We sat in silence as Mara guided the boat according to our strange passenger's directions. We did not particularly want to be sidetracked by the request, but we didn't want to die either. It was great motivation to fight.
We are off to a dungeon on Spider Island, which in itself is daunting. When we are there we are to retrieve a pearl that contains the souls of our temporary fish-arachnid ally's ancestors from the tomb. Our foes are lizard folk, I imagine the same ones we encountered on the beach last night.
We met our guide Malcolm after that attack, though he is now passed out at the boat's stern from a hallucination inspiring mer-folk bite. It has been a very exciting 24 hours for us. I suppose this is what I asked for when I wanted a quest to prove myself a mature, wise elf.
We arrive on the shore and head in the direction our spider ally points us. He leads us to the mouth of a dark cave and then steps out of the way. Now it's time to enter and find out exactly what we are up against.
We all stand at the entrance of the cave, I appreciate the momentary silence, the calm before the storm. Inside the cave was darkness, like that of a new moon. Even though the blackness surrounds us, my sensitive eyes are able to pick out the lizard folk who laze about the large foyer room. There seems to be eight of them paired up in small groups on either side of the room. They are currently unaware of our approach.
Aramir and Flynn tip toe across the middle of the room soundlessly. Not one lizard foe even reacts as they cross the large area. Bren stands just in the mouth of the cave, just to the right of his silent but ready riding dog.
I stand next to Mara, one step into the room. My senses are hypersensitive in the still darkness of the room. Mara smirks and rolls her eyes at the two creeping through the room. I sense that she will not attempt to leave these lizard folk thieves alive. She has a blood-lust that I don't understand, but I find it fascinating.
I'm not sure what exactly alerted the lizard folk to our presence in the cave. I would most likely pin it to Mara's whispered sigh as our two companions reached the far side of the room and turned back to us. I would also assume that the almost inaudible sound was on purpose, though I'm not sure if she would ever admit to it or even consciously created the initiation.
In this moment however, it doesn't much matter what started it because our lizard foes are alert and slowly approaching us. Their clubs and daggers are extended and their intention is death.
It is no surprise that Mara swings the first blade and obtains the first kill instantly. She steps over the lifeless body waiting for her next opportunity to attack.
Barbarrel the dog remains in a ready stance until one gets within his reach. Then he swipes once before springing into action.
I still stand in the entryway looking into the eyes of my opponent. I take a step backward and unsheathe my longsword as I prepare my attack. I really have to work on my reaction time, but I'm getting better.
Though not good enough. Before I can get a swing into my foe I feel a sting and a warm gush of blood flowing from my thigh. I pull the small dagger out as an arrow thuds into his back. I stab the lizard man in the juggular with the dagger in my left hand, still wet with my own blood--a fatal blow. To seal the deal I decapitate him with my waiting longsword.
Damn, that hurt. Thankfully it is nothing critical, just really painful. And a little nauseating.
I look up to meet Aramir's eyes. I nod to him, thanking him for the assist.
My leg is throbbing, but I try to focus on what is going on around me. Barbarrel is sparring with one lizard foe to my left, Bren aids his dog with his slingshot. Mara swings but her opponent dodges her attack. Thankfully, the lizard men are fumbling about and missing us as well.
The battle control gets back in our hands. Flynn swings his sickle, injuring a foe near Mara. She lowers her sword to decapitate that one and carries through, injuring another. Aramir punches an arrow into the foe's arm.
I notice a lizard man slithering closer to me. I take a deep breath before I swing my sword trying to block the pain and maybe make the room stop spinning. My lunge is wide, catching myself off balance. My opponent catches me on the upper arm with his club. I stumble, but manage to stay on my feet. Well, at leat my leg doesn't hurt so much for the moment. That will be a hell of a bruise though.
Mara calls over to me, "Are you okay, elf?"
"Um, not particularly, but I'll live." I answer.
I fumble to grasp my sword and gain my balance as Flynn becomes my rescuer this time. He leaps silently and lodges his sickle in the foe's belly--instantly dead.
There is only one for remaining, standing in the middle of the room. Aramir lodges an arrow in his eye and then Barbarrel the dog finishes him off.
The silence after combat is eerie, the air is entirely too still. Not something I'm use to--at least not yet. I sit heavily on the ground and rest my head between my legs in the mouth of the cave. What an adventure this is turning out to be. My pounding head and aching limbs are making it feel more real than ever.
The others are in various stages of resting and looting bodies. I notice them picking up loose gold, clothing and small weapons. Then I notice a large glint of gold on one foe's belt. Flynn hovers over it a minute before picking it up. He was close enough to me that I think I see a small water symbol on the green amulet and he turns it over in his hands. Then without a sound he slips it in his pocket. I don't say a word about it, I'm positive he isn't paying any attention to me. Then again, the way my head is swimming, I could be the one hallucinating. Nonetheless, I will keep a close eye on him, especially since he is now turning towards me.
Before I turn my attention to Flynn, I notice Bren standing in a white powder that fell on the ground, breathing it in. I begin to feel very good, despite my injuries. Yes, very good indeed.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Chapter 2: The First Battle
Chapter 3: On the Docks
Chapter 4: Getting Nautical
Chapter 5: Ghost Currents
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Chapter 5: Ghost Currents
The sea tiger disappears under the sea where he came from. My four companions and I stare at each other wondering if it is really over. I don't believe the beast is dead, but he is gone--the battle is over for now.
"What was that thing?" Mara asks in a shout over the wind.
"I don't know." I answer. I've seen sea monsters in my studies, but none that match the description of what we saw. I feel we are breaching new territory among these islands.
I hear a strange muttering and turn to Malcolm who is standing at the vessel's helm. He is turning increasingly more pale and a faint shade of green. He clutches his left arm and drops to his knees.
The halfling, Bren, who is closest to our guide, rushes over to aid him. When he looks back at us I see it, a raw, festered gash across Malcolm's forearm.
"He's bitten." Bren reports.
I hear my own gasp as Malcolm begins to seizure.
"Does anyone know first aid?" Mara asks.
Without a word Flynn the gnome walks over to Malcolm. I can't see exactly what he does, but within a few minutes he has wrapped the wound of a now apparently stabilized Malcolm. Flynn and I move him from the helm to rest in the stern of the boat.
"Let's kill him," Aramir declares, "throw him overboard."
"No." I surprise myself with my intensity, which gets an odd look from the ranger. "He is our only guide, he may be of more use to us."
"We do not know what he will turn into, and he's a liability as it is."
"But he is stable now, he may not turn into anything. If we kill him it will be in cold blood and I do not want that on my hands. Besides, we still don't know where we are going or what else lies in these waters."
"Perhaps. I still think we should throw him overboard." Aramir grumbles and stalks to the bow of the boat. I won the argument for now, but we would keep a very close eye on Mr. Malcolm.
Mara, with the most sea faring experience, takes command at the helm. She gains control of the boat, but only moderately. It feels as if the waters have a mind of their own, pulling us on a specific course away from our destination.
The boat shudders but then stabilizes. We are riding the "ghost currents" now. They pull us towards the island, despite Mara's command.
Malcolm whispers to me in a hot slur as I lean over him, "trap...under...the ship." I can barely hear him so I lean closer. He weakly points toward a small, dark island to the south--Spider Island, where legend says people go to be eaten. I do not like where this is going.
Barbarrel the dog growls as the boat rocks. A strange creature climbs aboard our boat on the starboard side near the bow.
The first thing I notice about the creature is that it is not aggressive. "Don't harm it." I shout to reach across the boat. Aramir lowers his bow, but does not disarm it. No one else moves.
I've seen this kind before, though I cannot place the name. He is both fish-like and arachnid. He has scales over his skin, but maintains eight legs and a handful of eyes scattered across his face. Two fangs protrude from his lips. This species dwells in dark, damp places and does not associate much outside his own kind. So what is he doing here aboard our ship?
The creature speaks, I recognize the language--Aquan, but I only understand a few words. Luckily, Aramir is fluent.
"What do you want?" The ranger asks, a bit too harshly to sound peaceful. I really need to brush up on my Aquan.
While the creature speaks his haggard response I leave Malcolm's side to stand next to Aramir, perhaps some of my diplomacy will wear off on him.
Thankfully, the fish-spider of a creature gets to the point. Aramir turns to the group and explains with a sigh, "He's asking us to help his people. He wants us to go to a shallow dungeon on Spider Island and retrieve a pearl that lies in the tomb. They believe this gem contains all the souls of their dead ancestors. The lizard fold stole it, but they can't fight them, though I can't get why."
He paused briefly while that information sets in. Then he looks a little cross when the creature speaks again. "Either we help them or we die."
"So they will fight us, but not their own enemies?" Flynn spat.
Aramir actually chuckled. He translated when the creature continued, "No, he says he has our boat in his web and he will simply crush it and watch us drown in the undertow."
"Well, when you put it that way." Mara shrugs. I honestly wasn't sure if she meant we should fight or drown--she is a very good swimmer, she might just survive these crazy waters.
"So we don't have a choice then, we have to fight." Aramir pronounces.
I looked around to all the heads nodding with various amounts of enthusiasm. So our fate was set, we now had a new quest.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Chapter 2: The First Battle
Chapter 3: On the Docks
Chapter 4: Getting Nautical
"What was that thing?" Mara asks in a shout over the wind.
"I don't know." I answer. I've seen sea monsters in my studies, but none that match the description of what we saw. I feel we are breaching new territory among these islands.
I hear a strange muttering and turn to Malcolm who is standing at the vessel's helm. He is turning increasingly more pale and a faint shade of green. He clutches his left arm and drops to his knees.
The halfling, Bren, who is closest to our guide, rushes over to aid him. When he looks back at us I see it, a raw, festered gash across Malcolm's forearm.
"He's bitten." Bren reports.
I hear my own gasp as Malcolm begins to seizure.
"Does anyone know first aid?" Mara asks.
Without a word Flynn the gnome walks over to Malcolm. I can't see exactly what he does, but within a few minutes he has wrapped the wound of a now apparently stabilized Malcolm. Flynn and I move him from the helm to rest in the stern of the boat.
"Let's kill him," Aramir declares, "throw him overboard."
"No." I surprise myself with my intensity, which gets an odd look from the ranger. "He is our only guide, he may be of more use to us."
"We do not know what he will turn into, and he's a liability as it is."
"But he is stable now, he may not turn into anything. If we kill him it will be in cold blood and I do not want that on my hands. Besides, we still don't know where we are going or what else lies in these waters."
"Perhaps. I still think we should throw him overboard." Aramir grumbles and stalks to the bow of the boat. I won the argument for now, but we would keep a very close eye on Mr. Malcolm.
Mara, with the most sea faring experience, takes command at the helm. She gains control of the boat, but only moderately. It feels as if the waters have a mind of their own, pulling us on a specific course away from our destination.
The boat shudders but then stabilizes. We are riding the "ghost currents" now. They pull us towards the island, despite Mara's command.
Malcolm whispers to me in a hot slur as I lean over him, "trap...under...the ship." I can barely hear him so I lean closer. He weakly points toward a small, dark island to the south--Spider Island, where legend says people go to be eaten. I do not like where this is going.
Barbarrel the dog growls as the boat rocks. A strange creature climbs aboard our boat on the starboard side near the bow.
The first thing I notice about the creature is that it is not aggressive. "Don't harm it." I shout to reach across the boat. Aramir lowers his bow, but does not disarm it. No one else moves.
I've seen this kind before, though I cannot place the name. He is both fish-like and arachnid. He has scales over his skin, but maintains eight legs and a handful of eyes scattered across his face. Two fangs protrude from his lips. This species dwells in dark, damp places and does not associate much outside his own kind. So what is he doing here aboard our ship?
The creature speaks, I recognize the language--Aquan, but I only understand a few words. Luckily, Aramir is fluent.
"What do you want?" The ranger asks, a bit too harshly to sound peaceful. I really need to brush up on my Aquan.
While the creature speaks his haggard response I leave Malcolm's side to stand next to Aramir, perhaps some of my diplomacy will wear off on him.
Thankfully, the fish-spider of a creature gets to the point. Aramir turns to the group and explains with a sigh, "He's asking us to help his people. He wants us to go to a shallow dungeon on Spider Island and retrieve a pearl that lies in the tomb. They believe this gem contains all the souls of their dead ancestors. The lizard fold stole it, but they can't fight them, though I can't get why."
He paused briefly while that information sets in. Then he looks a little cross when the creature speaks again. "Either we help them or we die."
"So they will fight us, but not their own enemies?" Flynn spat.
Aramir actually chuckled. He translated when the creature continued, "No, he says he has our boat in his web and he will simply crush it and watch us drown in the undertow."
"Well, when you put it that way." Mara shrugs. I honestly wasn't sure if she meant we should fight or drown--she is a very good swimmer, she might just survive these crazy waters.
"So we don't have a choice then, we have to fight." Aramir pronounces.
I looked around to all the heads nodding with various amounts of enthusiasm. So our fate was set, we now had a new quest.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Chapter 2: The First Battle
Chapter 3: On the Docks
Chapter 4: Getting Nautical
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
All Life Really Means
Anyone can carry his burden, however hard, until nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, until the sun goes down. And this is all life really means.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Chapter 4: Getting Nautical
Our Savior, Malcolm, is a stout drunkard, but he currently seems conscious enough. I stand with him in his shack trying to find out about our journey. He doesn't have much to add to what we already know, but it is interesting that he seems almost afraid of the islands we are to travel to. He must be getting paid handsomely for his troubles.
He says that he doesn't often go to the islands or even look at them more than he must. The reason he states is the "blasted changing currents." After a bit more prodding I define the current as the "ghost currents" which are said to hold the corrupted souls of the Nadine tribe turned Naga. The currents proper name is "Neira's Path." Malcolm doesn't have much good to say about the area, but we are on our way nonetheless.
We all aboard the "Last Drop." Malcolm takes his place at the helm as he directs our boat into calm waters. The day starts out beautifully, it could be a pleasure cruise, the winds are fair and the sky is clear. Of course, our good fortune could not last for long.
When the sun reached its highest I began to hear whispers drift over the waters and onto the ship. I thought for a moment I was just hearing things, but when I looked around I saw everyone's ears had perked up, especially the riding dog's. The boat swerved unnaturally causing everyone to have to regain their balance. Malcolm looked frightened. He stood back from the wheel with his hands in the air, he was no longer in control of the vessel. Malcolm grumbled, "I've been sailing these waters for 40 years and I've never seen anything like this before."
I noticed that the boat was pulling toward the steadily growing unsettling voices. The current begins to become visual and angry voices mingle with the sorrowful cries. I close my eyes and reach out toward the water, straining my ears to decipher the ancient language. I open my eyes and shake my head. I can't quite grasp what it is saying, but I do conclude that it is from one source and that is strong magic. I can' understand very little, but three words come to my understanding--"Summon, deep, swarm." I say to no one in particular.
Dark shapes begin to appear in the water. I can see them easily because I am standing at the rails on the starboard side. The forms begin to rise out of the water and creep towards the boat. They are twisted, stale forms of humans. My skin begins to prickle as I cautiously step backwards to the middle of the boat.
Mara is in front with Barbarrel, the halfling's riding dog, right beside her. They begin swatting and cleaving them as they reach the side of the boat. I only get one shot off during the whole battle. Thankfully, the ranger is a better shot. Our foes do not survive long. I am amidst strong fighters.
I barely even get a full breath before I realize that we are once again not alone in the waters. A large shape begins to rush the boat. My companions take a readied stance. But Aramir of all people wait in effort to communicate with the beast.
A large sea tiger rose out of the water and was actually taking a pause at the ranger's encouraging Aquan accent. My Aquan is very rusty, but I try to follow the action. I was so involved in trying to understand the rough conversation that I did not notice the gnome rear back and attack the sea tiger. From there it was a blur. Aramir became furious and retreated to the opposite side of the vessel as the rest of us attempted to fight.
We were doing fairly well. I was able to sink a couple arrows into the beast. The ranger finally offered a shot after protesting the gnome's impatience. Mara pierced with her spear, the halfling with his slingshot, the dog with his teeth and the gnome with his crossbow. We fought hard and drove the beast back into the water.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Chapter 2: The First Battle
Chapter 3: On the Docks
He says that he doesn't often go to the islands or even look at them more than he must. The reason he states is the "blasted changing currents." After a bit more prodding I define the current as the "ghost currents" which are said to hold the corrupted souls of the Nadine tribe turned Naga. The currents proper name is "Neira's Path." Malcolm doesn't have much good to say about the area, but we are on our way nonetheless.
We all aboard the "Last Drop." Malcolm takes his place at the helm as he directs our boat into calm waters. The day starts out beautifully, it could be a pleasure cruise, the winds are fair and the sky is clear. Of course, our good fortune could not last for long.
When the sun reached its highest I began to hear whispers drift over the waters and onto the ship. I thought for a moment I was just hearing things, but when I looked around I saw everyone's ears had perked up, especially the riding dog's. The boat swerved unnaturally causing everyone to have to regain their balance. Malcolm looked frightened. He stood back from the wheel with his hands in the air, he was no longer in control of the vessel. Malcolm grumbled, "I've been sailing these waters for 40 years and I've never seen anything like this before."
I noticed that the boat was pulling toward the steadily growing unsettling voices. The current begins to become visual and angry voices mingle with the sorrowful cries. I close my eyes and reach out toward the water, straining my ears to decipher the ancient language. I open my eyes and shake my head. I can't quite grasp what it is saying, but I do conclude that it is from one source and that is strong magic. I can' understand very little, but three words come to my understanding--"Summon, deep, swarm." I say to no one in particular.
Dark shapes begin to appear in the water. I can see them easily because I am standing at the rails on the starboard side. The forms begin to rise out of the water and creep towards the boat. They are twisted, stale forms of humans. My skin begins to prickle as I cautiously step backwards to the middle of the boat.
Mara is in front with Barbarrel, the halfling's riding dog, right beside her. They begin swatting and cleaving them as they reach the side of the boat. I only get one shot off during the whole battle. Thankfully, the ranger is a better shot. Our foes do not survive long. I am amidst strong fighters.
I barely even get a full breath before I realize that we are once again not alone in the waters. A large shape begins to rush the boat. My companions take a readied stance. But Aramir of all people wait in effort to communicate with the beast.
A large sea tiger rose out of the water and was actually taking a pause at the ranger's encouraging Aquan accent. My Aquan is very rusty, but I try to follow the action. I was so involved in trying to understand the rough conversation that I did not notice the gnome rear back and attack the sea tiger. From there it was a blur. Aramir became furious and retreated to the opposite side of the vessel as the rest of us attempted to fight.
We were doing fairly well. I was able to sink a couple arrows into the beast. The ranger finally offered a shot after protesting the gnome's impatience. Mara pierced with her spear, the halfling with his slingshot, the dog with his teeth and the gnome with his crossbow. We fought hard and drove the beast back into the water.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Chapter 2: The First Battle
Chapter 3: On the Docks
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Chapter 3: On the Docks
I have lived my whole life amongst the trees, it is a very different to sit and smell the waves of the ocean. I am feeling confident and strong again. After the attack of the dogs in the square I was shaken, not by the combat persay, but by my reaction to it. I completely locked up and was unable to react or even get an accurate shot off. I couldn't believe myself. I know I am green at living in the real world, but I thought I was better than that. And I am better than that.
While I sit, calm, watching the sun sizzle into the water, I vow to myself that I will not show that kind of weakness again. I have a lot to learn, but that is why I am on this journey. I want to gain experience, find wisdom and prove to myself and my home that I am worthy to be an elf guide, one who leads and teaches others. I have the knowledge, now I just need some practical experience. I didn't realize how challenging that would be.
While I sit, calm, watching the sun sizzle into the water, I vow to myself that I will not show that kind of weakness again. I have a lot to learn, but that is why I am on this journey. I want to gain experience, find wisdom and prove to myself and my home that I am worthy to be an elf guide, one who leads and teaches others. I have the knowledge, now I just need some practical experience. I didn't realize how challenging that would be.
But here I am, meditating with the setting sun on a dock ready to set sail on an adventure to almost certain death. I am traveling with four companions to an island surrounded with evil legends to obtain the Crone's Egg, a gem said to hold a deity of destruction. This should go well. At least I can appreciate the sunset, which is absolutely gorgeous.
I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, a metallic glare, rising from the water. I stand up and rush back towards a run down shack on the beach. I look back to see strange lizard folk rise out of the water. I didn't have to think twice before I knew they were intent was to kill. They were short, scaly and smelled like rotting seaweed. And they were getting closer.
This time I do not panic. I am still not the most sure with combat, but I have a few other tricks up my sleeve. I begin singing an ancient battle song, a ballad of heroes past. Sure, it has no large impact on the approaching foes, but my companions who are all on the beach awaiting our unusual enemies begin to stand straighter and a glaze of courage over their eyes.
When Mara swings her sword to ward of the advance, she swings a little stronger and decapitates the scaled foe closest to her. The halfling's dog rips one of their throats out, while the gnome skewers one crawling onto land.
This battle is almost too easy. Until four more lizard foes come from the direction of the shack, a little too close for comfort. I unsheathe my sword preparing for their approach when I hear the ground rumbling behind me. I take a chance to look back and see the wind whipping around as a crocodile springs forward ready to attack. I smile slyly to myself, the druid has some tricks up his sleeve too.
Before we can even attack the oncoming lizard men foes and old man runs out of the shack swinging and shouting. He looks mad, but he causes the lizard men to scurry away, back to the water.
As they rush away I catch a glimpse of a marking on one of the Lizard folk. Branded on his arm is a symbol that looks like a fountain of fire. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
"Who are you?" I shout at the stout, drunken man.
"The name is Malcolm. Are you the folks who need passage?"
"We are." I answer.
"Then come on in. We'll leave at daybreak." Malcolm turns heading back to his shack.
That name does sound familiar. Malcolm is the name Noctis gave to us of the captain who will sail us to Morrow Island. My instinct says we can trust him, though drunk, he is mostly harmless. I trust my instinct, but my companions don't seem so sure.
I want to know what this strange man has to say so I follow him into the shack. Mara follows me and so does the gnome. Aramir, the ranger stands at the door, still able to hear, but staying at the ready. The halfling and his riding dog are not to be seen.
Now it's time to get some answers, and perhaps get an idea of what we are getting ourselves into.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Chapter 2: The First Battle
Before we can even attack the oncoming lizard men foes and old man runs out of the shack swinging and shouting. He looks mad, but he causes the lizard men to scurry away, back to the water.
As they rush away I catch a glimpse of a marking on one of the Lizard folk. Branded on his arm is a symbol that looks like a fountain of fire. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
"Who are you?" I shout at the stout, drunken man.
"The name is Malcolm. Are you the folks who need passage?"
"We are." I answer.
"Then come on in. We'll leave at daybreak." Malcolm turns heading back to his shack.
That name does sound familiar. Malcolm is the name Noctis gave to us of the captain who will sail us to Morrow Island. My instinct says we can trust him, though drunk, he is mostly harmless. I trust my instinct, but my companions don't seem so sure.
I want to know what this strange man has to say so I follow him into the shack. Mara follows me and so does the gnome. Aramir, the ranger stands at the door, still able to hear, but staying at the ready. The halfling and his riding dog are not to be seen.
Now it's time to get some answers, and perhaps get an idea of what we are getting ourselves into.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Chapter 2: The First Battle
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Chapter 2: The First Battle
The quest is to travel to the Isle of Morrow and collect the Crone's egg. This task is easier said than done. The Crone's egg is actually a large gem, which legend states holds the evil god Forosei prisoner. This diety is feared throughout the lands through the form of ghost stories to tell around the campfire or send the imaginations of little kids wild. Forosei consumed the Nadeen people, he devoured with a greedy appetite.
It is quite concerning that an anonymous benefactor is willing to pay handsomely to obtain this gem of evil legends. However, the money is good and after weeks of traveling and searching for a noble way to prove myself as a worthy elf, coming across a quest of good deed seems unlikely.
My companions are four others who have agreed to this crazy, possibly suicidal mission. Aramir, a human ranger, seems very nonchalant in the grand scheme of things, but also secretly protective of those he deems honorable. Mara, the gorgeous and ferocious human fighter is wrapped in juxtaposition. She is both sweet and deadly--a perfect combination. Bryarbahn is a halfling and an experienced druid, always accompanied by his riding dog. He seems comfortable with whatever is thrown his way. The gnome keeps to himself even more than the others. He seems shifty and self-preserving, but more than able to handle most any fight. And then there is me, by far the weakest link--Lorien, an elf maid, a bard, remarkable with people and knowledge, not so wonderful with weapons and combat. We make an interesting combination, but the group is ready and willing to go forward with our quest.
I am comfortable in the marketplace. There are many people and rarely any physical confrontation. I watch the merchant as he hands my newly purchased supplies across the table: a small tent, a backpack, several days rations of food and a few other small items. His eyes are shifty, though the daytime transactions are valid, this merchant has a whole operation that is undoubtedly illegal. That was more than I wanted to know, but that is normal. Reading people is easy, I often wonder if it will one day get me in trouble. Perhaps, but that is another day to worry about.
Just as I get my backpack secured in place under my quiver, a large group of people rush past me leaving the square. Their absence leaves a strange silence in its place. This, however, is quickly filled with deep growling from a pack of dogs quickly moving into the empty space. They are large, closer to wolf than dog, with barred teeth and red-tinted eyes. A shiver slips down my back, the quest has just begun.
I only have a moment to panic before my companions spring into action. The fighter, Mara, moves in a flash to head the dogs off before they make it any further into the town. Bryarbahn's riding dog is just behind her, ready to sink his teeth in our foes. I try to focus and remember my remember my training. As I fumble with my bow I hear an arrow soar above me. It must be the ranger. It was a good shot too, straight into the haunches of one of the dogs. A stone hits another from Bryarbahn's sling setting loose a ripple of howls from the approaching foes.
Mara cleaves through the throat of one dog dropping him to the ground and sinks her spear into another. I finally get a shot off, but it lands uselessly between two dogs. It was barely even a distraction to the oncoming foes.
The rest is a blur. The ranger rushed up beside me, releasing a sure fired arrow straight into a dog's ribs. With a lunge Mara cleaves through one of the remaining dogs. I almost didn't see the gnome's swift, silent attack until the last dog fell with a thud.
There was a moment of complete stillness, I had to remember to breathe. Combat was a lot different in action than reading about it in the scrolls.
My companions drift away, mostly undisturbed by the confrontation. I sat on the wall overlooking the square collecting myself. I yearn to look confident and able to this group, but I wasn't so sure I was succeeding. It happened so fast, I didn't know how to react. I hope experience comes quickly, so I don't prove to be a hindrance--or die, I definitely want to avoid that.
I watch the others finish purchasing goods and hope my excelled ability to control people will be useful during this adventure.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
It is quite concerning that an anonymous benefactor is willing to pay handsomely to obtain this gem of evil legends. However, the money is good and after weeks of traveling and searching for a noble way to prove myself as a worthy elf, coming across a quest of good deed seems unlikely.
My companions are four others who have agreed to this crazy, possibly suicidal mission. Aramir, a human ranger, seems very nonchalant in the grand scheme of things, but also secretly protective of those he deems honorable. Mara, the gorgeous and ferocious human fighter is wrapped in juxtaposition. She is both sweet and deadly--a perfect combination. Bryarbahn is a halfling and an experienced druid, always accompanied by his riding dog. He seems comfortable with whatever is thrown his way. The gnome keeps to himself even more than the others. He seems shifty and self-preserving, but more than able to handle most any fight. And then there is me, by far the weakest link--Lorien, an elf maid, a bard, remarkable with people and knowledge, not so wonderful with weapons and combat. We make an interesting combination, but the group is ready and willing to go forward with our quest.
I am comfortable in the marketplace. There are many people and rarely any physical confrontation. I watch the merchant as he hands my newly purchased supplies across the table: a small tent, a backpack, several days rations of food and a few other small items. His eyes are shifty, though the daytime transactions are valid, this merchant has a whole operation that is undoubtedly illegal. That was more than I wanted to know, but that is normal. Reading people is easy, I often wonder if it will one day get me in trouble. Perhaps, but that is another day to worry about.
Just as I get my backpack secured in place under my quiver, a large group of people rush past me leaving the square. Their absence leaves a strange silence in its place. This, however, is quickly filled with deep growling from a pack of dogs quickly moving into the empty space. They are large, closer to wolf than dog, with barred teeth and red-tinted eyes. A shiver slips down my back, the quest has just begun.
I only have a moment to panic before my companions spring into action. The fighter, Mara, moves in a flash to head the dogs off before they make it any further into the town. Bryarbahn's riding dog is just behind her, ready to sink his teeth in our foes. I try to focus and remember my remember my training. As I fumble with my bow I hear an arrow soar above me. It must be the ranger. It was a good shot too, straight into the haunches of one of the dogs. A stone hits another from Bryarbahn's sling setting loose a ripple of howls from the approaching foes.
Mara cleaves through the throat of one dog dropping him to the ground and sinks her spear into another. I finally get a shot off, but it lands uselessly between two dogs. It was barely even a distraction to the oncoming foes.
The rest is a blur. The ranger rushed up beside me, releasing a sure fired arrow straight into a dog's ribs. With a lunge Mara cleaves through one of the remaining dogs. I almost didn't see the gnome's swift, silent attack until the last dog fell with a thud.
There was a moment of complete stillness, I had to remember to breathe. Combat was a lot different in action than reading about it in the scrolls.
My companions drift away, mostly undisturbed by the confrontation. I sat on the wall overlooking the square collecting myself. I yearn to look confident and able to this group, but I wasn't so sure I was succeeding. It happened so fast, I didn't know how to react. I hope experience comes quickly, so I don't prove to be a hindrance--or die, I definitely want to avoid that.
I watch the others finish purchasing goods and hope my excelled ability to control people will be useful during this adventure.
...
Missed an installment? Catch up on the adventure of Morrow Island...
Chapter 1: It Starts...
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Visualizing Lorien
[Morrow Island: Behind The Scenes]
Just so you know, I can not draw. It is simply not one of my blessed talents. I have accepted this and am moving on. However, I still want to show you what, in my mind, Lorien (Morrow Island Elf character) looks like.
Photo Credits: photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4, photo 5, photo 6, photo 7.
Just so you know, I can not draw. It is simply not one of my blessed talents. I have accepted this and am moving on. However, I still want to show you what, in my mind, Lorien (Morrow Island Elf character) looks like.
This is what I picture her overall. Except with a few differences...
I imagine her dressed in more of a dress or skirt and tunic sort of like this. Imagine the dress purple with gold glittering through the skirt. I like the feel of this picture (without the wings of course) and the flute.
I imagine her hair golden blonde and very thick and wavy. Like this:
or this:
This picture shows more of the demeanor of my elf. She is very kind , thoughtful and close to nature. She is built more for mental challenges than physical ones. However, she is very fluid in her movements like all elves, she just doesn't (yet) have the heart for battle. (I like this dress too, though I'll eventually have to add some armor likeness for battles).
I like this picture, just because it is a close up of a female elven face. I like this one as a whole. I imagine Lorien's face very soft, but angular.
This last picture I like because it is more of a combat dress. I also really like the sword. Lorien does have a longsword. This is actually a great stance, except the outfit is purple with gold accents and the hair is golden blonde and flowing behind her.
So that about sums it up...right? One day I might have help from some very talented friends to make a better collaboration for my character. Basically, these are a bunch of pictures that I like where I can take things from to imagine what Lorien could look like. Ultimately, Lorien looks like me, but more awesome and an elf.
Photo Credits: photo 1, photo 2, photo 3, photo 4, photo 5, photo 6, photo 7.
Chapter 1: It Starts
The world went crazy. I don't even know how it happened. It wasn't long ago when I was minding my own business in the Elmwood forests, as well as could be expected at least. I focused on the histories with my father, cultural crafting with my mother, and music and dance with my many cousins.
I even took bow practices from this boy who I thought liked me. I began to think differently after he shot me in the arm with an arrow after I kept missing my target. Let's just say I was not born to be a fighter. In fact, I think I am the worst Elven fighter alive.
Becoming a Bard wasn't something I chose, it chose me by a process of illumination. I discovered I am perfect for it. Turns out, I'm only really good at learning, histories, crafting and music. I'm fairly decent at many things: interacting with people being very high on the list and fighting being at the bottom. Let's be honest, my only real option was to become a Bard, a jack of all trades. My mother was proud of me as I came of age; I think my father expected more.
His disappointment fueled, in part, this irrational attempt to go into the world and prove myself. I don't feel extremely drawn to adventure, but I suppose that is how you grow up. My mother always said that, I'm beginning to think she was right. I have to have adventure to become who I want to be, someone who is confident and worthy to be an Elf.
Well, that's the long and short of it--why I am here in this bustling Port of Cina. I look at the other ones in this dim yet extravagant tent trying to understand what this mostly drunk merchant is requesting of us.
His name is Noctis and apparently he is good at what he does, though his presence makes me question the methods. The tent is filled wall to wall, from floor to ceiling of ornate wares and ancient artifacts. I could tell the histories of over half of the objects here, but I had a feeling that would not help me in this quest.
What am I doing here? Why am I even listening to this? I have no money and my expansive knowledge and persuasive manner (not to mention pretty face) will only get me so far. I should just go home and accept my fate as a reject in the Elmwood Forest. But that is why I left, I still have something to prove. And I will--to the others and to myself. I listen closer to this dark man to decipher what we, this unlikely band of characters, must accomplish or die trying.
The portly man speaks of an island even I know little about--Morrow Island. The tales from the exotic region are wild and dangerous, though I always suspected intense exaggeration. Nonetheless, my fingers were twitching and my breath quickened at the thought of this certainly suicidal adventure. Yet something inside me yearned for excitement and an opportunity to challenge myself. I'm ready to race out and start an adventure. I told you the world went crazy--turns out I went crazy with it.
The quest is this: travel to the Isle of Morrow and collect the crone's egg. It seems like a simple mission. We would get gold now and a choice of any wares within Noctis' tent if we returned. That would be a fantastic souvenir to tell about my adventure. It should only take a handful of days and then I could go home victorious. This is what I wanted to believe, but somehow, I knew it would not be that easy. Not many fairy tales are written without a kernel of truth and legends are often proved true.
It wasn't even about the 3,000 gold that we would obtain simply from agreeing to attempt this quest. This is the adventure I have been waiting for. This is the opportunity I need to prove that I can not only survive, but thrive in the world. Or I would die, but I'd try really hard not to let that happen.
I look around at the others gathered around me slowly beginning to nod in agreement. It seems I am not the only one hurting for gold, have something to prove, or perhaps, a death wish.
A human man leans against the tent post looking like he had not a care in the world. He was rugged, bearded and daring. The elaborate forest camouflage cloak and the worn strings of his bow insinuate that he is a skilled ranger. I breath in his scent, for it is closest to me, and waft in the smell of pine sap and blossoming flowers. It was a lingering essence of spending many nights among the earth sleeping under the stars. He smelled like home.
Beside him stood an intimidating sight. The human woman was dressed from head to toe in armor with a strong shield strapped to her back. The spear and sword lightly graze each other as she shifts, reminding me of the wind chimes back in Elmwood that I would help my mother make. Somehow, through the armor, I see this woman's soft face as she smiles. I think we could be good friends. Maybe she would even teach me some techniques of the sword so I won't perish in hand to hand combat.
There is a gnome almost hiding in the corner of the tent beside an extremely ornate set of gold armor. He does not look as if he is frightened, but that he is cunning and has survived many hard battles. He is very grey and moves in complete silence, even to my sensitive ears. I'm going to have to keep an eye on him.
The halfling intrigues me. He stands tall and strong with a hand resting on his riding dog. He wears woven sandals strapped to his fee and looks as though he woke up from among the leaves. There are twigs, leaves and patches of dirt sporadically covering him and his dog. The druidic influence pours over me as I soak up the sharp intelligence behind the eyes of the pair. These two experienced allies could become very worthy companions indeed.
I take a moment to wonder how I look to them. I am short, even for an elf. I am young, older than the humans, but young for my race. I'm sure this and the inexperience that goes with it are quite apparent to them all. Perhaps my eagerness is as well. My color is purple and it adores my form fitting three-quarter sleeve blouse. A flowing purple skirt shimmers with gold stops just short of my dark leather boots. My golden hair sweeps over the small of my back covering my quiver and bow.
My bow is snug on my back and I am a little self-conscious that it has only been shot a handful of times. My bow, Asha (Spirit), has a story, like so many things do. My father gave it to me when I decided it was time to set out from Elmwood on my coming-to-age-challenge. He took me to the edge of the clearing where I shot my bow for the first and only time. My father told me something very important that day, something I will never forget. He said, "Lorien, there is a point in every Elves' life where she must not only learn knowledge, but put that knowledge into practice. That is where wisdom comes from. But no matter where the Great Winds take you, do not forget your home--do not forget who you are. You are my daughter, sweet Lorien, and I love you."
I suppose now is as good a time as any to turn knowledge into experience--I sure could use some wisdom. And so, our unlikely band was formed and our quest presented. Now we just had to wait until morning.
I even took bow practices from this boy who I thought liked me. I began to think differently after he shot me in the arm with an arrow after I kept missing my target. Let's just say I was not born to be a fighter. In fact, I think I am the worst Elven fighter alive.
Becoming a Bard wasn't something I chose, it chose me by a process of illumination. I discovered I am perfect for it. Turns out, I'm only really good at learning, histories, crafting and music. I'm fairly decent at many things: interacting with people being very high on the list and fighting being at the bottom. Let's be honest, my only real option was to become a Bard, a jack of all trades. My mother was proud of me as I came of age; I think my father expected more.
His disappointment fueled, in part, this irrational attempt to go into the world and prove myself. I don't feel extremely drawn to adventure, but I suppose that is how you grow up. My mother always said that, I'm beginning to think she was right. I have to have adventure to become who I want to be, someone who is confident and worthy to be an Elf.
Well, that's the long and short of it--why I am here in this bustling Port of Cina. I look at the other ones in this dim yet extravagant tent trying to understand what this mostly drunk merchant is requesting of us.
His name is Noctis and apparently he is good at what he does, though his presence makes me question the methods. The tent is filled wall to wall, from floor to ceiling of ornate wares and ancient artifacts. I could tell the histories of over half of the objects here, but I had a feeling that would not help me in this quest.
What am I doing here? Why am I even listening to this? I have no money and my expansive knowledge and persuasive manner (not to mention pretty face) will only get me so far. I should just go home and accept my fate as a reject in the Elmwood Forest. But that is why I left, I still have something to prove. And I will--to the others and to myself. I listen closer to this dark man to decipher what we, this unlikely band of characters, must accomplish or die trying.
The portly man speaks of an island even I know little about--Morrow Island. The tales from the exotic region are wild and dangerous, though I always suspected intense exaggeration. Nonetheless, my fingers were twitching and my breath quickened at the thought of this certainly suicidal adventure. Yet something inside me yearned for excitement and an opportunity to challenge myself. I'm ready to race out and start an adventure. I told you the world went crazy--turns out I went crazy with it.
The quest is this: travel to the Isle of Morrow and collect the crone's egg. It seems like a simple mission. We would get gold now and a choice of any wares within Noctis' tent if we returned. That would be a fantastic souvenir to tell about my adventure. It should only take a handful of days and then I could go home victorious. This is what I wanted to believe, but somehow, I knew it would not be that easy. Not many fairy tales are written without a kernel of truth and legends are often proved true.
It wasn't even about the 3,000 gold that we would obtain simply from agreeing to attempt this quest. This is the adventure I have been waiting for. This is the opportunity I need to prove that I can not only survive, but thrive in the world. Or I would die, but I'd try really hard not to let that happen.
I look around at the others gathered around me slowly beginning to nod in agreement. It seems I am not the only one hurting for gold, have something to prove, or perhaps, a death wish.
A human man leans against the tent post looking like he had not a care in the world. He was rugged, bearded and daring. The elaborate forest camouflage cloak and the worn strings of his bow insinuate that he is a skilled ranger. I breath in his scent, for it is closest to me, and waft in the smell of pine sap and blossoming flowers. It was a lingering essence of spending many nights among the earth sleeping under the stars. He smelled like home.
Beside him stood an intimidating sight. The human woman was dressed from head to toe in armor with a strong shield strapped to her back. The spear and sword lightly graze each other as she shifts, reminding me of the wind chimes back in Elmwood that I would help my mother make. Somehow, through the armor, I see this woman's soft face as she smiles. I think we could be good friends. Maybe she would even teach me some techniques of the sword so I won't perish in hand to hand combat.
There is a gnome almost hiding in the corner of the tent beside an extremely ornate set of gold armor. He does not look as if he is frightened, but that he is cunning and has survived many hard battles. He is very grey and moves in complete silence, even to my sensitive ears. I'm going to have to keep an eye on him.
The halfling intrigues me. He stands tall and strong with a hand resting on his riding dog. He wears woven sandals strapped to his fee and looks as though he woke up from among the leaves. There are twigs, leaves and patches of dirt sporadically covering him and his dog. The druidic influence pours over me as I soak up the sharp intelligence behind the eyes of the pair. These two experienced allies could become very worthy companions indeed.
I take a moment to wonder how I look to them. I am short, even for an elf. I am young, older than the humans, but young for my race. I'm sure this and the inexperience that goes with it are quite apparent to them all. Perhaps my eagerness is as well. My color is purple and it adores my form fitting three-quarter sleeve blouse. A flowing purple skirt shimmers with gold stops just short of my dark leather boots. My golden hair sweeps over the small of my back covering my quiver and bow.
My bow is snug on my back and I am a little self-conscious that it has only been shot a handful of times. My bow, Asha (Spirit), has a story, like so many things do. My father gave it to me when I decided it was time to set out from Elmwood on my coming-to-age-challenge. He took me to the edge of the clearing where I shot my bow for the first and only time. My father told me something very important that day, something I will never forget. He said, "Lorien, there is a point in every Elves' life where she must not only learn knowledge, but put that knowledge into practice. That is where wisdom comes from. But no matter where the Great Winds take you, do not forget your home--do not forget who you are. You are my daughter, sweet Lorien, and I love you."
I suppose now is as good a time as any to turn knowledge into experience--I sure could use some wisdom. And so, our unlikely band was formed and our quest presented. Now we just had to wait until morning.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Morrow Island
[Behind The Scenes}
I'm finally doing it...I'm playing Dungeons and Dragons!
It is one of those things I always wanted to do, to see what it all was about, but haven't yet had the opportunity. Well, the chance has arisen with some awesome friends. Lady Caitlin and Sir Tristan have been good friends for some time. However, meeting Lady Rem and Sir Jes has been an enormous pleasure. It is an amazing thing to find people who you can truly be yourself around. However crazy or weird that may be.
After playing D&D a few times now, I am really enjoying it. I often get lost in the crunching of numbers, but the story and the challenge is exciting. Role-playing and becoming someone else is also inspiring. These are things I have dabbled in through video games, but never experienced like this among others. Now that I am getting lost in the story and the characters, I am getting lost in the whole game.
I love writing about my character and the world she is in. The game just inspires my imagination to write it all down. I'm writing the story and about our adventures here as well as in a log for a possible future publication (perhaps joint publication?). I love how it gets my creative juices going, which spills over into my other hobbies and life in general.
My character is Lorien Taralom. She is a young elf maiden who has decided it is time for her to set out on her own away from her home, Elmwood Forest, and everything she knows to prove herself to her people and to herself. She lacks confidence and combat skills, but is excellent at reading and persuading people. She knows extensive histories and crafting thanks to her mother and father. She also has a special skill in dance and music, both vocally and through a small flute. She has long flowing locks of golden hair and dresses in a purple tunic and a darker purple skirt that glitters with gold. Purple is the color of her people and she wears it proudly.
From my perspective, this is a coming of age story, for my character and myself (at least in gaming adventures.) I am learning the game and its intricate nature. I am leaning how to role-play and become more than myself. It is fun getting together and experiencing a story together.
I am going to regale my D&D adventures as part of this blog. Mostly for my companions and myself, but it should be a fun journey to follow if you are nerdy like me. The story portion from the perspective of Lorien will be labeled "Morrow Island" the campaign name. And my converstaion of our time playing and my experiences with D&D as we play more will be labeled "MI: Behind the Scenes." (At least for right now.)
I'm very excited, this is going to be an awesome adventure!
I'm finally doing it...I'm playing Dungeons and Dragons!
It is one of those things I always wanted to do, to see what it all was about, but haven't yet had the opportunity. Well, the chance has arisen with some awesome friends. Lady Caitlin and Sir Tristan have been good friends for some time. However, meeting Lady Rem and Sir Jes has been an enormous pleasure. It is an amazing thing to find people who you can truly be yourself around. However crazy or weird that may be.
After playing D&D a few times now, I am really enjoying it. I often get lost in the crunching of numbers, but the story and the challenge is exciting. Role-playing and becoming someone else is also inspiring. These are things I have dabbled in through video games, but never experienced like this among others. Now that I am getting lost in the story and the characters, I am getting lost in the whole game.
I love writing about my character and the world she is in. The game just inspires my imagination to write it all down. I'm writing the story and about our adventures here as well as in a log for a possible future publication (perhaps joint publication?). I love how it gets my creative juices going, which spills over into my other hobbies and life in general.
My character is Lorien Taralom. She is a young elf maiden who has decided it is time for her to set out on her own away from her home, Elmwood Forest, and everything she knows to prove herself to her people and to herself. She lacks confidence and combat skills, but is excellent at reading and persuading people. She knows extensive histories and crafting thanks to her mother and father. She also has a special skill in dance and music, both vocally and through a small flute. She has long flowing locks of golden hair and dresses in a purple tunic and a darker purple skirt that glitters with gold. Purple is the color of her people and she wears it proudly.
From my perspective, this is a coming of age story, for my character and myself (at least in gaming adventures.) I am learning the game and its intricate nature. I am leaning how to role-play and become more than myself. It is fun getting together and experiencing a story together.
I am going to regale my D&D adventures as part of this blog. Mostly for my companions and myself, but it should be a fun journey to follow if you are nerdy like me. The story portion from the perspective of Lorien will be labeled "Morrow Island" the campaign name. And my converstaion of our time playing and my experiences with D&D as we play more will be labeled "MI: Behind the Scenes." (At least for right now.)
I'm very excited, this is going to be an awesome adventure!
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Fairy Tales
Fairy Tales are more than true: not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten. ~G.K. Chesterton
[photo credit]
Friday, March 16, 2012
New Nerdy Blog
This is my new nerdy blog. I am beginning to play D&D for the first time and I want an outlet for it and other supernatural interests that I don't tend to talk about on my mommy blog. I am re-learning how to be myself on the other blog, and this one I will get to be even more myself. I've always been interested in fantasy and the supernatural. Now it is time to embrace it. And this gives me a place to express the tales of our D&D campaign.
Let the games begin!
Let the games begin!
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