Description

A tall stocky Shield Dwarf with pale skin, rusty red hair, and hazel eyes. He wears his unshorn hair and beard in the traditional style, loosely braided, with brass rings fastened about the thicker plats. A scar pierces the brow of his left eye, the remains of a past battle. Otherwise, he appears the model of Dwarven masculinity, with craggy coarse features and a broad flat nose.

Origin

Thorim originally hails from the Halls of Ferraduin, the ancient stronghold of his clan.  Lost in an Earthquake beneath the world, he is now the last scion of his line and has called no place “home” for many years.

Goals

Thorim dreams of one day finding an entrance to Ferraduin and re-establishing his clan as the great defenders of the Dwarven race that they once were.  This drives him to seek out treasures reported to be of Dwarven origin and explore into ruins beneath the earth in hopes that they might be the road to that dream.  In the meantime, he has also made a point of aiding friends in their own quests, knowing one day he may need to call upon them to help him as well.

Personality

At first glance, Thorim can appear to be typical of his stoic kinfolk, given to dour expressions on serious subjects. However, when one gets to know him better (or just when plied with good food and drink) he would better be said to be jovial or even swarthy. The heat of battle can bring out the latter from the former, going from taciturn to bloodthirsty when he feels the fight get into his limbs. He is principled and strong willed, though he relies on his gut feelings more than laws written in stone to guide his moral compass.

Quick to put himself in the way of harm, especially if that harm is aimed at someone else, if Thorim could be said to have one true weakness it is that once a fight is on, he refuses to back down or surrender.  This has probably gotten him into more unnecessary scrapes than it has ever saved the day.

NB: Source for Thorim’s Portrait

The contest for Fantasy Brewmasters continues.  I had sent in my 3k+ piece and Chris, the brewmaster himself, seemed really impressed with the story.  He had some changes he wanted made and raised some valid critique points.  Which is a good lesson for everyone.  I have talked with Chris before and he was open to receiving a rough draft of the story, but for normal contests and submissions never leave it to the person running the magazine/contest/etc to read your rough draft.  Always receive every bit of critiques and make all the changes you want too before submitting your piece.

For this more casual submission though I was able to see what direction he wanted me to take in the story.  I’m turning the story into a myth a father dwarf is telling his son after his son feels inadequate about his skills as a warrior, even though he is but a child.  The good part of it all is that I have so many ideas about the world which this story takes place in to include new races of my own creation, grand halls and cities for the Dwarves, and a ton of features of the world.  I hope the story gets chosen because I would love to continue writing on this subject.

The following piece of writing is mildly inspired by my time playing Gatsukaiko, a Horde character that I used to play on the World of Warcraft MMORPG (Nagrand server). However, the story did not start with her in mind. In fact, it started sometime in the past, with Ethan fleeing from militia that believe he has killed his mentor.The scene led to a camp where nefarious characters kept a bunch of slaves in cages. One of the prisoners is Gatsu, who is being followed by her animal companion, a wolf named Raz.

The prologue is a flash forward of events later in this epic fantasy story. It isn’t perfect, not that I’d expect it from a first draft, but I believe I have created some of the mood and set the stage for latter sequences in the story. Anyway, I welcome any feedback that you guys are willing to offer, as it really does help with the editing process. I look forward to reading your comments.

***

Prologue

On a moonlit night, in the middle of a field three people stood between the corruption of the entire continent of Beladar and the destruction of the one behind such a perverted plan – Gatsukaiko, an Orcish huntswoman; Ethan, human adventure; and Wendell, the Dwarf that had raised Ethan since the lad was orphaned at a young age. The trio were surrounded by the undead army of Illian Crowe, a villain bent on destroying civilization.  The closest of their attackers was nearly thirty yards away with sword in hand, the smell of death upon him. The aroma was pungent with the stench of their corruption, and there was more than enough death to go round.

The three gripped their weapons tightly. For Ethan, it was his twin short swords that he’d inherited from his father, a famous warrior in his own right. Wendell held an enormous axe in both his hands. As for Gatsu, she carried a katana with her right hand, the other free for weaving spells, a gift that had only recently been awakened in her.

There was little the heroes could do other than fight, because they knew that in the event that they got captured, they would be fed the Fires of Naanru, and over the next few painful hours they would become one of the walking dead. And then they would be used as tools for the destruction of many that they held dear. It was a pervasion of the cycle and a tortured existence – it was unnatural.

Illian had to be stopped.

Ethan looked at Gatsukaiku a moment. She stared back at him with a look of resolve upon her face. He’d grown fond of her in the short time that they’d known each other, and now counted her as one of his closest friends. He’d felt her pain after her precious Raz had been taken. The bond between the woman and her wolf companion had been severed and with that a piece of herself. It had sent her into a coma, until he’d managed to call her back from oblivion, and along with the Southlander woman, came Xena, who’d left soon after the ordeal.

They knew what her bloodline was capable of, but if worst came to worst she could use her gifts to send them to the Nether, the other-world. It was, of course, the last resort. The Nether was the place of the dead, and not a place for the living. But it wouldn’t be necessary if they could destroy Illian and the artefact. And if they could destroy the artefact, the taint of undeath would be removed from those transformed by that foul creation, allowing each one of those poor tortured souls to move on to their afterlife.

The beating of the hearts within the chests of those three heroes was almost deafening.

“My boy, the war is all but lost here, but I want you to know that I love you as my own kin.” The stocky dwarf told him.

“And I love you as much as any lad can love his father.” Ethan said with a single tear flowing down his face.

“Stop being such pessimists. If you let your emotions, your fear, rule this battle, then you’ve signed your own death warrant, and you might as well slice your own throats this moment. Stand tall and do not waver until you have either achieved the task before us or have bled your last drop of blood!” The huntswoman said with conviction.

Gat was right, the two men knew. Each one understood how strong emotions could impede your ability to fight, and that could get you killed. But how could they not be affected by the hundreds of death warriors surrounding them? How could they not be influenced by the aura of fear and sadness that each tortured soul exuding from even this distance?

Gatsu stared out at the shadowed faces of those she recognised and saw Sarif looking back at her, whitened pupils where once blue eyes graced her. She’d cared for him for only a short time, yet the connection was strong. She had to destroy the artefact for Sarif, and for Raz, and for all the souls surrounding the band of heroes. She had to destroy it for the ones that would be transformed should they not succeed.

As the first wave moved towards the party, each of these proud warriors felt a surge of adrenalin course through them. In that moment, Gatsu moved her left hand in an intricate manner and a light emanated about them in a warm, protective glow. As the first of their foes converged on them, she weaved another spell, and their minds were as one.

As the party took down the last of the first wave of rotting undead, they felt Illian across the field past hundreds of his minions. He seemed to be calling to them, but their minds held strong against his enchantment magic, their recent connection with the Ether Realm creating a mental shield against such weavings. Now that they’d felt the attack, each one had a direction. All that they needed to do now, was survive long enough to kill him.

“Nether will not greet our souls this day!” Gatsukaiko declared just before the party charged in unison into the mass of bodies that stood between them and the Necromancer.

We dutch haven’t even celebrated ‘Sinterklaas’ yet! But still, this made me laugh Enjoy! It’s crazy!

The first game that Franaine and I played was Bretonnians vs Chaos Undivided. I was a little leery of making a fool of myself, since I hadn’t played much. F had been playing since the 80s.

Well, it was a massacre. He had masses of infantry from 20-some years of collecting. They looked great, but they broke, fled and died every time a Bretonnian lance hit them.  He was left planning “Roman checkerboard” formations for future games. Meanwhile, I left thinking how desperately I had to clean up the bases of my figs. They all looked different and some were awful. Especially the sand painted Goblin Green ones!

Well, we never did have a refight and I still haven’t fixed those bases.

Instead, we got stuck into a pile of games, starting with ‘the Revenge of Franaine’.

Game number two was an even worse massacre. Franaine brought his Dwarves, with guns, guns, guns. I think one of my knights (not units!) got into contact with a gun crew.  Those that didn’t die on the charge, broke and fled. And then rallied so they could go back and die on the second attempt.

My peasant bowmen managed to inflict a handful of casualties. Ironic, because Franaine decided that the backstory to the game was that the Dwarves, honourable beings that they are, had decided the sorry treatment of Bretonnia’s peasants was cause for the war.

He has a very cinematic view of wargaming and the backstories are very important to him. As are good paint jobs and scenery. And, of course, a rules system like Warhammer often delivers big swings in fortune, with lots of surprises and oddities.

I have to say, I agree with him.

Hello blogger and internet searchers. This is my second post and today I think i will cover the second logical topic to cover after explaining common phrases and that is, races! Yes it is time I finally tell you who and what these different players in this RPG are. Now, there are quite a few of them so I will only cover three and some origin races if I have the time. I do tend to like to ramble on a lot so this may be a long post so bare with me. Now then, lets begin with the…

Humans

The humans are the oldest race in the universe. They are the only origin race to not divide into multiple sub-races. They are the most accomplished, arguably the most evolved, and are the most varied race in the known abyss. They have been known to be the most cruel and the most compassionate, the most violent of warriors and the most peaceful of diplomats. They are the only origin race to die quickly, there lifespans being about 50-80 years.

Dwarves

Dwarves were not exatly enslaved by the human empire more like they were born into it because there ancestors and origin race, the stonekind, were enslaved by rimefire. They are a sub-race of the stonekind and inherited their wisdom and ability to create amazing weapons and armor. They are all ruled over by one King and keep, for the most part, in the mountains of the north and the west. They not only stay in these mountains for the tactical advantage they provide (should they be attacked) but also because they spend much of there early and late life underground digging and searching, hoping to find artifacts or books that will tell them more about the stonekind. They have long lifespans and can live as long as a thousand years (this was found out in an experiment done by RimeFire) but the average lifespan is shorter only around 500-750 years.

Elves

The elves were the second race to be enslaved by Rimefire. They are decendents of an ancient race whos name has been lost to the ages. Slender and tall by comparison to humans. They were enslaved mostly not to work but to as a show of force to others of their home plane. They are the most advance civilization technologicly, save for the ramaining rimefire cities, there cities are small but are more about expansion upward. They are most often seen in the forest as it reminds them of the place they long ago called home. There home plane of existance can be seen in the skies at night and many believe this is why they build their cities upward and keep there oldest at the top. The elves average lifetime is about half that of a dwarf, they can live up to 550-600 years but the average lifespan is around 200-350 years.

well due to time constraints that is all I will be writting today, perhaps soon I will have more time and be able to speak about the stonekind, the shadowkind, the old ones, the goliaths, and the immortalkind.

Dragon Age: Origins is a recently released game that is one of the precious few to address the effects of organized religion on its world in a non-cynical manner. Instead of being set in a world steeped in nothing but ancient traditions and esoteric ritual, developer Bioware has merged such religious conceits into the “current” storyline of its game in a way that much more reflects reality.

The subtle but brilliant difference here is that every competing faction, every sect that follows the game’s equivalent of Jesus, has a very, very good reason for doing so, for their traditions evolving the way they have, even though most all of them claim a common source.

Most video game RPGs treat organized religion as either a superfluous element of a game’s backstory, or as a huge evil organization that must be destroyed. Here faith systems become the driving force behind the entire plot, finally.

Doctors warned 2ft 4in Stacey off pregnancy. They said a baby would grow so large inside her body it would crush her organs, strangling her from the inside out.

But bravely she defied their warnings. And now the world’s smallest mum is just four weeks§ away from having baby number three – her first boy.

Stacey, 35, has osteogenesis imperfecta, which means she failed to grow.
[SOURCE]

So, I recently wrote back to Quiznos at the suggestion of Jon on Twitter, and with the editing help of Dave once again. Jon has apparently been following the Subway saga along with a handful of other people… and thought that it may be an appropriate next step. I couldn’t agree more. In fact, I’ve had this thought myself, and if I remember correctly Jon had posted about it previously on Facebook or MySpace or Twitter or some social media site. Memory and my Googling skills fail me in finding that now, though.

I have high hopes on getting a well thought out response or two. I sent the message below to Mr. Jones, the same message to Mr. Bordeaux, and a slightly modified one to a few other email addresses that I managed to dig up. I enjoyed the candid reply from Mr. Jones before, although I was unable to get any further comment from Mr. Bordeaux or his team with whom he was going to share my email.

From: ERiC AiXeLsyD <world.and.lunar.domination@gmail.com>
Date: Tue, Nov 17, 2009 at 10:07 AM
Subject: The Quiznos Toasty Torpedo™ ads?
To: “Jones, Tony” <TJones2@quiznos.com>

Hello Mr. Jones,

I would like to thank you again for the response to my email last week regarding Subway’s lack of allergy awareness, cheese tessellation, appropriate responses to customer feedback, and poor decisions in general. I understand and have learned first hand that good communication is a key component to the Quiznos way of doing business. I also appreciate your expedited replies, and hope that you can gain something knowing how cavalier your competitor’s attitude is toward genuine customer concerns. I am glad to be a gauge of what you do at Quiznos, and I would like to hope that my feedback is valuable.

In sharing my recent adventures in email with some friends, I have noticed a theme that has come up in suggested queries for your fine establishment… and I must say that I have indeed wondered the same thing myself.

Are you using “little people” models for the toasty torpedoes ads, perhaps children or pygmies? I did get a turkey torpedo a while ago, and I did make a mental note that it seemed to be nothing more than a bread stick made into a sandwich. I thought that the toasty torpedo looked bigger in the ads… but I didn’t quite connect why until recently.

A quick Google image search led me to this photo, perfect for a reference for our purposes…

I’m sure you can also see it now that I’ve pointed it out. I, my friend, cannot un-see it. There is no way that the hand in the above graphic is correctly proportioned to the Toasty TORPEDO™. I’m actually tempted to go get another one in an attempt to re-create this photo to see how accurate it may be. I can guarantee though, that if I did in fact hold a toasty torpedo like that, that it would most certainly fall apart. Mine lasted for about a bite and a half before it fell apart.

In Googling, I found multiple odd references to this ad campaign. Does Quiznos make any official statements to counter these goofy bloggers? I found one guy that thinks it looks like a cigarette ad. One guy seems to have a Freudian problem and these people seem to think that one commercial purposely compares your torpedos to a cup of human excrement. Okay, I have to give them that one. I mean… you did hear of 2 Girls, 1 Cup right? I’d find it and link to it, but some may find that offensive/distasteful and I’m sure you know how to use search engines. These people even seem to come to the same conclusion as I have toward the end of their blog… as well as a commenter on this blog.

I understand that all advertising is not one hundred percent factual, and that things tend to be exaggerated, but I really find this image rather misleading. While I understand that I’m not going to walk into a Quiznos any time soon and find a HAL 9000’s creepy sexually suggestive oven cousin, two gorgeous scantily clad women eating a sub rather suggestively, two naked rednecks in a tub of water over a campfire, a baby with the voice of a grown man, anyone suckling on any wolf teats, or even genetic mutations with Latino accents and tiny guitars floating in the air singing praise of your sandwiches… I feel that you owe some level of honesty to the customer.

While the other ads are easily discernible as attention grabbing goofiness, this one seems rather straight forward at first — yet dishonest upon further inspection.

I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter as well as the thoughts of any other marketing people or regional managers in the Quiznos family.

If I didn’t feel that I was already taking up too much of your time, I wouldn’t mind getting into a discussion on the violent phallic imagery that the shape and name of these subs not-so-subliminally suggest. I mean, really? Torpedo? Bullet? How many feminists have already written to discuss this? I feel that this topic is a less pressing issue though, to be saved for another day.

Torpedoes away!
-Eric

If you feel the need for a background to any of this, this is where it all started, and how it played out:

• Five. Five dollar. Five dollar… foot up your ass.
• Subway Customer ID: 1918316
• Quiznos writes back before Subway!
• So, we have a response from Subway!

That’s my initial message, Subway’s official non-response response, me sending it to Quiznos for comment and getting one, and finally a response from Subway telling me that someone else will respond… which as of yet, has not happened.

…All of which leads us to this posting.

Last night I was watching California’s Gold with Huell Howser on the PBS channel. I can’t stand his Arkansas hick accent. It was like watching more of the “good-ole-boys club”. He was at the Hearst Castle, taking a tour. It’s an 80,000 acre ranch. Okay, I just want to say that yes, it’s very impressive. But hey look, there were buildings and houses and living quarters that didn’t even have anyone living in them. And guess what I began to think? It went something like this……Why don’t those rich people give some of that space to homeless people? I bet they could even use it as a tax write-off. Maybe I should write the Hearst family a scathing letter about it. These days, it’s not even normal (to me) to be so ostentatiously wealthy, and not give to charities. Who knows, maybe they do give to homeless organizations. But they don’t allow any people to live in those buildings do they?

I’m up kinda early, doing a load of laundry.

Later today I’m going over to the WISE Place. I think I want to use their computers to send some resumes out. And I just like being there. And of course go into the closet where they have lots of clothes for free to look in. Last night I went over to the graduation at their home. There were 4 women, who I didn’t really know, graduating that program. Again, I am surprised by all of the “12 steppers”, addicts. There weren’t any women there who were living at WISE Place when I was there. Nobody of the “old crowd”. Not that I’m old, it’s just been a while since I’ve moved from there. And I still like going back and seeing the staff. It’s nice, makes me feel good, and gives me hope like nothing else, that there are caring and supportive women in my life. It’s something I’ve never had before, ever.

Nala slept in my bedroom with me again last night. I’m wondering if she is fed up with the bunnies and how much attention I give them. The attention that she used to get. I try to hug her as much as I can. I was thinking now, that maybe I shouldn’t have bought that second bunny. But it’s too late, I love her now. And soon she’ll have her own cage to live in. Last night she was having fun running all around the living room. I gave them both lots of carrots, lettuce and apples. Goldie ate everything and then some. She’s sleeping under the couch now. The last thing I remember as I was falling asleep last night was seeing her laying on her side in back of the couch, and then hearing her scratching at my bedroom door. I got up for a second and then she ran back into the living room. So cute.

I took my little bunny Priti to the vet for her re-check. She’ such a cutie. The vet technician was a nice woman about my age. She weighed Priti. She weighs 3 pounds. She said that she’s beautiful and she’d never seen a bunny this color. And that she’s an “alpha” female. I asked how could she tell this. She says it’s because of her attitude. She showed me where I’m supposed to clean her around her little butt. I didn’t know this. And she also said to buy hay for her to eat. I told her Priti’s story of how she followed my cat home. She said I’ve done really well with her. She’s doing well she said. So I’m happy that she’s such a healthy bunny. I asked her what breed she is, she’s a dwarf.

New fish are now in stock including South American Colomesus Puffers, Congo frogs, Indigo Barbs and some stunning Aulonocara ‘tangerine’.  For a full list see the downloads page on our website.

Print this page off and bring in store to receive 10% discount off any tropical fish purchase.  Valid until 30/11/09.

The answer to this week’s (seemingly very popular) puzzle is after the break.

So, unfortunately, ‘dweeb’ doesn’t count because it’s not technically in the dictionary. If you Dictionary.com it, it comes up just as a slang word.

Hence, the three words you needed were:

1. Dwindle (to fade away)
2. Dwell (to keep thinking about something)
3. And, most obviously, Dwarf

I would hope everyone got the latter!

Did you get them?

Vel.

Hello bloggers and internet serchers. This is my blog, it is about my RPG that i am developing. It is also the 8th blog i have tried to create, also the 8th website i’ve used for this purpose. I’m hoping that this website will suit my needs better then the others did and that I will keep it up to date.

Now onto the importent part.

In this first post I will define a few key terms that I use often in/throughout my blog.

RPG- A role-playing game (RPG; often roleplaying game) is a game in which the participants assume the roles of fictional characters; RPG is a programming language for business applications; (Research Project Grant)—See Research Projects; report program generator; rocket propelled grenade; rebounds per game; the acronym for Radar Product Generator. The RPG is the computer in the NEXRAD system that receives polar-coordinate base radar data from the RDA

RimeFire/Rimefire- The oldest and first kingdom in the world, they were a human kingdom that explored all of the known world and inslaved almost every race in the natural world and even some from the plane of shadow. They fell centuries ago during The Great Rebellion or, as it is known to the groups that are trying to ressurect Rimefire, The Genocide at Rhatos.

The Great Rebellion/The Genocide at Rhatos- when all the races that had been enslaved by RimeFire grouped up and fought against their human captives. It was during this time that the Elven-Dwarven Alliance was formed and the human kingdom of Rimefire fell. The elves and the dwarves lead the charge and gained support from the other races as they managed to fight their way into through Rhatos into the inner council chambers and finally enter the temple of knowledge where they killed Emperor Rhatos Everliving Rimefire.

Elven-Dwarven Alliance- the agreement between the two enslaved races that, in short, states that if they survive the great rebellion they will work together to build up each others kingdoms and that no war will ever be fought between the two for a thousand generations.

Temple Of Knowledge- The throne room and royal library of the Rimefire Empire. In this temple resides Rhatos and all the books that describe the many technologies the empire has. It is guarded by the most powerful Mages in the land.

Emperor Rhatos Everliving Rimefire- Ruler of the Rimefire empire, king of all he sees, greatest being who ever lived. He single handedly brought the humans from their barbaric tribal past to the great leaders of technology and magic they once were. His death marked the start of The Dark Ages.

The Dark Ages- A time when technology and magic didn’t advance, it seemed to stand still, when the recently freed races, and the remains of the human race, were trying to recreate and reinvent the many technologies of the Rimefire empire.

For those of you who don’t know, Blizzard released the World of Warcraft Race Change Service this week. So… What better time is there to take a look at each of the races from a Rogue perspective? Let’s start with the Alliance…

Dwarves

I don’t see many Dwarf Rogues. they’re not exactly the most agile looking race are they? Dare I say it?… Dwarves are… How shall I put it?… ”Dumpy”. Personally, I think  there are better races  out there for Rogues but Dwarves do have quite a nice ability…

Stoneform removes all poison, disease and bleed effects and increases your armor by 10% for 8 seconds. There’s also a 2-minute cool down. Useful in PvP for removing those annoying poisons and bleeds so you can Sprint and Vanish without it breaking. Also could be useful in PvE wherever there’s poison, diseases… Or… Errr… Bleeds… Obviously.

Mace Specialization gives Dwarves a +5 expertise bonus when using Maces… Nice bonus for you Combat Rogues.

Gnomes

Yes, they are annoying! Why? Well, before we even get into their racial abilities, they can be difficult to target and they can run places most of us wouldn’t fit. For Horde there is nothing more satisfying than seeing a Gnome being thumped.

Escape Artist is a useful ability which allows you to escape the effects of any immobilizing or movement speed reduction effect. Nice for Gnome Rogues and it’s on a 1-minute 45-second cool down. Speaks for itself really.

Engineering Specialization gives you a +15 boost to Engineering skill. Useful for levelling Engineering but once you’re maxed out, you’re maxed out (until the next expansion that is).

Humans

I see a lot of Human Rogues out in Battlegrounds and come up against them a fair bit in Arena too and it’s no wonder really… They have, by far, some of the best racial abilities in the game for Rogues:

Perception gives you slightly increased stealth detection which is useful in PvP (for getting the opening move on other stealth classes). 9 times out of 10 if you can get the opener on another Rogue you should win.

Diplomacy gives a nice 10% boost to reputation gains. Who really enjoys grinding reputation with whatever-faction anyway?

Sword & Mace Specialization gives Humans +3 expertise when using Swords and/or Maces for you Combat Rogues.

Every Man for Himself is probably the best racial in-game now following the incoming nerf to Will of The Forsaken in patch 3.3. Effectively this is a Medallion of the Alliance trinket which removes all movement impairing effects and all effects which cause loss of control of your character. It shares a cool down with other similar effects (e.g. PvP trinkets) and has a 2-minute cool down. This racial means you can equip 2 other trinkets instead of the PvP ones and still have your “get out of jail free card”.

Night Elves

I see quite a few Night Elf Rogues out there, not as many as Gnomes and Humans but still a popular race. It’s not difficult to work out why when you take a look at their primary racial ability. Looks wise Night Elves are the most convincing Rogues on Alliance; they look fast, dark and shadowy. On the downside they do have floppy ears though.

Shadowmeld is effectively a second vanish. When activated you slip into the shadows in an improved stealth mode which lasts until you cancel it or until you move.

Quickness reduces the chance melee and ranged attacks will hit you by 2%. Ok, it’s not quite as exciting but still a nice little bonus. What more do you want?

Wisp Spirit transforms you into… Wait for it… A Wisp! When you die you can run back to your battered body at 75% speed and resurrect yourself. A bit of a funny one this – perhaps Night Elves die a lot? I suppose it helps minimize downtime when levelling… Especially when you do that “ooops-i-pulled-too-many-mobs” trick some Rogues are so good at.

… And those are the Alliance Races for Rogues.

In addition to the racial abilities listed here, there are others; however some are just a general 2% resistance to this and a 2% resistance to that and; some are simply useless for Rogues. If you want to see a comprehensive list of racial abilities take a look at Wowhead’s Racial Traits Database.

What race are you? Are you going to use the new Race Change Service? Which race are you going to pick?

Chapter – The First

The rain came down cold and hard, soaking Jase to the bone. His brown cloak that all Footmen wore did little to protect him from the elements. The manta was passed down from one Footman to the next, and only replaced when they were more hole than garment. At least he had his hat, its wide sloping brim kept the rain out of his face, but poured a steady stream of cold water down the middle of his back. As far as he was into his Training, all Cloakes were allowed some leniency, and his hat that he had brought with him from back home in Mossheim was at times more practical than it was nostalgic. Soon, he thought. The Tests are coming soon, and then I’ll at least be able to have my own cloake. A hood would do nice, surely; better than this moth-eaten old scrap. Still though, he hardly thought he would give up his black leather hat so easily, just for a chance to use a true cloake. Not all Graycloakes dressed as formally as the cloakes would make them appear. Some had even foregone them all together, using only a shoufa to denote that they were of the cloth at all. Still, though, Jase thought that he wouldn’t go that far. He had worked too hard, and waited too long to not wear his cloake when it was finally awarded to him. A cloake and a hat. Not that strange. No stranger than a bald man with a beard, I guess. His thoughts had strayed to the man that had appeared at the Academy early in the morning two days ago. A Kaydonite, but having seen neither a Kaydonite, nor Angstonian from that far away, who was he to say? Different customs in different lands were what made the Sun go round, said Master Wandrac. Now I’m quoting my history teacher, a fat lot of good that does me. So wrapped in his thoughts, Jase didn’t notice the two specks of light lower in the valley until they were only a few canterns away. He used his hand to sling the water from the front brim of his hat, to try to get a better look at what he saw. He used the butt of his spear to poke Pitur in the ribs, and pointed down to the valley from which the lights were slowly approaching. The trees had been cleared for two canterns in every direction from the walls of the Academy. The tall mallorn trees rising in the distance gave too much cover, even in the fall and winter. “Pitur, wake up! Do you see them down there?” Pitur had risen from where he crouched, back leaning against the stone wall that surrounded the entire grounds of the Academy, and was rubbing his eyes. He too wore the brown manta of a Footman as well, but had no protection for his head. “What is it? Lanterns? Torches? Your eyes were always keener than mine, Jase, and with this rain, all I can make out is just lights like fireflies.” “It looks like two riders on horseback carrying torches. But you do see them? I thought I had fallen asleep myself. They’re still a ways off, go and rouse Master Nikolai. He’ll want to know what visitors the Academy would have this hour of the night.” “Leave my post?” he looked at Jase askance. You know how much trouble I got in when Master Nikolai found out that I even left just to go to the jake. You go” “My eyes are better than yours, you said so yourself. By the time you return, I should have had enough time to see more of who they are. If you’re so worried, I think Vahn is on duty at the Ingate, send him out here with me. ‘Better more eyes than two, when the enemy’s on the move.’” Pitur sighed. “Master Nikolai is rubbing off on you more and more it would seem.” But he gave his manta a quick shake and quickly went through the small guard door in the Ingate and hurried off. Jase rubbed his own eyes, and tried to get a better look at the visitors. There were definitely no more than two, and at the speed they came, they had to have been on horseback. He thought he could make out a banner trying damply to carry out in the wind, but the torches didn’t provide enough light to see more than the sodden canvas atop the pole the second rider had. By the time Tork cass Gründle had joined Jase from inside the Ingate, the riders were just making the clearing around the Academy grounds. The rain had lessened slightly, and thought he could now see the banner the second rider carried. “Any idea do you have who they be, Jase?” Jase still found Tork’s speech hard to understand. Midani was not Tork’s native tongue, and he seemed to struggle still with the proper ordering of words. Jase had only the most basic of training in Marek-Dan, the language of the Bochn’da, and that only because of the rather large dwarven population in Mossheim. “Not too sure, yet, Tork. From what I’ve been able to make out of the banner, I’d wager a trien that they’re from Lummen’n, but by Herne’s Bow, I haven’t any idea what would bring them this far north.” Tork sniffed at the idea, to show his disbelief. “That’s a bet I do be taking with – ” His words died in his throat, and his mouth gaped as the wind caught the banner again. The Bochn’da’s eyes seemed to glow red in the pupil, from where Jase stood. Preferring to spend their lives under the earth, it was said that dwarves could see as well in the pitch black of a mine as a man could in a field under a full moon. “That do be the banner of House Tull,” he said stunned. “What? Are you sure?” “As sure as I know my own mother. Seven stars of silver upon a green field, it do be.” “An emissary from Lord Senneth, then? I wonder what brings them to Mercersburg? A good thing that Pitur is getting Master Nikolai, then.” “Better to be getting Dvorian Mercer himself, by the way I see.” The two riders were close enough now for Jase to make out the banner for himself. It was just as the dwarf had said; seven silver stars on a field of green, the crest of House Tull. Jase had never seen Lord Senneth Tull before, and highly doubted that either of the riders he saw would be him. The Lord of the Marches would never ride with just one escort. It can’t be him. Letting fancies take me, thinking of Lords and such. The standard bearer wore a black tabard with silver vines embroidered up both arms, and a silver falcon in flight across his chest. The black head wrap he wore marked him as a Silver Falcon as surely did the rest of his garb. The other rider’s gray cloak hung heavily off his shoulders, the thick wool soaked through with rain. As the wind gusted, it pulled the cloak to one side, revealing the silver pin he wore on the breast of his plain woolen shirt; a pin Jase expected to see, after the cloak. The Crescent Star of the Warlockes. If that weren’t plain enough to mark the rider of the Cloth, the weapon at his side certainly did. A m’sh’kln hung at his waist. Made from part of an antler from a stag, the three-pointed weapon was nearly three hands long, and was the weapon of choice for all Warlockes. With the riders no more than half a cantern from the Academy walls, Jase was relieved to hear voices from beyond the Ingate. Master Nikolai was surely chastising Pitur for rousing him at such a late hour, but Jase was confident it would be made better once he saw the visitors. It had been months since anyone had visited Mercersburg Academy from further away than Mosheim, and then only traders bringing furs and timber. Possibly years since anyone outside of March Trendale had made their way this far north. And now, three visitors from far away in as many days? It made Jase’s head spin. “What is the meaning of this? Footman Williams, I was told that –,” Master Nikolai’s voice faltered as he saw the riders, and the banner as they rode to the Ingate. Master Nikolai ran a hand through his thinning hair, and hastily stuffed his shirt into his breeches in an effort to look as if he had not been just pulled out of bed. He place three fingers to his forehead and bowed to one knee. “Attuh,” his hand moved to is right hip. “Teruh,” then to his left shoulder. “Intuh-dosh.” From there, across to his right shoulder, “Istul.” Down to his left hip, “Bezell.” And finally back to his forehead, “Katnyar-bya.” “So say we all.” Replied the lead rider, the Warlocke. “Rise Brother. While it is good to see the Ways still kept here, I have urgent need and need to see the Dvorian at once.” Master Nikolai rose quickly, and held the Ingate open even wider. “Of course, of course! Right away, Brother.”

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Chapter – The Second

Tork cass Gründle moved easily through the night shrouded thicket. The trees were sparse and their limbs hung still barren even as Spring was soon to come. Neither the trees, nor the few passing clouds did much to hide the full moon just now a hand above the horizon. Even if the moon had been covered with storm clouds, Tork would still have had no trouble navigating the hilly terrain. Being a Hill Dwarf, Ragnar had blessed all his children with the ability to maneuver in the pitch blackness of the underground they normally called home. All even the most watchful Hunter would be able to see of Tork were his eyes that seemed to shine red, as if a torch caught the eyes of a wolf hunting at night. A wolf would have more luck than I, hunting what need I tonight, a true thing that is. I do no know how Dvorian Mercer expects us to find anything worthwhile in the night as it is. Rain has now washed away all but the deepest track. A Scout is a Scout, though, and it is nice to be out from those walls. While there were quite a few dwarves at Mercersburg Academy, few of them had the skill in tracking as Tork did. Fewer still enlisted there were training to become Scouts. Granted, Tork’s particular skills would be of greater use in the underground tunnels of his home, or the mine shafts of Mossheim, at this time of night, a dwarf seemed to be the best choice the Dvorian had. No more than an hour ago, had Tork set out, looking for any sign of the assassin, or assassins that had infiltrated the Academy. No more than an hour before that, and Tork watched in horror as the last breath had left Haden Birch, a high-ranking member of the Graycloakes, dead. Taken down as easily as a carib in an open field. Tork grimaced at the memory of it, the sudden look of shock on Haden’s face as it appeared for all the world that his throat had sprouted black feathers. The dull look in Haden’s eyes as he lay on the ground marked him as dead as surely as a finger to his neck to check his pulse. Not that anyone would want to get close enough to the arrow that struck through his throat to see if his heart still beat. Black feathers. A macha shaft, if my eyes do no miss their mark. With the rain still falling, and the clouds covering the moon, it had been impossible to tell from which direction the feather had come. It had sent everyone near the Ingate into a panic, as Master Nikolai ordered the gate closed, and the guards to seal every entrance to the Academy. Shortly after, Dvorian Mercer had ordered the entire Academy searched from top to bottom for the assassin. The Dvorian had called for all Finders, whether fully trained or not to report to him in the training yard of the South Wing. There were a few Cloakes that had been called as well, and even one Kaydonese who was known for her exceptional ability to find a trail through even the roughest terrain. With the exception of himself, one other dwarf, a Netherman, and Lomonian, the rest of the group were all human. Tork wasn’t quite sure how effective the humans would be, but more eyes the better in a case like this. The rain had completely stopped a good half hour after he had left the Academy grounds. With nothing to mark the passing of anyone to be found in the grounds cleared around the Academy walls, Tork had decided to push south. All he had was a feeling, a guess, really as to the direction he should take. However, he had a lucky way with his guesses, and they held true more often than not. However, by the time the moon stood halfway to its zenith, he still had found no sign of the assassin. Nor did he have any clue as to who the assassin might be. Luck lose me, but I wish we had more knowledge than we do. Chasing a kakk’ron through the silver mines would be easier. He thought for a minute that he saw movement off to his left out of the corner of his eye. He slowed his pace, and crouched down, better to conceal himself in the brush. Standing only a hand over four feet tall, he didn’t have to crouch much, but it made him feel safer. For not the first time since he left the Academy with the others he wished that Jase was with him. Wishes and wants never stoked a furnace. He’d half be able to keep up as well. In the half year that Tork had been enlisted in the Academy, he had become good friends with Jason Stormkarl. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but Tork did enjoy his company. He didn’t have many friends at all, as was true of many dwarves when dealing with people other than their own. However, after Jase had risked punishment from Master Nikolai, standing up for Tork when he had been accused of causing an accident in the Archery Field, Tork looked to Jase as Bloodkin. Again I go thinking of the past when truly need I to be watching for signs. As Tork looked closer at where he thought he had seen something, he realized it was only a snow cat, its normally white coat mottled with gray and brown now that Winter was ending. Sighing with relief, he stood back up, and began to again head south. He could see the edge of Arlyn’s Woods about a cantern away. He would reach the edge, and if he still hadn’t found anything he would return back to the Academy. As he scanned the tree line of the woods, he turned his head to the left, and crouched again to look for any sign of passage. Pain ripped through his right ear, white hot and caused him to let out a startled scream. He put his hand to his ear, and a warm stickiness began to seep through his fingers almost instantly. There was a burning sensation that was creeping across his cheek, and down into his jaw. Poison! Luck take me, I should have been more careful! His right eye was beginning to swell shut now as well. Tork dropped from the crouch to his belly, and began to crawl toward a particularly thick cluster of allgreen bushes. His entire jaw was now numb, and his eye completely shut as the poison worked its way through his system. Just a few minutes to see again. Just a few minutes. Luck, but I should have heard something! Dead grass, a rock scrape, anything. Ragnar send that I make it through this. Normally, Tork would have been able to hold his calm much easier than this. He’d faced down a stone yahrn with only a dagger before he came to the Academy, but macha shafts were not to be taken lightly. By the time he reached the group of bushes, his ear was already turning cold, and he was able to breathe a little easier. About time, that! I don’t think even a widower spider would hurt as much, or take as long to purge. Along with the ability to see with no light, Ragnar had also blessed his children with other gifts. The Bochn’da, like all other of their brothers, were partially made from the stone of the earth they were originally formed from. Hill Dwarves had hearts that were actually made of stone. Most thought that this accounted for their seemingly cold and harsh personalities, and while possibly quite true, there was a more practical side to this strange quirk of anatomy. Poisons, once they reached the heart of a dwarf, were effectively neutralized. No one truly understood how this worked, not even the Bochn’da themselves, but since Tork could already open his eye again, and work his jaw with no effort, it was more than proof of the truth of the claims. Times there be when I wish Ragnar that I’d been born Ragn’da. More useful by far than just a stone heart that. Even if they are legend, Luck take me, but it would be nice. It was said that of the three branches of dwarves, the Ragn’da, or Mountain Dwarves, were the closest to Ragnar’s heart. The closest to the earth from which they were formed. Legends spoke of even the sharpest sword being dulled on the stone hard skin of a Ragn’da. Tork closed his eyes and forced himself to steady his breathing. Out there, somewhere to his north, the assassin waited. He strained to hear anything at all that would point out where he was. However, in the relatively open area, it was hard for Tork to really pick out the direction of any sound. Another aspect of being a dwarf raised underground with the cacophony of furnaces and smiths working around the clock.

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Originally written, March 7th, 12th, and 21st 2008.

Approximate Word Count: 3,085