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Thread: To Those who will read or have read some or all of the thread "disturbing news"

  1. #1

    Default To Those who will read or have read some or all of the thread "disturbing news"

    To one and all I welcome you !

    I am in need of assistance. In the “disturbing news” thread I am creating a background for a series of events and story lines for the common people, those with only one life. The ones never mentioned in the official histories, the ones that built our roads and labored on our cities. Ever present, ever ignored, never seen or so their lives appear to us, the gifted.

    Two thread lines I will open. PLEASE post in them as you feel inclined or inspired. This is about NON lore, NON divine histories and activities of the common folk. Their histories, they shall pass generation to generation, as they have always done mother to her children, father to son or daughter. Before fires, in thatched huts or in the campsites away from home, as they labor.

    This thread shall be for stories associated with the main thread using a direct link to the story line, and the other one for parallel stories of your pleasure, and leisure, that are not directly associated with the story line I am telling. Feel free to start you own story line if you like.

    This is the game I have chosen to pay to play. It is a great joy. Our hobbies are supposed to be about FUN, not about 2nd jobs.

    This is my hobby, and joy. Feel free, therefore, to wade into the fray. Grins I am terrible at typing with the 2 handed 2 finger approach. IF I can do it, then anyone can.

    Help me make this a Rich story of depth and quality that only diverse participation can!!

    Thank you for your time!!

    Jp aka Skirnir Ouji Glada

  2. #2

    Default Brimstone in Bristugo

    A tiny, pink and orange dryad hovered in the Bristugo bank, waiting for the keeper to access her vault. He was taking an inordinate amount of time. Tapping teeny feet against the counter, she fluttered her wings, hoping to attract the lazy human's attention. Of course, was ignoring her.

    Typical. Lazy, good for nothing, no account— Her inner rant was interrupted by the screech of a dragon hatchling. The cursing of a gnome and the mother's roar rent the air. Glancing out the door, she saw the mother rear up on her hind legs. Opening her jaw, the dragon dame prepared her attack.

    The dragon's fire hit the gate, destroying it with gold and silver flames. It shuddered, quivered and groaned as the fire consumed it. Seconds later, a chain reaction flashed through the gate network. Tremors began, rattling windows, shaking cobblestones, sending a ripple from the first portal, around the circle, under the bank, through the guild house and down the hills. Rolling and groaning the land waited for the inevitable.

    Framed in the doorway, WyldRose Red watched in horror as the gate plaza pooled with dragon fire and a wash of unleashed portal energy. It didn't take a genius to recognize that disaster was upon them.
    With a gasp, she dove behind the counter. “Get down!” she commanded the vault keeper.

    Sluggish grunt that he was, he didn't duck quickly enough. A chunk of the nearest portal flew through the door, narrowly missing his head. Instead of taking cover, the fool stood there, staring stupidly out the door. More pieces of stone and shards of portal hurtled his way.

    Risking life and wing, the dryad flew at his knees, buckling them from behind. He fell heavily, hitting his head on the counter, knocking himself unconscious. Rose took cover behind him and the desk, barricading herself as best she could. Pandemonium filled the ruined courtyard. Dragons, humans and creatures of all races arrived, all talking at once. WyldRose stayed hidden, watching as the mother and baby were led off. Emergency personnel from Dalimond arrived, doing their best to treat the wounded and put out the fires. Complete chaos reigned—and no one watched the tiny figure in the bank.

    The vault keeper was out cold, his large iron keys on a heavy ring attached to his belt. Since she still needed access to her vault, the petite, winged creature tugged until she loosed the keys. Selecting the one for her box, she struggled to the safe. The keyring was nearly as heavy as she, but she was strong for her size. Ascending to her box, she unlocked it, with some difficulty, and got what she needed. Once the box was back in place, she looked around. Casting a glace over shoulder, at the mayhem and confusion in the courtyard, she eyed the ring of keys. Weighing them in her hands, she turned in a slow, deliberate circle.

    Who would notice? Who would see? In all the madness, no one would pay a lick of attention to a diminutive dryad. Why, she was virtually invisible to everyone as it was. No one paid her any mind. Like the bank attendant, they ignored her, equating size with skill. As if only the wingless had any wits. Hmph! She'd show them!

    With another surreptitious peek at the bedlam, she flickered quickly to the far end of the vault, where the richest boxes lay. With difficulty, as the contents were far heavier than her own, she opened three. Inside, great riches met her brilliant green eyes. Smiling, she dug through each box, selecting small, expensive gems, coins and pieces of jewelry. Transporting each prize to her own box, she slammed it shut, locking it and the other boxes carefully. Returning the keys to the vault keeper's belt, she flew out the back window.

    Astounded at her own audacity, she headed home. Her little heart fluttered in her tiny chest. Flushed with excitement and pride, she didn't notice the mayhem and madness behind her in the portal plaza. The sounds of the emergency personnel, militia and dragons blended into a noisy backdrop to her flight of victory.

    That would teach the lazy, fat sluggard to ignore her! And the beauty of it all, he wouldn't ever know. The box owners wouldn't even realize they'd been robbed, and no one would suspect a dryad. If anything, they'd blame the loutish human. Giggling with glee, she flew top speed, all the way home.

  3. #3

    Default Re: Brimstone in Bristugo

    “What are you waiting for, you lazy idiot? Nevermind, those two words contain the answer.”

    Mingtian shook a hoof at the half-conscious vault keeper. “I didn’t come running here all the way from Dalimond for nothing. Find your ******** keys and let me open my vault box NOW or you’ll find yourself lighting a new fire!”

    Word was spreading quickly about the portal fires. Ming had passed a group of fire fighters on the road but they were encumbered with their equipment and wouldn’t arrive for a while. Long enough for her to remove her valuables before the Tazoon authorities arrived. They would close the bank for sure, if not for good, then temporarily.

    The vaultkeeper seemed to hardly notice her presence, in spite of the strong goat fragrance she naturally carried. Ming decided to ignore the fool and began to search the area behind the counter, stepping over broken rock and fragments of charred wood and molten metal. Finally, she spotted a glint of silver in a pile of cinders. Before the vaultkeeper could even grunt a word of protest she gave him a Satyr kick to the nether parts and as he gasped in pain, made her way into the vault where her deposit box resided.
    “Nothing seems out of place in here,“ she mumbled as she keyed open the oblong box.

    Ming brushed the Admantium necklace aside, focusing her attention fondly on a shard of wood inscribed with the letters ONE FISHI. She licked it and took a small bite, savoring not only the taste but the memory of how angry Cixi the gnome had been after she chewed up the sign. Putting it down, she sniffed at a packet of maple fudge, likewise looted from the gnome’s plot, but reluctantly decided she didn’t have time for a snack. Then the sharp truth hit her. Where were her most prized treasures?

    “Impossible!,” she screeched, then immediately looked behind to see if the vaultkeeper had heard. Ming turned the box upside down and shook it vigorously. Several gems tumbled to the ground, but the Lore Tokens were nowhere to be found. It had taken her months to steal those and replace them with look-alikes so Cixi wouldn’t notice. That gnome had so much crap in her storage, she never really looked hard at anything. And she didn’t really need them, after all, she had so many formulas and expensive objects and Ming had hardly anything. Cixi was greedy and Ming didn’t feel bad about anything except all the time she’d wasted stealing the tokens.
    “Someone’s been in here and I’m going to find out who it was,” she grunted, slamming shut the box. She slammed it back into place on the vault wall and gave the adjacent deposit boxes a few good kicks just to release some of her anger. Then she exited the vault and marched up to the vaultkeeper to have a little heart to heart talk.
    Gnome Extraordinaire
    Join the GLF! *Gnome Liberation Front

  4. #4

    Default New Orders at North Crystal

    Bytsi wrung her hands, as she looked at the construction workers. Most of the workers had left demanding payment after Laslo had run down the road to the North Crystal portal. Since she could not pay anyone, others had left threatening to notify their Union Reps, and suing the plot owner. The rest of the workers, the remaining twenty or thirty, started advancing on her with their weapons and large tools.

    Shouting at her, the misfit, group started brandishing their weapons and began to run towards her. Coming around the corner, running from the gang of unpaid criminal looking ruffians, she ran past the bank. A dead body lay outside the the huge guild house, in front of the bank. Looking into the tiny vault, she beheld, Penolope hiding behind the counter with a heavy yew crossbow sticking up in the air.

    “Need help!!. The whole unpaid gang is after me.” Bysti cried.
    Penelope hollered, “Hop in behind the counter Bytsi!! Don't touch the green bowl of goo, girl!”

    Bytsi dashed into the bank sliding under the able flap in the counter, then locked it into place. Penelope dipped the first two bolts into the lethal, green goo. The first two brigands dashed, one behind the other, into small space of the tiny bank, wielding axes. Penelope fired, without second thought. The power of the crossbow at such short range took the first brigand with its poisoned bolt in the chest. Without armor, he dropped writhing on the floor, as the bolt found its second and last home buried in the chest of the of the Ssilik behind. The third brigand, a very large human with broken yellow teeth, met his fate with Bytsi's incantation, using staff and blood doll. Stunned and knocked backwards by the power of blood, he was still wavering on his feet. The yew crossbow fired again at point blank range. The very large human dropped like a stone, as the bolt nicked another, who fell writhing on the ground. The remaining villains stood milling around the door way trying to figure out a way to get in.

    Outside, the pad glowed and flashed in quick sequence. A piping voice rang out, “Surrender or die!”

    “Tis the Wardogs! Run!”
    “We ain't beina paid kill 'em fer da loot!

    The construction workers charged with evil intent gleaming in their eyes, sure thoughts of easy kills.

    “Kill them all!” the dryad officer shouted.

    The twangs of bows rang out, as fiery arrows hit the charging mob.. The thudding of heavy booted, running steps came to the females behind the counter. Screams, moans and groans, and calls for mercy were all cut short with the sounds of finality. There was silence.

    Bytsi and Penelope looked out past the edge of the vault doorway. Two elves, and two humans stood there. A half giant, with a dryad sitting on his head, came towards them. Walking through the carnage, as if it was nothing, the muscle bulging warriors with a blue tattoos on the left side of their faces, strode toward them, without a care in the world.

    “By the gods, Bytsi, it is true. The Dogs of War do, indeed, exist!!”, exclaimed Penelope.

    “There have been rumors about them for years. An elite division of criminals, let out of prison, in some type of agreement with General Az. They wear his family crest, in blue, on the left side of their faces. The worst of the worst, they are most highly trained killers in the world. They were trained outside of Aughundell, by the Iron Guard, and in the Forrest's of Feladan by foresters, druids and guardians. Their viciousness and mercilessness has become urban legend.”

    “I don't know about all of that, but that is my friend, Gruint. We knew each other as children, and were always in trouble.” Squealing in happy joy, she ran to the half giant and jumped up. Catching her, he swung her round and round. As the friends made their re-aquantaince, the pad flashed. A group of Saris appeared. The dryad officer with the Wardogs hailed them. After a muttered conversation, gestured to the undeveloped plot. The Saris were off and hunting for a scent.

    The druid officer called for attention. Knossos Crete, the High Elder and guild master of the Annatar ,and Skirnir Ouija Glada appeared next on the pad. The Wardogs came to attention and saluted.

    Knossos was the first to speak,” Colonel you have given these fine gentlemen your general's orders?

    “Not yet sir. I was waiting for the dragons to arrive.

    “Dragons sir? Sergeant Gruint.”

    “Yes, Sergeant. The guild master here called his very old friend the High Elder of Lunus in Dralk for assistance.”

    All looked at Knossos in awe.

    “They should be here any moment. Ahh here they are now.” He pointed at the dragons above them, coming for a landing.

    “Kumo and Fireopal, it Is good to see you both again,” called Skirnir..

    Looking at the landed dragons; and Wardogs, Knossos tapped his foot impatiently and said, “Listen closely, all of you. The half giant there is in charge when the dragons sleep. The dragons are in charge when the half giant is asleep. I will NOT tolerate any shenanigans from any of you. There are going to be over five thousand caretakers, healers here, with support personnel, of all types. There will be hundreds, if not thousands, of injured and dying.” he pointed his Druid cudgel at each individual. “All of you, comprise the only true fighting defence. Each will attend his or her duties, as it is required! I will NOT tolerate ANY foolishness on anyone's part here! Do I make myself CLEAR?!”

    All stepped back at his thundering tone, as Bytsi hid behind Gruint's legs.

    “Now My dear, Skirnir, perhaps YOU will explain to Me about this plot NOT being ready!!

    “Oh, most Ancient high elder, I was waiting upon you to deliver your deep wisdom about what was required here, so that you could create it as needed. I am only a youth, not yet in my prime, and am still learning,” Skirnir said looking innocently about. Leaning closer to Knossos, the Old Guard, Skirnir whispered something.

    Suddenly a beatific expression appeared on the ancient dwarf's face. Coughing politely he smiled broadly.
    Nodding, Knossos said, “Of course. I did not know about that classified information. You will give me that report privately in a few minutes.”

    The Saris group came up, their commander holding up a a shirt. After a short, quiet discussion with the dryad officer, the Saris officer addressed the group. “We have the scent.”

    The dryad officer nodded as the Saris recalled.

    The dryad officer turned to Skirnir and said, “Did you know three individuals were here earlier and fenced off the backside of your Large Guild House? They were from three different departments. So the Saris told me. There are signs that keep falling down about a supposed investigation to be done for disturbed spirits.”

    “What!!??,” Skirnir nearly shouted.

    “NO worries, Elder Skirnir. I am sure these fine warriors can take care of it all!” Shesaid before she recalled. Everyone looked at each other in askance. The order was clear.

    With a sudden, if not enthusiastic step, Knossos, the well known Guild Master of the Annatar, approached the stone. He tapped it, starting to chant in an ancient, forgotten tongue. Suddenly, right in front of the gods and everyone, a fully built plot began to emerge. Stone blocks became walls. Tiles became walk ways. All the while thundering clouds with lightening swirled above the plot. The wind whipped this way and that way. Stillness came abruptly. Within moments the plot was finished.

    Holding out a small bag to Bytsi Knossos said, “Take these seeds and plant where you wish them to grow and be quick about it.”

    Bytsi stood with her mouth working, and nothing coming out.
    Sergeant Gruint spoke up,”Right away guild master.” Picking Bytsi up, and putting her on his shoulder, he trotted inside the plot.

    “Is the ancient dwarf really a god, Gruint?,” Bytsi whispered urgently.

    “No, Gruint said back once in the plot out of earshot. “He is worse.”

    “Worse?” as she began to look fearful.

    “Yes, he is a Gifted One so is that dorf named Skirnir.

    “Oh No!!,” as she hid her face in her giant friend's shoulder.

    The pad flashed almost continuously. Individuals of all types came in a steady stream. The night was going to be a long one.

    A ghostly, silhouetted form sat atop the Human Cenotaph, sipping a real Dwarven ale cool dark and sweet. Reebdoog smiled. Interesting times were coming. Since the human conspiracy was finally found out, and the evil doers caught, he thought about leaving. Shaking his head he decided not to. Finally, and most importantly, there was going to be plenty of free ale right here. Maybe he should invite some friends.

  5. #5

    Default Dirty Deeds in Dalimond and Mayhem in Mahagra

    “What's a girl got to do to get a drink?” Gravel Gerty yelled. “Honestly! My coin's as good as any other.” She hammered on the counter at the Dalimond tavern.

    “But you haven't any,” the tavern keeper snarled. “Out, Gerty, before I throw you out.”

    “I'm leaving, but only because I've got to be somewhere. Not because you told me!” The grubby half-giant was lumbering out the door when the floor shook. Knocked on her bum, she landed in an untidy heap. “What was that?”

    The tavern keeper didn't say a word. He could only point toward Bristugo, mouth working like a landed fish. Picking herself up, Gerty dusted her backside and squinted. Her eyes were a bit dimmer than they'd been a decade ago, but she could still see details that the human's eyes could not. For one, she saw dragon flames shoot high in the sky. Something flew through the air, but it wasn't a dragon. Huge pieces of masonry hurtled toward them. Flaming debris, carried on the waves of explosion, rained down like fiery hale. Trees, bushes, thatched roofs—all were aflame.

    While Gus, the tavern keeper, gawped, and the patrons ran around like wounded lemmings, Gerty, ever the opportunist, grabbed up a full keg and high tailed it out the back door.

    “Oi, Gert!” her pal, Rough Robby called to her from the arrival pad. “We've got a job on. Come with?”

    “What sort, Rob?”

    “Roughing up the vault keeper, maybe a bit of snatch and grab? It's a standing contract, see?”

    “We'll be caught. The militia....”

    “All gone to the emergency. Stow the keg and come along. We need a gal like you.” Robby wasn't a very big fellow, being only four foot six—tall for a gnome.

    Gerty, a petite six foot eight, was lithesome for a half-giant. She might be delicate, by giant standards, but she was mighty stout. If anyone could rough up the vault keeper, it was she. Drugan, the town marshal, ran past, paying them no nevermind. He shouted orders and was immediately followed by Cole, the Guardian trainer. Together, the two men ran full speed to Bristugo.

    Inside, Gus was gone, as were the patrons. Robby helped himself to the till as Gerty and their companion, Oily Moe, ran upstairs to the bank vault. Maggie, the gnome, stood stoutly behind the counter. She wasn't one to run off in a tizzy because of a small thing like a massive explosion in Bristugo. She had a duty to perform, goods to protect. Fingers tingling with magical energy, she prepared a spell when she saw the half-giant coming toward her, with murderous intent. The fact Gerty was smiling notwithstanding, she readied her spell.

    “Robby didn't tell me the vault keeper was a gnome! Who needs to rough that little smidgen up? She's a wee thing, no bigger than a pup!” Laughing, Gerty swept the gnome into her arms and divested her of the keys she wore attached to her belt. Handing Oily Moe the keys, she tossed the gnome in the air. Screaming and kicking, Maggie protested this treatment, but Gerty simply laughed.

    “I'll report you!” Maggie screeched. “I'll get the law on you!”

    Gerty set her on a crossbeam of the building. By this time, Moe had emptied the cash drawer and was now looting the richest bank boxes, dumping their contents into bags.

    “Good job we've got you with us, Gert,” he chuckled. “You can carry more than Rob and me.”

    Oily Moe was a Ssylic who made a living, such as it was, relieving tax paying members of society, of their worldly goods. Gert didn't like him much, but he and Rob were a team. He slapped her on the fanny, grinning up at her. Gravel Gerty could handle a lot, but having some creepy, cold-blood handling her like that, was more than she was willing to tolerate. Grabbing up the bags of loot, she recalled.

    Rob and Moe tried to grab her hazy form before she could leave. Maggie hopped onto Moe's head from the crossbeam, screaming loudly. Gerty's last glimpse was of Dreaveon, the Battle Mage trainer, rushing up the stairs and zapping them both before they could recall.

    “I'll get you for this!” Moe yelled, his voice fading to nothing as the spell took her away.

    Landing at her guild shrine outside Mahagra, Gerty unloaded the bags of loot. She didn't dare take them into town, but she could safely stow them in a hideyhole. Afterward, she trotted down the hill to Mahagra. The town square swarmed with guards and emergency personnel. Several mages circled the center, all facing the town portal.

    A low, menacing rumble filled the air. The blue, glossy matter which made the portal, shivered and shook. Shock waves rippled its surface. The stone framework glowed a frightening red-orange, like burning blood. The wizards muttered their spells, their voices muted by the horrendous sounds coming from the gate. One after another fell to their knees, unable to keep on their feet because of the tremors.

    “Get back!” one gasped, losing her balance. She fell to her side, landing hard, her concentration broken.
    The gate turned black. Smoke curled from the carved stone sides. The rumble became a deafening roar.
    “It's going to blow!” a second mage screamed.

    Flattening themselves, the wizards covered their heads. No longer able to contain the destruction of the gate, they thought only of self-preservation. There was no time to recall, the gate's demolition would catch them before the spell was half cast.

    Watching from the hill, Gerty hurled herself into a snowbank, praying to the gods for protection. With a screech like a wounded beast, the gate blew apart. Gerty huddled under the snow, quivering behind a boulder. Flaming debris pelted down, setting even the stones on fire. Snow melted and hissed around her as the fiery shrapnel bombarded the landscape. A great, blue gout of gelatinous liquid spurted from inside the gate, heading her way. Gerty couldn't escape it. She could only curl in a fetal position and pray. With an ear shattering splat, it hit the ground, bathing Gerty in hot, sticky goo.

    Yowling, she struggled to her feet, lurching into a nearby snowbank. The icy substance quenched the heat, but caused the gel to harden on her body. Unable to move, she lay on the ground until a Saris cleric found her. His smiling face faded from view as she lost consciousness.

    “It's all right,” he purred gently. “I've got you....”

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