thanks ^_^ I thought it would spark interest.
Originally Posted by Lady Moreta
GPS - Global Perspectives in Scripture.
an oh-so-wonderful! required class 'offered' at wingate university.
I can barely understand my teacher, and the 'notes' we get in class are..... less than helpful. so I just read the textbook and fill out the study guides and I do okay.
for the record, I have to take this course every semester until my senior year.
-scurries off to write something-
the snippet is proceeding wonderfully, but I have to finish it later.
just how did Cog Skulltaker get his axe?
My Axe you say? Well, I suppose that is one of the earliest adventures I’m still able to recall. And it’s as good a place to start as any.
It was in another time…. Another place…. Probably another world, I lose track of where things are. When you travel like I do, you forget things.
Probably for the best anyhow.
My axe though…. The man chuckles.
I remember it was just after Talvar had died…
“I still don’t see why we didn’t bring his body back.” The witch hunter, my erstwhile “employer” grumbled while adjusting the buckles on his spiked gauntlet. “Because,” I replied, “he was a trusted comrade, even if he did die on the first go. And deserved to lay where he fell. Besides, we had no idea what other magic we could have set off if we’d tried to move him. Also, I’m bigger than you.” Standing at six foot six and weight almost 300 lbs. I greatly out massed the next largest man in the party, the witch-hunter. My other surviving companion was a sorcerer even dumber and more impulsive than the witch hunter. A tiny thing, barely the strength to carry all his gear.
I despise them both.
“I figure we can make it back to the city by tomorrow afternoon, I say we make camp here.” I say. The witch-hunter speaks up. “But if we can make it there so soon, why not just press on through the night?” The sorcerer chimes in, whining “yea. A nice warm bed and a wholesome wench to pass the cold hours.”
I despise them both.
“Because,” I say with exaggerated patience, as if explaining things to a child. “The city gates close at nightfall, and I’m not one for camping out under the eyes of the guards, liable to wake up naked if we wake up at all.”
They quickly acquiesce.
-Sigh- truly my people should have swept this land away eons ago, if all southlanders are as dumb as this. I am a Barbarian! Aye a truly phenomenal specimen of my people. But not so grand as to utterly outclass my fellows.
The next day, we continued on to the city. As we approached the city gates the guards began to look rather… panicked and some drew weapons.
“Ho there! what business have you in the city?”
Rather perplexed by their reaction, I respond “I would rest within the city, and conduct trade in your markets.”
The guards looked at each other doubtfully.
“Dressed as you are?” one asks “completely covered in gore?”
Oh. I look down at myself, my armor is indeed, soaked in blood, more than a few bits of dried blood cover my bare arms as well. I turn to my companions, the witch-hunter is similarly filthy and even the sorcerer has blood splattered to the sides of his face from when he stood to close to my work.
I turn back to the guards. “Ahhh, we are merely humble adventurers returning from an…. Adventure” I call to them.
Sudden understanding appears in their eyes, and the guards relax. “Enter then, oh bold adventurers” he says with only the slightest hint of sarcasm.
As we enter the city, I ask the guards “whereabouts in your fair city can I find a mage?” The man promptly gives me directions to (what had better be) the mages quarter. Most likely to get the stench of my companions and I away from his nose.
“I think the axe can wait at least until we’ve all bathed eh Cog?” The witch hunter asks me. “Yes, yes it can. “ I reply.
We had found an axe in the dungeon that the sorcerer had identified as magic, though he’d been unable to tell us anymore. Useless quill-pusher.
Having bathed and purchased a cleaner set of armor. We proceeded to the mage quarter.
Wasn’t that hard to find, all the bloody towers rising up everywhere.
Bloody quill-pushers. I think to myself with an exasperated sigh.
I walk up to the door of the nearest tower and knock. Perhaps more forcefully than is polite.
I knock again, definitely louder than is necessary this time.
“Maybe he’s not home…” the sorcerer offers.
I glare at him and proceed to the next tower.
-thump thump thump-
A reedy voice answers me.
“Yes… what do you want?”
“We have a magical axe that we would like a mage to take a look at” I say through the door before my companions can stuff their feet in their mouths.
“Fine, fine, fine, come in.” I push open the door and immediately my hackles begin to rise at the ambient presence of magic.
A tiny man, even thinner and more sickly looking than the sorcerer stands before us, despite his obvious frailty he can’t be much older than me. “How can I help you?” he asks in a nasally voice.
“We have this magic axe we found, we want to know what it does.” I inform him.
“Ah yes, my master said this would be a suitable trial for my skills with enchantments, let me see the weapon.”
Ah, now we’re getting somewhere! I hand him the magic axe and watch him take it over to a nearby workbench. He sets the axe down and begins to chant while dusting it with a strange powder.
“The magic in this axe is leaking, but I can bind what is left of the weapon into a new axe.” He announces after a few moments chanting.
I stride forward, unlimbering my great axe and hand it to the mage.
I love that axe, family heirloom. Forged by my great grand-pappy, and carried by my forefathers into battle ever since,
The mage took my axe and laid it on top of the axe already on the bench; he began to chant faster, and slowly grew in volume, waving his arms about and throwing powder everywhere like a loony.
Bloody quill pushers…
As I watched, something horrid and fascinating happened right before my very eyes. My axe…. Sank, into the magical one, I saw the metal of the magic axe flow and bubble as it ran into a new shape…. The shape of MY AXE!
What has he done to it!?
The man stops chanting and I snatch my great-axe off the bench, examining it for damage.
“What did you do!? “ I howl at him.
“It was a rather simple procedure… the magic was leaking from its vessel, so I broke both it and the vessel into their component parts and grafted them into your axe. You’re axe will not make ‘echo blows’ whenever you land a hit on an enemy.”
“Thank you wizard… you are a credit to your art.”
I turned to my companions with my axe held ready.
“Let’s go find something to kill…. soon”
hey guys, double feature, I just wrote this one for a play by post character... it was super rushed, so it's probably not up to par, feel free to critique so that I may tweak.
Marc's background - second draft
Time to rise.
I roll out of my bed and walk over to my mirror. I look at the image that greets me. A human, and yet so much more, I six and a half feet tall. My hair as black as the coals I use to heat my forge. My eyes as deep a blue as the sapphire gems that incrust the more…. Decorative pieces I create. From the backs of my legs and arms, and along my backbone grow rows of spines. They are a very deep navy blue and excessively sharp.
I think I’ll make a trip to the book store before I start on my work today, he told me he should have some new books in by now. I buckle on my breastplate and take up my mace and my pack. Might as well look professional I think to myself.
I left my house, also the place of my work, and proceeded across the city to Ned’s Books. A quaint little place, full of one of the greatest treasures known to the material plane.
As I walk through the busy city streets, I contemplate the work I must get done today… I need to put the finishing touches on Lord Thornbrood’s birthday present, a great sword with numerous gems encrusted in the hilt and a few along the blade. And that peacock’s glorified sewing needle. Ugh.
Ah, here we are. Ned’s books.
I enter the store and begin poking around when I run into Ned. “Marc, nice seeing you again.” He greets me. “I believe I’ve found a tome that you’ll have quite a bit of interest in. It contains many archaic and innovative forging techniques. “
This intrigued me.
“May I see the book?” I asked.
“Of course, in fact, you can take it home with you for a few days and see if you can put any of it to use, if you want it, we can discuss price later. Here it is.”
From behind his desk he pulled out a large tome. It was incredibly old. It had a large emerald set into its center; it was clenched between the stylized jaws of a skull, with rubies set in its eye sockets. On the skulls forehead was engraved a symbol in mother of pearl. A hammer and anvil.
“Thanks Ned, I’ll take a look at this tonight.”
Carrying the book under my arm, I head back to my shop. Leafing through it on the way, I take a quick glance up to check my path. I take a left and proceed through the stylized archways that mark the entrances to each alley. Knowing that this alley is basically a straight shot back to my shop, I look back down to the book. Turning the page, these techniques are incredibly complex.
I stumble and look up as I catch my balance…..
Something is very, very wrong…. The city…. It stretches up into the sky…..
Where am I?
I look behind me.
The alley is gone….
“I have a feeling Lord Thornbrood’s birthday present is going to be a little late” I say to myself as I slip the book into my pack.