Started working on this when Ammery asked for community stories, and yeah i kno that was a while back, but worked on wat i got so far a lil bit at a time when i could.
Please read thru, comments are appreciated, and yeah i know im not the best writer
but hope sumone enjoys
The chilled winds blew inland, carried by a soft morning tide and welcomed with a show of sand and shells, glistening on the beach in the rising sun. The aged, wooden planks moan slightly as they sway up and down with the gently rolling tide, barely held in place by rusted nails. Gulls fly overhead, seeking a morning catch, while thieves walk among the crowds, seeking a morning steal. Just the average morning in Freeport, at least that was my assumption as I sat calmly on the pier, watching the waves roll in and out. This was not a morning ritual by any means, I usually had more important matters to deal with during the morning hours, but this week was different. This week was to be the first week of my long awaited voyage.
Every since I was old enough to leave the monastery, traveling Tunaria has been a life long quest. The west coast was to be my first adventure, traveling south to Highbourne the home of the Erudites. They are widely known for producing some of Tunaria's greatest scholars, and I could understand why after getting very lost in that three-story maze they call a library. But they seem quite the negative bunch, continually preaching that the "end is near", something bout getting burned up or blown up, I tried not to listen to hard to the details. Sounded like a bunch of hogwash to me. However, they did happen to mention something about a place called Arcadia, and made it sound quite nice. So, I made a note to myself to add Arcadia to my list of places to visit during my lifetime.
Tall, jagged mountains block any further passage to the south; so north bound I became, making a point this time to swing by Qeynos Prison as I passed through. A rough and rowdy bunch these prisoners are, having helped arrest some of them I knew all to well the dangers of this prison. But I felt the urge to stop by and give the guards some encouraging words to let them feel their work is appreciated....these days were so easy, just a monk and the road. I traveled by day along the well known paths, stopping in on the small towns and villages, giving a helping hand or fist where needed. During the nights I would make camp where ever was possible and fall asleep counting the stars.
Days came and nights went, I was living my life and thought I was content. I got to see the grassy hills, snowy plains and barren lands. Traveled thru tunnels, portals, gates, and even used some waysenders to reach areas most seek not to find. I walked thru hot, dry deserts and cold, damp, permafrost plains, as long as the road was there to follow, my feet made their way. Till one lucky day I ran into a man who was selling rides on his boat to Arcadia. I still remembered this place mentioned by the Erudites, a land they considered a new home from destruction; since I had yet to receive word of Highbourne being blow off Tunaria, I figured this new place shouldn't be over crowded yet. The fare was not high, but more than a sole monk could produce, so I started taking on small jobs around this port town.
The one thing about Freeport which all should know is it's a city of commerce which seems to never sleep. Anytime, day or night, its merchants are posted in their booths for business, but don't get any bright ideas, because their guards stay on duty twenty-four, seven too. The population of this town is somewhat difficult to explain, given its just a big mixture of everything on Tunaria, anything from Dwarves and....
....Halflings can be found wondering its streets, along with Trolls and Ogres, and you can even spot a Dark Elf or two, if you can spot a thief. The city's guard has been enlisting help to help fend off the building Orc invaders outside the town walls. I spent some time assisting in this matter, partly for the Tunar and partly for the feel of battle. I have somewhat become accustom to this town, which in turn has given me the urge to travel. But before I can set sail for the lands of Arcadia, I must first gather enough Tunar to pay my passage. Given we monks typically don't accept Tunar of aid, we prefer to receive food or shelter in return for our deeds, but with my current situation, working for Tunar is my only option. So I ventured into the masses, in search of some tasks to fatten up my coin purse, while at the same time keeping hold on that same coin purse so it didn't become someone else's.
Jobs seemed quite plentiful, to the wet-eared adventurer, people seeking beetle eyes, fish scales, spider webs, and just about anything else the wildlife outside this port town could produce. I passed most of these employers by with only a glance, knowing very well I would need to perform millions of these menial tasks to compile a stash enough for my trip. I needed a real adventure, something that not just anyone would be able to perform, one requiring skill and experience, the two most valuable things I possess.
That's when I came upon an elderly man wondering about the streets. He moved through the crowds as if on a purpose, all the while stopping the biggest, strongest looking warriors and pulling them aside. I may not be an expert in spying or stealth, but I have studied the thieves here and picked up a few tips. So ever so smoothly I move through the crowd, staying as close to the old man without drawing attention. I saw him spot his next target, and eye out a clear spot, and as he moved toward the warrior, I took cover behind a merchant tent. The tent was beside another tent and right across the common road from the bank. I sat for only moments, then the old man emerged from the crowd with a stout warrior behind, he guided the young man out of the masses and into a clearer area, in between the tents.
The voices seemed low, compared to the constant jabbering of the crowd, but still I could make out some of there conversation. The old man was looking for help in obtaining some kind of spell, then the warrior replied with a snort and started to stomp off when something else was said. The old man's voice spoke lower than my human ears could make out in the noise, but whatever it was sure had the attention of the warrior. They spoke in low tones for the next few moments, and then ended with an agreement to meet at the tavern that night. I considered to continue training my stealth skills by spying on the two at the bar that night, but considered that to be too lowly for a monk like myself. So I did the next best thing, I approached the old man.
His hair was fading way, much like mine, all that remained was the circle of hair right above the ears and a gleaming bald area on top his head. His hair was now only a grayish color, no way of determining its past color, if it had been different. His robes were yellow with a reddish sash wrapped around his waist. He carried no weapons, nor held implements that I could see; however, the man carried inside him a power not all possessed. He was a holy cleric of Qeynos; I had grown up around many of them so the healing powers they possessed seemed to give their bodies an outer glow in my eyes, making it easy for me to pick them out in a crowd. We monks have worked in unison...
....with some of these clerics to fend off the undead and unholy that tried to invade our homelands. Based on his scarred face and callused hands, this cleric had seen more fierce battles than those around Qeynos. Maybe he had helped defend Forkwatch during the great zombie invasion, or maybe he was one of the first clerics to travel to Plane of Disease in an attempt to cleanse the lands. But whatever background this cleric may have it seemed to me he had come upon a quest maybe even too tough for himself.
As I stood in front of the old man, surveying him and his life, I could sense that he was also looking at me. He gazed fully at first, and then as the moments passed, his interest seemed to wane. Soon he began to turn away from me so I quickly made my move, "Why hullo there sir. How are you doing?" I ask.
"Who me? Oh I've had my better days, and yourself?" replied the old man.
"I am well, thank you for asking. I've seen you questioning the big, brawny warriors; do you require assistance in any manner dear sir?" I ask as nicely as possible, trying not to seem like I know too much.
"Ah but I do son, I'm sorry though, I don't believe you will be able to help me. I see you are a monk and acknowledge you as the helpful type, but my problem is way too big for someone of your size" says the old man in a nice but sarcastic manner.
"I see sir, I mean not to disrespect but may I state that I have traveled almost all of Tunaria and fought a long list of her beast, from rats and snake to giants and dragons, I have even had to do battle against up-rooted trees." I stated in an almost heated tone, but calmed myself and continued, "So believe me when I say sir, I take no quest lightly and do well in handling myself. If you would but explain your problems with me I could then determine if my skills would be of use to you."
"Ok then" replied the old man "when the last glimmer of sunlight fades from the sky, meet me and the other worthy adventures I have found in the local tavern, we will be seated in the rear."
The old man departed with a simple nod and vanished back into the flowing crowd of people.
My mind stayed wrapped around this man and his quest for many hours, watching the sun slowly set, anxiously waiting. I preformed my daily meditations, as I had every day of my life, paying respects to the fathers above for this great world, and everything in it. I assisted a widow farmer in removing the weeds from her turnip patch. It was a tiresome job, but it proved well in passing the day. And as the sun slowly set in the distance, I started on my way to the local tavern.
The night was just beginning for most of the patrons in the tavern, although from the looks of it, some may have already had their fills. The air carried a heavy odor of ale and vomit, mixed with sweet and blood brought in by the paying customers. Many of the patrons were adventures, much like me, only staying in Freeport while the work was there and then off to the next town when the work ran out. But there were also a few locals in the mix, most complaining about all the out-of-towners clogging up the streets or the amount of tunar they had pick-pocketed off them today. None the less, it was the normal tavern atmosphere for a majorly human city.
As I entered the tavern, I quickly made check of any threats or dangers that could come upon me, noting that most the patrons seemed either to impaired to attack or not dangerous enough to worry about. With this observation made, I next sought out the old man with whom I met with earlier today, and just as he had told me, he was seated at a table in the rear of the tavern. Around him were adventures of all races, most seemed displeased and were leaving as I passed by. As I approached the table, only a dark elf, an elf, and a dwarf sat beside the man, and all four seem to be in a deep discussion.
"Ah yes, the monk I met in town today, please have a seat" said the old main, gesturing toward an open chair at the table. "I'm guessing you noticed the crowd of adventures that just departed from this very table?"
"Yes sir, I did, are they already embarking upon this quest you have?" I asked, knowing quite well the answer would be no. I had heard the soft whispers of "crazy" and "off his rocker" coming from the groups as they passed me on their way out.
"Ah those pansies?" grumbled the old man "Nah, they are just a bunch of newbies trying to make easy tunar, not up for a real challenge like mine."
As I took my seat, I glanced around the table to assess the ones already seated. To my left was the dark elf, wearing plated armor covered by a royal blue robe, the gear of a tank class, from my guess a shadowknight. His hair and eyes burned of the same color as the lava pits of his home city, Neriak, and his skin was a dark, bluish color. He carried a warmonger's long sword, which would imply he has fought off the Zek armies on the plane of war, and an epic tower shield, which can only be obtained from a respective guild master after vigorous training and questing. This adventurer seems very well suited for most any situation, possibly even capable of slaying dragons with his sword and shield alone, could the old man's problem be this big?
And then to my right is a short, long haired dwarf. His robe is a yellowish color, held fast by a red sash, his armor made from plate, and quite rare from the looks of it. The dwarf totes a shield and morning star, hinting that he is probably a cleric, skilled in the arts of healing and buffing. The lines in his face show age and also experience, and guessing from the thick bed roll he cares, he may have been assisting with the tenacious frost giant problem to the north. So an experienced healer and a tuff tank, what else does this old man need for his quest?
So I look lastly to the female elf seated across the table from me, she appears quite young compared to the rest of the patrons in the tavern, but that is only due to her...
....elven blood, by my guess she would probably be in her earlier hundreds, which I guess is still young for elven standards. She wears bright red colored robes, which can be obtained from the invading khal monsters to the north, so I assume she has been to the north also, assisting in the efforts there. She has a strong beauty to her, but the smell of toxins is much stronger. She is an alchemist, skilled in the mixing of chemicals and creation of magical potions. A closer look at her dingy finger nails and bag laden eyes gives me the feeling she spent last night like most other, cooped up in a laboratory with her minerals and chemicals. Not a life I'd chose, but to each their own, and judging by the assortment of vials on her waist, she was quite fond and skilled in her art.
So again I must question, what is this old man's quest? Is he sending us to slay a family of dragons? Or maybe he wants the toes from an entire colony of savage trolls? Either way, this old man has a group of adventures sitting at this table that could wipe out hundreds of thousands of tenacious frost giants, or easily tear through any of the Plane of Sky chains, what quest could be so tough that a group this solid is truly needed?
A good read bro. but dont give up your day job to become a writer...stephen king got you beat..lol
I like it.
I always tell my friends to tell me stories, whether true or something they thought up so this was fun to read. Can't wait for the rest of it
Now I just gotta fix up my own story. Still getting stuff together in my head about i
and WOOT I'm in this story lol. I feel Famous
Very nice, please continue.
Toss wrote:
I concur(that a word? agree anyway)
nice story snott
Our meeting didn't last long, nor did it provide any exciting information. The old man asked that we first complete a few minor tasks for him before he would explain the details of our future assignment. The first of these tasks is to retrieve a spell from a fairy named Voloxous. I knew nothing of this fairy, and neither did any of the other adventures in my group, so we figured a short trip to Salisearaneen might provide some helpful information. A small village of fairies is located in the eastern part of this zone, if this Voloxous is a fairy, the fairies here should be able to at least point us in the general direction of his location.
At first I had assumed reaching Salisearaneen would be rather easy, simply coach to Murnf and head out from there, but my plans had to be slightly adjusted, well for one of our group members at least. The dark elf would have to coach to Zentar's Keep, and make a longer run to meet us at the fairy village. He agreed to the longer run, so we all took our respective coaches and the three of us that could met up in Murnf. The walk from Murnf to the fairy village wasn't very long, but provided a little time for us three to get to know each other a little better. We first exchanged names and backgrounds, then moved on into some fighting experiences as the journey progressed on.
"Since our meeting at the Freeport tavern was rather brief and to the point, I would like to take this time to formally introduce myself, I am Flowinwaters, a monk from the Qeynos Monastery" I stated to our traveling group, "May I ask the names of the adventures that I travel with?"
The first to introduce their self was the female elf alchemist, "I am Tossinpots, from the wonderful city of Feyspires. My love is for all this alchemical, I have spent all my life mixing chemicals and researching formulas, all in my efforts to become the greatest alchemist that Tunaria has ever seen" she stated excitedly.
"Nice to formally meet you both, I am Burp, a dwarven cleric," added the shortest in our group. "I have spent my life serving the higher, holy powers of Tunaria. Moradhim was my home for many years, but my powers have out-grown those caves and out in to the world I have progressed" She added with a sigh of regret. "I left the mines to travel Tunaria in search of greater healing powers."
"So why did you leave the monastery in Qeynos Flowinwaters?" asked Burp
I hesitated a moment, then replied, "I left my home at an early age, much sooner than most monks, on a life long journey to explore all of Tunaria."
"The grassy plains and white shores of the west coast are so nice and peaceful," added Tossinpots, "I could not image a person just leaving that to explore the barren deserts and noxious wastelands throughout Tunaria. Was it some tragic events that lead to your departure? Or maybe you are searching for some greater enlightenment?"
"No, no tragic happenings or greater enlightenment, I just seek to see all that this wonderful world has to offer" I replied. "Even the hottest and driest deserts can be beautiful to me."
I then quickly added, "Oh, and it's always nice to find some new monster or villain to practice my martial skills on." Chuckling as I turned back toward the road ahead.
We finished the rest of the journey with minimal conversation. Most of which was just getting our story straight on how we would approach the fairies, trying to figure out how we could get the most information with the least amount of trouble. We figured we could use the friendly relations between the fairies and elves to our advantage and let Tossinpots do all the talking for our party.
Meeting back up with the dark elf just west of the fairy village, we proceeded on to the fairy village, in hopes of getting some helpful information.
It had been a while since I had visited this village, my first time through was quite awkward to say the least. Having only dealt with wild fairies during my travels, I was quite surprised to find an establishment of fairies. In all my previous run-ins with the fairy race, I found them to be rather bothersome beings, with their fast talking and wonder-lust mindset. However, they always struck me as a very interesting race, having taken qualities from the elven race, pointy ears and slender builds, but all shrunken down into a miniature version. The small butterfly type wings they wear on their backs always seemed to be impractical to me, simply because I could never understand how such flimsy wings could carry the fairies' weight. Being skilled in both physical combat and spell casting, these wee creatures can pose to be worthy foes on the battle field, and I found this out the hard way a few times during my travels. But upon my original discovery of this fairy village, I thought I had run up on a village that had simply been overrun by fairies, driving all the former residents away with their yammering. But after some observations, I concluded that only another race of tiny creatures could have possibly inhabited this town, if in fact it had been overrun at all. The houses are actually mushrooms, merely hollowed out to create living quarters. The only structure in the village that didn't naturally exist was the shin high wall that surrounded the village, maybe tall enough to keep out a fire beetle, but nothing taller. As I studied the village, with its multi-colored mushroom residencies, I began to softly chuckle. I was amused at the thought of these mini-elves, with their bothersome questions and fast talk, living regular lives much like humans or elves. Then the visions of a fairy town meeting came to my head, the thought of 20 tiny voices all trying to let their opinion be heard, speaking at the speed of light, none of them really knowing what the other was saying. As I stood on the outskirts of the village, thinking to myself, I was approached by one the village fairies. I probably came off as quite rude because at first I didn't even notice the wee creature talking to me, so as it sat awaiting my response, I just stared blankly at the village ahead. After a few moments the fairy must have realized I wasn't paying it any attention because he took it upon himself to gain my attention. He first poked at my shin, seeing that didn't deter my train of thought; he took to the air, and began buzzing around my head. I quickly came to my senses, hearing the buzzing grow louder then softer as the fairy circled my head, wings going at rate so fast I couldn't really see them moving.
I blinked several times, trying to focus in on the tiny elf like creature hovering in front of me. I apologized for my rudeness, and then explained my deep thought; the fairy was quite interested for about ten seconds, and then became intensely interested in a flower growing directly behind me. I found this out quite abruptly, as I was in mid sentence when the fairy just up and few over to the flower, leaving me and my thoughts back to myself. Being able to pass on by the village without another hour long staring contest proved to be quite difficult, every time my eyes made contact with one of the homes or fairies, my feet would cease to move. But after a few more brief pauses I was able to proceed on my way, luckily without having to speak with any more of the village locals.
But that time had been merely a passing through, this time I was actually going to have to communicate with the tiny ones, and try to get information I could actually use from them. In my head I am already thinking of how troublesome this will be, but maybe letting Tossinpots do the talking will be the best bet for our group. So the dark elf, Burp, and I waited patiently outside the city walls, while Tossinpots proceeded into the village in search of information surrounding Voloxous.
any new developments with this story flow? I know ya been having computer probs or something. Keep me posted in game
