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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Radiating Gnome" data-source="post: 1774" data-attributes="member: 150">Ode to the Barrier Mountains, Chapter 1. IntroductionOde to the Barrier MountainsThe story of my adventures, by Spence Relmar of Clan Rose.  Told in prose and occasional verse (primarily Limericks)Gentle readers, I have decided to write down the story of my adventures in and around the Barrier Mountains.  I’m sure this account will prove interesting to other adventures in years to come.  It’s also a collection of the verse I wrote about my adventures, the people I traveled with and the people we met along the way.My name is Spence Relmar.  I am a halfling of Clan Rose.  Now, you may be saying to yourself – Relmar, why that’s a dwarven name!  And that would be quite astute of you. You see, I am an orphan.  My family was killed in a goblin raid on their caravan.  I was rescued by a dwarven warband, and the innkeeper in the small dwarven community raised me as his own son.  So I took his name.  My story begins at the Adventurer’s guild school in Fairholme.  My brother Hawk and I came to the school some months ago to train to become adventurers.  Hawk was also raised by my adopted father, Dans Relmar, the dwarven Innkeeper.  Hawk is a gnome.  We’ve been good friends and brothers ever since we were adopted, and plan to seek our fortunes together as well.The adventurer’s guild was an interesting place.  Many hopefuls came and tried out in the training program that prepares us for high adventure, but only a few make it through the entire program.  Now, I am not a bard, like my friend Junior Wales, who I’ll tell you about in a minute.  But I learned a little in the Inn, from traveling minstrels and some of the other folk.  I especially liked storytellers, and have taken up pen to work on my own story, hence this book.  But even before that, I discovered another art form that excited me.  On the walls of the privy outside the Tavern there were carved the most wonderful poems – short, pithy works, written by the miners that came to the tavern to drink.  I studied the form for the years I lived there, watching the new ones appear as time went by, and after a while trying to write some of my own.  Later, I learned that the form had a name.  The limerick.  Ever since I have been a writer of limericks, and I’ll share some of them as we go through this story.I wrote this one about the very last washout in the program in the Adventurer’s guild.  There was a burly warrior called GunterWho thought he’d try is hand at adventure    But when the time came indeed     In his knickers he peedNow he earns his bread shoveling manure.When Gunter quit, just before we were given our order to go to the fortified town of Oakburrow and perform one final test before being accepted into the guild, he left a group of 6 hardy adventurers. There was my brother Hawk (Hawk Relmar of Clan Upland), of course.  Hawk learned woodcraft from some of the hunters who supplied Father’s Tavern with meat.  He’s a gnome, as I said, which means he has a big nose, and it’s always into something it shouldn’t be.          Hawk got his name for his bill    Not just that’s is big as a hill        But it has such big hairs        That everyone stares    As if he were born with a gill.That one isn’t very good, but I can’t be too mean, he’s my brother, after all.Anyway, the rest of the troupe worked like this:  There was a Cleric named Trandle Hapenstance of Clan Porvoo.  His last name is pronounced “Happenstance” despite how it’s spelled. I’m reminded of the old alphabet joke that ends “But where’s the ‘p’?” “DOWN MY PANTS!”  Heh heh heh.  Trandle serves Fharlanghn.  When we first met he said he served Fharlanghn so much I thought it was a pastry he baked and was very proud of, but it turns out that Fharlanghn is his diety.  Despite his terrible spelling, Fharlanghn has apparently asked Trandle to keep a journal of his travels, which he does faithfully – not that I’ve ever seen it, he guards it very carefully.  Probably embarrassed about the spelling.  Anyway, I wrote this one for him.  There was cleric from the clan PorvooWho ate nothing but hot steamy poo    In the pulpit he stood    Like a big block of woodAnd to the faithful he started to spew.Trandle didn’t like that one very much.  He doesn’t seem to like most of my poems, which makes me think he must be doing other things in the privy than reading the writing on the walls.          Then there was Jaeger of clan Wicklow, who liked to go by the name Pandy.  I could tell right away Pandy and I were going to be great friends.  He wasn’t too bright, was very strong, and had a way about him that puts people at ease.  Pandy likes barmaids – all kinds of barmaids, so I wrote this for him:    There was a great hero named Pandy    If nothing else, he was always quite randy        If he spotted a girl        He’d beckon, finger curled    And beg them lick his rock candy    Anyway, Pandy liked girls, but they didn’t always like him.  Pandy became sort of a project for me.And then there was the bard, Junior Wales, also of Clan Wicklow.  Junior played Lute and wrote songs and chatted up girls.  He’s still pretty new at the Bard thing, but he’s coming along.    There is a skinny poet named Wales    Who sings of the hills and the dales        He sits on his lute        Pulls out his hair by the root    He sings for his supper, and fails.Last, but not least, there was [Mason’s Character.  We’ll add this later]Oh, and me. Spence Relmar of Clan Rose.  I’m an illusionist and sometimes scout.  And, a halfling.      A halfling can make a great hero    With cunning sharp as an arrow        Some say we’re too small        To answer the call    But we’re better than those nuts from WicklowAnyway, that’s the six of us.  I hope we don’t die out in the mountains. In my next chapter, I’ll tell you about the humble beginning of our adventures.</blockquote>

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