The Heroes of Icemist (SmallBeginnings 2)- Interlude update 2/21/2008!
- Thread starter Enk&D'Shai
- Start date
OaxacanWarrior
First Post
Enkhidu said:
The end is nearing
I hope that I'll be winning
With this dumb haiku
OaxacanWarrior
First Post
Dawn said:
Dawn dropped a big bomb
She is a he afterall
Now we feel funny
OaxacanWarrior
First Post
Do not want to wait
For another great update
On the Icemist group
For another great update
On the Icemist group
Enk&D'Shai
First Post
Dawn said:
Er… about that… see, D’Shai and I have been in a bit of a pickle.
Mmmm. Pickles.
See, we tried a bunch of different ways to select a winner for this contest. First there was the old saw “drawing names out of a hat.” That didn’t exactly end well.
I thought it was pretty good, actually.
That’s because you weren’t the one being chased around by an origami katana and getting paper cuts as defensive wounds.
Hey, when you’re re-enacting Shogun, someone had to be the samurai, someone has to be Anjin-san, and someone has to be the extra that gets cut in half near the beginning.
Well at least you didn’t decide to try and re-enact scene where the samurai marks his territory…
Ewww!
Anyway, after that debacle, we toyed with the idea of a no holds barred free-for-all.
Then we found out that those aren’t really free. Especially if you are looking for international coverage for the pay-per-view.
So we discarded that one and tried the Rubber Duck Regatta.
That one was my idea!
But, after the third time D’Shai boarded, plundered, and sank one of the entries using his piratical waterfowl, we decided to cut our losses and skip that one too.
Don’t blame me, with all that yellow gold I thought it was the Treasure Fleet.
So in the end we had to resort to old reliable, and whipped ‘em out.
The dice, you sickos.
And in a quick d20 roll-off, the winner was… a tie.
Yep. Two entries rolled ye olde naturale 20e.
So we had no choice but to have a second roll-off as a tie breaker.
But since there were only two entries tied for the win…
And because you were bored.
… we decided to engage in a game of Dice-Combat (ask us about it sometime – its great for wasting time while waiting for people to grab their seats at the gaming table).
And when the dice finally clattered their last, the winner was:
OaxacanWarrior said:
So congratulations, Oax, you’ve just won!
That’s right, you - yes you! – get
Unless we break them open for game night first. Or maybe we’ll just send you the leftovers.
So Oax, send us an email at my username @gmail.com so we can discuss the foreword. We’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.
And, in case you forgot we were actually writing, here’s a short post to keep you tided over until we get with the action!
Don’t forget the TotD!
TotD: Sorry, Dungannon but Enk's dice were En Fuego
*****
“Did you have to hit him so hard?” asked the halfling in very visible dismay.
Grogger sat on the floor and gently patted the bard on his head. It was amazing to the half-ogre exactly how small Pack was. “You’re brother will be fine, little one. My muling him like that probably saved him from any real hurt.”
“I am so sorry about that, Grogger,” said Pack, “I know that Worm gets a little rowdy when he’s drunk, but I never expected…”
“It was the digger’s brew that did it to him. He should know better than to mix dwarf drink with orc blood. It’s like fire in the veins!”
“It is?” gasped the halfling, clambering up next to his brother on the makeshift bed. The littler brother reached out a tiny hand and felt the half-orc’s head. It rolled as he pressed down, lolling senselessly to one side as the orc-blooded drunk snored. “He doesn’t feel hot…”
“Ha!” Grogger guffawed, “not that kind of fire! Though you might as well swallow coal from the taste it leaves. No, that rotgut boils awake the old bloodlust, from back in the days of myth when dwarves drove orcs and ogres from their mountain homes.”
“It makes you violent?”
“No, more violent! You and your friends are lucky that Worm was already in a stupor before he downed that swill, otherwise… Well let’s just say it was for the better.” Grogger watched as the halfling hopped to the floor, seemingly satisfied that his brother would live. Then he glanced over toward the sleeping drunk and, noticing that the half-orc still snored through his flat nose, pried open his mouth with a sausage like finger. Worm’s snores grew louder almost immediately. Well, the others won’t get much sleep tonight, but now you won’t drown in your own bile. Grogger watched the half-orc for a while, scratching his chin. Son, you need to take it easy; this city hits harder than I do if you don’t watch yourself.
Grogger stood for a while, watching the even breathing of his patient, when he suddenly realized that, save for the drunk half-orc’s snore, the room had gone silent. He glanced over his shoulder to see the halfling sitting on a stack of musty tomes, absently fingering a black glove. For a moment, the half-ogre considered leaving the little bard to his thoughts. Poor fellow looks like someone ate his dog…
“Why the long face?” asked Grogger involuntarily. He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth: if given the chance, the bard would talk all night, depriving Grogger of his much deserved sleep. Again.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Whew! Looks like I get to rest after all! “Well, suit your…”
“It’s just… It’s Ander.”
Well there goes sleep. “Which one of the two humans in the other room is Ander again? The Ionian or the Torian?”
“The younger one.”
“Oh, that one. Bright enough lad I guess, if a bit broody at times. What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s a liar.” The halfling said it as if it were the worst insult he could imagine.
“A liar, you say?” Grogger smacked a huge fist into a huge palm and cracked his knuckles. He made as if to rise, “Well we’ll just show him what we do to liars in Tor!” The half-ogre grinned at his own joke.
“And a murderer,” added Pack quietly, looking up to stare at the half-ogre.
Grogger stopped and settled back onto his haunches. “Well now that’s a harsh charge,” he said, letting the words hang for a moment, “though in my experience I’ve seen that most murderers are also liars.”
The bard let his eyes drop back down to the glove. “It’s not funny,” he said. “I… we trusted him.”
“Look, I’ve never been very good at making people laugh and don’t much care for long drawn-out conversations, so let’s just make this simple. Tell me why.”
“What?”
“Tell me why you trust him.”
“I…” Pack started, seemingly unable to recall. “We…”
“Let me tell you a story,” the half-ogre interrupted. “When I was in the war, I found myself paired with a young Freeman from Oscourt. One of those serious, silent types like your friend. He didn’t talk much, but his blade was quicker than a vicar checking the offering box after service. For two years we fought back to back in some of the worst places I’ve even heard of, against the worst nightmares hell ever spawned. And in all that time, I never learned his name.”
Grogger sighed. “He died on a spear tip that should have punched out my heart. Threw himself on it when we were ambushed by two score demons.” Then the half-ogre paused, letting the memory settle. “After the war, I tracked down this man’s identity, and visited Oscourt to pay my respects. There I found out that my friend was a convicted murderer given the option to serve out his death sentence in the army.”
The halflng seemed ready to say something, but no words came out of the bard’s mouth. Grogger continued, “When I got to Oscourt, I realized that he was still the man I trusted with my life. His crimes, not knowing who he really was: none of that mattered, because in the end he was still the friend who saved my neck. And that was all that really mattered.
“But it’s not the same!” Pack protested.
“Why not?” asked Grogger, knowing what the bard would eventually say.
Not surprisingly, the half-ogre did not immediately get his answer.
* * *
Theo sat on the edge of the large chair, his hand on the young Ionian kneeling before him. “It’s not my place to do what you ask, lad. The Lord of Storms does not concern himself with forgiveness.”
“Because I don’t deserve it.”
“Ande…” The priest stopped himself when he saw the woodsman flinch at the name. “Andru,” he continued, “None of us deserve forgiveness.” If the Ionian had flinched at his first named, he reacted as if Theo had slapped him with the second. “Saints, sinners; no one. But that doesn’t stop us from getting it, and giving it, anyway.” The young man let his head drop and stared at the ground.
Theo sighed heavily and waited for a moment before continuing. “Lad, I want you to do something now. Something that won’t be pleasant, but that you seem to need. I want to tell me everything, from the beginning.”
The woodsman didn’t raise his head. “No.”
Not this time, boy. “Andru Pindanon,” said the priest quietly as he watched the young man flinch again, “I am not asking you, I am telling you as Brother Theobald, Stormcloud. If you wish to be cleansed of your sins, then speak them, so that the power of Zuras wash them, or if need be burn them, away!” The older man let the power build within him, until the young man’s shoulder twitched under the cleric’s glowing grasp. It wasn’t until the glow faded that Theo realized the twitches weren’t from discomfort, but from the woodsman’s silent sobs.
He kneeled, facing the younger man, and gathered him up as if he was cradling his own child. “You’ve carried the eagle on your back by yourself for long enough, lad. It’s time to set it free.”
* * *
“By the time I got to him he was too far gone, and he knew it,” said the woodsman. His voice was still shaky, but he was not nearly the wreck he had been when he started the tale. “So I laid his head in my lap and we talked a while. Said he wanted to just listen to a friendly voice, so I just talked. I told him… I told him what I’d done. He was dead before the end of it.” The woodsman’s hands quivered as if he had palsy, and he rubbed them together.
“I buried him there, at the crossroads, and took his papers. His name.” Theo watched as the Ionian pulled a tiny locket from beneath his tunic. “And I took this. I don’t really know what it means, or even who it is in there. But it seemed right that Ander Tobin have something close to his heart.” The ranger opened the clasp gently, revealing a tiny painting of a woman. He let the locket rest in the older man’s hand for a moment, and then gently closed it and put it away.
“And then you came to Icemist?” asked the priest?
“Yes.”
Theo gave a rumbling sigh. “That’s a tale, lad.” And one that makes things as clear as the sky on Storm’s Rest. “I don’t really know what to say to it.”
“I should go.”
“Nonsense! You killed a man, this Autycus ben-Usha, because he was beating some girl to death. It doesn’t matter if he had the right to do it because he somehow owned her. It was wrong.” The older man paused. “But two wrongs don’t make right. There’s no other way about it, you killed a man and ran. And that’s shameful, lad.”
“But Lictor ben-Usha uses truth magic, Theo! If I hadn’t run, if my father had tried to protect me instead of being able to truthfully not know where I am, then his uncle would have…”
“And what do you think your father would have done if someone had killed you in a dark alley?”
“You don’t know that family, Theo, they’re…”
“Ruthless? Doesn’t matter, lad. When you do something, you take responsibility for what you’ve done.”
Ander let his forehead sink into his hand. “It’s not that easy…”
Enough of this! “Start acting like a man!” Theo thundered. The woodsman eyes widened, and the cleric felt the sparks of the gift involuntarily growing within him. He continued, tightly controlling both his voice and the power, “Listen to me carefully, because I’m only going to say this once. The only thing that feeling sorry for yourself right now is going to do is make it harder for us to find Aurora. It might even get her, or one of us, killed, and I won’t stand for it. What you did was wrong, lad, you killed a man and didn’t even find out if there would be punishment to take before you ran from it. And one day, if need be, I’ll go with you when you go face up to what you’ve done.” Theo held the woodsman’s gaze for a few moments.
“But that day isn’t today. Today you’ve got responsibilities to people you count as friends, and to a girl who you count as more, if I don’t miss my guess. We need you at your best, lad. We need the man that we trusted to help get us through hell and back.”
“How can anyone trust me?”
“You want that kind of trust again? Earn it. Ask yourself what kind of man you are, and have the right answer: do what we came here to do.” And an apology wouldn’t hurt either, lad. If not to me, then to the others.
The two men sat in silence for a while. Finally, Ander broke the quiet. “Brother, I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
I had the same question, when I was your age. “Lad, the only thing I know about Andru Pindanon is that he was a rich, spoiled boy who killed a man and ran. But the young man who saved a little girl in Orloff’s Wood, who fed Icemist over a long winter, and who I trust with my life? His name is Ander Tobin, and he is my friend.”
***
And tune in next week when things begin to really heat up!
OaxacanWarrior
First Post
Enk&D'Shai said:
Wahoo!! I won! And the dreadful haikus are at an end! This is a great day!
Great update as well. I can't wait for more.
Okay just so you can see what your half getting...here are some pics of the half-painted fig. you will recieve unless Worm's player shows up and paints a complete one for you. The images are on the lowest setting my camera has so I hope they come out. It has the first coat of paint and the first layer of wash added. I would finish it, but then it wouldn't be as fun to give to you.
And yes the base has paper in it to hold it on...I don't put the putty on til its done. Who am I kidding I don't ever finsih them before I use them and nick them all up.
And yes the base has paper in it to hold it on...I don't put the putty on til its done. Who am I kidding I don't ever finsih them before I use them and nick them all up.
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OaxacanWarrior
First Post
dshai527 said:Okay just so you can see what your half getting...here are some pics of the half-painted fig. you will recieve unless Worm's player shows up and paints a complete one for you. The images are on the lowest setting my camera has so I hope they come out. It has the first coat of paint and the first layer of wash added. I would finish it, but then it wouldn't be as fun to give to you.
And yes the base has paper in it to hold it on...I don't put the putty on til its done. Who am I kidding I don't ever finsih them before I use them and nick them all up.
Wow!! This is going to be the best fig in my collection!
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