My fight will be for you
My love will be in you
My fall will be beside you
My death will endure you forever
-'Her voice was wonderful... Like a fine instrument. When asker her name, she just smiled'
Nachisrin City, circa Raoleign year 958
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Red Dawn
It was dawn.
The dank morning air hovering over the bay like the fog that had come rolling in with the ships smelled of salt and sorrow.
Business thrived as usual within the Port town of Cutlas; it never ceased nor slept, but today things seemed to be a bit slow. Things were peaceful and yet, no one seemed willing to chat. Hard-faced merchants went about their business opening their wares to the quiet public, sailors and soldiers alike. Many a ship lumbered into the dock yard every few minutes, each carrying a cargo load of broken supplies and broken spirits. Though War was a guise that was subtle enough in the far off lands, Cutlas was feeling the after-effects as armies of soldiers and peons returned from the effort. Having suffered not only defeat in endless battles, rumor had it the nation had lost the war entirely. People begun to fear the usual - what might happen if their kingdom were overthrown, what would happen to the economy and their homes. Numbed minds and bodies exited each ship, wondering what was going to happen to them today and what they would do to get by.
One particular ship had just reared into the naval yard and finally made port on the western dock. Immediately, sailors leapt to and scrambled offboard, unloading the cargo and letting the passengers leave the ship. Several soggy and moldy crates were tossed down to the men on the dock, one splitting open and revealing pounds of half-aged food and bad meat.
Wrinkling his nose at the sudden smell of salt and rotting vestiges of pork, Dagron the Dwarf raised his chin and scanned the town of Cutlas. Shops were overflowing with soldiers, runaways, mercenaries of all caliber. Wagons threatened to trample those still standing in the street as men fought to be on their way. But no one noticed the three standing at the base of a ship, each looking off into the blank green horizon.
Dagron shuffled his belt, his hammer and axe losing girth and threatening to fall onto the creaking boards below their feet. His massive tower shield was slung over his back, per usual, awaiting use but in dire need of repair. His shabby metal armor had been sewn together from several disgarded suits of metal in the war effort amid his duties of tempering and cleaning weapons, suits of armor and other equipment. He sniffed and then grunted out a congested cough, knuckling his bristly beard while doing so.
The cleric at his side glanced his way at the sudden noise, then promptly turned her attention elsewhere. Yalla Apollose ran her eyes over the skyline, letting them fall onto the town. She placed her glove-laden fingers on his waist, absently checking her equipment. Cutlas was a port town that housed figures of shady intent; it would come as no surprise if her cut mace and shield vanished right off her being. The split mail she wore had been given to her during the war effort, much like Dagron's. Yalla had been trusted to tend to the wounded and aid the War-priests in their business of watching the wounded and praying for those that were lost. Yalla and Dagron had become friends at Tirenfar Outpost, when the army had pushed into the valley and had to construct a sudden base of nothing but sparse trees and mud. Yalla wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty as needed, but never strayed from her holy roots.
The third body in the line was that of a short in stature Halfling named Dygg. Well into his 100's, Dygg had aged in mind and wisdom but lacked in physical abilities or even maturity. He was wise for his age, and had taken to apprenticing a Sorcerer in the war named Bannon. After Bael'Gar keep was destroyed and Bannon vanished, Dygg's hopes of becoming a true magic user began to flourish as he sought a new master to learn from. Dygg didn't enjoy physical labor, but helped where he could, his lack of height limiting him to cleaning and cooking. Many a soldier did rant about his rabbit stew; some of the best they had experienced. Dygg enjoyed cooking but felt the urge to be something more, an urge that had drawn him to where he stood today - beside Dagron and Yalla.
The three remained transfixed on the edge of the dock, each watching the town and wondering what it held in store for them. They had agreed on the putrid boat ride home that even though the war was over, the struggle to do good was not. Each had experienced the horrors that war could bring, but did not forget the savors of achieving their goals meant.
The red sun pierced through the fog at that moment, sending a pink ray of light into the distance. The war had changed them, but each had made up their mind.
Dygg shouldered his black cane-sword and sighed, then looked up at his companions with a grin. They all exchanged glances at that moment. None knew what fate might have in store for them, however, one thing they knew for certain.
It was gonna be a hell of a time.
The dank morning air hovering over the bay like the fog that had come rolling in with the ships smelled of salt and sorrow.
Business thrived as usual within the Port town of Cutlas; it never ceased nor slept, but today things seemed to be a bit slow. Things were peaceful and yet, no one seemed willing to chat. Hard-faced merchants went about their business opening their wares to the quiet public, sailors and soldiers alike. Many a ship lumbered into the dock yard every few minutes, each carrying a cargo load of broken supplies and broken spirits. Though War was a guise that was subtle enough in the far off lands, Cutlas was feeling the after-effects as armies of soldiers and peons returned from the effort. Having suffered not only defeat in endless battles, rumor had it the nation had lost the war entirely. People begun to fear the usual - what might happen if their kingdom were overthrown, what would happen to the economy and their homes. Numbed minds and bodies exited each ship, wondering what was going to happen to them today and what they would do to get by.
One particular ship had just reared into the naval yard and finally made port on the western dock. Immediately, sailors leapt to and scrambled offboard, unloading the cargo and letting the passengers leave the ship. Several soggy and moldy crates were tossed down to the men on the dock, one splitting open and revealing pounds of half-aged food and bad meat.
Wrinkling his nose at the sudden smell of salt and rotting vestiges of pork, Dagron the Dwarf raised his chin and scanned the town of Cutlas. Shops were overflowing with soldiers, runaways, mercenaries of all caliber. Wagons threatened to trample those still standing in the street as men fought to be on their way. But no one noticed the three standing at the base of a ship, each looking off into the blank green horizon.
Dagron shuffled his belt, his hammer and axe losing girth and threatening to fall onto the creaking boards below their feet. His massive tower shield was slung over his back, per usual, awaiting use but in dire need of repair. His shabby metal armor had been sewn together from several disgarded suits of metal in the war effort amid his duties of tempering and cleaning weapons, suits of armor and other equipment. He sniffed and then grunted out a congested cough, knuckling his bristly beard while doing so.
The cleric at his side glanced his way at the sudden noise, then promptly turned her attention elsewhere. Yalla Apollose ran her eyes over the skyline, letting them fall onto the town. She placed her glove-laden fingers on his waist, absently checking her equipment. Cutlas was a port town that housed figures of shady intent; it would come as no surprise if her cut mace and shield vanished right off her being. The split mail she wore had been given to her during the war effort, much like Dagron's. Yalla had been trusted to tend to the wounded and aid the War-priests in their business of watching the wounded and praying for those that were lost. Yalla and Dagron had become friends at Tirenfar Outpost, when the army had pushed into the valley and had to construct a sudden base of nothing but sparse trees and mud. Yalla wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty as needed, but never strayed from her holy roots.
The third body in the line was that of a short in stature Halfling named Dygg. Well into his 100's, Dygg had aged in mind and wisdom but lacked in physical abilities or even maturity. He was wise for his age, and had taken to apprenticing a Sorcerer in the war named Bannon. After Bael'Gar keep was destroyed and Bannon vanished, Dygg's hopes of becoming a true magic user began to flourish as he sought a new master to learn from. Dygg didn't enjoy physical labor, but helped where he could, his lack of height limiting him to cleaning and cooking. Many a soldier did rant about his rabbit stew; some of the best they had experienced. Dygg enjoyed cooking but felt the urge to be something more, an urge that had drawn him to where he stood today - beside Dagron and Yalla.
The three remained transfixed on the edge of the dock, each watching the town and wondering what it held in store for them. They had agreed on the putrid boat ride home that even though the war was over, the struggle to do good was not. Each had experienced the horrors that war could bring, but did not forget the savors of achieving their goals meant.
The red sun pierced through the fog at that moment, sending a pink ray of light into the distance. The war had changed them, but each had made up their mind.
Dygg shouldered his black cane-sword and sighed, then looked up at his companions with a grin. They all exchanged glances at that moment. None knew what fate might have in store for them, however, one thing they knew for certain.
It was gonna be a hell of a time.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Karma
This is so amusingly ironic, I had to post it. Amongst my tears of pain, I was also laughing pretty hard. In mid-writing, my media player is on in the background. Bout 700 or so songs, on RANDOM. Started out... Like'a this'a:
First song came on: 'God Must Hate Me' by simple plan
then came: 'Rock-bottom' by the Offspring
along played: '(It's Been The) Worst Day Since Yesterday' by Flogging Molly
next: 'Everything Sucks' by Dope
and last: 'Psycho' by Puddle of Mudd
Wait for it... I'm not done yet. After these 5 came on in that order and I'm sitting here thinking about my luck and how terri-bad things have been lately, I started laughing my ass off at everything and wondered if my media player was trying to tell me something. The next song played?
...
I Feel Fantastic by Jonathan Coulton.
Yeah. God exists. And he has a weird freakin' sense of humor.
First song came on: 'God Must Hate Me' by simple plan
then came: 'Rock-bottom' by the Offspring
along played: '(It's Been The) Worst Day Since Yesterday' by Flogging Molly
next: 'Everything Sucks' by Dope
and last: 'Psycho' by Puddle of Mudd
Wait for it... I'm not done yet. After these 5 came on in that order and I'm sitting here thinking about my luck and how terri-bad things have been lately, I started laughing my ass off at everything and wondered if my media player was trying to tell me something. The next song played?
...
I Feel Fantastic by Jonathan Coulton.
Yeah. God exists. And he has a weird freakin' sense of humor.
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