I perceive it. My problem is I have left my cup empty for so long, only to let things trickle in since I have been freed. Now I am beginning to see. Now, after being broken for so long, I am beginning to feel, to truly feel. Love for the Seldarine, my fallen family, my people... love for my sister, even love for Hen. And love even for baby Vladmir, the child of the kursks who had so much potential; who I cared for as a slave, who I fed, took care of, and even allowed to use me as an outlet for his frustration... I could take it. Unbridled hated for demons, for the drow, for those who would do my loved ones harm. Anger... rage, towards the ignorant, towards those who cannot learn from their mistakes. One who I should revere and respect for the services he has done for our people, but the fact he shows no remorse for mistakes made, the fact that he will not be able to admit faults and blame others, and the fact that he is willing to blind himself to the fact that we committed a horrible atrocity by accident, that we sacrificed a soul of my people to resurrect a demon as an experiment, and has shown denial and tried to make justifications and hypothesis that it could not have happened leaves me in bitter disgust. I will continue working with him as he means well to a certain extent, but should his pride and volatile nature cost me any more of my loved ones, I do not know what I'll do... I stand at a crossroads now. Could I make the sacrifice to truly become a devout to the Order of the Salamander and watch those who stand before me, defiant, burn by my fist. Sacrifice my mind, body and soul to living flame and rise from the ashes like the phoenix. Do I continue walking this path, and continue trying to be one with my people, to continue to uphold my oaths, and continue remaining calm, patient whimpering omega pup who will always feed last and remain submissive. To just stand back and fire my bow, knowing. My vision... My vision is to see that my people can live in peace, no matter what the cost is to myself. I will not barter with demons, devils, for power to do so. I will continue to show mercy to the weak, should they ask upon it, though should what they ask is false, they will find me shepherding them to the afterlife with my bow or my fist. I will continue to improve myself, and transcend limits that others can only break with the use of petty magics.
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  Ghosts of the Willows
  14 years ago • Iathouz 12 years ago

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  12 years ago

  “Do you need me to fence anything?” The dark wizard sits in a chair beside the fireplace in the Coppers. The flames reflect from his eyes matching the blood red of his robes. “No, the mine pass must have cost you.” Kyan makes me jumpy. I know he’s a murderous bastard, but he’s also one of the most honest people I know. In a lot of ways he reminds me of my old mentor Higgins. Vicious but generous. I sometimes think he enjoys a little company. I work alone a lot. I know the feeling. “I need to return to my reading.” He gets up and walks away, leaving me in sole possession of a fair amount of gold. It’s enough to cover my expenses with a little profit left over. I’m grateful. The bodies form piles at the south gate again. It’s a common enough occurrence. Between waves I watch the good and stalwart defenders stripping valuables off the dead. I don’t engage in it myself. I’m out on point so we can have some warning when the next group approaches. There will be time to divide treasures later. The last wave goes down, and a few minutes later the group makes a few excuses to leave and parts ways, taking any and all loot off with them. I can’t help but laugh. I’ve been a lot of places. In some, the gold flows like cheap wine at a guild hall. Others, like the lands of Narfell, are a hard scrabble existence. No matter where I go, I find the same thing. The wicked account for every coin in an equitable manner, perhaps because they can ill afford to lose alliances over petty squabbles. The virtuous however, will swipe every last coin laying around if they think you aren’t watching. I see it all the time. A few coins skimmed here, a potion stuffed in a pack there, a quality blade that gets “forgotten about.” It adds up. The old saying goes there is no honor among thieves, but I tend to believe there are plenty of thieves among honor. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by greed or hypocrisy anymore. It is, after all, that kind of world.