cthuluftaghn
First Post
20+ years of playing D&D, and never encountered narcotics. Now, with Return to the Temple of Elemental Evil, and that character description, that's twice in a year. Could put some interesting twists into the game!
The All Falls Away
- Thread starter Lela
- Start date
Myen Ghul / Lela said:
HA that's funny. I was thinking more of an insane lunatic, that might of been good looking if he didn't have a candle up his nose. He supposivly has suppose to be smart too, he was defiantly too high to show it. Even though we had fun laughing at him and doing other things to him.
cthuluftaghn
First Post
Great.... now I need to come up with an excuse to write in an NPC that stuffs candles up his nose. That image won't leave my head until I get to put it into action... lol
Lela
First Post
Hay all,
Sorry about the delay. I know I promsed to have an update up Sunday night but, well, that darn RL stuff. Drives ya batty, don't it?
I've blanked out what happened Sunday night, but spent the day at my grandmother's house. It was her birthday and she was due for some company.
As per the usual, she insisted on feeding us. Always wonderful food. I think that Proffession (Cook) is a requirment for the Grandma PrC.
Now Monday, I spent going to class and moving the entire Student Services office (40 or 70 people, I've blocked out the number) back to their origanal location. After the much needed remoddle, they are thrilled.
Well, I felt like crap after that, and spent Tuesday recovering. Good thing I don't have any classes Tuesday/Thursday.
And that brings us to the here and now. Which I'm sure you're thrilled about, as you're not here to find out what's happening in my life. Instead you want to share in one of my talants for your own personal selfish enjoyment.
So, without further adu, may I present:
A White-Knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick!
Sorry about the delay. I know I promsed to have an update up Sunday night but, well, that darn RL stuff. Drives ya batty, don't it?
I've blanked out what happened Sunday night, but spent the day at my grandmother's house. It was her birthday and she was due for some company.
As per the usual, she insisted on feeding us. Always wonderful food. I think that Proffession (Cook) is a requirment for the Grandma PrC.
Now Monday, I spent going to class and moving the entire Student Services office (40 or 70 people, I've blocked out the number) back to their origanal location. After the much needed remoddle, they are thrilled.
Well, I felt like crap after that, and spent Tuesday recovering. Good thing I don't have any classes Tuesday/Thursday.
And that brings us to the here and now. Which I'm sure you're thrilled about, as you're not here to find out what's happening in my life. Instead you want to share in one of my talants for your own personal selfish enjoyment.
So, without further adu, may I present:
A White-Knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick!
Lela
First Post
A White-knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick!
Session 1, Part 2: A White-knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick!
Melkien charged.
And the boy’s staff spun, the man’s pitchfork flying high into the air.
Melkien moved away quickly, having dropped to his back, he looked up at the boy, no older than ten, his staff spread across his chest, from left shoulder to right side.
The entire scene was one of confusion.
Whisper on one side, Melkien on the other. And separating them, were the two children.
Voices rang out, screams mixed with curses. Orders mixed with pleas.
But two never said a word. Both the boy and the green-haired drow were silent. Not speaking, nor moving, the drow continued to hold his hands up. The boy stared down at Melkien. You couldn’t call his eyes cold exactly. Determined was a better word.
It was sheer chaos.
Erinte took a moment to compose herself, looked at the chaos, and found order.
She reached out, putting her hand on Whisper’s shoulder, “Hold on a moment child. Listen.”
Whisper listened. Only two voices remaining, once she removed herself. Melkien was cursing—what a mouth on that man!—and the girl, no older than eight, was pleading.
She was almost incoherent, but one thing was clear; she knew this man. Something about him helping her.
Whisper nodded. And, with a simple, yet sharp, word, she silenced her husband.
Whisper clapped her hands, surprising the child. “Good. Now, you say this . . . man helped you?” The girl nodded.
Erinte popped in, “Dynec, is this true?” The boy imitated his sister’s response. “Well, then. You two, stay here. Everyone else, inside.” Seeming not to notice their hesitation, Erinte began herding everyone inside, pausing only briefly to reassure the two children.
“And Melkien, be sure to invite that young man. I want to speak to him too.”
Once inside, Erinte began to cook.
“How do you want your eggs?”
While the dark skinned man floundered, Whisper, having been through this many times, automatically responded that she wanted them her usual way; scrambled.
“Didn’t you, umm . . .”
“After the others arrive, I don’t want to be repeating things.” Her voice sounded strained.
A moment later, the door opened, admitting Melkien and yet another elf, this one carrying a large bow.
Bullying him into a chair and putting eggs—sunny-side up—on fine wooden dish in front of him, a pounding came from the door.
Erinte stared Melkien back into his seat and stalked to the door. “What?”
“Do someone just say fire?” A tall human with small halfling at his feet asked.
“Inside! Sit. What do you know about fire?”
His voice like a fervent prayer, his face filled with pure obsession, he responded, “It’s glorious.”
“Recently! What have you seen recently?”
He opened his mouth, his face twisted in that distorted way once again. Erinte raised her eyebrow.
“I saw a farmhouse. Four days ago. It still smelled like perfection.”
“Was that to the south?”
“The south? Yes. Warmer there. Fire is happy in warm places.”
Her knuckles white on the frying pan’s handle, “How do you want your eggs?”
Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a candle and lit it w/ his finger, “Sunny-side down.”
Erinte snatched the candle away, tossing into trash bin below the sink, “Your turn drow. How did you help those babies?” Erinte continued to question Hawke methodically, occasionally reaching into the halfling’s pouch, removing various shinny items.
Session 1, Part 2: A White-knuckle Grip and a Twirling Stick!
Melkien charged.
And the boy’s staff spun, the man’s pitchfork flying high into the air.
Melkien moved away quickly, having dropped to his back, he looked up at the boy, no older than ten, his staff spread across his chest, from left shoulder to right side.
The entire scene was one of confusion.
Whisper on one side, Melkien on the other. And separating them, were the two children.
Voices rang out, screams mixed with curses. Orders mixed with pleas.
But two never said a word. Both the boy and the green-haired drow were silent. Not speaking, nor moving, the drow continued to hold his hands up. The boy stared down at Melkien. You couldn’t call his eyes cold exactly. Determined was a better word.
It was sheer chaos.
Erinte took a moment to compose herself, looked at the chaos, and found order.
She reached out, putting her hand on Whisper’s shoulder, “Hold on a moment child. Listen.”
Whisper listened. Only two voices remaining, once she removed herself. Melkien was cursing—what a mouth on that man!—and the girl, no older than eight, was pleading.
She was almost incoherent, but one thing was clear; she knew this man. Something about him helping her.
Whisper nodded. And, with a simple, yet sharp, word, she silenced her husband.
Whisper clapped her hands, surprising the child. “Good. Now, you say this . . . man helped you?” The girl nodded.
Erinte popped in, “Dynec, is this true?” The boy imitated his sister’s response. “Well, then. You two, stay here. Everyone else, inside.” Seeming not to notice their hesitation, Erinte began herding everyone inside, pausing only briefly to reassure the two children.
“And Melkien, be sure to invite that young man. I want to speak to him too.”
Once inside, Erinte began to cook.
“How do you want your eggs?”
While the dark skinned man floundered, Whisper, having been through this many times, automatically responded that she wanted them her usual way; scrambled.
“Didn’t you, umm . . .”
“After the others arrive, I don’t want to be repeating things.” Her voice sounded strained.
A moment later, the door opened, admitting Melkien and yet another elf, this one carrying a large bow.
Bullying him into a chair and putting eggs—sunny-side up—on fine wooden dish in front of him, a pounding came from the door.
Erinte stared Melkien back into his seat and stalked to the door. “What?”
“Do someone just say fire?” A tall human with small halfling at his feet asked.
“Inside! Sit. What do you know about fire?”
His voice like a fervent prayer, his face filled with pure obsession, he responded, “It’s glorious.”
“Recently! What have you seen recently?”
He opened his mouth, his face twisted in that distorted way once again. Erinte raised her eyebrow.
“I saw a farmhouse. Four days ago. It still smelled like perfection.”
“Was that to the south?”
“The south? Yes. Warmer there. Fire is happy in warm places.”
Her knuckles white on the frying pan’s handle, “How do you want your eggs?”
Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a candle and lit it w/ his finger, “Sunny-side down.”
Erinte snatched the candle away, tossing into trash bin below the sink, “Your turn drow. How did you help those babies?” Erinte continued to question Hawke methodically, occasionally reaching into the halfling’s pouch, removing various shinny items.
Cpt. Anonymous
First Post
Great story. Love it. What's wiht the guy with a candle up his nose. But if he likes it more power too him. Now since none of you have no Idea who I am I am going to have to introduce myself. I am Cpt. Anonymous intergalactic man of mystery. Anyway the story, about the guy with the candle and his "story" where the heck did you dig up this PC? He might have his own narcotic supply.
P.S. Lela are you shure your not making all of these guys up?
P.S. Lela are you shure your not making all of these guys up?
Cpt. Anonymous
First Post
That's it, my cover has been blown. The hand of fate has forcibly ripped the proverbial cat out of the bag and thrown it brutally across the room to crash into the enormous black obsidian wall of destiny. My DM found me out and confronted me. I am indeed the man with the candle up my nose. Well... you understand. I am... or was, or will be (not to sure there) Myen Ghoul. The amazing flaming lunatic. There's more to this title but I don't want to spoil the story for anyone. Lela is just a little behind (or way way WAY behind, depends on if you want to be nice to lela or not) any way ask what you may think what you may I stand that he was... is, will be (whatever) one of my funnest characters ever.
P.S. () <- these things are really fun.
P.S. () <- these things are really fun.
Lela
First Post
Hay all, sorry about not giving anything up. I got hit with a slege on Friday, twice (not literally, but I do have some bruises from one of the two). Anyway, I'm a little out of it and haven't got down to writing anything up for you, my adoring fans. Sorry!
Don't worry, at the rate I'm going, I'll turn this Summer only campaign into a year-round Story Hour.
Don't worry, at the rate I'm going, I'll turn this Summer only campaign into a year-round Story Hour.
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