(this is from the log of Tindo Beren Smartmouth that he secretly writes on his travels)
Yup, we had just saved the two dwarves that was left in the dwarven city, or... there might have been more, but we couldn't see any. Anyway, they asked us to go save a holy place the orcs, bugbears and goblins had occupied. And so we set out. Now, goblins we could handle, orcs are stronger, but thankfully easier to kill then your average housecat, so unless you lett them hit you, youll be fine even if your only weapon is a rapier and that lousy excuse they call daggers in these parts of the known world. Unfortunatly, there seems to be other creatures then those around as well. I don't know if the dwarves knew of them, or whether they just didn't care to tell us about them. I suspect the latter, but I'll hold an apparence of not believing it to be so, so as to not alarm the others. There were larva-like huge thingies blocking the way. The first one proved hard to kill, but then again, he didn't really do any damage, so it didn't really matter much. The other one however was not as easy. No matter how hard i cut, or how deep, his wounds always seemed to heal right after. That is, until that woolhead of a monk finally landed one of his bare handed strikes. He may not be much in the area of conversation, but he can come in handy now and then... The thing, that by the way had four more tentacles than most larvas I've ever seen, escaped. Kind of sad seeing as how I'd like to study it and find more weaknesses, so I could destroy more of its kind.
Well, seeing as how the thing escaped and we were free to go further in, we did. And it just so happened that we stumbled over a more or less fortified and guarded bridge. As I've said, goblins aren't really much of a threat, until they get together and bond. Still, the orcs were the first to actually charge. Hamato went straight at one of them, and I took on another. Didn't really see much of Hamatos battle, and the two other were behind me somewhere, but mine? I dodged as hard as I could, keeping just out of reach for the heavy battleax swinging towards me from up front. I had my rapier in hand, and were about to throw a strike with my dagger as well when suddenly everything got light. Bright light. In front of me stood now a pile of burning flesh and bones that might have been the orc charging towards me merely six seconds earlier. And behind Aliela was hard in concentration. striking goblin after goblin down with a lightning fury that I couldn't even summon an illusion of, no more duplicate. I'm honestly scared of that gal now. I'm gonna be miles away at first sign of her monthly.
mandag 1. oktober 2007
torsdag 20. september 2007
Origin of the Bunni Master.
As told by the bard Tindo Beren Smartmouth to the children of Marduk before the egg-hunting ritual during the Week of East celebration.
Now, the officials of this city has asked me to explain the nature of these festivities. It is not a story known by many, and it might not be entirely true. But it is a good story nonetheless, and from the ages of old in which there were magics we now consider lost forever. But in those days, it was part of the life of some very few rare individuals.
One of these were the dark wizard Agomoth, an evil man, a psycopath on his best days, a true monster on his worst, Yet he had an inner love for vegetables. He made them in his own image, twisted them to show their inner, but often terrible beauty. He was the one who singlehandedly created spinach. He made it healthy only to make mothers around the land feed the icky stuff to the children. Now, it just so happened that he made aquaintance with an equally strong induvidual like himself, but with opposite alignment. They had a fight and Agomoth came out victorious, yet not without mortal wounds. His studies were of dark nature, and he had been too arrogant to learn spells that would mend his now broken body. He had thought himself immortal, and now that he faced death, he was terrified. So, with a last effort, he poured everything that was him. His very dark soul, his affinity for vegetables, and all his magic capabilities into a single seed.
Years passed, Agomoths land was blooming, his dark creations, except for the spinach of course, receded into the abyss, tormenting other realms. People of holy spirit now inhabited the land, controlling the once dark and chaotic lands, and making a land of law and light. One of these people, a paladin by the name of Christiaron, had his beloved kidnapped by one of the few criminals left. She had been taken to the residence formerly known as Agomoths keep for ransom. And Christiaron followed. Now, seeing as how the seed was infused with Agomoths power, it was pretty much immortal, yet it had grown. The dust collected on the floor was it's only soil, and yet, there it was. A baby carrot. Christiaron had been travelling for days, hunting the felons to this place, and was hungry. He had grown tired of the same rations everyday for the past weeks, so the carrot would be a nice addition this day, for his last meal before fighting. He was sure of himself now, he had them trapped, they just didn't know yet.
He rested for a few hours, making sure he was prepared for the coming struggle. He was a paladin of some skill, yet there were many of his enemies, and they might have allies nearby. The thought enraged him, and he got up, making the final preparations quickly. His sword bare in his hands, he ran around, hunting. She was in the tower, with three ready men around her. Brutal looking, all of them. Hi rage rose as they threatened to kill her if he moved a step closer. He moved a step closer, saw blood run down her cheek. The room grew dark.
Three corpses. That's all he could see. There were blood everywere, and he felt funny. He jumped around for a bit. Everything smelled right, there were only normal sounds to be heard, he was as evil as he'd always been. But something was still slightly off. Something weird. Hadn't he been a paladin sometime yesterday? His memory must be failing him. Of course not, he felt bad to the bone, and paladins had to be total boyscouts, those sissies. He heard crying, and turned. Sniffed the air for a bit. Yup, there she was, but who was she? He decided she was of no consequence for the moment. He jumped around a bit more, thinking evil deeds. Spinach had been a streak of genious, but what next? He was somehow tired of the whole plant-thing... except carrots. and salad. But those were good to feed on, he wasn't too good at growing them. He had to make himself a new passion. He looked at the crying woman, remembering something only to blur it out. Eggs. "Bad eggs. I'll make the opposite of spinach. I'll curse this land with eggs harbouring beasts that will hatch and feed of children, women and men alike." he hadn't realized he had been shouting the last part. He heard the running footsteps of the woman too late, as she ran to the neares city, spreading word of his evil plan. He did proceed anyway, knowing that even if they found some of his creations, others might hatch and make a mess. So one night, he sent his underlings that had somehow appared after some days alone in the keep, out with baskets of eggs, with instructions to hide them near houses and gardens, so that they'd hatch near their first victims. Of course, the underlings weren't too bright. Too much goblin-blood, I'll wager. So the eggs were easily found by the villagers. They cooked them good, finding them to be edible, so long as they never had the chance to hatch. Some families got lost, having forgotten to check the hedge, or the little hole that their dog had made the night before, but mostly they survived.
Now, some say that Christiaron is still alive, and that he is the one making, and hiding all the eggs for the festivities. That the carrot of Agaroth changed him into the immortal bunnimaster. Some say they've seen his underlings as well, in the woods. Small fluffy white goblinoids, so small and with so silky fur, that you'd think they were rabbits, or hares. And maybe they were, one time. What I can tell you for sure though, is this. If these eggs are still the work of Christiaron, aka the Powerful and Immortal Bunnimaster, then make sure to find every single egg, and boil them well before you eat them. You wouldn't want a monster to hatch and eat youf family, afterall. Would you?
(Denne er til deg Christian! Gratulerer med dagen, og takk for at du vil være DMen vår.)
Now, the officials of this city has asked me to explain the nature of these festivities. It is not a story known by many, and it might not be entirely true. But it is a good story nonetheless, and from the ages of old in which there were magics we now consider lost forever. But in those days, it was part of the life of some very few rare individuals.
One of these were the dark wizard Agomoth, an evil man, a psycopath on his best days, a true monster on his worst, Yet he had an inner love for vegetables. He made them in his own image, twisted them to show their inner, but often terrible beauty. He was the one who singlehandedly created spinach. He made it healthy only to make mothers around the land feed the icky stuff to the children. Now, it just so happened that he made aquaintance with an equally strong induvidual like himself, but with opposite alignment. They had a fight and Agomoth came out victorious, yet not without mortal wounds. His studies were of dark nature, and he had been too arrogant to learn spells that would mend his now broken body. He had thought himself immortal, and now that he faced death, he was terrified. So, with a last effort, he poured everything that was him. His very dark soul, his affinity for vegetables, and all his magic capabilities into a single seed.
Years passed, Agomoths land was blooming, his dark creations, except for the spinach of course, receded into the abyss, tormenting other realms. People of holy spirit now inhabited the land, controlling the once dark and chaotic lands, and making a land of law and light. One of these people, a paladin by the name of Christiaron, had his beloved kidnapped by one of the few criminals left. She had been taken to the residence formerly known as Agomoths keep for ransom. And Christiaron followed. Now, seeing as how the seed was infused with Agomoths power, it was pretty much immortal, yet it had grown. The dust collected on the floor was it's only soil, and yet, there it was. A baby carrot. Christiaron had been travelling for days, hunting the felons to this place, and was hungry. He had grown tired of the same rations everyday for the past weeks, so the carrot would be a nice addition this day, for his last meal before fighting. He was sure of himself now, he had them trapped, they just didn't know yet.
He rested for a few hours, making sure he was prepared for the coming struggle. He was a paladin of some skill, yet there were many of his enemies, and they might have allies nearby. The thought enraged him, and he got up, making the final preparations quickly. His sword bare in his hands, he ran around, hunting. She was in the tower, with three ready men around her. Brutal looking, all of them. Hi rage rose as they threatened to kill her if he moved a step closer. He moved a step closer, saw blood run down her cheek. The room grew dark.
Three corpses. That's all he could see. There were blood everywere, and he felt funny. He jumped around for a bit. Everything smelled right, there were only normal sounds to be heard, he was as evil as he'd always been. But something was still slightly off. Something weird. Hadn't he been a paladin sometime yesterday? His memory must be failing him. Of course not, he felt bad to the bone, and paladins had to be total boyscouts, those sissies. He heard crying, and turned. Sniffed the air for a bit. Yup, there she was, but who was she? He decided she was of no consequence for the moment. He jumped around a bit more, thinking evil deeds. Spinach had been a streak of genious, but what next? He was somehow tired of the whole plant-thing... except carrots. and salad. But those were good to feed on, he wasn't too good at growing them. He had to make himself a new passion. He looked at the crying woman, remembering something only to blur it out. Eggs. "Bad eggs. I'll make the opposite of spinach. I'll curse this land with eggs harbouring beasts that will hatch and feed of children, women and men alike." he hadn't realized he had been shouting the last part. He heard the running footsteps of the woman too late, as she ran to the neares city, spreading word of his evil plan. He did proceed anyway, knowing that even if they found some of his creations, others might hatch and make a mess. So one night, he sent his underlings that had somehow appared after some days alone in the keep, out with baskets of eggs, with instructions to hide them near houses and gardens, so that they'd hatch near their first victims. Of course, the underlings weren't too bright. Too much goblin-blood, I'll wager. So the eggs were easily found by the villagers. They cooked them good, finding them to be edible, so long as they never had the chance to hatch. Some families got lost, having forgotten to check the hedge, or the little hole that their dog had made the night before, but mostly they survived.
Now, some say that Christiaron is still alive, and that he is the one making, and hiding all the eggs for the festivities. That the carrot of Agaroth changed him into the immortal bunnimaster. Some say they've seen his underlings as well, in the woods. Small fluffy white goblinoids, so small and with so silky fur, that you'd think they were rabbits, or hares. And maybe they were, one time. What I can tell you for sure though, is this. If these eggs are still the work of Christiaron, aka the Powerful and Immortal Bunnimaster, then make sure to find every single egg, and boil them well before you eat them. You wouldn't want a monster to hatch and eat youf family, afterall. Would you?
(Denne er til deg Christian! Gratulerer med dagen, og takk for at du vil være DMen vår.)
torsdag 13. september 2007
Dwarwen Mines pt. 2
So yeah. There we were, the four of us and the sound of 16 men ranting in unintelligeble voices. There were no words, my ability in illusions wasn't quite that great, although the anger behind them made real words unneccesary. At least for the orcs. The orcs were scared out of their minds! My fellow adventurer, Osborne, who was proficient in the language of the savages, explained what they discussed amongst themselves. One of them, apparantly the leader of the group, gave the order for one of the others to escape and bring words to their great chief to bring more of them, lots more. You could say my plan backfired on us.
We were in one of the more unpleasant situations, with several orcs outside and a promise of more to come, so we did the only sensible thing and busted out. Or rather... We cleaned away all the stuff we had barricaded the door with, and then we busted out, ready for anything. Now, it just so happened that anything in this case, meant the disapparence of the orcs outside our door. Apparently they had fled the scene when they heard the sound of moving furniture, thinking that they were about to be run down by a two figure number of soldiers. Not that we were any less likely to destroy them than the soldiers would be, but still. Even I know the soldiers would be both more efficient, and more impressive. That's when I figured I'd have to learn how to make the image of 20 soldiers running for the enemy. Just think of the reaction!
Now, anyway. We rested, healing our wounds, getting our daily meditation done so that we may cast more spells and such things. And then we began journying again. Going further down into the mines. There were more bodies, dwarven women and children slaughtered without remorse from their assailants. We met a few goblins as well, whose stupidity was only topped by their complete lack of courage. Or well... not complete. Meeting four adventurers armed to their teeth alone with nothing but a pointy stick is, if incredibly foolish, still a sign of courage. We spared one of the goblins we met, with a promise of letting him go if he only showed the way to the surviving dwarves. He didn't quite meet his end of the deal, but instead led us to a room filled with orcs an bugbears, so we had to off him. Kind of sad, but his choice. He did leave u some compensation though, in the form of tidbits about the dwarf situation. Apparantly our diversion had worked, for a while. The dwarves were still fighting, but then again, so were the goblinods.
Well, we kept going, fighting anything that came across our way, with me always confusing the crap out of them while the others killed them of one by one. I found myself almost being happy that we brought the monk as he laid orc after orc down to rest, but everytime the feeling crept forward, he started talking, and it faded back again.
On our way down, in a particulary tight spot, we hear battlecries. Dwarven battlecries. We were finally there! I was already singing a song to set courage in my allies, and I raised my voice, almost shouting in dwarven a song of great heroes past. And yet it was the monk that made certain the last of the enemies in the room fell by his feet. They were sceptic towards us, and I had to use everything I knew about dwarves and diplomacy to get the point in that we were there to help, before they finally accepted. There were few of them left now, and every one of them had to protect their city, so they asked us for a favor. There was a place in the mines, holy for those that lived here, that was now infested with orcs and goblinoids. They wanted it taken care of, but with a promise of pain to come if we were to take anything from that room for ourselves.
End of the "dwarven mines",But still to be continued.
We were in one of the more unpleasant situations, with several orcs outside and a promise of more to come, so we did the only sensible thing and busted out. Or rather... We cleaned away all the stuff we had barricaded the door with, and then we busted out, ready for anything. Now, it just so happened that anything in this case, meant the disapparence of the orcs outside our door. Apparently they had fled the scene when they heard the sound of moving furniture, thinking that they were about to be run down by a two figure number of soldiers. Not that we were any less likely to destroy them than the soldiers would be, but still. Even I know the soldiers would be both more efficient, and more impressive. That's when I figured I'd have to learn how to make the image of 20 soldiers running for the enemy. Just think of the reaction!
Now, anyway. We rested, healing our wounds, getting our daily meditation done so that we may cast more spells and such things. And then we began journying again. Going further down into the mines. There were more bodies, dwarven women and children slaughtered without remorse from their assailants. We met a few goblins as well, whose stupidity was only topped by their complete lack of courage. Or well... not complete. Meeting four adventurers armed to their teeth alone with nothing but a pointy stick is, if incredibly foolish, still a sign of courage. We spared one of the goblins we met, with a promise of letting him go if he only showed the way to the surviving dwarves. He didn't quite meet his end of the deal, but instead led us to a room filled with orcs an bugbears, so we had to off him. Kind of sad, but his choice. He did leave u some compensation though, in the form of tidbits about the dwarf situation. Apparantly our diversion had worked, for a while. The dwarves were still fighting, but then again, so were the goblinods.
Well, we kept going, fighting anything that came across our way, with me always confusing the crap out of them while the others killed them of one by one. I found myself almost being happy that we brought the monk as he laid orc after orc down to rest, but everytime the feeling crept forward, he started talking, and it faded back again.
On our way down, in a particulary tight spot, we hear battlecries. Dwarven battlecries. We were finally there! I was already singing a song to set courage in my allies, and I raised my voice, almost shouting in dwarven a song of great heroes past. And yet it was the monk that made certain the last of the enemies in the room fell by his feet. They were sceptic towards us, and I had to use everything I knew about dwarves and diplomacy to get the point in that we were there to help, before they finally accepted. There were few of them left now, and every one of them had to protect their city, so they asked us for a favor. There was a place in the mines, holy for those that lived here, that was now infested with orcs and goblinoids. They wanted it taken care of, but with a promise of pain to come if we were to take anything from that room for ourselves.
End of the "dwarven mines",But still to be continued.
fredag 31. august 2007
The Dwarven Mines - pt. 1
So, there we were, in a fiortress deep in the forest, without any trace of the battle we had just had with the incorporal thing. There was some minor damage, but nothing we hadn't been prepared for. What we didn't quite prepare for however, was the lack of treasure in the fortress. Not a single log of what had transpired, no scribbled note, and to the discomfort of our token thief, no gold. So we went around for a while, checking room after room only to find them empty, except for the usual ages old food and half-broken furniture. We did find some evidence however that the dwarves at the fortress had gone "home". It seemed only I was aware of what that could mean.
We looked around for a while until we found a blacksmiths armory. Aliela had found some text earlier that read in dwarven that when a certain hammer and ambolt clashed, a door would reveal itself, so naturally we were exited. There were two ambolts in the vicinity. One of which was suspicously placed. And with a simple thud from our strongman/monk Hamato. A trap-door opened.
It was a cave. or rather, a tunnel, that led us downwards in deep darkness. I had brought my everburning torch, so it wasn't too bad, but still... We found corpses of dwarves lying around. Recent corpses. Chances are the killer would be somewhere around. We lurked around, watching out for any potential danger, and when we found it, it came in the form of a little goblin. He was practically helpless and hiding under a table when we came inside the room. Although he was clearly evil, and a liar, and deceitful, I fealt somewhat sorry for him. Alone with no allies against the four of us. So I promised to let him go if he told us what was going on. After all, one little goblin could hardly do this much damage.
The goblin told, in his rough little voice and with the the language of my ancestors hated enemies, that some greater evil had made them come and pillage. The dwarves had apparently lived here ever since the old fort had been destroyed, and the force behind this attack had found that destroying them would be easy. So he had assembled a mighty crew og orcs, bugbears and goblins to pillage this city, sparing no man, woman or child. I let him go, under the threat of pain to come if he were to return. Goblins are such lowly weak scum without their big cousins to protect them. And yes. We found his cousins. There were several. And not the weak kind I've told you about before, the ones that probably couldn't survive a small pack of rats if they were hungry enough to attack humanoids. These were big, with weapons to match. Thank the lords for little favours like healing magic...
Anyways, we got the better of them. The first group anyway. We stumbled upon more as we went further in, but only in small packs. Until the tavern. We heard voices, orcs singing in their crude tounge. Only Osbourne had the ears to decifer the words, but we all knew the meaning. Orc-songs are usually only about killing and war, and we had seen enough evidence to suggest this to be no exception. I figured w should join them, and found my lute. I started to sing a song to get the spirit of fighting into the hearts of my comrades as we burst inside, suddenly realizing How many we had against us. Fighting started, and I heard a scream from Osbourne. The other two seemed to be doing somewhat okay, so I rushed to help the halfling, only to be cut down myself. I'd be dead now if Aliela and the monk hadn't managed to hold their own against six brutal orcs, and pushed a healing potion down our throats. What happened later was, if I remember correctly, that Aliela made the stupid choice of hiding in the gathering point of all the beer in the city. And with rampaging orcs around, or rampaging anything actually, that's never a good idea. So yeah. While I and Osbourne were stable, though unconcious, the others fought a bugbear. Stupid critters...
Obviously, I recovered. It took some time, and it hurt, but it was okay. I fealt wh had wasted enough time dying already, and wanted to go after the attackers and save the few remaining dwarves. The other plague ridden, half evil, stupid companions of mine refused, saying there wasn't enough magic potential remaining for the day, and that we had to wait 24 hours before we could do any such thing. 24 hours! Of all the stupid... Well, they refused to go, and they refused to let me go alone as well, practically holding me prisoner and obviously not caring about the lives at stake, so I made a proposal. If we could distract these evildoers enough, they wouldn't work so hard to get at the dwarves.
So, we let them know we were around, and that we meant buissness. A few orc corpses, some orc blood and a lot of noise made sure of that. Then we hid in one of the rooms further up, barricading the door before resting. It took a few hours before they realized we were there, but when they did, they were all over the place trying to get the door open. That is, until I scared them away. I made it so that it sounded like there was stacked an army in there with us. It scared the crap out of them, but not in the way I had intended it...
To be continued in pt. 2
We looked around for a while until we found a blacksmiths armory. Aliela had found some text earlier that read in dwarven that when a certain hammer and ambolt clashed, a door would reveal itself, so naturally we were exited. There were two ambolts in the vicinity. One of which was suspicously placed. And with a simple thud from our strongman/monk Hamato. A trap-door opened.
It was a cave. or rather, a tunnel, that led us downwards in deep darkness. I had brought my everburning torch, so it wasn't too bad, but still... We found corpses of dwarves lying around. Recent corpses. Chances are the killer would be somewhere around. We lurked around, watching out for any potential danger, and when we found it, it came in the form of a little goblin. He was practically helpless and hiding under a table when we came inside the room. Although he was clearly evil, and a liar, and deceitful, I fealt somewhat sorry for him. Alone with no allies against the four of us. So I promised to let him go if he told us what was going on. After all, one little goblin could hardly do this much damage.
The goblin told, in his rough little voice and with the the language of my ancestors hated enemies, that some greater evil had made them come and pillage. The dwarves had apparently lived here ever since the old fort had been destroyed, and the force behind this attack had found that destroying them would be easy. So he had assembled a mighty crew og orcs, bugbears and goblins to pillage this city, sparing no man, woman or child. I let him go, under the threat of pain to come if he were to return. Goblins are such lowly weak scum without their big cousins to protect them. And yes. We found his cousins. There were several. And not the weak kind I've told you about before, the ones that probably couldn't survive a small pack of rats if they were hungry enough to attack humanoids. These were big, with weapons to match. Thank the lords for little favours like healing magic...
Anyways, we got the better of them. The first group anyway. We stumbled upon more as we went further in, but only in small packs. Until the tavern. We heard voices, orcs singing in their crude tounge. Only Osbourne had the ears to decifer the words, but we all knew the meaning. Orc-songs are usually only about killing and war, and we had seen enough evidence to suggest this to be no exception. I figured w should join them, and found my lute. I started to sing a song to get the spirit of fighting into the hearts of my comrades as we burst inside, suddenly realizing How many we had against us. Fighting started, and I heard a scream from Osbourne. The other two seemed to be doing somewhat okay, so I rushed to help the halfling, only to be cut down myself. I'd be dead now if Aliela and the monk hadn't managed to hold their own against six brutal orcs, and pushed a healing potion down our throats. What happened later was, if I remember correctly, that Aliela made the stupid choice of hiding in the gathering point of all the beer in the city. And with rampaging orcs around, or rampaging anything actually, that's never a good idea. So yeah. While I and Osbourne were stable, though unconcious, the others fought a bugbear. Stupid critters...
Obviously, I recovered. It took some time, and it hurt, but it was okay. I fealt wh had wasted enough time dying already, and wanted to go after the attackers and save the few remaining dwarves. The other plague ridden, half evil, stupid companions of mine refused, saying there wasn't enough magic potential remaining for the day, and that we had to wait 24 hours before we could do any such thing. 24 hours! Of all the stupid... Well, they refused to go, and they refused to let me go alone as well, practically holding me prisoner and obviously not caring about the lives at stake, so I made a proposal. If we could distract these evildoers enough, they wouldn't work so hard to get at the dwarves.
So, we let them know we were around, and that we meant buissness. A few orc corpses, some orc blood and a lot of noise made sure of that. Then we hid in one of the rooms further up, barricading the door before resting. It took a few hours before they realized we were there, but when they did, they were all over the place trying to get the door open. That is, until I scared them away. I made it so that it sounded like there was stacked an army in there with us. It scared the crap out of them, but not in the way I had intended it...
To be continued in pt. 2
tirsdag 28. august 2007
Welcome
Hello everybody! It's storytime with the fantastic bard of the Maruk-area, Tindo Beren "Smartmouth"
Or rather, it will be. Soon. This is where I will put the recollections of my adventures with my rag-tag group of travellers as we find hidden treasures, do heroics and pull pranks. Oh, and if there are any damsels in distress, we will of course do our utmost to defeat them as well. Or save them, whatever is most convenient at the time.
Anyhow, the group is as follows. First, in alphabetical order if nothing else, is Aliella the she-elf. She's a druid with the token appreciation for nature and all that, and is the former friend of a rather lagre and overpowered wolf. She has in the later days however, broken this bond and exchanged it with a large and slightly dumb horse. Sigh... Females and their fancies.
Then there is Hamato, the monk. He is a half-elf and follows more rules then I can count on my fingers. I usually don't break too many of those same rules myself either, granted. But that's more to do with something we intelligent beings call common sense. Anyway, the guy runs around with a katana and beats the crap outta things with his fists. Plus, he's strong enough to carry things for us, so we keep him around.
Then there is our token thief, Osborne. I don't know too much about him except that he's a hobbit with an affinity for jeweled daggers, and with ambitions to become an assasin. I'll have to find some way to stop him from doing that last thing. Too many people think of free-thinking people like ourselves are things that eventually will turn evil, without him having to prove them right. His chaotic nature can't be trusted, and I should know that, being one myself and all.
Yeah, there's me. Tindo, or "smartmouth" among friends, and enemies, and most commonfolk... I'm a bard. I tell stories. I also have great fun making stories and uncovering ancient stories. So I travel.
And that's how the days go by.
Or rather, it will be. Soon. This is where I will put the recollections of my adventures with my rag-tag group of travellers as we find hidden treasures, do heroics and pull pranks. Oh, and if there are any damsels in distress, we will of course do our utmost to defeat them as well. Or save them, whatever is most convenient at the time.
Anyhow, the group is as follows. First, in alphabetical order if nothing else, is Aliella the she-elf. She's a druid with the token appreciation for nature and all that, and is the former friend of a rather lagre and overpowered wolf. She has in the later days however, broken this bond and exchanged it with a large and slightly dumb horse. Sigh... Females and their fancies.
Then there is Hamato, the monk. He is a half-elf and follows more rules then I can count on my fingers. I usually don't break too many of those same rules myself either, granted. But that's more to do with something we intelligent beings call common sense. Anyway, the guy runs around with a katana and beats the crap outta things with his fists. Plus, he's strong enough to carry things for us, so we keep him around.
Then there is our token thief, Osborne. I don't know too much about him except that he's a hobbit with an affinity for jeweled daggers, and with ambitions to become an assasin. I'll have to find some way to stop him from doing that last thing. Too many people think of free-thinking people like ourselves are things that eventually will turn evil, without him having to prove them right. His chaotic nature can't be trusted, and I should know that, being one myself and all.
Yeah, there's me. Tindo, or "smartmouth" among friends, and enemies, and most commonfolk... I'm a bard. I tell stories. I also have great fun making stories and uncovering ancient stories. So I travel.
And that's how the days go by.
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