Journal of Dedoric the Cloud
Jan 6, 2013 22:42:17 GMT -8
Post by Nick on Jan 6, 2013 22:42:17 GMT -8
Chronicle from the event today, 1/6/13. 1st of 2 parts.
From the Journal of Doderic “The Cloud”, Hobbit Adventurer
6th of the New Year, 15,968 .
So before I get into all of the escapades of our “wonderful” and “peaceful” adventuring party, and some more personal interjections, I do believe that to all of you uneducated readers of this small Hobbit’s Journal (which I will use a proper noun for, at your permission) I must alude to my origins.
In brief summary, I hail from the far off, and in my mind superior, island nation of Hostor. I was born, as many hobbits are, from a woman, and this woman was named Willow. And, as most hobbits are, I had a father, whose name shall be… well, let’s leave him out of this honest rendition of my past, as in all honesty he is better left out of it.
So I grew up in a true hobbit fashion, minus a father who was never home, on a childhood of tea, magic, and stories. I remember the rolling hills of Hostor, the towers of the Pinnacle Mage School, the wondrous smell of the tea set out on the table… ah, just thinking about it makes me nostalgic.
But I digress, my mysterious and possibly unreal reader, to my original intent behind this journal. I suspect that, in the coming time of adventure, I will soon be embroiled in conflicts, just like in the stories that my foolish hobbit brain has been ingrained with. Or, perhaps, I am merely expecting the best out of this situation and it will be an utter let down. But thus far, it seems, it has been a great experiment. There are nice people, I am learning quickly… it has been, and hopefully will continue to be as long as the story permits it, a good time.
And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the part you have been waiting for. Let the story, in all its glory and truth, at least as much as a conveniently forgetful mind can establish, begin.
And in a *beautiful* contradiction of that previous statement, and yet in absolute synch, I put forward the statement that I, Doderic the Cloud, am a people person. I thrive off of their energy, being around them as if I was one of those “Vampires”. Thus, with this fact in mind, we look forward to my first meeting with my comrades, in an unnamed place an undetermined time with an undetermined group of people… much like what I am used to back in Hostor, what I saw growing up. One would almost think that us hobbits might have started the whole “voting” mechanic and the introduction of the rare and elusive inns…
I remember thinking how many people there were. They were everywhere, even hanging off of the wall of the inn! There were so many, from different classes and places… I think I even saw a royalty! Sadly, I seemed to be one of the only hobbits. But to this casual observer of human nature, it would seem that those who come to a place are usually those that are like that place- it seems, that at least on the outside this statement is true, that one must question its validity when one considers the actions of many of these individuals.
Chen Panjue of the Dark Eyes. Now *here* was an individual who I worthy of a non-sarcastic tone from a large satirical hobbit. Obviously, from his notable Title (of the Dark Eyes, for those of you either stupid enough to not see it or quick enough to miss it) and manner, he has seen much of this world. He spoke wisely and patiently, almost as if he had dealt with a very similar group before…
The 1st objective of the day, sadly, was not as noble as I might have liked- it seemed that us heroes were needed to rid a simple infestation from some outlying farms. Suffice it to say, I rather enjoyed my hot, steaming, wonderful cup of tea in the warm inn whilst my fellows were out doing all the legwork…
When my fellows returned, exuberant from the thrill of battle (which strikes this hobbit odd given that many must have, or have renounced, oaths of Pacifism, they settled in and I began to make some friends. I met one lad, who went by the name Igor. Now Igor, though in essence such a brutal and uncultured name (too heavy of an “r” for this hobbits liking), was quite a nice individual and I’m sure that we must of talked of something of note. But as I continued to travel around the group, I began to talk more and more, make more and more friends; in fact, I began to do everything better! I was even able to identify some mysterious ingredients, I felt so good about it all!
But anyways, back to the epic story part of this journal. At least for now.
Apparently, they don’t like Orks here. I mean, I understand, but this milita had been doing *really* bad things to them, like killing them and maiming them and… well, leave the rest to your imagination. But what *really* made this event interesting, at least for me, was the fact that these were Sorikonians. Sorikonians, the virtual manifestation of peace on Earth, were killing beings. This had to be investgated, so I took up the call!
We moved out fast- I don’t remember much of the journey, save that I met several women (a couple of cute elves, but don’t tell them I said that), a Bear with apparent intelligence, and many odd people. When we got there, well, the true color of my companions came out…
We first stood our ground against some Orks, who were attacked brutally by many Sorikonians in our party. Then, we fought against Sorikonian militia. Then we fought against more Orks, and diplomacy saved the day *barely* because of the efforts of a few (myself included, in an integral role) individuals.
My family certainly needs to work on their control and negotiation skills- I wouldn’t be surprised if more than several of them might be clinically insane, especially one big bloke who seems to be scared of… well… everyone.
Despite the failures of the party at large to control their darker, inner demons, we returned partly in triumph. Well, this noble hobbit delivered a message to Mr. Panjue of the Dark Eyes (I will never tire of the sound of that name), and we began to talk about what we could do with the Orks.
Well, I will pass over the Bureaucratic mess of negotiation, shouting, and civil profanity that followed to describe the color white. It is such a funny color- it is so distinct, and yet it mixes with everything. It is something separate, like on a wall, but then it is also mixed, like Clouds in the sky. White also, when alone, seems to be smaller, not as powerful. When mixed, white becomes stark and stronger. Sometimes, I feel like I am the color white- when I am separate I feel weaker and less confident about myself, but when I am with others I feel this hearts and strength enter my body and let me reach heights that were previously unimaginable! Just a small rant- do not give it any heed.
We set out, then, to deal with small troubles in the city. Oh, this was just the opportunity I had been waiting for! We had escaped the horrors of battle (me being a more urban person) to a conversational arena, a hub of movement and people! I was ready to fence and spar with any who would, to fight with interactions, and to champion myself with words!
… And yet, when I was talking with a Town Guard about some going ons, I suddenly felt a dull pain in my arm and then all went black.
When I came to, as most people do, I woke to find many around me in a similar state: wounded, bleeding, crying, and many other verbs aside. Apparently a pair of thieves, brutish ones at that, had decided to hit our part of town. Well, me being the People Person that I was, just *couldn’t* let that stand.
After running over and “acquiring” some of a downed Thief’s goods, I took off after his accomplice. It would seem that my arm had been made useless by that earlier pain, which was a pain of all pains as it was my dominant arm. But nonetheless, I— with as much bravery as this stout hobbit could muster —chased after him. I ran faster and faster until, suddenly, I was right behind him! I leaped up, with a snarl on my lips, and screamed upon the name of my dead father that… wait no, that was a story I read once.
We stabbed each other. That’s what happened. The end.
But now *our* story continued! After we took the Thief in for questioning, I met a wonderful young woman (with a wonderful demeanor), Kioriel. I met her in a manner which usually is reserved for a different woman in a different time, helping a child (and the mother) to be born into the world. The both of us, in our noble nature, took pity on a poor woman’s cry for aid and stayed and helped. I will pass over the imagery of these events, merely for… well, everyone’s benefit.
It was quite a wonderful experience, to help that mother and child- to help a life come into the world, even if the mother didn’t really want you there. I even picked up a little bit of herbalist along the way, which because of everyone around me I *really* began to get it down! Though I forgot a lot of it and probably couldn’t replicate some stuff I did now… I was really on roll before.
I asked Kioriel out to a non-romantic lunch after we helped the new mother. She said she wasn’t interested in a commitment, so she *thought* that I wanted something more but I guess that’s just women for you… and men too. Heck, *everyone* is like that for what I care.
I am writing this briefly now- she has just left to take care of some business, and we are all supposed to be meeting up in a little while to go on more adventures. All of this adventuring business is really getting to me… I am really enjoying it.
I’ll write more later. Or maybe I won’t. I’ll see how tired I am.
From the Journal of Doderic “The Cloud”, Hobbit Adventurer
6th of the New Year, 15,968 .
So before I get into all of the escapades of our “wonderful” and “peaceful” adventuring party, and some more personal interjections, I do believe that to all of you uneducated readers of this small Hobbit’s Journal (which I will use a proper noun for, at your permission) I must alude to my origins.
In brief summary, I hail from the far off, and in my mind superior, island nation of Hostor. I was born, as many hobbits are, from a woman, and this woman was named Willow. And, as most hobbits are, I had a father, whose name shall be… well, let’s leave him out of this honest rendition of my past, as in all honesty he is better left out of it.
So I grew up in a true hobbit fashion, minus a father who was never home, on a childhood of tea, magic, and stories. I remember the rolling hills of Hostor, the towers of the Pinnacle Mage School, the wondrous smell of the tea set out on the table… ah, just thinking about it makes me nostalgic.
But I digress, my mysterious and possibly unreal reader, to my original intent behind this journal. I suspect that, in the coming time of adventure, I will soon be embroiled in conflicts, just like in the stories that my foolish hobbit brain has been ingrained with. Or, perhaps, I am merely expecting the best out of this situation and it will be an utter let down. But thus far, it seems, it has been a great experiment. There are nice people, I am learning quickly… it has been, and hopefully will continue to be as long as the story permits it, a good time.
And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, for the part you have been waiting for. Let the story, in all its glory and truth, at least as much as a conveniently forgetful mind can establish, begin.
And in a *beautiful* contradiction of that previous statement, and yet in absolute synch, I put forward the statement that I, Doderic the Cloud, am a people person. I thrive off of their energy, being around them as if I was one of those “Vampires”. Thus, with this fact in mind, we look forward to my first meeting with my comrades, in an unnamed place an undetermined time with an undetermined group of people… much like what I am used to back in Hostor, what I saw growing up. One would almost think that us hobbits might have started the whole “voting” mechanic and the introduction of the rare and elusive inns…
I remember thinking how many people there were. They were everywhere, even hanging off of the wall of the inn! There were so many, from different classes and places… I think I even saw a royalty! Sadly, I seemed to be one of the only hobbits. But to this casual observer of human nature, it would seem that those who come to a place are usually those that are like that place- it seems, that at least on the outside this statement is true, that one must question its validity when one considers the actions of many of these individuals.
Chen Panjue of the Dark Eyes. Now *here* was an individual who I worthy of a non-sarcastic tone from a large satirical hobbit. Obviously, from his notable Title (of the Dark Eyes, for those of you either stupid enough to not see it or quick enough to miss it) and manner, he has seen much of this world. He spoke wisely and patiently, almost as if he had dealt with a very similar group before…
The 1st objective of the day, sadly, was not as noble as I might have liked- it seemed that us heroes were needed to rid a simple infestation from some outlying farms. Suffice it to say, I rather enjoyed my hot, steaming, wonderful cup of tea in the warm inn whilst my fellows were out doing all the legwork…
When my fellows returned, exuberant from the thrill of battle (which strikes this hobbit odd given that many must have, or have renounced, oaths of Pacifism, they settled in and I began to make some friends. I met one lad, who went by the name Igor. Now Igor, though in essence such a brutal and uncultured name (too heavy of an “r” for this hobbits liking), was quite a nice individual and I’m sure that we must of talked of something of note. But as I continued to travel around the group, I began to talk more and more, make more and more friends; in fact, I began to do everything better! I was even able to identify some mysterious ingredients, I felt so good about it all!
But anyways, back to the epic story part of this journal. At least for now.
Apparently, they don’t like Orks here. I mean, I understand, but this milita had been doing *really* bad things to them, like killing them and maiming them and… well, leave the rest to your imagination. But what *really* made this event interesting, at least for me, was the fact that these were Sorikonians. Sorikonians, the virtual manifestation of peace on Earth, were killing beings. This had to be investgated, so I took up the call!
We moved out fast- I don’t remember much of the journey, save that I met several women (a couple of cute elves, but don’t tell them I said that), a Bear with apparent intelligence, and many odd people. When we got there, well, the true color of my companions came out…
We first stood our ground against some Orks, who were attacked brutally by many Sorikonians in our party. Then, we fought against Sorikonian militia. Then we fought against more Orks, and diplomacy saved the day *barely* because of the efforts of a few (myself included, in an integral role) individuals.
My family certainly needs to work on their control and negotiation skills- I wouldn’t be surprised if more than several of them might be clinically insane, especially one big bloke who seems to be scared of… well… everyone.
Despite the failures of the party at large to control their darker, inner demons, we returned partly in triumph. Well, this noble hobbit delivered a message to Mr. Panjue of the Dark Eyes (I will never tire of the sound of that name), and we began to talk about what we could do with the Orks.
Well, I will pass over the Bureaucratic mess of negotiation, shouting, and civil profanity that followed to describe the color white. It is such a funny color- it is so distinct, and yet it mixes with everything. It is something separate, like on a wall, but then it is also mixed, like Clouds in the sky. White also, when alone, seems to be smaller, not as powerful. When mixed, white becomes stark and stronger. Sometimes, I feel like I am the color white- when I am separate I feel weaker and less confident about myself, but when I am with others I feel this hearts and strength enter my body and let me reach heights that were previously unimaginable! Just a small rant- do not give it any heed.
We set out, then, to deal with small troubles in the city. Oh, this was just the opportunity I had been waiting for! We had escaped the horrors of battle (me being a more urban person) to a conversational arena, a hub of movement and people! I was ready to fence and spar with any who would, to fight with interactions, and to champion myself with words!
… And yet, when I was talking with a Town Guard about some going ons, I suddenly felt a dull pain in my arm and then all went black.
When I came to, as most people do, I woke to find many around me in a similar state: wounded, bleeding, crying, and many other verbs aside. Apparently a pair of thieves, brutish ones at that, had decided to hit our part of town. Well, me being the People Person that I was, just *couldn’t* let that stand.
After running over and “acquiring” some of a downed Thief’s goods, I took off after his accomplice. It would seem that my arm had been made useless by that earlier pain, which was a pain of all pains as it was my dominant arm. But nonetheless, I— with as much bravery as this stout hobbit could muster —chased after him. I ran faster and faster until, suddenly, I was right behind him! I leaped up, with a snarl on my lips, and screamed upon the name of my dead father that… wait no, that was a story I read once.
We stabbed each other. That’s what happened. The end.
But now *our* story continued! After we took the Thief in for questioning, I met a wonderful young woman (with a wonderful demeanor), Kioriel. I met her in a manner which usually is reserved for a different woman in a different time, helping a child (and the mother) to be born into the world. The both of us, in our noble nature, took pity on a poor woman’s cry for aid and stayed and helped. I will pass over the imagery of these events, merely for… well, everyone’s benefit.
It was quite a wonderful experience, to help that mother and child- to help a life come into the world, even if the mother didn’t really want you there. I even picked up a little bit of herbalist along the way, which because of everyone around me I *really* began to get it down! Though I forgot a lot of it and probably couldn’t replicate some stuff I did now… I was really on roll before.
I asked Kioriel out to a non-romantic lunch after we helped the new mother. She said she wasn’t interested in a commitment, so she *thought* that I wanted something more but I guess that’s just women for you… and men too. Heck, *everyone* is like that for what I care.
I am writing this briefly now- she has just left to take care of some business, and we are all supposed to be meeting up in a little while to go on more adventures. All of this adventuring business is really getting to me… I am really enjoying it.
I’ll write more later. Or maybe I won’t. I’ll see how tired I am.