Discord
Changelog
01-27-2013, 08:48 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-29-2013, 10:18 PM by Gwydion669.)
Hammer 1, Year of the Worm (1356 DR)
Dear Mumsy,
Well ... I did find those Thayan slavers. I think we started off on the wrong foot, however. Perhaps I shouldn't have laughed when I found out which low-coin-lass their leader fancied.
Don't get me wrong! Rossalyn is a wonderful (and quite bendy) girl! It's just that I'm fortunate enough to have that charm against disease!
One thing lead to another, but all's well that ends well. I'm now in Thay!
You wouldn't believe it, Mumsy. It's the beginning of Deepwinter, but there aren't any snowdrifts to be seen! I believe the land to be ripe for some sort of resort, but those plans will have to be left for the future.
I arrived in some place called Tyrantoes. Some odoriferous fellow insisted I take minor jobs because of some imagined debt, but I thought, "What the hades." Good gold was given for each Faerun-shaking mission, so there was no problem between us.
Then I made the mistake of being in the right place at the wrong time.
It seems some brigands made off with some golden platemail from the Temple of Waukeen. Everyone that was present at the time was taken to a dungeon to be questioned.
I must say, as far as dungeons go, it was much more impressive than the Polm jail ... but it was nothing when compared to the "playroom" at the temple of Loviatar.
But I digress! The armor was meant for some "Tharkion" to do ... something or another with. We -- the imprisoned -- were released to find the thieves and return the armor.
I did learn that being a lover rather than a fighter was not conducive to my health in this locale. After the motley crew recovered the armor, I immediately bought the lightest elven mail I could find and bought a large sword. How difficult can being a warrior be? The pointy end of the blade is supposed to go into the other fellow!
Pish! Those old, scarred drunks in the inns make it sound like it's so hard!
Well ... tomorrow the brigand which was captured is scheduled for execution. It's been a while since I've seen a good execution! Not since ... well ... YOU know.
Allow me to say once more, you made a lovely corpse. And your bustle seemed to be undisturbed so there was no possible hint of any impropriety.
Oh! And I've learned that the hin are not at all respected here! With the proper cultivation, they might make wonderful pats -- I mean -- allies. I guess only time will tell.
Taking your lessons to heart,
Your loving son,
Maurice.
*nodding after reading the letter one more time, Maurice slowly crumples up the letter before throwing it into the fire at the Red Trident*
Dear Mumsy,
Well ... I did find those Thayan slavers. I think we started off on the wrong foot, however. Perhaps I shouldn't have laughed when I found out which low-coin-lass their leader fancied.
Don't get me wrong! Rossalyn is a wonderful (and quite bendy) girl! It's just that I'm fortunate enough to have that charm against disease!
One thing lead to another, but all's well that ends well. I'm now in Thay!
You wouldn't believe it, Mumsy. It's the beginning of Deepwinter, but there aren't any snowdrifts to be seen! I believe the land to be ripe for some sort of resort, but those plans will have to be left for the future.
I arrived in some place called Tyrantoes. Some odoriferous fellow insisted I take minor jobs because of some imagined debt, but I thought, "What the hades." Good gold was given for each Faerun-shaking mission, so there was no problem between us.
Then I made the mistake of being in the right place at the wrong time.
It seems some brigands made off with some golden platemail from the Temple of Waukeen. Everyone that was present at the time was taken to a dungeon to be questioned.
I must say, as far as dungeons go, it was much more impressive than the Polm jail ... but it was nothing when compared to the "playroom" at the temple of Loviatar.
But I digress! The armor was meant for some "Tharkion" to do ... something or another with. We -- the imprisoned -- were released to find the thieves and return the armor.
I did learn that being a lover rather than a fighter was not conducive to my health in this locale. After the motley crew recovered the armor, I immediately bought the lightest elven mail I could find and bought a large sword. How difficult can being a warrior be? The pointy end of the blade is supposed to go into the other fellow!
Pish! Those old, scarred drunks in the inns make it sound like it's so hard!
Well ... tomorrow the brigand which was captured is scheduled for execution. It's been a while since I've seen a good execution! Not since ... well ... YOU know.
Allow me to say once more, you made a lovely corpse. And your bustle seemed to be undisturbed so there was no possible hint of any impropriety.
Oh! And I've learned that the hin are not at all respected here! With the proper cultivation, they might make wonderful pats -- I mean -- allies. I guess only time will tell.
Taking your lessons to heart,
Your loving son,
Maurice.
*nodding after reading the letter one more time, Maurice slowly crumples up the letter before throwing it into the fire at the Red Trident*