Malcom
03-20-2009, 12:41 AM
In the darkness of the tavern you feel you’re ready for a long overdue ale. Your land legs seem to be more in tune and the essence of sea spray has finally left your senses.
“Wat can I git ya deary” the bar maid asks.
You lean on the closest wall while you wait for your tankard, after 3 sickening months at sea again a good night with the spirits and a long slumber is needed before these new lands get a taste of your legacy.
You notice a frame on the wall close to where you are standing with wanted posters and flyers of lost loved ones, but one piece of parchment catches your eye. As you move closer you notice that the parchment doesn’t look like Parchment at all but more as is if someone found a way to weave gold into a common parchment thread. With time dragging at your thirst you have nothing better to do that read on.
To whom it may concern,
My Friend, My fellow traveler, my fellow warrior. You read this now passing thru the harbors tavern as I did about a tenday before the fall of the first leaves. My journey has been long and my path quite unclear but it is my path non-the-less and so I follow with my head up high.
I have been threw many realms , most recently I set my voyage from the city of Altdorf in a realm I have no proper name to give. It seemed as if war was everywhere and though my battles fared well the war was not mine to fight.
I spent many of my years on a world called Norrath, many I speak to in this very tavern have heard of this world and its mighty treasures. The wood elves of the realm took me in as their own and brought to me the many teachings of their God Karana. A war too I fought in the world of Norrath with friends and family. Five hundred years we waged war against the wicked Gods and dragons but in the end all was lost. After a heavy attack on the moon of Luclin, the moon broke apart with pieces crashing down upon Norrath. Many of my kin were lost to me that day, and with the war lost and the realm scarred I chose it was my time to carry on.
But enough with sad tales of ill times I write too all that pass by for news of my homeland! My path is forever moving forward and there is no possible way to double back.
I am looking for News of my home land Kesmai. My road was turned from this land two lifetimes ago and not a day goes by without the memories of my beloved town. If anyone of my brothers that read this has information about past or present Kesmai I beg of you to share your tale. There is a Quill and parchment kept with the barmaid and any who can tell a worthy tale with the quill will be rewarded with a tankard of house with the return of the quill and a full parchment.
Good travels to you my friends for if you have just settled then Welcome and for those of you on departure be alert the realms we travel are sometimes a different and dangerous place than we are used too.
Malcom Spiritstalker
As you read the final words of the letter you realize the parchment no longer looks of gold but is just as common as the wanted poster that has seen 6 seasons resting to its left.
You look up and realize the barmaid is waiting for your attention, she pushes a quill, well, and parchment to the right of your tankard.
A short tale in the journal of that fella gits ya this tankard fer free love.
“Wat can I git ya deary” the bar maid asks.
You lean on the closest wall while you wait for your tankard, after 3 sickening months at sea again a good night with the spirits and a long slumber is needed before these new lands get a taste of your legacy.
You notice a frame on the wall close to where you are standing with wanted posters and flyers of lost loved ones, but one piece of parchment catches your eye. As you move closer you notice that the parchment doesn’t look like Parchment at all but more as is if someone found a way to weave gold into a common parchment thread. With time dragging at your thirst you have nothing better to do that read on.
To whom it may concern,
My Friend, My fellow traveler, my fellow warrior. You read this now passing thru the harbors tavern as I did about a tenday before the fall of the first leaves. My journey has been long and my path quite unclear but it is my path non-the-less and so I follow with my head up high.
I have been threw many realms , most recently I set my voyage from the city of Altdorf in a realm I have no proper name to give. It seemed as if war was everywhere and though my battles fared well the war was not mine to fight.
I spent many of my years on a world called Norrath, many I speak to in this very tavern have heard of this world and its mighty treasures. The wood elves of the realm took me in as their own and brought to me the many teachings of their God Karana. A war too I fought in the world of Norrath with friends and family. Five hundred years we waged war against the wicked Gods and dragons but in the end all was lost. After a heavy attack on the moon of Luclin, the moon broke apart with pieces crashing down upon Norrath. Many of my kin were lost to me that day, and with the war lost and the realm scarred I chose it was my time to carry on.
But enough with sad tales of ill times I write too all that pass by for news of my homeland! My path is forever moving forward and there is no possible way to double back.
I am looking for News of my home land Kesmai. My road was turned from this land two lifetimes ago and not a day goes by without the memories of my beloved town. If anyone of my brothers that read this has information about past or present Kesmai I beg of you to share your tale. There is a Quill and parchment kept with the barmaid and any who can tell a worthy tale with the quill will be rewarded with a tankard of house with the return of the quill and a full parchment.
Good travels to you my friends for if you have just settled then Welcome and for those of you on departure be alert the realms we travel are sometimes a different and dangerous place than we are used too.
Malcom Spiritstalker
As you read the final words of the letter you realize the parchment no longer looks of gold but is just as common as the wanted poster that has seen 6 seasons resting to its left.
You look up and realize the barmaid is waiting for your attention, she pushes a quill, well, and parchment to the right of your tankard.
A short tale in the journal of that fella gits ya this tankard fer free love.