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Jaw, because of happy.
The Journal of Ebrim Darkmoon
-
ChikenKannon
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 1268
- Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2006 10:34 am
- Main Player Character: ------
- Other PCs: Haven't touched these in ages:
Lok'Tok
Lorne Mearesworth
Mars Benedict
Cpl John Mackev
Gutsnikk
Lorne Xavier Sunderson Falderhouse Skulltickler Mearesworth
Oronar - Location: Somewhere over the rainbow
Your writing style reminds me of Douglas Adams.-
Ebrim Darkmoon
- Dasarian
- Posts: 115
- Joined: Sat Dec 02, 2006 10:56 pm
It's been quiet of late. I think it's because that lunatic of a missionary -- that'd be Minuvas -- hasn't been around, which is a bit odd. I suppose he had enough of the rat god, or the rats that turn into a god, or the gods that make rats -- I'm still not entirely clear on what the blazes he was going on about, he's always 'heresy this' and 'heresy that,' and it's a bit tricky to figure out which particular heresy he's focusing on at the moment. Life to him is one big heresy interspersed with quick bursts of washing the stones with the blood of heretics followed by more heresies.
I wonder what he'd do if one day he couldn't find any heresies at all to speak of. Probably lose all hope, I think.
Anyway, the point is that he's been away for a spell, and the city has been oddly... peaceful. Which isn't a word I'd normally choose to describe a city filled with wizards, dark priests, and druids with oversized bears running hither and yon. But there you have it.
I've been spending my time doing odd jobs here and there for various opportunists in town. One series of particularly annoying jobs is for a bloke who claims to be a trapper, but I've yet to see him actually step outside and trap anything himself. No, he grabs the ear of any half-deluded twit he can find and fills them with visions of wealth, all for going out and killing and skinning a few, and I quote, "scrawny, weak, undernourished, underfed, and barely able to move wolves."
I was one of those half-deluded twits, and I've gone on in length about the results of my earliest efforts, what with the biting and the screaming and the dying and the messing myself. However, I've found a way around that little problem, and for a while it looked like the road to easy coin.
I've mentioned the city has a disproportionate share of those wandering vagabonds known as "adventurers," ay? Well, it seems like a few of them have... er... well, a fondness for bloodlust is I suppose the kindest way to describe it, and this fondness seems to be combined with a very short attention span. I was out hunting for those thrice-damned plants (aye, I'm still under that priestess' thumb) when I noticed a massively armored brute wander over to a pack of wolves, pull out a sword that was at least three times the size of an obese halfling, and hack the wolves to pieces. Once the wolves were dead he nodded in satisfaction, spied another pack of wolves off in the distance, and moved on.
Well. Far be it from me to leave a bunch of corpses rotting in the wilderness, going to waste. I looked to make sure there weren't any other wolves around, quickly skinned the beasts and moved on to the next pile of corpses the walking suit of armor had left behind in his wake. I skinned those too; shortly I had most of the skins the "trapper" was looking for.
I don't know if the walking suit of armor was aware of what I was doing -- if he was, he didn't care, and if he wasn't, well, if he really wanted the skins he would have taken the time to skin them himself, eh?
I did manage to kill one or two on my own, and when I returned to town I had the following conversation with the trapper:
"Oy there! Trapper! I've got your bloody wolf skins!"
"Er..." the trapper looked at me blankly. "My what?"
"Your wolf skins," I said. "The skins, from wolves, that you wanted for some reason."
"The... oh! Right!" The trapper looked a bit surprised, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Do you really have them, then? You're not pulling an old trappers leg?"
In reply I set my bundle of skins down at his feet with a thud. He immediately went through them and announced that I was one short.
"I am not one bloody wolf skin short," I said. "You skipped over the last one."
The trapper looked offended. "I would never..."
At which point I bent over and started counting them aloud, and when I reached ten I stood and looked at the trapper straight in the eye. He shuffled uncomfortably.
"An honest mistake," he said finally, "and you've earned your pay." He threw a tiny bag filled with coin. I counted it quickly and glared at him.
"Fifty coin," I said. "Fifty ruddy coin."
"What were you expecting?" The trapper asked, smiling slightly.
"I seem to recall," I said, "that you promised me 'wealth beyond my wildest imagination.' If you think my imagination stops at 49 coin, perhaps I should school you on some of the specifics of my more disturbing dreams..."
"Now, friend," the trapper said, holding up his hands placatingly, "that was just a taste. If you want the entire sum, you need to finish out the contract."
"Finish out?" I asked.
"Aye. Ten wolf skins is only part of it. He also wants five wild boar skins."
I had to frown at that. A wild boar was sort of like three or four wild wolves tied together at birth and raised on nothing but bad whiskey and rancid meat. They were ill-tempered and they liked hurting people. Some of them would keep trophies, if they had thumbs.
So now, fool that I am, I'm off to hunt oversized, ill-tempered pigs.
I wonder what he'd do if one day he couldn't find any heresies at all to speak of. Probably lose all hope, I think.
Anyway, the point is that he's been away for a spell, and the city has been oddly... peaceful. Which isn't a word I'd normally choose to describe a city filled with wizards, dark priests, and druids with oversized bears running hither and yon. But there you have it.
I've been spending my time doing odd jobs here and there for various opportunists in town. One series of particularly annoying jobs is for a bloke who claims to be a trapper, but I've yet to see him actually step outside and trap anything himself. No, he grabs the ear of any half-deluded twit he can find and fills them with visions of wealth, all for going out and killing and skinning a few, and I quote, "scrawny, weak, undernourished, underfed, and barely able to move wolves."
I was one of those half-deluded twits, and I've gone on in length about the results of my earliest efforts, what with the biting and the screaming and the dying and the messing myself. However, I've found a way around that little problem, and for a while it looked like the road to easy coin.
I've mentioned the city has a disproportionate share of those wandering vagabonds known as "adventurers," ay? Well, it seems like a few of them have... er... well, a fondness for bloodlust is I suppose the kindest way to describe it, and this fondness seems to be combined with a very short attention span. I was out hunting for those thrice-damned plants (aye, I'm still under that priestess' thumb) when I noticed a massively armored brute wander over to a pack of wolves, pull out a sword that was at least three times the size of an obese halfling, and hack the wolves to pieces. Once the wolves were dead he nodded in satisfaction, spied another pack of wolves off in the distance, and moved on.
Well. Far be it from me to leave a bunch of corpses rotting in the wilderness, going to waste. I looked to make sure there weren't any other wolves around, quickly skinned the beasts and moved on to the next pile of corpses the walking suit of armor had left behind in his wake. I skinned those too; shortly I had most of the skins the "trapper" was looking for.
I don't know if the walking suit of armor was aware of what I was doing -- if he was, he didn't care, and if he wasn't, well, if he really wanted the skins he would have taken the time to skin them himself, eh?
I did manage to kill one or two on my own, and when I returned to town I had the following conversation with the trapper:
"Oy there! Trapper! I've got your bloody wolf skins!"
"Er..." the trapper looked at me blankly. "My what?"
"Your wolf skins," I said. "The skins, from wolves, that you wanted for some reason."
"The... oh! Right!" The trapper looked a bit surprised, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Do you really have them, then? You're not pulling an old trappers leg?"
In reply I set my bundle of skins down at his feet with a thud. He immediately went through them and announced that I was one short.
"I am not one bloody wolf skin short," I said. "You skipped over the last one."
The trapper looked offended. "I would never..."
At which point I bent over and started counting them aloud, and when I reached ten I stood and looked at the trapper straight in the eye. He shuffled uncomfortably.
"An honest mistake," he said finally, "and you've earned your pay." He threw a tiny bag filled with coin. I counted it quickly and glared at him.
"Fifty coin," I said. "Fifty ruddy coin."
"What were you expecting?" The trapper asked, smiling slightly.
"I seem to recall," I said, "that you promised me 'wealth beyond my wildest imagination.' If you think my imagination stops at 49 coin, perhaps I should school you on some of the specifics of my more disturbing dreams..."
"Now, friend," the trapper said, holding up his hands placatingly, "that was just a taste. If you want the entire sum, you need to finish out the contract."
"Finish out?" I asked.
"Aye. Ten wolf skins is only part of it. He also wants five wild boar skins."
I had to frown at that. A wild boar was sort of like three or four wild wolves tied together at birth and raised on nothing but bad whiskey and rancid meat. They were ill-tempered and they liked hurting people. Some of them would keep trophies, if they had thumbs.
So now, fool that I am, I'm off to hunt oversized, ill-tempered pigs.
Last edited by Ebrim Darkmoon on Sun Dec 24, 2006 10:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Ebrim Darkmoon, Rogue Warlock For Hire
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
-
ChikenKannon
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 1268
- Joined: Tue Nov 14, 2006 10:34 am
- Main Player Character: ------
- Other PCs: Haven't touched these in ages:
Lok'Tok
Lorne Mearesworth
Mars Benedict
Cpl John Mackev
Gutsnikk
Lorne Xavier Sunderson Falderhouse Skulltickler Mearesworth
Oronar - Location: Somewhere over the rainbow
-
Ebrim Darkmoon
- Dasarian
- Posts: 115
- Joined: Sat Dec 02, 2006 10:56 pm
The druids are always going on about respecting nature, preserving the balance, becoming one with the animals... and so on and so on, usually accompanied with much frowning and finger-wagging. Well they can all sod off -- after becoming one with a boar's intestinal tract three or four times I respect nature plenty -- but I'll be damned if I preserve that balance. Civilization definately needs the edge in my view, and I'll be only too happy to slaughter pig after pig after pig to make that happen.
Those bloody things just don't know when die. I considered trying to take the time to explain it to one of them, but I was much too busy running from it, towards the city gates, to determine how best to broach the subject.
I mean, whose idea was it to let those damned things go wild in the first place? I'd like to skin that guy.
I did get those five ruddy skins though. Mr. Walking Suit of Armor showed up and I casually mentioned that some of the pigs had been making comments about his lineage that I, for one, found unflattering. Mr. Walking Suit of Armor didn't reply, but he did get out that ridiculously large sword and charge the first wild boar he found. It only took another hour before I had five skins ready to send back to my employer.
And he'd better be a bit more generous with his coin this time around. Oh yes, he'd better. I'm no mood for trifles.
Truffles, maybe. Trifles, no.
Those bloody things just don't know when die. I considered trying to take the time to explain it to one of them, but I was much too busy running from it, towards the city gates, to determine how best to broach the subject.
I mean, whose idea was it to let those damned things go wild in the first place? I'd like to skin that guy.
I did get those five ruddy skins though. Mr. Walking Suit of Armor showed up and I casually mentioned that some of the pigs had been making comments about his lineage that I, for one, found unflattering. Mr. Walking Suit of Armor didn't reply, but he did get out that ridiculously large sword and charge the first wild boar he found. It only took another hour before I had five skins ready to send back to my employer.
And he'd better be a bit more generous with his coin this time around. Oh yes, he'd better. I'm no mood for trifles.
Truffles, maybe. Trifles, no.
Ebrim Darkmoon, Rogue Warlock For Hire
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
-
Ebrim Darkmoon
- Dasarian
- Posts: 115
- Joined: Sat Dec 02, 2006 10:56 pm
I'm going to kill that bloody trapper.
I found his ruddy ten wolf skins. I managed to collect his five boar skins. And when I go into town, caked in blood, mud, and a few other things I won't mention, drop the last boar skin at his feet, and wait for him to tell me the rest of the order, what does he say?
"Bear skin rug..."
A bear. A bear. A bloody bear, a full-grown, bloody bear that he wants me to hunt, kill, skin, and bring the skin back to town. And that is supposed to net me "wealth beyond my wildest imaginings."
Well. Two hundred coin -- still, nothing to sneeze at, unless you're allergic to money, in which case you're an unhappy sod, aren't you?
So now I've been tramping around the countryside looking for a bear. Not that I know where to look, mind you, and my employer isn't much help. When I asked him where I was supposed to find a bear to skin, he just sort of shrugged, pointed out the gate and said "north of the city."
I tried to get him to clarify, pointing out that if you took two steps outside the gate you were north of the city, but there were no bears to be seen, and then he said something idiotic about the thrill of the hunt, and the satisfaction in tracking your quarry, and not wanting to spoil it for me.
Spoil it for me.
So I spent a good deal of my coin buying a breastplate, because the leathers I'd been wearing apparently made me look like a chew toy to all the wolves and boars roaming the countryside. Here's hoping the breastplate looks a bit less palatable. I'm glad I took my teacher's advice and learned how to wear the bloody thing properly -- even if it is a bit bulkier than I'd prefer to move about in, I'm getting used to it, and it's nice to have a bit of iron between me and the outside world.
So... off to find a bear. And by this time I suppose the berk will be wanting more wolf and boar skins, too.
Perhaps I'll stop off for a drink, first... and tackle this problem fresh in the morning.
I found his ruddy ten wolf skins. I managed to collect his five boar skins. And when I go into town, caked in blood, mud, and a few other things I won't mention, drop the last boar skin at his feet, and wait for him to tell me the rest of the order, what does he say?
"Bear skin rug..."
A bear. A bear. A bloody bear, a full-grown, bloody bear that he wants me to hunt, kill, skin, and bring the skin back to town. And that is supposed to net me "wealth beyond my wildest imaginings."
Well. Two hundred coin -- still, nothing to sneeze at, unless you're allergic to money, in which case you're an unhappy sod, aren't you?
So now I've been tramping around the countryside looking for a bear. Not that I know where to look, mind you, and my employer isn't much help. When I asked him where I was supposed to find a bear to skin, he just sort of shrugged, pointed out the gate and said "north of the city."
I tried to get him to clarify, pointing out that if you took two steps outside the gate you were north of the city, but there were no bears to be seen, and then he said something idiotic about the thrill of the hunt, and the satisfaction in tracking your quarry, and not wanting to spoil it for me.
Spoil it for me.
So I spent a good deal of my coin buying a breastplate, because the leathers I'd been wearing apparently made me look like a chew toy to all the wolves and boars roaming the countryside. Here's hoping the breastplate looks a bit less palatable. I'm glad I took my teacher's advice and learned how to wear the bloody thing properly -- even if it is a bit bulkier than I'd prefer to move about in, I'm getting used to it, and it's nice to have a bit of iron between me and the outside world.
So... off to find a bear. And by this time I suppose the berk will be wanting more wolf and boar skins, too.
Perhaps I'll stop off for a drink, first... and tackle this problem fresh in the morning.
Ebrim Darkmoon, Rogue Warlock For Hire
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
-
Ebrim Darkmoon
- Dasarian
- Posts: 115
- Joined: Sat Dec 02, 2006 10:56 pm
THE TIME HAS COME.
Beg pardon?
THE TIME HAS COME.
What, again?
...
Haven't we already had this conversation?
THE TIME HAS COME.
Let me guess. I'm asleep.
YES.
Despite the fact that I drank three times as much as that dwarf with the funny braids in his beard, I have not passed into an insensible, dreamless stupor, and I am now in fact dreaming.
YES.
And you, dear great-grandfather, have returned to tell me, once again, that "the time has come."
THE TIME HAS COME.
Go away, or I shall say "Girr --"
SILENCE! STUPID BOY, I AM ACTUALLY TRYING TO HELP YOU!
What???
YOU HEARD ME PERFECTLY WELL. I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU. THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU TO UNLOCK MORE OF YOUR HERITAGE, TO TAP INTO THE INFERNAL ENERGIES THAT COURSE THROUGH YOUR BLOOD, TO HARNESS THE DARK POWERS THAT ARE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL, TO INVOKE THE --
You're going to teach me another trick or two?
I AM NOT FINISHED! STOP INTERRUPTING ME! THIS IS A SERIOUS MATTER, AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU PROFANING IT WITH YOUR --
I thought you lot liked profaning things.
WE LIKE TO PROFANE THINGS THAT ARE NOT PROFANE TO BEGIN WITH. WHEN YOU PROFANE THAT WHICH IS ALREADY PROFANE THINGS GET COMPLICATED.
I'm going back to sleep.
YOU ARE ALREADY ASLEEP, YOU STUPID MORTAL GIT. NOW PAY ATTENTION. WHEN YOU AWAKEN YOU WILL BE GIVEN A NEW DARK GIFT.
Will it be wrapped?
NO. NOW THIS GIFT --
Not even a bow?
IT'S NOT THAT KIND OF A --
A dark bow?
SILENCE! WHEN YOU AWAKE YOUR BODY WILL BE INFUSED WITH A DARK POWER. WEAPONS WILL TURN WHEN THEY STRIKE YOU, YOUR ENEMIES WILL NOT BE ABLE TO PIERCE YOUR FLESH WITH WEAPON, TOOTH OR CLAW.
...
WELL?
Are you serious?
YES.
When I wake up I will be invulnerable?
WELL. NOT INVULNERABLE AS SUCH. BUT MORE SO THAN THE AVERAGE MORTAL. THE ATTACKS OF YOUR ENEMIES WILL BE BLUNTED BY THE INFERNAL POWER IN YOUR BLOOD AND SOU --
So you're actually telling me something useful for a change.
SILENCE! THE ONLY THING THAT WILL BE ABLE TO BYPASS THIS DAMAGE IS A BLADE WROUGHT OF COLD-FORGED IRON.
Of what?
COLD-FORGED IRON.
Which is?
... COLD-FORGED IRON. YOU KNOW. IRON THAT HAS BEEN COLD-FORGED.
What does that mean?
IT... IT MEANS...
You don't know, do you?
...
You really don't know?
SILENCE! OF COURSE I KNOW! I'VE OBSERVED YOUR WORLD FOR MILLENIA. DO NOT PRESUME TO CALL ME IGNORANT!
Then tell me what "cold-forged iron" means!
I WILL NOT!
You don't know!
I DO!
Then tell me!
I WAS GOING TO, BUT BECAUSE OF YOUR INSOLENCE I WILL NOW ALLOW YOU TO DISCOVER IT FOR YOURSELF IN THE COURSE OF TIME!
Whatever.
SILENCE! YOU HAVE WORK TO DO!
I know. I need to skin a ruddy bear.
SILENCE! THAT IS NOT THE WORK I MEAN.
Oh, sod off. I'm not going to be your bloody agent in the world of men to spread your shadow across the land, or whatever drivel you've come up with.
THAT IS TRUE.
And I'm certainly not going to -- er, what?
THAT IS TRUE.
It is?
YES.
Er... all right then. Good.
THAT IS NOT THE WORD I WOULD HAVE USED TO DESCRIBE IT, BUT TO EACH HIS OWN.
So... I'm going back to sleep.
NOT QUITE YET.
What now?
YOU HAVE WORK TO DO.
I thought we'd been through that. I'm not going to be your bloody agent in the world of men to spread your shadow across the --
I NEVER SAID YOU WERE.
Yes you did. In our last conversation.
... YES, I SUPPOSE I DID. BUT THAT IS IRRELEVANT. MY DESIGNS ON YOUR WORLD ARE IRRELEVANT.
They... what?
FOOLISH, FOOLISH GREAT-GRANDCHILD. DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS THE ONLY BEING DOWN HERE TAKING AN INTEREST IN YOUR AFFAIRS?
... yes?
WELL... IN THAT, AS IN MANY THINGS, YOU ARE MISTAKEN.
What are you talking about?
FAMILY IS VERY IMPORTANT DOWN HERE, GREAT-GRANDSON. AND SO ARE OUR ALLEGIANCES. AND IN TIME, ONE LEADS TO THE OTHER. I HAVE ALLIEGANCES WHO HAVE DECIDED THAT MY FAMILY IS OF USE TO THEM... ONE ASPECT OF IT, AT ANY RATE.
I don't believe I like where this is heading.
SILENCE. YOU ARE A TOOL, GREAT-GRANDSON. WHEN THE TIME COMES YOU WILL BE A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF POWERS BEYOND YOUR IMAGINING.
Oh, that again. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've a mind of my own, thank you very much, and I'll be damned if I --
YES, YOU MOST CERTAINLY WILL.
Very funny. I don't care if we're related or not, you can't make me do anything I don't want to do.
I NEVER SAID I COULD. YOU WILL WANT TO, IN TIME.
Oh, piss off! I've no interest in ever helping family. It's part of my code of barely-present and often woefully under-represented honor...
EBRIM, YOU DON'T HAVE THE STRENGTH OF WILL TO RESIST US. YOU HAVE THE MENTAL STRENGTH OF A PIECE OF WET PARCHMENT.
Now, that's unkind. I'll have you know I have a will of iron.
LOOK! SOMETHING SHINY!
Ooooo...
I BELIEVE I'VE MADE MY POINT.
... cut that out!
GO BACK TO SLEEP, EBRIM. WE WILL SPEAK MORE ON THIS LATER.
What? You're leaving?
YES. YOUR BLOOD IS STILL TOO WEAK. SOME DAY IT WILL CALL AND YOU WILL BE UNABLE TO RESIST. UNTIL THEN ENJOY YOUR... FREEDOM.
...
Hello?
Great-grandfather? Are you there?
...
...
... well this isn't good.
Beg pardon?
THE TIME HAS COME.
What, again?
...
Haven't we already had this conversation?
THE TIME HAS COME.
Let me guess. I'm asleep.
YES.
Despite the fact that I drank three times as much as that dwarf with the funny braids in his beard, I have not passed into an insensible, dreamless stupor, and I am now in fact dreaming.
YES.
And you, dear great-grandfather, have returned to tell me, once again, that "the time has come."
THE TIME HAS COME.
Go away, or I shall say "Girr --"
SILENCE! STUPID BOY, I AM ACTUALLY TRYING TO HELP YOU!
What???
YOU HEARD ME PERFECTLY WELL. I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU. THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU TO UNLOCK MORE OF YOUR HERITAGE, TO TAP INTO THE INFERNAL ENERGIES THAT COURSE THROUGH YOUR BLOOD, TO HARNESS THE DARK POWERS THAT ARE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL, TO INVOKE THE --
You're going to teach me another trick or two?
I AM NOT FINISHED! STOP INTERRUPTING ME! THIS IS A SERIOUS MATTER, AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU PROFANING IT WITH YOUR --
I thought you lot liked profaning things.
WE LIKE TO PROFANE THINGS THAT ARE NOT PROFANE TO BEGIN WITH. WHEN YOU PROFANE THAT WHICH IS ALREADY PROFANE THINGS GET COMPLICATED.
I'm going back to sleep.
YOU ARE ALREADY ASLEEP, YOU STUPID MORTAL GIT. NOW PAY ATTENTION. WHEN YOU AWAKEN YOU WILL BE GIVEN A NEW DARK GIFT.
Will it be wrapped?
NO. NOW THIS GIFT --
Not even a bow?
IT'S NOT THAT KIND OF A --
A dark bow?
SILENCE! WHEN YOU AWAKE YOUR BODY WILL BE INFUSED WITH A DARK POWER. WEAPONS WILL TURN WHEN THEY STRIKE YOU, YOUR ENEMIES WILL NOT BE ABLE TO PIERCE YOUR FLESH WITH WEAPON, TOOTH OR CLAW.
...
WELL?
Are you serious?
YES.
When I wake up I will be invulnerable?
WELL. NOT INVULNERABLE AS SUCH. BUT MORE SO THAN THE AVERAGE MORTAL. THE ATTACKS OF YOUR ENEMIES WILL BE BLUNTED BY THE INFERNAL POWER IN YOUR BLOOD AND SOU --
So you're actually telling me something useful for a change.
SILENCE! THE ONLY THING THAT WILL BE ABLE TO BYPASS THIS DAMAGE IS A BLADE WROUGHT OF COLD-FORGED IRON.
Of what?
COLD-FORGED IRON.
Which is?
... COLD-FORGED IRON. YOU KNOW. IRON THAT HAS BEEN COLD-FORGED.
What does that mean?
IT... IT MEANS...
You don't know, do you?
...
You really don't know?
SILENCE! OF COURSE I KNOW! I'VE OBSERVED YOUR WORLD FOR MILLENIA. DO NOT PRESUME TO CALL ME IGNORANT!
Then tell me what "cold-forged iron" means!
I WILL NOT!
You don't know!
I DO!
Then tell me!
I WAS GOING TO, BUT BECAUSE OF YOUR INSOLENCE I WILL NOW ALLOW YOU TO DISCOVER IT FOR YOURSELF IN THE COURSE OF TIME!
Whatever.
SILENCE! YOU HAVE WORK TO DO!
I know. I need to skin a ruddy bear.
SILENCE! THAT IS NOT THE WORK I MEAN.
Oh, sod off. I'm not going to be your bloody agent in the world of men to spread your shadow across the land, or whatever drivel you've come up with.
THAT IS TRUE.
And I'm certainly not going to -- er, what?
THAT IS TRUE.
It is?
YES.
Er... all right then. Good.
THAT IS NOT THE WORD I WOULD HAVE USED TO DESCRIBE IT, BUT TO EACH HIS OWN.
So... I'm going back to sleep.
NOT QUITE YET.
What now?
YOU HAVE WORK TO DO.
I thought we'd been through that. I'm not going to be your bloody agent in the world of men to spread your shadow across the --
I NEVER SAID YOU WERE.
Yes you did. In our last conversation.
... YES, I SUPPOSE I DID. BUT THAT IS IRRELEVANT. MY DESIGNS ON YOUR WORLD ARE IRRELEVANT.
They... what?
FOOLISH, FOOLISH GREAT-GRANDCHILD. DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS THE ONLY BEING DOWN HERE TAKING AN INTEREST IN YOUR AFFAIRS?
... yes?
WELL... IN THAT, AS IN MANY THINGS, YOU ARE MISTAKEN.
What are you talking about?
FAMILY IS VERY IMPORTANT DOWN HERE, GREAT-GRANDSON. AND SO ARE OUR ALLEGIANCES. AND IN TIME, ONE LEADS TO THE OTHER. I HAVE ALLIEGANCES WHO HAVE DECIDED THAT MY FAMILY IS OF USE TO THEM... ONE ASPECT OF IT, AT ANY RATE.
I don't believe I like where this is heading.
SILENCE. YOU ARE A TOOL, GREAT-GRANDSON. WHEN THE TIME COMES YOU WILL BE A GREAT INSTRUMENT OF POWERS BEYOND YOUR IMAGINING.
Oh, that again. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've a mind of my own, thank you very much, and I'll be damned if I --
YES, YOU MOST CERTAINLY WILL.
Very funny. I don't care if we're related or not, you can't make me do anything I don't want to do.
I NEVER SAID I COULD. YOU WILL WANT TO, IN TIME.
Oh, piss off! I've no interest in ever helping family. It's part of my code of barely-present and often woefully under-represented honor...
EBRIM, YOU DON'T HAVE THE STRENGTH OF WILL TO RESIST US. YOU HAVE THE MENTAL STRENGTH OF A PIECE OF WET PARCHMENT.
Now, that's unkind. I'll have you know I have a will of iron.
LOOK! SOMETHING SHINY!
Ooooo...
I BELIEVE I'VE MADE MY POINT.
... cut that out!
GO BACK TO SLEEP, EBRIM. WE WILL SPEAK MORE ON THIS LATER.
What? You're leaving?
YES. YOUR BLOOD IS STILL TOO WEAK. SOME DAY IT WILL CALL AND YOU WILL BE UNABLE TO RESIST. UNTIL THEN ENJOY YOUR... FREEDOM.
...
Hello?
Great-grandfather? Are you there?
...
...
... well this isn't good.
Ebrim Darkmoon, Rogue Warlock For Hire
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
"No, I'm not a rogue. No, that's not what I said, I said I'm a 'rogue warlock,' which is -- oh, nevermind. Just get me drink."
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Ebrim Darkmoon
- Dasarian
- Posts: 115
- Joined: Sat Dec 02, 2006 10:56 pm
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obsoletenihilist
- Dasarian Scout
- Posts: 476
- Joined: Thu Nov 23, 2006 11:13 pm
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obsoletenihilist
- Dasarian Scout
- Posts: 476
- Joined: Thu Nov 23, 2006 11:13 pm
