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Topic: D&D 4.0 Discussion
Subject: Personally...
I have been having way to much fun modifying 3.5 rules, I can't imagine redoing all of that. Either way, My first campaign on the inn will be 3.5.
Posted on 2008-01-31 at 16:38:06.
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Topic: Add On Story. Fill in 3 words!
Subject: Fun with Words
imbibing eponymous invocation...
Posted on 2008-01-29 at 14:57:51.
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Topic: ^ < V game
Subject: Interesting Game.
^Would cry if his Superbowl tickets were in fact pilfered by the likes of me.
< Realized that the substance of his posts has been questioned in this particular thread... and has enacted his smiting rights accordingly!
V Is most likely to attend a PUA camp due to a lack of social skills.
Posted on 2008-01-29 at 14:20:31.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: So cliche, and yet so true.
I met my first love.
Posted on 2008-01-29 at 14:10:35.
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Topic: Filthy Thief Q/A
Subject: It is a Complication...
When did your character leave the orphanage...? The likelyhood of our characters knowing each other is high... though for how many years is the question. I'm going to say that Llammoth arrived at the orphanage at age nine. That would mean that unless you left when you were 14, we would have known each other. How closely is questionable. Llammoth would have been fairly reclusive, spending most of her time in the garden, unless she had to work off her debt to the merchant. She was also quite dumb when she arrived, and hostile too... it took her four years to become the more civil version of herself that is present now, and another four years to refine that which is not second nature to half-orcs. So, given your characters past, I can't see why we would have liked each other, unless Percy had some sort of fondness for the young girl. That is a possibility. perhaps we should continue this conversation via PM's and find a way to relate to one another.
Posted on 2008-01-26 at 05:33:48.
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Topic: You Filthy Little Thief!!!
Subject: Might I Interject?
Although she had heard about her father’s plight long before his request to see her had arrived at her doorstep, she had been delayed by tedious work. In this particular incident, this was no minor choice between family honour and the all mighty profit margin. It had seemed that the fortunes of her patron had been similarly intertwined with the fate of the orphanage, and with that of her father as well. Every inquest she made on the behalf of her councilman friend brought her closer to finding out the verifiability of these claims against her brothers and sisters of the orphanage on Westgutterfall street.
It was evening when she had finally gotten around to her old home, the vault of her heart. There were many childhood memories that impacted her deeply, and she would often come back to sit in the garden, and reminisce about the days of old… days that were merely years in the life of the young advisor. Upon the door lay one of the most holy symbols that Llammoth had ever known, butchered by another familiar symbol. It had given her mixed feelings about the welcome she retained in her father’s house. Falloes, the god in which Ormander swears she owes her life, was the god she had chosen to worship above and beyond all others. It had helped her maintain her morality, or at least so she thought. All of the blood money that had strained through her hands in the years to follow her ascension into higher society would be enough to taint any person, no matter how promising their intention. If not for her charity to the orphanage, by the guidance of her god, and her sense of duty, she may be as infected and corrupt as the rest of the vile denizens of the city of Drefast.
As for the ram, Llammoth had always assumed that her father had a particular loyalty to his kingdom, which was appropriate for one born into a previous age of grandeur. However for her, she had seen nothing to be admired about the empire, except that through all the corruption, it still retained some semblance of unity… That unity was brittle mind, but the bond was strengthened by the loath hatred other previously dominated lands felt towards the warlords, and particularly the Golden Throne himself. Though in the scheme of things his position was that of a puppet, and no more.
Nevertheless, she bowed before her holy symbol and recited, “Charity is the greatest gift that any one person can bestow. It is a gift that gives in return a sense of self and well being. It is the duty of those who see the errors of society to help fix them. The hand that stretches out to help a fellow man is the most gifted of all hands.” It had become a routine of hers whenever she approached her father’s doorway. She would recite the dogma of Falloes, and then, as she walked up the creaky old steps, she would finger the ram, which she did on cue, before disappearing into the lobby beyond.
She did not wait at the door. It was pointless to bother the old man, or even have one of his children fetch the visitor for him. There were no strangers among these walls, not for her, and likewise, she was well known to the boys and girls of the orphanage. She was also liked, more or less. She had sensed that young Cirkoff found her arrogant, and perhaps a bit holier than thou… she had also detected a secret lust for her… the boy was not much younger than her, but far behind in maturity. Furthermore she was not interested in striking up any intimate relationships with the denizens of old Ormander’s orphanage. Though it wasn't technically incest, she found the concept morally vile. Furthermore she could not fathom the tension it would cause between her and her father, who had always frowned upon this sort of thing. He was not yet so old, that he couldn’t plant a good lashing or two, whether it be from the whip or his tongue, either was excruciatingly painful when necessary.
Ormander was sitting his office, watching the kettle boil water, sipping a cup of tea. He did not hear her approach, which was disconcerting to the young rogue. Even though she was indeed skilled in both stealth and guile, she had rarely usurped the keen senses of her beloved father. This said much of the situation at hand. Obviously he was heavily burdened by the events come to pass. He was sorrowful for many things… his inability to solve his own problems, to be the strength that he once was, even so few years back when he had hustled her to safety, from none other than a sentence of death! The old man also feared for his children. He had devoted the last remnants of his life to the pious defence of these youngsters. More than just his morality was at stake here. Falloes, the god he revered demanded that the sanctuary of those under his name be defended to the death. If he were to be imprisoned, his home abolished, then he would have failed in more ways than a man ever should. In his agony, Llammoth realized that he failed to reason that he was now the hopeless, and that this god he loved was once but a man… a man who understood the failings of life. After all, from what she had ascertained this was no fault of his own. She would not, no, she could not believe that any child of his had their hands quite this dirty. He hadn’t raised anyone to be quite so stupid, or gluttonous for that matter.
Standing in the doorway watching her elderly father, she could not help but smile, and hiss in laughter. It startled him, but only mildly. The expression of shock on his face was quickly exchanged with that of elation. “Well then, Llammoth! You came! I thought you might,” he stood up and trudged over to give her a grand old hug… his strength hadn’t left him in his years since settling down. He let go of the embrace so that he might get a better look at her, his hands still bracing her shoulders. “it seems I am always found a richer man upon your visits,” Llammoth blushed, assuming he had either finally caught on to her midnight charities, or was in a indulgent mood, having known all along, and speaking the truth after so long, but he ended the cryptic pass with an answer to his statement that provoked a disharmony to her theories, “ you are truly a spectacular gem, one that I have cherished since you were nothing more than a grubby little purse snatcher. We certainly wiped the dirt off of that pretty grin, eh?”
Though his words were harsh, he meant no harm, no injury… after all, it was the truth. She knew as well as he, that more than the fact of its intrinsic merit, she had been a product of a cruel world. Now, in that same world, but with the kindness of a man who she was proud to consider her dad, she had become much more. It was a shame, that her every day experiences in the shadows of lies, corruption, secrets and gossip, that she rarely felt she had become anything better than what she had been. It was an odd thought, for one who now spoke two languages not native to her, and dined with nobles. “Truly you have been practicing lying father, did one of the girls ask you about where babies came from again?”
Ormander chuckled warmly at this. Her humour could be rather blunt in the presence of those with whom she felt comfortable with. Call it a defect of her wild heritage, but it was fortunately one she had learned to mask in the presence of others. She had no need to be someone fake here. This was home, and she was able to be as she may. "Llammoth!” the old man boomed, “Your brothers and sisters are already upstairs. I hope you don't mind if I give you a brief version of what happened?"
“Of course not father, take your time.” Though Llammoth knew much of the details already, maybe even more than Ormander himself… she would listen to her father, for the sake of his mood. He so eagerly wanted to help, as much as he desperately required the help of his grown children, his worldly children.
He escorted her up the stairs to the old temple, where she saw familiar faces, or at the very least, identified strangers by names. It was her job to be well informed, but more than that, the descriptions of her older brothers and sisters had been very detailed, details that came from the excited mouths of her kin who still shared in the poverty of the orphanage. They were adventurers! The temple, which had been cleaned to make room for preparation, was a very special place to Llammoth. She had made her first legitimate prayer there. The prayers in her previous life lacked understanding, though they were perhaps the cry of a far more desperate child. Regardless of the proper ceremony behind them, she could not but feel that perhaps those blessings had come true. For if not, there was little else that explained her very existence as it was.
After he had explained the happenings of the past few days, and, more importantly, the past few hours, he excused himself, and left her to converse with her siblings. It was at this point, that Athur made a suggestion. “I think someone should watch the supposed victim of the theft. Even if he isn’t involved he might lead to the involved and if he doesn’t it still might do some good to know where he is at any given time.”
Softly she stepped into the room. She knew the practicalities of social gatherings. If she were to be embraced as a part of the group, all she need do is physically become part of the group, her insight into matters would make her use apparent, regardless of her youth. “What you say is of splendid merit. The foresight is quite admirable Athur.” Llammoth smiled as she matched eyes with her human brother. “However, I am not entirely certain you understand what you are proposing… Councillor Velch is a well guarded man. More than that, he spends most of his time in places where foreign eyes and ears are not permitted. It is no easy task.”
With a sigh, she continued on, having almost certainly added to the groups lack of optimism, “It is a shame, for if he does have some stake in this, he will surely try to make contact with those who would conspire to ruin our father’s good name.”
Llammoth panned the room, looking to Pio, with his copper skin and green eyes, oozing with confidence that was befitting a drannese man. Her gaze then wandered downward to the Khord whom she had never met, but knew as Kastor. Then there was Percifeer, the dark skinned dragons blood, or so she had named the ensorcelled in previous encounters. “I would suggest that we gather a list of those who would see our dear Ormander harmed… the list may be longer than we hope… however we can narrow it down easily enough by relating the threats to potential. Not all his enemies are of equal social standing.”
Posted on 2008-01-21 at 21:22:29.
Edited on 2008-01-26 at 05:36:20 by Philosopher
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Topic: You want to play a WHAT?!? (strange character ideas)
Subject: This one rules!
My girlfriend... bless her. She played a gay Huskan. a Huskan is a medium-sized halfling/dog, like a centaur but smaller. Anyhow, this was not the entirely odd thing about her. She was... The Legendary Frying Pan Warrior!
That's right... I made up a class, solely devoted to the absurdly effective use of a frying pan! It was kind of like a cross between a paladin, a monk, a fighter, and a soul knife... for those of you embraced in psionics...
Posted on 2008-01-19 at 23:52:02.
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Topic: Filthy Thief Recruiting
Subject: The Philosopher Doesn't Raise His Hand, He Twists His Tongue!
OOH ME!!! Pick Me! I've managed to free up some time with my workload, and I've been itching to get into some new action!
Posted on 2008-01-19 at 14:03:42.
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Topic: The One Word Game
Subject: Words of old meaning, never known to the now, but still found in the mind of a madman.
Ah, the fickle embrace of human culture... the whirring acrobats and plethora of colours, smells and sounds. Entertainment at it's finest, with the assemblage of the crowd, and the mosaic of the...
hodgepodge
Posted on 2008-01-18 at 17:33:53.
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Topic: Riddle Me this.
Subject: Heh...
Well Lyskhala... I realize that not all people will have the same experiences with love as I have, however I imagine there are a lot of people that could answer those questions for you... as for me... my love life is complicated. Perhaps the next riddle I create will not be so confusing, as the subject matter was difficult for me to describe.
Posted on 2008-01-18 at 17:27:45.
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Topic: Riddle Me this.
Subject: Congratulations!
It is indeed love. Applauds for everyone =Þ. In any case, I will post another weird riddle when I next think of one.
Posted on 2008-01-17 at 14:02:24.
Edited on 2008-01-17 at 14:04:15 by Philosopher
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Topic: Riddle Me this.
Subject: Perhaps 20 questions then...
It is an emotion... I will give you that much, however, not all emotions. Many songs have been written on the matter, broken hearts curse the thing, and it is cherished for a time in every persons life... until they forget what it means that is.
Posted on 2008-01-16 at 13:35:22.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Diamonds in the Coal
Cerric mumbles gentle sounds that roll into the sky, echoing louder than their original utterance. It was as though the echo sought to overturn the reality of its submissive purpose... it wished to be the truth, and not the reminder. The plea for his detection of magical objects was a simple request... After using his magics to sharpen his senses to the irregular energy of the magically attuned, things that were of unique value sparkled amongst the dead like diamonds in the coal.
The mystic theurge merely pointed at a corpse here, or a fallen item there. This was by far one of the least burdensome jobs he had ever done. It was like supervising the labor of hulks, he was the whip, and they the oxen... though it was an odd thought to have about those he had come to admire.
Posted on 2008-01-16 at 13:33:12.
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Topic: Two truths and a lie
Subject: Not a chance Skari!
In fact, I did give the girl a black silk rose. Silly me, she thought I wanted her dead! The lie is #1, my uncle's common law wife was a prostitute, and was in bed with my father, however, I don't consider her my aunt, especially seeing as my uncle was adopted.
Posted on 2008-01-15 at 00:32:27.
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Topic: Two truths and a lie
Subject: This looks like fun... good luck guessing mine.
I would say that the lie is number three, in that you shave often.
Here are my two truths and a lie.
1. When I was a young boy I once stumbled into my father's bedroom to find that he was in bed with none other than my aunt. At which point he told me that they were busy, after I had closed the door... as if that were some sort of explanation.
2. I once convinced my christian friend that I was a demon, by saying that I would concentrate on a street lamp and turn it off with my evil powers... the scary thing was that it did in fact turn off. Though it could have been merely a coincidence.
3.When I was in the seventh grade I used to write poems. One was about judgment day, the other about the brutal death of all those children who would pick on me, and the other about a beautiful young girl with auburn hair and green eyes. However, I foiled any near impossible chance at having any relationship with her when I placed a black silk rose upon her desk as a gesture of romance.
Posted on 2008-01-14 at 14:24:28.
Edited on 2008-01-14 at 14:36:13 by Philosopher
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Topic: The One Word Game
Subject: Judgment
To be so sure of oneself that you are uncomfortable with the thought of others in uncertainty. Perhaps all you need is confidence...
Supercilious
Posted on 2008-01-14 at 14:16:32.
Edited on 2008-01-14 at 14:16:53 by Philosopher
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Topic: Riddle Me this.
Subject: Riddle Me this.
All right ladies and gentlemen, Innmates of all creed. I was bored this morning while scrubbing in the shower, and a unique idea came to me. I am going to make a riddle game... and we will see if anyone can match the insanity of my mind with their own. I will give out a riddle at some random time (generally when I think of one good enough to be overcome) and post it here for you guys to solve. When you do, you shall receive an applaud... however, I will caution that if you are wrong, I shall SMITE you!!! Anyways here is my first riddle:
I cannot be seen but in action;
I cannot be heard but in words;
I am warmth and comfort;
I am despair and fear;
You cannot know me except for when I am lost;
You are subject to loathsomeness and boredom when close by;
You are gripped by loneliness and nervousness when afar.
I am the most common and yet most misunderstood, you will never feel me as a solitaire. What am I?
Posted on 2008-01-14 at 14:13:49.
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Topic: The Would You Rather Game
Subject: In Truth, There Is No Truth.
The problem with the question you have put forward is that the 10 blonde ditz is more than likely a 10 because she has serious mental issues reserved to the fact that her intellect is subpar, and overachieves in the fashion that she can. Even more likely she had never been truly loved by her father, and wanted nothing more than someone to push her to excel. Maybe her mother was a negligent submissive wreck.
Perhaps I am being too harsh, and the blonde had to quite school at an early age to work so that her family could continue living off of welfare without the government being able to trace or levy her income towards that of the adults support.
Regardless, the other delay I have in answering this seemingly simple dilemma is that theoretically the smart six may be an overachiever in the other direction, Perhaps she is turned to feminism and will do nothing but argue and toil over the unfairness of humanity and how her own free will is at stake during every single conversation with condescending men, or the ever fearful prospect of love and marriage.
Maybe she is the perfect match, the perfect woman, and perhaps she is easier to approach, but what does that say of the man who does approach her, that you are settling for the physically meek? Or is it saying that you are relying on your healthy genes to combine with her mental acuity in a sort of reproductive instinct that is forced upon all of us due to the inherent need to improve upon ourselves and evolve? Did I just say that the man who chooses the smart girl is dumb? Or is that inference simply a possibility amongst the horizon fall of outcomes?
Ehmmm... sorry, had to fill out my quota of BS for the day. Me personally, I would choose a dumb six, in hopes that I might enlighten her to become a better person, and also in hopes that she discovers make up. But, to be fair, my favorite part of a woman is her back, and I am especially fond of a particular goddess who should be in an old greek painting, so my bias is set.
That didn't answer the question though, so ummmm.... Ah hell, lets go for the 10... this is a fantasy forum after all.
As for my question... would you rather retype my post backwards, or read it over ten times more?
Posted on 2008-01-14 at 13:51:16.
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Topic: DND Trivia Game
Subject: Sweep in with a Zinger!
This question is for hardcore trivia abusers. It is so much so that the answer is indeed trivial. In the Player's Handbook, edition 3.5, Jozan, the cleric, attempts to drive away seven human zombies with his turn undead ability. What is the result of his turning check?
Posted on 2008-01-13 at 15:21:31.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Reasons upon Uncertainties
Oddly, the presence of the new goblin runners had not frightened the young mystic theurge, even before they had been run down by the unanticipated riders. He had been calmed by the fact that their victory had come so absolutely. He knew that he was amongst men and women of grander history than his humble beginnings. They seemed affluent in the language of battle. He also felt quite comforted by the slow quake of his beautiful horses beating heart. It wasn't at all alarmed by the situation, and thus, he saw no reason to fear himself. After all, what sort of adventurer would he turn out to be if natural born prey showed him up in courage. This beast, in all it's magnificence however, seemed much less like prey, and far more like a goddess of the plains.
Cerric observed the greetings between his tribe and the newcomers, though said nothing, having already been introduced. Call it weariness, but he felt that words were quite useless to him at this moment. Quite contemplation was his newfound friend. There was much to think on after all. This meadow had been no small moment in memory for the scholar priest.
Curious as to the intentions of Lorae however, his attention was drawn to so sharp an edge it might cut, if his mind were as powerful as his faith. She had revived a goblin, and left Logan the charge of binding it, as though it were to become a prisoner. 'To what ends?' thought the disciple of Oghma, racking his brain in the attempt to decipher the knowledge of this situation, to shuffle through his meager estimations to discover the truth, yet without explanations that may show him as a fool. It would be an interesting answer he was certain, though he would wait the reason out... perhaps someone else may be so bold as to inquire what purpose this little gremlin had.
Posted on 2008-01-11 at 04:26:03.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: Aftermath
The battle was won... if this could be called a victory. Cerric Khalidran has unavoidable doubt in this circumstance. In the few years of life he considers worthwhile, he had learned a tremendous amount of knowledge. Some it seemed, was harder to digest. He looked upon the meadow, and reflected, in the spring it would be beautiful. Today, however, Cerric could only see the carnage. It was not hard to imagine, for the view was quite explicit. How many dead? The young mystic theurge began to count, but quickly lost interest as the number tallied beyond his five fingered hands. The ground was thick with the crimson that pooled within bodies so frail.
Mortality. Cerric had often considered beings of flesh to be little more than bottles. They carried what he would term the essence of life. It was a mixture, made by those prior, encoded with two solutions, who had before been four, and before that, ever more. Lineage was an abstract concept, one that most peasant minded individuals thought little on. Yet ironically people are so very obsessed with their bloodline. They fail to see the essence of what they are. They are blood, they are soul, and then there is the swirling abstract. This abstract has been called many things. Fate. Choice. Chance. It does not settle in with the solution of the man, but encompasses it, surrounding the entity with its potency. It does very little else but share a home with us. Often, lives transpire without a single drop of the abstract being mixed to form a whole. If the elixir is consumed prematurely, then the potent presence, the quintessence of destiny, the intrinsic weight of the vial is lost as ether. To be truly committed to life, or, at the very least, to the potential presence of history. It is often necessary to shake to vessel, and force the mixture of mortality to be intertwined. Then at least, even if the bottle is to shatter, the contents remain whole.
Whatever lessons Oghma had tried to teach young Cerric today, he felt the impact of shattered glass upon a lonely field. Was this battle meant to be so? How many of these mortal lives were taken in prime, and how many lost were unshaken, unstirred, restless in the anuity of their promise?
Though Cerric followed his protector, graceful little Vatta, whose skin he imagined was incredibly soft, and odd thought for how thick it likely was to the gruesome eve. It made him wonder how soft she thought he was. As a priest, he showed a horrible ineptitude in combat, and found armour to be horrible bulky and heavy. He remember whining to one of his intructors that the links in the chains would pinch his skin, and oh how painful it was! Such naivety, it was not uncommon, but for a man's son, a farmer's son, where the hardened world need not be found at distances, but belonged within the fields of everyday, it was a disgrace.
Gingerly he steeped through the mass of corpses, many who he had been responsible for, and felt almost as if these proceedings need be followed up with atonement. He was fairly certain, however, that the looks of the others, this was his burdensome thoughts alone. Perhaps the world was more black and white for adventurers of summers passed. It is a kill or be killed world. This was the life he had thrust himself into, since the very day he walked away from the shelter of the abbey. Very little would have been controversial to him in that haven. A smiled curled across his lips, which could be easily misconstrued as praise to the victory they had suffered. This was not the true calling of the curious facial outburst however, the truth remained that, if Cerric Khalidran had not left his humble beginnings, he would not haven shaken the components of his being. He would never have become what he was this day. Never would he be whole.
A call from the sky above interrupted his thoughts, and a shadow descended upon him. It was as if the familiar had been resentful of Cerric's single minded analysis of his situation. Gazing up upon the raven slowly spiralling down towards the comfortable perch of his shoulder, he whispered in draconic. "Of course my friend... and most importantly I might add, if I had never left the abbey, I would not have met you."
Posted on 2007-12-22 at 16:57:17.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: The Hounds of Heaven.
The grim tidings of the night, although they placed a levy upon his soul, weighing his judgments against truth, the mystic theurge, having chosen his allegiance to the lively-hood of his comrades, thickens the stew of the slaughter. The battle was drawing to it's close, and there was little chance the orc remnants would survive the close. This was less to the point than the fact that they would likely continue their assault until stubborn death, regardless of the taunts from up above, by the lovely lady Vatta.
However, it had sparked an idea within Cerric, one that would make the bluff a reality, and perhaps reinforce the idea that the orcs were quite doomed. If utter damnation was not enough to sway their hearts from bloodshed, or their minds from abstract courage... then the reinforcements he endowed would surely help to put their bodies to ground.
A divine echo filled the air, booming into the night, as if the gods had broken the fibers of this plane apart and besought the combatants to join them in their masterful twining of fate and soul. The threads of such fine weave, were fragile... though so few seemed to realize this fact. When ones body was strong, they neglected the weight of their soul. Cerric gazed upon the remaining horde, mouthing words that did not come from him, but all around. As he called forth his celestial hounds, he thought on the frailty of these brutes, how their bodies would not hold against the waiting light. They were windows, as all men are. Their bodies made up the frame... one need only throw a rock into the centre, the soul, to shatter the whole.
As the words quavered and died, the vibrance of its grasp still shuddered solemnly. A new horizon was being formed of light so pure, not even the sun could compare to its magnificence. This line across the field of pain was a striking contrast of good, against the evil deeds committed on this eve. Figures stepped forth from the crevice that split the prime material, and if one stared into the gash long enough, they were stricken at awe by the wings of angels fluttering, beckoning forth their souls, away from the harshness of this world.
Reinforcements... had indeed arrived.
(Cerric is using the spell Summon monster III, and will summon celestial dogs. The roll for how many is 1d4+1. He will summon them 35 feet away from him, as close to the orcs as he can muster.)
Posted on 2007-12-10 at 00:49:22.
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Topic: The Would You Rather Game
Subject: Superstitious Neverminds
Well, a bullet is a bullet so I'd go for the silver.
The blue pill, or the red one? lol
Posted on 2007-11-26 at 12:45:26.
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Topic: Where are you from?
Subject: Calgary, Alberta
Alabama: t_catt11 (Birmingham)
California Dragon Mistress, Brianna (mile from Disneyland) / Driztts San Diego (just miles away from Sea World), Syanide Shadowalker,
Florida - Admiral (Tampa)
Missouri- JenthLiadon (Columbia)
Michigan: Drakar(St. Joesph)
Nevada Reno; Greygrey
New York: Jozan1 ( Fort Plain )
North Carolina. Lyskhala (Originally); Fantasy (Originally. Cherokee County)
Ohio: Eol Fefalas (New Carlisle), Lyskhala (currently Dayton)
Texas: Tann'Talas (San Antonio, Home of the Alamo); Rystefn K'ryll (Houston area)
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Canada
Alberta - Sibelius Eos Owm (Calgary), SilentOne (Wetaskiwin), Philosopher (Calgary)(Born in Winnipeg)
Manitoba - Vilyamar (Winnipeg)
Nova Scotia - GRUGG (Kinsac)
Ontario - Alacrity & Vanadia (Toronto), Tempest (Brooklin)
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Overseas
United Kingdom - Ginafae (Edinburgh), Septimus Sandalwood (born in Boston M.A, but grew up and is now living in London)
Iceland - Skari-dono
The Netherlands - Fantasy & Almerin ('s-Hertogenbosch)
Sweden - Scarab (Jönköping)
Finland - Raven (Oulu)
Australia - Guenhwyvar
Posted on 2007-11-14 at 14:02:21.
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Topic: Peradyse Lost
Subject: The Reality of War
Cerric collapsed to the earth, clenching dirt in his hands, grasping for something real. He needed something to hold on to, his world seemed so surreal. He had shed blood from others before, this was nothing new. The difference was the toll of death. He had killed before... well, in a sense. He had wounded others so grievously that they would die, only to stabilize them with his priestly knowledge afterwards. It had left him with a lot of enemies... When he was younger, he had left the abbey in search of wisdom, but now, he never stayed in the same place long, for he feared the shadows that gathered in the alleyways at dusk.
A wise old sage had once told him "Blood spilled does not have a maker. It belongs to the earth, and until it has it thirst quenched, the blood must flow down upon it. It does not see right or wrong, friend or foe..." He smiled an old toothless grin then, refocusing his eyes upon Cerric's before saying "The most important thing in war Cerric, is that you make sure the earth does not get a fondness for the taste of your blood... or it will not be yours for long."
Standing again with a strength he could not presume to own, he tightened his fist against a smooth stone, and it gave him the will of the earth. No matter how hard he squeezed, the shape of the stone did not relent. There was much that Cerric could learn from this rock. His eyes sharpened upon two of the few goblins that remained standing. He watched them standing in defiance of the fate granted to all the old and vile of the day. This battlefield would be a graveyard for their descendents to visit. Flashes of light exhumed from his fingertips, as magical points of light flew unerringly towards his foe.
(Cerric casts 1 magic missile at Goblin 24 and 2 at goblin 33)
Posted on 2007-11-07 at 00:45:25.
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