Legacy 04
#4 of Legacy of Treshter Pack
How 'bout you striker, care to add to the conversation. Striker: "Naw, I'll pass..." Ayla: "Oh come on, we've been nice enough to skip you three times tonight, and it's your turn! Besides, I would like here things from your perspective." Striker: "My perspective eh? ...... You all need to get drunk and forget all about this hero shit, that's what I think." Ranshi: "You shouldn't be cursing in front of a lady /Striker: "I can say what ever I damn well please bitch./Ranshi: "You mind yourself or so help me/ Keth: "Hold on, no ones going to judge anyone here! Do we understand? ... It's hard enough to guide this boat without every little nick and prick turning us upside-down! Now can we get along or is some-one jumping ship?" Ranshi just glares, at every-one, but mostly at striker. Strider: "All right, you want my story, fine. But the first one to fall asleep before I'm done is swimming, got it?" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Go on, get. Get out a here scoundrel, ... and I don't want a see you here again, got it?! This was a usual day at the tavern for me, as I was drunk off my ass and broke, that is, broke for all the bar-keep knew. Heh, never intended to come back anyway. I always walk in empty handed, far as gold went. I was never that stupid. I'm a ranger for crying out loud. But at the time, I was a ranger in bad shape. Couldn't see strait if my life depended on it, couldn't stand strait enough to pass as, well shit, what was I again. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Striker: "Hell, just started the story and I'm already drunk." Keth: "Then use it, remember what you where thinking at the time and let that be your story, that's how we did it." Striker: "Worth a shot, I guess." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As I dragged myself out a town, the last thing I remember thinking was "Ah shit, I left my sword in th/..." I woke with a splitting headache, and a distinctive pain in my gut, truly the sign that I had had to much, what ever it was. As I began to look around, I noticed my sword in my lap, and my goods to my left, a note to my right, and breakfast, still steaming on the stick, a nice fat full moon rabbit (and at the time, it smelled better than any drink), next to a fire pit. The note simply stated that the bar-keep had found me, and my goods, (which I had somehow crawled to after passing out), after closing time. He was responsible for my current state, (aside from the hangover) and had only taken enough gold to pay for my drinks, though to be entirely honest, the half-hour it took to make out the words felt like three weeks (should have taken less than thirty seconds). I allotted another hour, ... or 2, maybe 3, to rest before going through my stuff. Every thing was accounted for. Next task had me turning toward the fire pit. The rabbit had cooled a bit, so I broke off the ice and put it back over the fire. That is when I found out just how drunk I had been. My ring of fire was the fuel, father than the wood I expected. I went trough my equipment again, but it still checked out. The ring had been taken from my finger, and I never noticed. So I ate, put my equipment on, hit myself in the head, and went back to the bar just to ask the bar-keep how he did it. (By it I mean both the rabbit which was exceptionally good, AND the ring, because I've killed people in my sleep for trying before!) Now here's the interesting part, when I got back, the old fart was dead, decapitated and sliced in half, a cleaner cut could not be possible. One could not help but admire the work, well I couldn't, but walking around, being careful not to disturb anything, I came the conclusion that who or what had killed this man had a natural talent for flight, reason being the lack of any signs of anything, no magic twinge, no foot prints, no smell ... I was looking upon the work of a god, for surely no one less could do such a thing. The decapitated head then rolled over to face me, to which I raised my sword most quickly, and spoke four words, save ... keth ... from ... him ... ... (At that time the head grew pale, er, and started to bleed as though he had summoned the will a thousand men just to remain long enough to speak those last few words.) As to how a head with no body can speak, I can not say, but these where the last words of, well, he died before he spoke them, technically, but none the less word I would heed. I found 14,000 gold peaces under the counter and plenty to eat and drink. I decided to at least eat my fill before finding this "Keth" and take the gold as up front pay for the mission. It was pretty obvious no one was going to believe me when I told them about the slaughter, so I didn't. Instead, I asked the first person I saw where I might find Keth. "Ah, you heard about our young alcamist. Looking to offer a job eh. He went off towards the south about 8 days ago, I suspect he'll be back soon. If you looking to meet him half way, tell him his home town misses him already." I smiled and nodded, quick to be on my way before the bloody bar was suppose to open. All I could think of was the funny feeling that my story had just become part of something much, much bigger. I am a half-elf. I stand 6'2" tall, and I weigh about 215 pounds when full, 150 pounds when starved (little food is available, not none to be found ...). I was a sickly child, some much that I was expected to die young. My parents had been long term friends with a dragon, and as I understand it, the dragon donated his blood to be purified and used as a possible medicine for my condition. It worked, but my magic would forever be sealed because of this. I can still use weaker rings, and my blood has become flammable, but the only real benefit is the slight increase in strength and sight. So nowadays, I'm just a half-elf with dragons blood who has not seen his family in some 40 years (I ran away ...). Still I look like I'm only 20. It was only a day's travel when I heard this loud as hell scream. Some one was in pain, and if it was this "Keth, alcamist" person, I had to move, and fast. Instinct told me to approach from behind cover, where I got this rather amusing show. A human was being held down by two werewolves and getting his back mended for ... I moved closer to see, careful to avoid stepping on something, an odd shaped burn. My guess is he was hit with a powerful bolt of lighting. Whatever kind of sav they where applying must have hurt because this human was trying to run so fast he could even stand up. He didn't even allow himself time to get a decent foothold on the ground before throwing his legs back. But even as I started to laugh, the decoration on the clothed wolves, clothing, was that of a priestess, and I got to thinking, even if this human trained the beast, however skilled he may be, no man, or elf, or otherwise, would trust it to apply sav to such a serious wound. In addition, a man in pain always tells his pets to back off. Ah, stop, just kill me already, didn't seem to phase these, creatures. The humans gloves also bear a strange mark, one of which I have never seen. Pondering on this got me nowhere, so I moved closer, almost pissing myself when I broke a twig under my foot, and again with one in my right hand. Behind the seen was a pendent, hovering in the cave opening. Smoke created a door, and I'm guessing the source of the smoke is a fire inside. Looked and felt like a standard insulation spell. But the pendent, I'd seen it before. My family had befriended a lycan pack several generation back, and had taken up their mission when the pack was destroyed. This pendent belonged to the Trester pack, and would only respond to a member. But I had a problem with this mission, I had no idea what a lycan was... Whatever was going on here, had to be more important than this "Keth" person, so I would wait, in hiding, learning as much as possible, chewing on ... on ... ... I spit it out. What I though was a simple peace of abaskalisk was a cross breed night and gale with oakling. This shit's toxic! I fell over, stumbling on a mid sized tree root before crashing into the ground. I believe I hit my head on something because I don't remember the rest of that day. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "There, I'm done. Keth, your turn." Keth: "Naw, we sleep first, it's almost dawn as is." Ayla: "I must agree, though I liked your story." Ranshi: "Perhaps you should share more often, I like knowing who's been into my belongings." Striker: "shit ..."