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The Tall Tales of a Halfling

Postby The_Folex » Mon Jan 03, 2011 3:43 am

From Dor Maeglin to Anchorome -- Derod Zar's tale

The barmaid gives a wide berth to the rowdiest tables as she carries a cheap bottle of spirits and a rather expensive looking wine to a table in the back. Three Halflings sat at this table – stood on the chairs rather, as they were crafted for tall folk – each facing one another down a table much too large for them. She set the wine next to Derod, a very finely dressed and handsome Halfling. They both smile at each other as he takes the richly red wine and pours himself a glass. The barmaid then turns to Marin, a more erratic Halfling who looks much like a crazed Derod would. He wore dark and unconstrained, but tight fitting leathers and always carried a blade, a lockpick, and a flask on him. Snorting, he looked up at the barmaid expecting his spirits. Quickly, the barmaid set the bottle down. She seemed intimidated of him; not like she was scared of the Halfling, but just wary of turning her back to him. Backing away a bit, she brought her gaze to the third Halfling, Sumo. The strange combination of dirtied, hardened leather and chain with a pair of odd goggles above his brow made her giggle a bit. Had Sumo dressed the part, he surely would be an intimidating figure with his massive and muscular frame. Sipping his wine, Derod eyed the barmaid intently as she walked away. After skillfully tossing the bottle of spirits in the air with one hand and catching it with another, Marin filled his small mug and flask with the booze before passing it toward Sumo, who still seemed a bit confused as to why the barmaid giggled after looking at him. Looking both fatigued and pained by over thinking, Sumo turns to Derod, "Oy, tell us a story Derod!"

Derod wittingly took long sip of his sweet wine and sneered, "Or perhaps you could get in a brawl with the next human who asks if you're a beardless dwarf and then proceed to have us forcefully removed from yet another tavern."

With this, the massive Halfling slams his fist into the table, shaking the table and causing the bottle of spirits to lean dangerously to one side. Marin quickly dives across the table and grabs his precious bottle of spirits before it tips over. Having secured the bottle from an unfortunate end, Marin sets it back down by Sumo and hops back over to his seat, laughing and then exclaiming, "Hah! An' there goes that temper!"

Derod says nothing, rather he frowns and looks into his glass of wine, swirling it a bit. After two massive gulps, Marin curls his upper lip and slams down his mug, grinning at an infuriated Sumo before returning his gaze to Derod,

"What's up with ye, mate? Yer a bit down since our last little outing, so wh—"

"Outing?! That's what you're calling it, Marin? I had to keep that brute of a guard distracted for two hours! With a harp! I hate bloody harps! And Sumo—"

"Let me stop ye there mate before ye go remindin' Sumo what he had to wear. Look at him! He's still glarin' at ye fierce. Best ye let him settle down 'fore he takes that burly fist of his and smashes yer face."

Slowly, Derod turns to Sumo and is immediately taken aback by the deep shade of red coloring his face, and the fire in his eyes. And for a brief moment, Derod wondered in what ways Sumo is having him killed inside that twisted mind of his. He quickly turns away and clears his throat,

"Righto, about that tale Sumo mentioned then..."

Instantly, a broad smile replaces the anger on Sumo's face, "Yeah! Tell the story of how Marin came to Anger Home!"

Marin snickers, "Ye mean Anchorome."


Unfazed, Marin continues, "Bloody good idea! Tell us that story Derod!"

Derod simply turns to Marin, dumbfounded, "You want ME to tell the tale of how YOU arrived in a foreign land WITHOUT either Sumo or myself?"


Derod sighs and takes another long sip of wine. He pauses for a moment, wondering How in the Hells could I possibly be related to these two dullards? Finally, he draws in a deep breath and begins his tale – well, Marin's anyway...

"Twas two long months spent in the underbelly of a rank cargo ship that Marin waited. His home was but a crate, and his neighbors only foul vermin, for he would surely be tossed to sea had the sailors come across him. For two arduously interminable months he lurked there, waiting for his ship to arrive in Lapis Port. Surely any sane individual would have been driven mad, but not our hero! You see, Marin was no normal Halfling! He was already, shall we say halfway to Limbo—"

"Easy there, mate."

"—his scales were... unbalanced—"

"OY! I said easy!"

"Would you like me to tell this tale or not?" Marin opens his mouth and then promptly shuts it, opting instead to glare at Derod. "Good, that's I thought. Ahem...

"His reason for enduring such vile conditions? Greed. For in this unknown land, he had heard rumors whispered of an empty city. This city was apparently the home to an advanced civilization, one that suddenly up and vanished one day. Cursed this city was rumored to be, and no one dared step foot inside. However, such a curse our hero feared not, for he knew not cowardice in the face of such vast treasure! No, he knew only determination; he would face any foe, thwart any trap, backstab both his brothers for such plentiful loot! Morals? Meaningless to Marin, our beloved protagonist!

"Contemplation of what his soon-to-be vast riches would buy him kept Marin occupied until the cargo ship arrived in Lapis Port. He was ecstatic with the sheer anticipation of fresh air to breathe, city streets to stroll freely, booze to drink, people to pickpocket! Marin could hardly contain himself whilst he was knocked to and fro as the crate he had stowed himself in was being transported from that damnable cargo ship. The two mere minutes he was in transit seemed another two long months as he waited to reach his final destination, where ever that may be. Finally, the crate was still, the shouting and cursing seemed to grow faint. Now was the time Marin silently exclaimed as he broke through the side of the crate. His eyes grew wide and his arms and legs flailed in the absence of solid ground as he fell from the crate and plunged into the salty ocean, screaming all the way. Twas a crane the crate found itself hanging from.

“Strong waves washed Marin onto a rotting wooden ramp with but a handful of gold, the clothes on his back, and absolutely no dignity to speak of. The ecstasy of arrival short-lived, Marin dragged himself up the wooden ramp and into Lapis Port proper; greeted not by the customary dock officials, rather a handful of confused looks from grounded deckhands and a brooding sense of utter failure.

“Attempting to shake himself free of the salty seawater, it finally dawned on our protagonist, as he finally stood in these foreign lands, that he hadn't the slightest idea of where to begin his grand adventure. Defeated, he looked to the sky momentarily and then down at his small pouch filled with what was left of his coin before courageously taking the first step in his grand adventure; spending the remaining bit of his coin at Red Willie's Saloon. With a good bit of spirits on his mind, Marin set off to find the nearest alehouse sporting a broad, stupid smile, and still soaked in seawater and stinking of salt.”

Derod, having finished his tale for now, closed his eyes and took a long, satisfying sip of his wine. Sumo, having finally realized the tale is finished for the time being, turned to Derod to complain, clumsily knocking over the precious bottle of spirits. Before he could begin his typical pleas for Derod to continue, Marin glares at Sumo barks,

“Oy! Ye oafish dwarf! Ye knocked over me spirits!”

The expression on Sumo's face changes suddenly to a profound fury as he shouts, “DON' CALL ME DWARF,” and throws his mug directly at Marin. Deftly, Marin dodges the mug while simultaneously grabbing his and launching it at Sumo, hitting him directly on the forehead. Sumo goes cross-eyed and limp as he falls out of his chair and hits the floor with a loud thud.

“Hah! Knocked the dwarf out cold, I did!”

Derod glances down at Sumo. Grinning, he calmly finishes the remainder of wine from his glass before setting it down on the table and lifting the wine bottle. Just as he secures his bottle of wine a blood-curdling cry comes from Sumo's end of the table. As Marin realizes Sumo isn't quite as unconscious as he had hoped, the table is suddenly flipped in Marin's direction. For the briefest moment, Marin looks up at the massive table looming above him, knowing he is thoroughly helpless and unable to act. At a loss for other options, he simply throws his hands in the air and cries, “AW SHI—”


The drunks in the tavern begin cheering loudly at the sudden commotion as the barmaid instinctively makes her way behind the bar counter, away from the scene and next to the man already behind the counter. With a prolonged sigh, the man behind the counter signals to a large brute of a man, the bouncer, who then proceeds to walk purposefully toward Sumo, glaring deeply. Breathing heavy and teeth gritted in absolute rage, Sumo spots the large man hastily approaching. Pointing to the large man and clenching his other fist, Sumo bellows, “YER NEXT!”

With his free hand, Derod grasps at an item in his elegant jacket and utters something indistinguishable in the uproar. As Sumo and the large man set for a collision course, Derod produces the item from his jacket and strikes Sumo on the head with it as the massive Halfling stomps past him. Suddenly, the rage in Sumo's face vanishes as his face goes slack and his body begins to go limp. The large man halts and looks confusedly at Sumo as the massive Halfling staggers a bit. Sumo too finally comes to a halt as he slowly looks up at the large man with a dumb smile on his face before going completely limp and falling to the floor face-down, smashing his head with a thunderous thwack.

A combination of cheers and laughter erupt from the tavern as the large man continues to stare, absolutely baffled, at the now soundly snoring Sumo. Smiling at the wand before putting it back in his jacket, Derod raises his wine bottle in acknowledgment of the roaring tavern before hopping off his chair and making his way toward the exit, leaving behind Marin's muffled cries under the table and Sumo snoring and drooling on the floor. One more tavern the Zar brothers are forever banished from Derod thinks to himself.
Last edited by The_Folex on Mon Jan 03, 2011 5:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Dor Maeglin
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Re: The Tall Tales of a Halfling

Postby The_Folex » Mon Jan 03, 2011 4:41 am

The Lich mishap

Marin, still fresh to the realm of Anchorome, and without proper gear, took it upon himself to make a name for himself by undergoing an epic quest with other well-seasoned adventurers. Unbeknown to Marin, this quest was for a book and given to the adventurers by a Lich. Now, it is wise to not let Marin get started on the topic of Liches, much less have him in the vicinity of one. Luckily for the group, the Lich in question, Ebonwrath, was clad in black and his skeletal features were well-hidden.

Ignorant to the nature of the quest and the one who gave it, Marin set out with the heroic group. Keeping concealed within the group from the dangers that lined the road to their destination was difficult at times, especially in combat when he was in danger of being stepped on by some of the larger adventures and Orcs. It was quickly becoming apparent to the Halfling that this was a quest well beyond his current capabilities. Most would be disheartened by such knowledge, but it only encouraged the Halfling.

Careful not to fall behind the group too far, Marin hurried along as the group cut a swath to the Dwarven city. Bloodstone Orcs fell and washed the snow and dirt away with blood. Such was the carnage, Marin, being behind the group, often slipped in massive pools of thick blood. Eventually, though they reached the great Dwarven city, Khazad-Barack. Marin had never been to a Dwarven city and was absolutely amazed at the sheer size of the city, give the similar stature Dwarves share with Halflings. Twas too big to his liking, though, so the amazement was quickly replaced with anticipation once more of the great treasures and shiny objects at the end of this quest.

Through the Dwarven mine the group continued, leading into the bowels of the mountain and through the territory of goblins. Now, many adventurers scoff on hearing about goblins, but the tribe in this mountain was well organized and trained. Marin paid no heed to this, however, and decided to engage in combat with one of the goblins. Rather than sneaking up and taking a carefully calculated strike at his foe, Marin brandish both of his shortswords, waving them in the air like a madman and screaming to the goblin, "OY! YER MINE!" Such a tragic mistake this turned out to be as the goblin produced a small crossbow and shot Marin square in the chest. Blood and pride flowed from the gaping wound in his chest as the world began to fade in blurred darkness. The pain in his chest began to wane as he faded into oblivion and passed away...

A bright light suddenly erupted and Marin began gasping for breath as the group stood over him in silence. His ego deflated significantly, Marin motioned to the group he was fine as he looked down at his chest. Not even a scar remained, but his vest was soaked in blood. Marin sighed as he realized he'd never get the red out. Not a damned soul would hear that a goblin did this, no... but a dragon! Yes! Marin thought, a bleedin' dragon! With a nod, he set out to follow the group once more, determined to wear the blood on his vest as a badge of pride.

Shortly after, the group emerged from the mountain. Greeted by a snowy path, Marin once again cursed his decision to wear but a vest on this epic quest of his. The cold air gave way to a warmer climate as the group arrived at a quaint village. It was here that Marin learned the group was headed for an ancient crypt on an island in the middle of the lake this village sat on. With despair and defeat, Marin looked back to the way he came with the group, knowing he'd die if he went back now. The group piled onto a boat headed directly toward the island, and Marin followed reluctantly now for the first time.

Arriving on the island now, the sailor quickly dismissed the group and made his way back as far as possible from the island, but still in eye-shot of the group. The group began casting magics, warding themselves from the Undead. Marin received some magical protection as well, but it just made him itch all over. Bravely, the group entered the crypt with Marin lagging behind, not showing nearly the bravado the rest of the group shared. A few skeletons the group fought as they continued down into the crypt further; Marin stomping on the bones as he past them in an unnecessary effort to keep the dead, well... dead. The group continued ahead until they were stopped at a gateway by a single skeleton wielding a glowing katana. Marin took this as a signal to watch the group's flank as they engaged in combat with the powerful skeleton. Thinking he heard something approaching from the flank, Marin scurried forward past the gate, his back turned while he watched the flank still. Unknowingly, he had gone a few meters past the group now as he continued to back up. Noticing now the rest of the group was now looking directly behind him, Marin quickly turned around and grew pale white before turning back to the group, running and shouting.


Marin's shouting ceased as the magics of the Liches drained the life out of him. He went limp as he continued to run, smashing down onto the floor face-down and sliding a bit before coming to a halt. A bright light erupted again as Marin gasped for breath and surveyed the scene. His face turned white again as he saw the Liches were still alive. On sensing Marin was alive once more, one of the Liches turned to him, prompting Marin to hop up and start running again. The Lich completed an incantation, sending shimmering magical projectiles toward Marin as he continued shouting.


The projectiles slammed into Marin's back, propelling his now limp, lifeless corpse into the bars of the fence where the group fought the mighty skeleton, Kale. With a thud, Marin hit the ground, cracking some skeletal bones beneath him, which produced a thick cloud of dust. Life returned to him this time after the fighting was over.

Rejoiced the Liches were dead, Marin hopped back up and proceeded to the crypt chest the group was digging through. Expecting to see all manners of shiny loot from the chest, Marin jumped up and down excitedly, only to see the group produce a book from the chest. As they cleared the way for him, Marin removed the chest lid with greedy hands only to see the book was all that was contained. He turned to the group, hearing one of them say that the book was what the Lich, Ebonwrath wanted. Surprised, Marin asked the group for the first time who the book was for. Again, they said Ebonwrath, a powerful Lich. A strange mixture of fear and fury overtook him as he kicked the crypt chest and shouted,

"Dammit! I bleedin' HATE LICHES!"
Last edited by The_Folex on Mon Jan 03, 2011 5:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Dor Maeglin
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Re: The Tall Tales of a Halfling

Postby The_Folex » Mon Jan 03, 2011 5:30 pm

The bloody adventures of Marin Zar and Thorto Orgrebane

Marin's sense of grandeur suffered at the hands of the Liches from the crypt, which only reinforced his hate for the undead mages. Beaten and broken, Marin picked up his old habit of nightly drinking. By no means was Marin wealthy, but during his few adventures he had acquired enough gold to dress nicely and keep a room to himself at the pub in Dandelion Dale. This lasted for about a month or so -- Marin surely didn't keep count -- during which time he burned through most of his gold on fine wine and things for Rosie. Marin had started a little fling with Rosie in that she'd come to bed with him after her shifts. This was more of an agreement than a relationship, as Marin would tell Rosie wildly exaggerated stories and then purchase her jewelery or clothes with his "hard earned" gold.

Eventually Marin got the adventuring itch again, though most in the Dale would argue it was due to his dwindling account at the Dale bank. Saying goodbye to Rosie, Marin set off for Lapis Port the only way he knew how, in the Teamster Caravan with a pipe and bread with cheese for the trip. Upon reaching the Lapis Port farmlands, Marin began spending what little bit of gold left on provisions. It was at this team he met the mighty Thorto Ogrebane.

Now Marin has never been a fan of Dwarves; they smell awful and are always wanting to pick a fight with something. Thorto was no exception in Marin's eyes, but Thorto offered to split the loot from the Bloodstone Orc caves with Marin if he wished to tag along. Here was his opportunity for Halfling vengeance! Marin thought to himself, as he continued onward with Thorto, explaining how the blood on his vest came from a battle with a dragon. Marin talked the whole way, which surely must have driven Thorto to the brink of insanity, as when he picked up the first sign of an Orc, he brandished his axe and ran off shouting all sorts of battle cries. Now Thorto, as Marin would tell you, is one Dwarf you do not want hacking at you, as the Orcs Thorto set his axe too usually ended up legless and decapitated. Following close behind, Marin made damn sure the dead Orcs stayed down, stabbing at a few decapitated corpses numerous times.

During the course of Thorto's bloody campaign against the Bloodstone Orcs, Marin had begun honing his art of swordplay very quickly. As the two continued down the cavern, Marin learned one quick jab in the knee brings an Orc down and one more quick jab to the neck keeps them down. Down and down the pair went, Thorto tirelessly hacking and cleaving through Orc after Orc as Marin struggled to keep up with the battle prowess of the Dwarf. For Orcs, they were surprising wealthy, and as Thorto stood toe to toe with the masses of Orcs and Ogres, Marin would often-time spot a chest in a corner and leave the fighting to Thorto as he struggled with picking the lock, his hands shaking from anticipation.

Such shiny things the Orcs had! Powerful weapons and armor alike, but much too large or heavy for Marin. Precious gems they even had! Packs full of all manners of loot, and arms sore from the battles, the two trudged back up the cavern and made for the city of Khazad-Barack, Thorto's home. There, Thorto began explaining how he is Thane and how he'd change things, but Marin would hear none of it; he would simply rub his hands together like a madman as he counted the precious and shiny items in his pack again and again.

The two parted ways after Marin bartered with the Dwarven merchants. Such wealth Marin had obtained from the Orcs! He could scarcely believe it; those Orcs piled more treasure in those caverns than any tomb or dungeon he had ever been to! Often would he return to those caverns, now properly equipped for combat, so that he may once again rob those Orcs of all their shiny items. Like cockroaches they bred, so never was he able to loot the caverns without drawing some manner of attention. Even still, he honed his art to near perfection. Dance in and out of the shadows, striking your opponents where it most hurt. His skill with the shortsword was beginning to become uncanny, as was his ability to move unseen among the Orcs.

Infamous now the Halfling must be among the Orcs, so many he has killed and robbed. Taking note of the caravans the Orcs robbed, often he would wait for the Orcs to raid a merchant's wagon and then chase them off, keeping the loot for himself. That, or he'd demand outrageous prices to protect the caravan from the Orcs, which he rarely did unless he was to get paid when the merchant was safe. Oh the wealth Marin now had! It must have been a few months at least until he set his sight to bigger foes, more dangerous adventures, and the shiniest of items!
Dor Maeglin
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Re: The Tall Tales of a Halfling

Postby The_Folex » Mon Jan 03, 2011 7:40 pm

I'm bloody rich!

By the time Marin had finished raiding the Bloodstone Orc caverns and the Fey in Lantern Light Woods, he was, by his definition, pretty bloody rich. And as his account at the Lapis Port bank grew, so did his ego. Exponentially.

Equipped with the finest money can buy in Lapis Port, he set his eyes to greater adventurers with some of Anchorome's more powerful cadre of adventurers. Can never have enough loot! Marin would say to himself. With his old leather vest replaced by light chain the owner of the Lapis Port mage shop claimed was extraplanar, Marin set off to locations that included Poscador, the Underdark, the Dragonkin Forest, and even some way into Mt. Mercy.

These grand adventures included little but pillaging, but the foes were such that Marin had become a master of the shortsword; his swing cutting deeper into his foes than what one could with the strength matching even that of Ogres. Through the evil temple in the Forest of Mythanos Marin had fought with another rogue he dubbed 'Gray'. Ancient was the temple as it was cursed; undead walked the ruined halls en mass. Much to Marin's relief, no Liches roamed the halls of this temple, but most of the loot ended up being lost magical knowledge, which annoyed Marin to no end. He was never keen on magic; it made him itch all over. And never get him started on his difficult it is to piss when a mage turns your skin into bark or stone.

Through then to the slaves of Poscador, who carried cursed but immensely powerful items. Once again, they were too large and heavy for Marin, but they fetched a fortune when brought to Khazad-Barack. Marin was constantly on the lookout for Liches, and surely had he seen one, the Elven mage he was traveling with would have been left to his own, for Marin would run screaming out of the forest. Luckily, among the servants and slaves to Poscador, there were no Liches.

To the Dragonkin Forest Marin ventured with a well-seasoned group, consisting of who he dubbed Thane, Blades, Drunk, Blue, and eventually Gray. The Dragonkin were little match for the cautious group -- and Marin hated being cautious! -- as they cut a swath through to the poisonous and acidic caverns. There the roars of a mighty large dragon could be heard, which gave the group a damn good sign to turn around and leave. Back through the forest the group battled the Dragonkin, who while powerful, were much too slow for the dexterous Halfling.

After reaching the edge of the wood under Bob's protection, the group, having decided they were pretty damned skilled, headed toward the demon-infested Mt. Mercy. There Marin had met his match and more with the demons, as he hid behind Drunk and Blades while they were bombarded with sword and spell alike. Though the rewards were great, they were useless if the group had perished there, where they were likely to be eaten or mutilated by demons. Having decided neither of the two sounded appealing, the group high-tailed it out of Mt. Mercy. Now this Marin would never admit, for in his eyes the group made a calculated retreat after stealing all the shiny loot held by the demons.

To the Dale the group ventured, where they were stopped by an old man who couldn't recall anything but the Kobold Invasion of '82. With a heavy sigh, Marin sat down while the rest of the group tried to get the old man to tell them what he wanted. The group may have survived the Dragonkin and Mt. Mercy demons, but they were no match for a senile old man and his tendency to ramble or fall asleep. An hour or so passed before the group determined the old man was missing a horse, to which Marin threw his hands up in the air and tried to convince the group to abandon the quest. Blue and Blades were adamant about helping the old man, so Marin, who now earned the nickname Shirtless, Drunk, and Gray followed along with the two. Thane had departed, Drunk was... well, drinking, and Gray offered to Marin his services: killing the old man for a price.

Twas not long before the group wandered into two men camping on the road to the Dale who revealed to Blue and Blades -- those goody-two-shoes! -- that the old man's daughter was looking for him and she mentioned he hasn't had a horse for years. Enraged, Marin set out to kill the old man, but Blue would have none of it. Now maybe it was because Marin had a thing for Blue, or he had known her ever since he arrived in Anchorome, but regardless of the reason, Marin obeyed Blue's commanding plea that he not kill the old man. Once more Gray offered to do so for a price, but Marin asked him why in the Hells he'd pay for a job so easy.

The party continued down to the Dragonkin Forest once more, where the two men had said the woman went. Brass Bob mentioned to them the woman had taken no heed to his warnings and ventured deeper into the forest. With another heavy sigh, Marin followed along into the forest only to find the woman's corpse. Claiming the quest was all but over, Marin continued out of the wood only to see Blades had carried the body out and was attempting to resurrect her. Will this bloody quest ever end?! Marin would say continuously as the group now led the woman back to the Dale so that she may be reunited with her father. Not satisfied with a happy ending alone, Marin demanded someone reward him by paying his tab at the pub. Blades graciously accepted and offered Marin the gold for his tab and more to boot.

Marin had continued on minor skirmishes into the Underdark and Dragonkin Forest, but soon he realized he had enough gold to whatever he bloody well pleased for the rest of his life. Thus Marin bought himself the best clothing he could find, stocked up on not but the most expensive wine, and purchased a bottomless flask from a Dwarf at no small expense. Marin can be found now in the Pretty Peacock mostly, having moved on from his fling with Rosie since he had sufficient gold to sate his sexual desires with girls of his choosing at the brothel. He claims to be retired, but do such adventurers ever truly retire? Marin bloody well thinks so, because despite what a cruel Dwarf once told him in the Art Center, Marin claims he'll see not one bleedin' Lich ever again!

He really hates Liches...
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