 |
| Ethel appears to have lovingly rendered this image of Cayo Topa and Bonedeath in her journal. |
Sunday, January 18, 2015
Savage Tide: ECL 8 Ethel Schmidt half-ogre human rogue 3 warlock 1 cleric 3: Journal 2
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Savage Tide : ECL 7 Cayo Topa olman human necromancer 7 : journal entry 4
I felt as though something was watching, stalking, and studying us, for what reason I do not know. I saw a dark figure off in the distance. I sense this won't be the last I see of it.
{The next day}
We were ambushed by flying stone demons; one had a crown, with a shiny stone body. Most of these gargoyles went after me, "Soft target" so they thought. I made myself a skeleton; I felt the power surge through my bones as I cast the spell. Ethel and I killed the one with the crown and ate his heart. The blood stained my bones a deep red. I grabbed the crown and put it on my skull. I want to remain bones. But I can't, the spell doesn't last long enough. I hate losing the power of being a skeleton. There must be a way to stay bones, must be. I need the power. I will find a way to stay bones, I will. And when I do, I will be more powerful than before. But not in an evil way, more in a strong way. The stronger I am, the more I can protect us so we can get to Farshore. I doubt all of us will live to see the day we get to Farshore.
Signed: Великий и могучий Кайо Топа
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Savage Tide: ECL 7 Ethel Schmidt half-ogre human rogue 3 warlock 1 cleric 2: Journal 1
Rock
There was a rock
I stepped on it
It stepped on me
I was the rock
Genevieve
genevieve
egeneviev
vevienege
vievengee
vegineeev
genevieve is a weird name
Sailing
A boat is a woman
With barely a sheet to cover her
Tied up in lots of ropes
And ridden
Monday, January 5, 2015
Savage Tide : ECL 7 Cayo Topa olman human necromancer 7: journal entry 3
After I woke up on the sandy beach, I watched as the drunk Davrin yelled at Avner. The ranger was drunken with madness, slurring his words as he yelled. He got tired of Avner's words "Shut up or I'll kill you" he yelled. Avner continued to talk, so he drew his bow and assassinated him with a arrow between his eyes. His limp body fell off the horse hitting the wet sand. The silence hit the group of survivors like a wave of force. No one spoke, we just all looked at Davrin and couldn't believe that he just murdered Avner. Goldmaul stepped up and started arguing with the killer. Eventually Davrin took off running through the woods. Goldmaul and Ethyl took chase, but the evil ranger was good at hiding especially in the trees. Me and my skeletons eventually started to also go find and kill the murderer. I watched as he had shot and killed Melek (or at least I thought he was dead). So I started to run toward him casting as many spells as possible, but I blacked out.
Urol woke me up saying that I had died. I didn't believe him at first but the puddle of blood that surrounded me said other wise. I got up and cleaned my cloths off.Avner was angry with Urol for using his last raise dead scroll on me instead of keeping it for him. But I thanked him for bringing me back from the dead.
Now I know the cold feeling of death, it makes me feel great that I raise up the corpses to follow me. So they do not have to lay in that lonely and cold ground. I give them a better life; a life better than they had before I raised them. One that will last longer than before.
Signed: Великий Кайо Топа
Urol woke me up saying that I had died. I didn't believe him at first but the puddle of blood that surrounded me said other wise. I got up and cleaned my cloths off.Avner was angry with Urol for using his last raise dead scroll on me instead of keeping it for him. But I thanked him for bringing me back from the dead.
Now I know the cold feeling of death, it makes me feel great that I raise up the corpses to follow me. So they do not have to lay in that lonely and cold ground. I give them a better life; a life better than they had before I raised them. One that will last longer than before.
Signed: Великий Кайо Топа
Sunday, January 4, 2015
DM Entry: Warmage added to Favored Class info
The warmage has been added to the favored class information in the Aryathan Jiil Campaign Setting.pdf and uploaded to the google drive.
Monday, December 29, 2014
DM Entry: 1 Day vs 24 hours
Why do some effects describe their duration in multiples of 24-hour units and others in multiples of 1-day units?
This seems to say the same thing. But actually there is a distinction.
Any item, spell, or effect described with a duration in days (such as "charges per day") counts the day beginning at dawn each day. Rules Compendium page 86
If you have an item with 3 charges per day, it renews its charges each day at dawn.
A spell that lasts 3 days will end at the 3rd dawn after casting.
Items, spells, and effects that have a duration listed as "24 hours" or some multiple thereof last only that many hours before the effect expires, counted from the time of activation, regardless of the actual time of day.
So a spell that lasts "24 hours per level" cast by a 3rd level caster that's cast at 4pm will end at 4pm 72 hours (or 3 days) later.
This seems to say the same thing. But actually there is a distinction.
Any item, spell, or effect described with a duration in days (such as "charges per day") counts the day beginning at dawn each day. Rules Compendium page 86
If you have an item with 3 charges per day, it renews its charges each day at dawn.
A spell that lasts 3 days will end at the 3rd dawn after casting.
Items, spells, and effects that have a duration listed as "24 hours" or some multiple thereof last only that many hours before the effect expires, counted from the time of activation, regardless of the actual time of day.
So a spell that lasts "24 hours per level" cast by a 3rd level caster that's cast at 4pm will end at 4pm 72 hours (or 3 days) later.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
Goldmaul fighter-exo2cursader4/ECL5- journel.
we awoke to a large grassy mat cover the entire sea, turns out a foul creature lies at the center of this evil trap. now we must journey there to find a way to release the ship. Every incursion off the boat has lead to death of a crewmen, I hope not this time...
Savage Tide : ECL 5 Cayo Topa olman human necromancer 5: journal entry 2
I feel as though I am hated by certain members of the Sea Wyvern. My skeletons are a "curse" or "bad luck" to some of the people on the boat. The ranger curses me and my skeletons underneath his breath.
Anyway, I lost seven of my skeletons today. But that was what they were made for. Although the ranger thinks it's their fault for Babafemi dieing and for him almost dieing as well. That makes no sense to me. That's like saying, he's a ranger because a duck quacks because the moon is white.
Anyway, I lost seven of my skeletons today. But that was what they were made for. Although the ranger thinks it's their fault for Babafemi dieing and for him almost dieing as well. That makes no sense to me. That's like saying, he's a ranger because a duck quacks because the moon is white.
Savage Tide: ECL 7 Davrin Fel human Ranger 1, Fighter 4, Deepwood Sniper 2: Blog 3
A ragged banner atop a small pile of rocks flutters softly in the breeze--an
ancient reminder of the many these plains have claimed. A man dressed in
the dark green of a Ranger's cloak crouches in the shadows beside it,
peering across the plains in front of him. Alone, with naught but the few
circling hawks and various traces of their almost invisible prey, he surveys
the land, sharp eyes missing nothing--not even the bare ghost of dust at
the bare edge of the horizon. Damn! I thought those damned robed
bastards said that they'd protected us from scrying...Lying little wax-
eaters...Ah well, can't be helped.As he turns back to go into the forest
bordering the plains, a woman seemingly separates herself from the tree.
"Damn, I hate it when you sneak up on me like that," he says.
"Well, perhaps you should've paid more attention to the forest," is her swift
response.
Continuing towards the forest, he smiles at her and says "isn't that what
you're here for?"
"What if I'd decided to sleep in, just a little? You know how hard it is to
sleep on the road..." She smirks right back at him, and walks beside him into
the forest. "I take it you saw it too?"
"Yeah."
"And what would you say they're going to do now, pup?"
He grimaces as she says this--he hates it when she calls him pup.
"My guess is that they'll abandon any pretense of stealth now and make a
stand in the plain...They won't want to fight us here in the forest, where we
have the advantage."
"Right....Anything else?"
"They'll also attempt to burn the edges of the forest, to make it difficult for
us..Possibly dispatch a few assassins for our mages, but our counter-
agents should be able to handle them." They are well into the forest now,
and the slight smell of a camp cookfire wends its way twixt the trees
towards them.
"There's my apprentice. I knew there was a reason I took you in when you
showed up at Enlistment. I'll tell the Head. You go get yourself some food,
you've earned it--this time at least." The last is said with a smirk as they
enter the camp proper and she splits off from him towards a large tent with
several pennants on its poles.
----Blood covers his hands, then his feet. Next he is swimming in it....He can
hear the woman scream "No, Davrin!" A voice he identifies as the Battle
Prince roars at him "Traitor, be cursed!" The sea of blood covers him, and
he is swept 'neath its sanguine swells, clawing and fighting for the
surface.----
Davrin awakes, slick with a sheen of sweat, with a knife in one hand, and
the other holding the cabin boy against a bulkhead by his throat. The boy's
eyes are wide with terror, and a strong odor of urine is present...He releases
his hold on the boy's throat and says "Get me a fucking drink, and tell that
damn cook to dredge up that slimy dog shit he called stew." The boy just
stares at him, while rubbing his throat. "NOW!!" Davrin roars, and the boy
scampers wildly away from him, as though he were daemon possessed. As
he watches the boy run wildly out the cabin door, he feels a familiar hand
on his shoulder..."Easy now, remember when you were that young? I'm sure
I would've damn near shit and pissed myself had that happened..." Davrin
laughs aloud, "I'm pretty fuckin' sure I would have as well...Ah, Saerwyn,
where have you been all these years?" Turning as he says this, Davrin
finds himself talking to empty air...Visions of corpse-covered, blood-soaked
plains come rushing back, and Davrin folds over, his stomach betraying
him. Fuck, I'm better than this. I told them it wasn't my fault! Gods above,
why must I still be made to suffer for this? His innards seemingly decide
against inverting themselves,and as the retching slows, he heads towards
the cabin door--hoping that fresh air might cure what time seems unable to.
You know, that scholar might be able to help me...As much as I hate those
candle-fuckers, I was once one of them...This one also seems nosier than
most, mayhap he's found some reference to what happened. Knowing
the boy is long gone, Davrin heads below decks, towards the sleeping
quarters of the Archivist...As he draws near, he pauses, trying to figure out
how to present the issue..What the hell are you doing? This isn't like
you...Just bang on the damn door! Wake the fucker up! No. Wake him
up in the middle of the night with a story about some fucked-up gore-filled
story that you don't even know how it happened? I'm crazy! Davrin
turns, about to go, until the door creaks, and the Archivist pokes his head
out..."Davrin? The hell? I thought you--Never mind, what do you want?"
"I need to talk to you about something..."
"Can't it wait until morning? I'm rather....occupied right now."
"....Fuck, I don't know...Why not..."
The door closes, and Davrin is left standing out in the hall...Turning, he
climbs the stairs towards the upper decks, brushing past the captain as he
does so.
---Leaving the Island---
We've gotten a new "friend" today...At least that's what the others call
him..I don't know if it's the skeletons he calls his "friends," or the aura of
overall ineptitude and naivete around him, but I'm not so ready to trust
him...They say necromancers are part of the culture around there, but as far
as I'm concerned, I'd rather their "culture" stayed in the damn ground.
--4 days from the Island--
Saw a flight of Sea Wyverns, after which the ship is named, today. Not
much else....
--5 days after the Island--
That fucking gnome draws better than he navigates...Why the hell is he the
head navigator?
--12 days after the island--
I love this gnome....First, he gets us lost, then gets us back on course...and
loses us AGAIN, along the course HE CHARTED...then, to top it all off, the
fucking bastard "navigates" us right into a damn storm, and Lavinia is
gone. Gone. What the hell? No fucking idea where.
--14 Days after the island--
2 Weeks since I stopped drinking...Hopefully I'll be alright this time.
--15 Days after the island--
It happened again. Same dream, same ending....Tried to talk to the Scholar,
but I...it pains me to write this...I didn't have the damned balls to do it....
--Morning of the 16 Day--
That fucking archivist, he told me he'd help and now he's gone and locked
himself in his cabin...Saying that all his instruments point to death, doom
and destruction....
--17th Day--
Well, we're fucked. The ship ran into this shit the sailors are calling
Sargasso...All I can tell is that anything and everything we do will be for
naught. The ship is doomed....Looks like that scholar might be right...This
might be the Journey's End...Also a name plucked form the sailor's
mouths...Those damn sailors..Always so literal.
--18th Day--
I was able to see a ship also mired in the Sargasso, yesterday, albiet in
slightly worse condition...Everything was fine, until those damned Vine
Assassins attacked. Haven't seen the likes of those since the Princes...I
knew there had to be something controlling them, and the book Babafemi
found confirmed it. We're heading to the center of this thing
tomorrow...They say history travels in circles..I hope it's not done revolving
yet.
--20th Day--
Fucking hells alive. I can't believe we all came that damn close to
dieing....Thankfully, we were able to make it, all except for Babafemi...Quick
was his wit, not so his feet. Nothing was left, nary a single personal
item...I'm going to try and arrange for a funeral ceremony later today...The
dead should always be remembered--no greater disrespect than an
ignominious death....
That's what we all strive for, isn't it? To be remembered?
ancient reminder of the many these plains have claimed. A man dressed in
the dark green of a Ranger's cloak crouches in the shadows beside it,
peering across the plains in front of him. Alone, with naught but the few
circling hawks and various traces of their almost invisible prey, he surveys
the land, sharp eyes missing nothing--not even the bare ghost of dust at
the bare edge of the horizon. Damn! I thought those damned robed
bastards said that they'd protected us from scrying...Lying little wax-
eaters...Ah well, can't be helped.As he turns back to go into the forest
bordering the plains, a woman seemingly separates herself from the tree.
"Damn, I hate it when you sneak up on me like that," he says.
"Well, perhaps you should've paid more attention to the forest," is her swift
response.
Continuing towards the forest, he smiles at her and says "isn't that what
you're here for?"
"What if I'd decided to sleep in, just a little? You know how hard it is to
sleep on the road..." She smirks right back at him, and walks beside him into
the forest. "I take it you saw it too?"
"Yeah."
"And what would you say they're going to do now, pup?"
He grimaces as she says this--he hates it when she calls him pup.
"My guess is that they'll abandon any pretense of stealth now and make a
stand in the plain...They won't want to fight us here in the forest, where we
have the advantage."
"Right....Anything else?"
"They'll also attempt to burn the edges of the forest, to make it difficult for
us..Possibly dispatch a few assassins for our mages, but our counter-
agents should be able to handle them." They are well into the forest now,
and the slight smell of a camp cookfire wends its way twixt the trees
towards them.
"There's my apprentice. I knew there was a reason I took you in when you
showed up at Enlistment. I'll tell the Head. You go get yourself some food,
you've earned it--this time at least." The last is said with a smirk as they
enter the camp proper and she splits off from him towards a large tent with
several pennants on its poles.
----Blood covers his hands, then his feet. Next he is swimming in it....He can
hear the woman scream "No, Davrin!" A voice he identifies as the Battle
Prince roars at him "Traitor, be cursed!" The sea of blood covers him, and
he is swept 'neath its sanguine swells, clawing and fighting for the
surface.----
Davrin awakes, slick with a sheen of sweat, with a knife in one hand, and
the other holding the cabin boy against a bulkhead by his throat. The boy's
eyes are wide with terror, and a strong odor of urine is present...He releases
his hold on the boy's throat and says "Get me a fucking drink, and tell that
damn cook to dredge up that slimy dog shit he called stew." The boy just
stares at him, while rubbing his throat. "NOW!!" Davrin roars, and the boy
scampers wildly away from him, as though he were daemon possessed. As
he watches the boy run wildly out the cabin door, he feels a familiar hand
on his shoulder..."Easy now, remember when you were that young? I'm sure
I would've damn near shit and pissed myself had that happened..." Davrin
laughs aloud, "I'm pretty fuckin' sure I would have as well...Ah, Saerwyn,
where have you been all these years?" Turning as he says this, Davrin
finds himself talking to empty air...Visions of corpse-covered, blood-soaked
plains come rushing back, and Davrin folds over, his stomach betraying
him. Fuck, I'm better than this. I told them it wasn't my fault! Gods above,
why must I still be made to suffer for this? His innards seemingly decide
against inverting themselves,and as the retching slows, he heads towards
the cabin door--hoping that fresh air might cure what time seems unable to.
You know, that scholar might be able to help me...As much as I hate those
candle-fuckers, I was once one of them...This one also seems nosier than
most, mayhap he's found some reference to what happened. Knowing
the boy is long gone, Davrin heads below decks, towards the sleeping
quarters of the Archivist...As he draws near, he pauses, trying to figure out
how to present the issue..What the hell are you doing? This isn't like
you...Just bang on the damn door! Wake the fucker up! No. Wake him
up in the middle of the night with a story about some fucked-up gore-filled
story that you don't even know how it happened? I'm crazy! Davrin
turns, about to go, until the door creaks, and the Archivist pokes his head
out..."Davrin? The hell? I thought you--Never mind, what do you want?"
"I need to talk to you about something..."
"Can't it wait until morning? I'm rather....occupied right now."
"....Fuck, I don't know...Why not..."
The door closes, and Davrin is left standing out in the hall...Turning, he
climbs the stairs towards the upper decks, brushing past the captain as he
does so.
---Leaving the Island---
We've gotten a new "friend" today...At least that's what the others call
him..I don't know if it's the skeletons he calls his "friends," or the aura of
overall ineptitude and naivete around him, but I'm not so ready to trust
him...They say necromancers are part of the culture around there, but as far
as I'm concerned, I'd rather their "culture" stayed in the damn ground.
--4 days from the Island--
Saw a flight of Sea Wyverns, after which the ship is named, today. Not
much else....
--5 days after the Island--
That fucking gnome draws better than he navigates...Why the hell is he the
head navigator?
--12 days after the island--
I love this gnome....First, he gets us lost, then gets us back on course...and
loses us AGAIN, along the course HE CHARTED...then, to top it all off, the
fucking bastard "navigates" us right into a damn storm, and Lavinia is
gone. Gone. What the hell? No fucking idea where.
--14 Days after the island--
2 Weeks since I stopped drinking...Hopefully I'll be alright this time.
--15 Days after the island--
It happened again. Same dream, same ending....Tried to talk to the Scholar,
but I...it pains me to write this...I didn't have the damned balls to do it....
--Morning of the 16 Day--
That fucking archivist, he told me he'd help and now he's gone and locked
himself in his cabin...Saying that all his instruments point to death, doom
and destruction....
--17th Day--
Well, we're fucked. The ship ran into this shit the sailors are calling
Sargasso...All I can tell is that anything and everything we do will be for
naught. The ship is doomed....Looks like that scholar might be right...This
might be the Journey's End...Also a name plucked form the sailor's
mouths...Those damn sailors..Always so literal.
--18th Day--
I was able to see a ship also mired in the Sargasso, yesterday, albiet in
slightly worse condition...Everything was fine, until those damned Vine
Assassins attacked. Haven't seen the likes of those since the Princes...I
knew there had to be something controlling them, and the book Babafemi
found confirmed it. We're heading to the center of this thing
tomorrow...They say history travels in circles..I hope it's not done revolving
yet.
--20th Day--
Fucking hells alive. I can't believe we all came that damn close to
dieing....Thankfully, we were able to make it, all except for Babafemi...Quick
was his wit, not so his feet. Nothing was left, nary a single personal
item...I'm going to try and arrange for a funeral ceremony later today...The
dead should always be remembered--no greater disrespect than an
ignominious death....
That's what we all strive for, isn't it? To be remembered?
Saturday, December 20, 2014
Savage Tide: ECL 6 Ranger 1 Targeteer 4 Deepwood Sniper 1 Davrin Fel Blog Entry 2
The cabin door slams, and Davrin grunts with exertion as he flips the beds
and table in the room he shared with Oaken. "That damned fool! I should've
known he'd be too eager to join his comrades in that infernal fucking
tomb!" Thr door creaks slightly as a deckhand pops in to check on Davrin,
"GET THE FUCK OUT! Unless you feel compelled to become a eunuch," is
his swift response to the deckhand's query about his well-being.
Half a day later.
"I swear I should've just left that damn thing in him and thrown him
overboard. Fucking useless little shit-stained breech-pissing altar
boy...Trying to pass himself off as a priest..HAH, if there were any justice in
the world, the Gods would've smote him the moment he even thought of
such a thing....Hell, I might not have even had to deal with any of
this...HERE ME, GODS? FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU! AND YOU,
AYAILLA! I HOPE YOU GET FUCKED IN YOUR POMPOUS WITH YOUR
'LOVELY' LIGHT! You did NOTHING while Ellurst and his men fought! You
did NOTHING to stop the advance, NOTHING TO HELP SAVE THE
PRINCES. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON OUR SIDE."
He stills, and looks around for yet another target to unleash his rage
upon...His eyes alight upon one of his much-loved bottles of Green-Man,
the very same one he had drank out of the morning of the ill-fated
expedition. "YOU," he shouts, grabbing the bottle by the neck and sligning
it against the far wall of the cabin. The glass shatters, and the pungent reek
of strong liquor fills the cabin. "Never again. Too many have I lost before
your foul embrace, and yet more after I made your acquaintance." He
spends the next few minutes pulling any and all of the bottles out. "Trust
me, it's not me, it's you," he says as he packs them into a crate, "It's time
you took a little journey...what was it that author said once? Thirty
thousand leagues under the sea?" Davrin nods to himself as he now
approaches the ship's railing with the crate, "Close enough. So long, bitch,
and I hope I never see you again."
"WOT'D YEW SAY 'BOUT THE CAP'N?!?" A loud voice breaks the
otherwise monotonous din of the ship as a nearby sailor--apparently close
but not quite close enough--mistakes Davrin's self-absorbed ramblings for
those of the more mutinous inclination.
"Oh would you shut the hell up. I'm not talking about the damned
Captain--may she forever has fair seas--I'm addressing this particularly
sorry collection of life-stealing liquor I've got in my hands."
"Wot're yew doin' wit' it?"
"Are you as lacking in sight as you are in mental acuity? I'm clearly about
to toss it overboard."
"Wot?"
"You fucking lackwit, I'm going to chuck this crate," at this, Davrin thrusts
the crate into the sailor's face, "straight over the fuckin' rail." Immediately
upon saying this, the crate sails smoothly over the rail and into the sea.
"See, I even gave you a bloody example, you pus-wit. Now, get the hell out
of my way, or the crate won't be the only thing we lose today." He shoves
past the sailor as he says this, and heads back towards his cabin, with the
sailor still standing there, still trying to figure out what demon-possessed man
throws an entire crate of liquor worth his entire year's wages over the
railing. "Wot'n th' screbbl'd hells wos tha'?"
---------Several Weeks Later------------
Finally, we're done with the damned priest. Fuckin' lackwit got off...damned
near had to shove 'im overboard one night, but thankfully he listened to me
about joining the locals if he wanted to live...Funny, every man I've ever
seen serve the gods has always believed more in his own ability to protect
himself, rather than his god's. But, it has been week since I last touched
that stuff...never knew how fuckin' hard that shit'd be to kick...Who knew,
Davrin, Ship-slayer, and Sole Survivor of Tamoachan, would be brought so
damn low by such a simple thing. Looks like we're making port now,
though...
There is a large ink stain in the middle of the page, making it look as if he
set his quill down in the middle of a thought and left.
and table in the room he shared with Oaken. "That damned fool! I should've
known he'd be too eager to join his comrades in that infernal fucking
tomb!" Thr door creaks slightly as a deckhand pops in to check on Davrin,
"GET THE FUCK OUT! Unless you feel compelled to become a eunuch," is
his swift response to the deckhand's query about his well-being.
Half a day later.
"I swear I should've just left that damn thing in him and thrown him
overboard. Fucking useless little shit-stained breech-pissing altar
boy...Trying to pass himself off as a priest..HAH, if there were any justice in
the world, the Gods would've smote him the moment he even thought of
such a thing....Hell, I might not have even had to deal with any of
this...HERE ME, GODS? FUCK YOU! FUCK ALL OF YOU! AND YOU,
AYAILLA! I HOPE YOU GET FUCKED IN YOUR POMPOUS WITH YOUR
'LOVELY' LIGHT! You did NOTHING while Ellurst and his men fought! You
did NOTHING to stop the advance, NOTHING TO HELP SAVE THE
PRINCES. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON OUR SIDE."
He stills, and looks around for yet another target to unleash his rage
upon...His eyes alight upon one of his much-loved bottles of Green-Man,
the very same one he had drank out of the morning of the ill-fated
expedition. "YOU," he shouts, grabbing the bottle by the neck and sligning
it against the far wall of the cabin. The glass shatters, and the pungent reek
of strong liquor fills the cabin. "Never again. Too many have I lost before
your foul embrace, and yet more after I made your acquaintance." He
spends the next few minutes pulling any and all of the bottles out. "Trust
me, it's not me, it's you," he says as he packs them into a crate, "It's time
you took a little journey...what was it that author said once? Thirty
thousand leagues under the sea?" Davrin nods to himself as he now
approaches the ship's railing with the crate, "Close enough. So long, bitch,
and I hope I never see you again."
"WOT'D YEW SAY 'BOUT THE CAP'N?!?" A loud voice breaks the
otherwise monotonous din of the ship as a nearby sailor--apparently close
but not quite close enough--mistakes Davrin's self-absorbed ramblings for
those of the more mutinous inclination.
"Oh would you shut the hell up. I'm not talking about the damned
Captain--may she forever has fair seas--I'm addressing this particularly
sorry collection of life-stealing liquor I've got in my hands."
"Wot're yew doin' wit' it?"
"Are you as lacking in sight as you are in mental acuity? I'm clearly about
to toss it overboard."
"Wot?"
"You fucking lackwit, I'm going to chuck this crate," at this, Davrin thrusts
the crate into the sailor's face, "straight over the fuckin' rail." Immediately
upon saying this, the crate sails smoothly over the rail and into the sea.
"See, I even gave you a bloody example, you pus-wit. Now, get the hell out
of my way, or the crate won't be the only thing we lose today." He shoves
past the sailor as he says this, and heads back towards his cabin, with the
sailor still standing there, still trying to figure out what demon-possessed man
throws an entire crate of liquor worth his entire year's wages over the
railing. "Wot'n th' screbbl'd hells wos tha'?"
---------Several Weeks Later------------
Finally, we're done with the damned priest. Fuckin' lackwit got off...damned
near had to shove 'im overboard one night, but thankfully he listened to me
about joining the locals if he wanted to live...Funny, every man I've ever
seen serve the gods has always believed more in his own ability to protect
himself, rather than his god's. But, it has been week since I last touched
that stuff...never knew how fuckin' hard that shit'd be to kick...Who knew,
Davrin, Ship-slayer, and Sole Survivor of Tamoachan, would be brought so
damn low by such a simple thing. Looks like we're making port now,
though...
There is a large ink stain in the middle of the page, making it look as if he
set his quill down in the middle of a thought and left.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
