NationStates Jolt Archive

Tassar sat quietly in the seat of the library, the only light coming from small candles here and there. He sat on a simple wooden chair, with a book in his aged hands, and a pipe in his mouth. His long curly, messy gray/white hair rested on his shoulders but went slightly lower. His mustache than ran into his beard, which went down to his chest. He was wearing long dark red silk robes.

He took a breath on his pipe, and blew out, making a smoke puff. He flipped the page of the book with his fingers, saying words quietly to himself as he did so, making mental notes. He reached onto the table, taking the pipe from his mouth, and picked up a glass of wine, and took a sip. He set the glass back down, and went back to the book.

Other people wandered around the library here and there, most scholars, or simply people just looking for some information. He was reading of the land of Jukriglar, on the east side of the March Mountains. He was in the citadel of Arenuem, in the city of Donthalas. A city that rested not to far from the shore of the ocean, on the far west side of the continent. He was in the land of Techon, an ancient country.

…The men of East Tondure fought brave against the foul beasts of Ukrash, holding out their fortress for three days, it was then they fell, their ruler; Marthin, leading the charge against the enemy lines, they died with great honor. It was after that the Ukrash disappeared back into Jukriglar, unknown and unseen since.

“Seven hundred and eighty nine days since,” Tassar muttered to himself.
He closed it, rubbing the front of it, looking at the cover of the leather book. He stood up, and slid it into his bag, he walked over across the part of the room he was in, and stood next to another table. There, slouching in a chair, asleep, was Derrin Tothbuck, a hobbit, or halfling depending on where you were from. He slept with his hands together across his lap. He had a full head of curly hazel brown hair, which was a complete mess. He, just like all the other hobbits, was bare footed, and had an extremely large amount of hair on his foot.

Tassar picked up his staff, and hit Derrin across the side slightly with it.
“Wake up,” He ordered.
The hobbit opened his eyes, and jumped up out of the seat. “Sorry Tassar I didn’t mean to doze off, I know you told me to keep track of your stuff…. I can assure you it’s all…”
“Yes indeed it is all here Derrin Tothbuck,” Tassar said. “You might be bad at guarding, but at least they know not to mess with you while you slumber.”
“Really? They do?” Derrin asked with a confused expression.
Tassar shook his head, and looked around. “Where are the others?”
“I don’t know,” Derrin said spinning around in all directions looking everywhere.
“Go look for them,” Tassar said.
“Yes, right away,” Derrin said, and scurried off.
“Keeping hobbits with you as traveling companions, you never get bored,” Tassar said as he picked up the rest of his equipment.




Techon Capitol Kiran Moutessen



The massive city, built into the side of the March Mountains, made entirely out of white stone, it was very complex. The main city had a wall surrounding it, on the lowest layer of the city, another layer stuck up in two spots, on the north, and south side, both of them perfect circles, then in the middle of those were more raised levels that made the third, and then a final tower in the middle of each part of the third layer.

Towards the backside of the city, directly against the mountain, was a tower that stuck up, the tower was massive, spreading higher than any of the other layers, and it was also very big as well. With the Emperor’s mansion, and a courtyard on top, overlooking the city.

To the south of the city was a path that led into the mountains, at the top of the path lay the other city, it was very large, with many towers here and there and a wall surrounding it, but it was one layered. Without the exception of buildings on top of each other.

Then surrounding the entire area considered to be the city, was a wall, the actual land of the city was built in a gap in the mountains, you could not get to either city without going past the outer wall, which was massive. There was a total of one door, one hundred feet from one side to the next. The wall itself was thirty feet thick, and one mile long. It had several towers, nine total, placed in equal spots, two towers at each end where the wall met the mountains, and then seven more equally placed between.

Between it and the main city was a giant field, five miles total, with the road leading to the other part of the city half way down. This field had a few farmhouses here and there, but was more the less just plains.

In the courtyard in front of the mansion/castle of the emperor, Imitus walked across the path that went directly through the grass area, he was dressed in light armor, chain mail, with leather armor on top, and a long brown cape. He was fair looking, with long brown straight hair. He was also the oldest of three sons. The sun shone brilliantly upon the city this day, he looked off to his right, and gazed at the looming dark mountains, before walking up the steps and up to the doors.

He pushed open the doors that led into the Emperor’s hall, which was completely empty except the guards along the wall, and the emperor, sitting in his throne, at the end of the room, the emperor; Kalithus, was Imitus’s father. He had three sons, Imitus, Archilles, and Neiveden. Imitus bowed down to the emperor.

“Father,” He said raising his head back up. “I come to report good news.”
“Yes my son?” Kalithus asked, in a pleasant, but expecting voice.
“We have ridden the eastern shores of the Dumoden from the wild men,” Imitus said proudly. “My men and I rode in front the south heading along the river, chasing as many up as possible, while Archilles and his men came from the east, and pushed them across the river, majority of the wild men were slain, the rest kept running west.”
“Very good,” Kalithus said as he stood up, his long fur cloak sliding off his arms, he stepped down from the steps, walking across the room to his son, he put his hands on Imitus’s shoulders, and smiled. “Very good indeed.”
“Yes my lord,” Imitus said bowing his head again.
“What is the news of our wizard; Tassar?” Kalithus asked as he walked back to his throne.
“The wizard still remains west, in Donthalas I hear,” Imitus said. “Most recent news from him said he was planning to go through the March Mountains to the fortress of the men of East Tondure.”
“Why would he travel there?” Kalithus asked as he sat down in the marble throne.
“He wants to investigate on the…Ukrash,” Imitus said pausing before he said the final word.
“The Ukrash you say,” Kalithus said rubbing his chin. “What would he want with them?”
“You know the Red Wizard,” Imitus said with a quick laugh, but his face turned solemn. “Apparently he thinks there is a lich, a dead wizard. He senses it he says, and he feels power growing in Jukriglar.”
“That land is but dead now,” Kalithus said.
“That is what I said to him, but he still thinks something is happening, he thinks the Lich Lord; Numrel, is back.”
“That is nonsense,” Kalithus said. “I would pay no heed to it, but let him go on his journey, we will see what he has to say.”
“Of course,” Imitus said, and bowed a final time, before turning around, he walked back out the open doors, which the guards closed right afterwards, he walked across the courtyard, and down the fleeting steps back to the city.

(OOC: Alright here it goes, you have a hint of a storyline here, now you can join in as the following races, a dwarf, an elf, human, or hobbit. There are restrictions to the Hobbit though, I want a grand total max of three, and if you join as a hobbit you must be with Tassar. Another thing, you are to have no magic, this is more towards a Middle Earth settings, and not D&D, not everyone can run around shooting spells, you may have weapons with interesting abilities, but not massive destructing powers. Also, your character has to be normal, not some super man, the person cant be the equivilant of a level twenty D&D guy because like I said this isn't a D&D setting. Other than that you are relatively free, you can join in as a citizen of Kiran, or you can be an adventurer who stumbles into Kiran, there will be a lot of fighting, so join in)

OOC: Tagged. I'll probably be some type of Human badass swordsman.

(OOC: Also, no chinese samurai, ninja style weaponry, and the names have to be real fantasy names, nothing like Hiltbender or things like that, also, your character doesn't have a 'class' but a job or profession)

OOC: I'll be an Assasin called Tarq Omas. More info l8r, g'night!

-=BUMP=-

OOC: Here's the info:

Name: Tarq Omas

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Job/Profession: Assasin

Bio: Much is unknown about Tarq's past. However, he is a feared Assasin, and only works for high pay.

(OOC: I am cutting of the chance to be a hobbit, I want this RP to move along)

Tassar sat down in the seat, and right as he did so, three hobbits came strolling over to the table, Derran in front, then two others behind him.

One was Cedrick Goodberry, he was just as short as the other two, being only three and a half feet tall. He, just like Derran, had curly brown hair.

The other, Tom Appfin, was more round than the other two, he had curly hair, but it was shorter on the front than on the back, he was also slightly shorter than the other two.

"Alright," Tassar said. "So my little traveling companions are all ready?"
They all nodded their heads silently.
"Good to hear," Tassar said smiling. "Let us be off then."

He turned around, heading for the exit, the hobbits followed behind. They passed out the door, into the city, the entire city was made of gray rocks, cut into bricks. Another factor of the area was the fact that it was a giant garden along with a city.

They kept along, till they reached the stables, there, was a brown horse, with a cart attached to its harness. Tassar put all his equipment into the back of the cart, and the hobbits put theirs in the back, and then climbed on.
Tassar walked up to the front of the cart, walking over to the horse he gave it and apple, and patted its head, before climbing back onto the cart.

He grabbed the reigns, and jerked them, the cart started to move forward. He steered it through the city, and then down the long winding path, leading off into the wilderness.

OOC: Can I join in too?

Name: Brenn the Blacksmith
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Job: Blacksmith

Bio: Being raised from a long line of blacksmiths, Brenn never knew anything but the blacksmith and the neighbourhood. Their last name was forgotten and replaced by "the Blacksmith" when people did not know of Brenn and his family. Being his father's help from the age of 8 he was very muscular. His hair was blond, long, dreadlocked from the filth he could never wash out completely. He wore it in a tail most of the time. After his long days at work he enjoys drinking Ale in the local pub and pulling pranks on people from the neighbourhood.

Name: Tári Calafalas
Race: Elf/Human
Age: Unkown looks around 22 human years
height: 5'4''
Weight: 115 pounds
Hair: Brunette

Descirption: A bastard child born out of rape this child cast out by both socities of her parents. She grew up alone, not much is known of her past except that her flesh was burned with the markings of a slave. A fate she must have escaped. In recent years she has sold her services as a scout to the army.

(OOC: All of your characters look good and can you guys can join in)

<<OOC: El Grande Tanke meets Tolkein...I like it!!>>

Name: Bronk D'Kar
Race: Half dwarf/half elf
Age: 112
Gender: Male
Height: 5'6''
Weight: 230 lbs

Not much is known about Bronk, except that he travels alot, hiring out his services as needed, whether that be working in a field or bounty hunting. He is gruff, and speaks very little. Imagine a regular dwarf, stretch him on a rack, add blond hair, a close-cropped beard and pointy ears. Strapped to his back is a two-handed axe, and he is also proficiant with a bow. He has heightened senses in the forest, as well as when underground. He is unaccepted and even hated by the purebreds of both races. Elves and Dwarves have been racial enemies since the dawn of time, and the story of Bronk's bloodline and how he came to be, is still a mystery to him.

(OOC: Check... we seem to have a lot of social outcastes here)

A lone figure sat on a rocky outcropping, coming out of the mountain behind him. He'd been there for two days, watching the wall. Why? Because he wanted to get in, and the only times the guards seemed to change shifts was 7PM and 7AM. The figure's watch read 6:50AM. The sun was creeping over the horizon. The figure sighed, and looked over at the tower nearby. He'd have to be quick, which wouldn't be a problem, but he'd also need to stay in the shadows. That would be tricky. And so, the figure, clad in all black got up, and put his hood on. If he messed up, which he never did, he didn't want people to see him...

6:53AM...

If one had very picky eyes, they'd see an outline going down the mountains very quickly, and very quietly. But of course, no-one did see him. That was, of course, integral to his job.

6:57AM...

With a subtle backflip, the figure landed right in front of the wall. Under the hood, he grinned. He'd timed it perfectly. Even now, he could hear the guards groaning, and moving about. Pressing his ear to the wall, he heard the footsteps slowly move away from where he was. he had two minutes to scale both sides of the wall.

Piece of cake.

The figure removed a crossbow from somewhere under all his dark clothing. Taking two paces back, he then practice aimed with his crossbow. Satisfied, he got out a grapple arrow, and attached a long piece of rope to it, about fourty feet's worth. He raised the bow, held his breath, and fired...

Ten seconds later, he was scaling the wall. Thanks to a special feeder attached to his belt, the rope got pulled in quickly, allowing him to run up the wall. Finally, he jumped, and landed on top of the wall.

One minute...

He could hear the guards approaching. Cursing, he got a dagger out. Clambering over the side, he lodged it in between two stones, before attaching the rope he'd used before around the hilt. Putting his items away, he climbed over the side, and then flicked a switch on his belt. It let a bit of rope out, and then stopped. Sighing, the figure looked down, and started to absail...

Ten seconds...

With a hard tug, he pulled the dagger out of the wall. Landing right in front of him, he unraveled the rope, flicked the switch on his belt again, making the rope be pulled in, and he then threw the dagger back where it was. He always left a dagger near where he'd entered/exited/killed, it was his trademark. Straightening his clothing, he entered the city, and melded into the crowd. He had a target he needed to find, and his name was: Imitus. The figure would find Imitus, and do what he'd need to do...

The force of the axe cut deep, a fitting, final stroke. Bronk always felt alive, truly alive, when swinging this vicious weapon. It was the Dwarven blood in him, the battle-lust enfolding him, turning him into a wrathful berserker. He swung again, another target going down before his mighty blow. He was surrounded, but none could stand before the whirlwind of steel. Like a scythe of death, he mowed down all those around him. He stood, panting, waiting for the next wave.

"Bronk! Yo, Bronk!! CHOW TIME!" The voice interrupted the warrior, and Bronk turned to the source. Amelia was a biiiiig woman, and when she called, you listened. He wiped the blade of his axe with his shirt, and waved to the imposing woman. He looked around one last time, impressed with the amount of corn he had cut down...at least twice his normal yield. His boss would be happy. He ran towards the smell of hearty stew and beer.

OOC: Waiting for Techon to reply...

IC: The figure's instincts flared. The target was nearby. Breathing out, he reached in under all the black he was wearing, and got out a dagger, but he kept his hand under his clothing. No-one but his target needed to know who he was...

Imitus was walking through the crowd, with four guards around him, he looked around as the crowd split, he was making his way down to the front gates. He moved his brown gloved hand to his belt, holding onto his sword for a moment, before moving it away.
He saw a man in the crowd, hooded, he nodded to the man.

The hooded figure glided over to Imitus, dagger still in hand. This was it. He'd found his target. He stopped right in front of the man, and in a sharp motion, held the dagger pointed at his face. he held the posistion for a few seconds, before holstering the dagger, and nodding.

"I completed the Mission." he said.

"Good," Imitus said. "Very good."
He looked at the guards.
"You are dismissed to the outer wall," He said, as they started walking away he brought the other man along. "We have another mission for you."
He walked up the stairs, to the wall around the city, he leaned against the wall, and looked out across the plains, as the four guard galloped to the outer wall on their horses.
"The Red Wizard," He explained. "Tassar, is on his own little mission, he is exploring Eat Tundore, he beleives the old Lord of the East is back. We need you to go and find Tassar, and have him come back here. I suggest you don't make it seem like you are going to hurt him, he is far more powerful then you could even imagine."

Tarq laughed.

"You don't know what I can imagine my friend," he said, before pausing. "So, you want me to Escort some old haggart wizard on some quest back here, so his nurse can give him his soup? Fine. But I hope you're going to pay me the moment I come back with him. Comprende?" Tarq said.

Tarq shook it, his leather gloves making no noise. "Okay, does this wizard have any guards or anything? Or is it just him?" he asked.

"Deal," Imitus said sticking out hand to be shaken. "Then your job here will be done, and you will be free to go."

(OOC: Derran (Dare-an), Tassar (Tas-are), Imitus (Imm-I-tus))

"Just him, and his three... travelling companions," Imitus said. "Now, be off and find him."

Two Days Later

Tassar moved the cart along through the thick woods, they were two days into their journey, they had travelled one third of the way. The woods was extremely thick, they were lucky they were on a path and the trees were cut away from it, or barely any light would get through.

Derran, Tom, and Cedrick all looked out into the forest, seeing creatures of some sort moving around. Derran leaned over the side for a better look.
"Der, you might not want to do that," Cedrick said sitting on a crate eating an apple.
"Why not?" Derran asked as he moved back into the safety of the cart.
"Because those things," Cedrick said pointing off into the darkness.
"What are they?" Tom asked.
"They are Spiders," Tassar explained from the front of the cart. "You will want to stay from them, they can be very dangerous."
Derran moved back into the cart further, to the very middle of it, as he looked out he saw another shape moving, not a spider, it looked human.

“Someone is over there!” He exclaimed sharply. “A human in the bushes!”
Tassar looked back, but disregarded it. “My little hobbit friend, there are no humans in these parts, rangers live north of here, but they barely come to these woods.”
Derran sat back down, and crossed his arms, on a large branch up ahead, a spider, covered by the other branches, saw them coming, and readied for an attack.

OOC: Techon: Would you mind telling us?

IC:
Brenn was still in the workshop at night. He had lit a few torches and cleared everything toward the walls. In his hand he was holding a sword. Brenn started to make this sword a year ago. He had been practicing his sword skills ever since. He would not match up to real soldiers probably, but that did not matter to him. He wanted to be able to defend himself, for there was a rumor of the Lich Lord reborn. He would not be slaughtered like a sheep. Like I could fight a lich, let alone the Lich Lord he tought. His swordsman skill was no match the powerful spells they could cast. But still he practiced, just in case. And after practice he perfected the sword. The blade had grown sharper and more balanced over the last year. This night he almost thought it was perfect. Almost... If only I would be as good as the sword. He smiled and sweated. That would be enough for tonight. He sheathed the sword and hid it behind some great barrels. Brenn went upstairs to go to bed hoping he would never really have to use it. But I would not mind some change in my life. An adventure...

After a hearty lunch, Bronk returned to the field to continue his task. This was his last day on the Ondellay farm, but the harvest was over and soon he would be looking for work yet again. He finished his day, collected his wages from Master Ondellay himself, said goodbye to the friendly faces he had worked with for the last week, and set out on foot with no specific direction.

In fact, Bronk had decided to slip into town to get a few supplies, but mostly to get the notch out of his axe. He had chipped the blade slightly, when he had swung too low, and grazed a large rock. He knew of a small blacksmithy where he could have it repaired. People spoke of the young smith who ran the place, a man named Brenn, as having much talent. Bronk usually avoided crowds and cities, simply because he was so unique and strange, and drew the eye of onlookers wherever he travelled. How an Elf and a Dwarf could stop fighting long enough to mate and have a child was anyones guess: the result was Bronk.

Bronk arrived at the small town early in the morning, as the sun was rising. He stopped in the market and bought some fresh-baked pastries, eating them as he walked towards the blacksmith shop. It was not open yet, so Bronk crouched down on his haunches in front of the shop and enjoyed his pastries.

The spider descended on the cart, latching itself right where the horse and cart met, it bit down, destroying the harness, Tassar shot up from his seat, and the horse ran off. The cart pulled to a stop, and the spider slid off the front onto the ground.

All three hobbits ran forward, looking down.

"What is it?" Derran asked.
"Silence," Tassar shot quietly. "A giant spider attacked us..."
He peered over the edge, and a leg shot up, a giant hairy spider leg, Tassar backed away from it, and slashed with his magnificent silver sword. The leg cut in two, the peice falling to the seat of the cart.

Tassar pointed his staff down, and said some words of Elvish, a bright blue light issued from the end of the staff, hitting the spider, killing it.

"There," Tassar said. "But now we are without a horse..."
"Tassar..." Tom said looking into the woods. "We have more of a problem than that."

Tassar looked into the woods, a swarm of spiders were coming, Tassar counted seventeen in all.

He aimed his staff and readied his sword, a spider had come out directly ahead.

He aimed his staff and started chanting, when an arrow flew from the woods, hitting the spider on the back of its abdomen. It reared up in pain, and Tassar shot another spell, hitting it on its stomach, it flipped over onto its back and curled up.

More spiders, Tassar shot two more, killing both. Three more arrows had killed another.

Tassar saw the figure this time, someone, cloaked, running about the tree branches off the woods.

As he was looking one spider had come directly behind him, it readied its fangs.

"Tassar!" Derran, Cedrick, and Tom all shouted at once.

He turned around, and slashed, killing the beast.

"You fools! You have weapons! Use your swords!" Tassar yelled.
The three hobbits looked at each other, and hopped out, they pulled out their short swords, and started to aid Tassar, keeping his back, the three of them would attack one target at a time.

Cedrick swung at one, and turned to his side, another spider's leg swung and knocked him over onto his back.
He saw the spider rear up, it was about to crush him, but the figure swooped from the tree branch above, landing on the spiders back, knocking it off course.

Its leg hit the ground one foot from his head, Cedrick rolled out of the way, and stood up, seeing the man thrusting his long sword right through the giant spider, before it collasped onto the ground.

It wasn't long before the remaining spiders, all eight of them, had hurried back off, retreating.

Tassar turned, seeing a man, dressed in ragged brown clothes, with a green cloak on over top, a hood over his head.

"And who do I have to thank for this?" Tassar asked, resting his hands on his staff.
"My name is Athrondiel, a ranger," The man replied, pulling off his hood. He was young, but had a scarred face, very ragged.
"What is a ranger doing down this far south?" Tassar asked.
"That is not important, get what you can from your cart, I have a few horses at my home," The man replied.
"Very well," Tassar said.

It was another five minutes before they were off, Athrondiel leading, the three hobbits right afterwards, and Tassar in the back, disapearing into the thick of the woods.

Brenn returned from the bakery with 2 loaves of bread for the family. Whistling he appraoched the workshop when he saw a man in front of the store eating. There was something about him that was not... Human, he's not human. But he's not elvish for they have no beards. And definatally not a dwarf. What is he? With is head full of thoughts and his eyes on the stranger he walked into the door and dropped the bread. "Auch!" he said, more surprised then actually hurt. "What business brings you to my fathers workshop?" asked Brenn, picking up the loaves and unlocking the door, but did not wait for a reply. "Come in, come in, please" The street would be crowded soon, the sun is almost a full circle. He'll attract too much attention. His father had been ill for several moon cycles now. He needed as much rest as he could get, but there was little chance in that when there's hordes of people outside, waiting for a glipse of the stranger. Stranger indeed. He ran upstairs, put the bread on the table and ran back down. Brenn was not sure he liked the stranger. "What is it I can do for you, good master... er...?" He searched the workshop with his eyes. Where did he go?

Bronk watched the young man scurry about, dropping loaves of bread as he moved. He was a big boy, Bronk noted, with the solid build and massive arms of a blacksmith. He seemed somehow...innocent, thought Bronk. He liked him immediately. Not wanting to insult the master in his own house, Bronk waited patiently outside until he was invited in. He heard a muffled question from within, and realized it was directed at him. He called back through the doorway.

"I'll be needing yer services, young Master, to be fixin' my blade. I heard you were handy with a forge..." Bronk waited for the young man to finish whatever he was doing. He hoped it would be fast, as the crowds were beginning to fill the streets of the market, and the last thing Bronk wanted was to be noticed.

"Please come inside, quickly" asked Brenn, more telling then asking. The stranger seemed to be glad to be off the streets too. "Let's take a look at your..." His mouth fell almost open. The axe the stanger was carrying was huge. Like a dwarven axe, but stretched out so to match his height. "... Axe..." Brenn still stood looking in amazement, while the stranger was showing him something on the blade. Brenn snapped out of his staring and looked at a nasty notch in the blade. Suddenly Brenn's mind was no longer on the stranger but it now was on the repairing of the blade. He started to light the fire and looking for his tools, scattered all over the place. "My name is Brenn the Blacksmith. What should I call you, master Stranger?"

Bronk liked the young blacksmith immediately. He must have sensed Bronk's discomfort at being outside, and hurridly invited the half-breed into his shop. Brenn turned deadly serious when he saw the blade, the professional in him coming to the fore.

"I am Bronkolicus D'Kar, but please call me Bronk. As you have probably guessed, I'm not from around here..."

The blacksmith seemed not to notice, as he was working rapidly to get the tools of his trade ready for the repair work.

"Uhm...please be careful with my axe, alright? It's the only thing I care about these days."

The axe was really heavy. Brenn was by far the strongest human around and even he thought it was rather heavy. He lifted the blade up to his eyes to inspect the notch "You hit a rock or something with it, right?" He'd seen hundreds upon hundreds of alike notches in farming equipment, but never so big. Must be because the axe is so heavy. And this Bronk fellow is so strong, wielding an axe like that. "Is it from a battle?" The question had left Brenn's mouth before he knew it. Damn my curiosity It was not the first time his inquisitiveness had put him in trouble, but his curious nature just could not stop it. "I'm sorry... I... I was just... erm...wondering... erm..." Apologising he quickly went back to work, blazing the fire even hotter than it should be, burning the little hairs on his strong arms.

"Yes, a week-long battle with corn. A rather large rock decided to enter the fray, and thats what caused the damage."

He watched Brenn work, marvelling at the dexterity in the big hands of the blacksmith.

"Though I do wish it HAD been in battle, or something equally glorious...but adventure and honor always seem to pass me by..." Bronk sounded wistful, a young man whose genetic heritage screamed at him for action and glory on the field of battle.

Brenn now just acted busy so he could ask Bronk some more questions. "You mean you're a farmer? You certainly don't look like a farmer from around here. I know them all and farmers would not come from too far just to sharpen their tools, which you don't have. So what are you?" DAMN ME! He did it again, but he really could not help it. The best thing he could do was hope. Hope that Bronk understood the question another way, of that he had not heard it. He averted his face while repairing the notch, hoping Bronk would not see his face becoming red with shame.

Bronk thought a moment before responding.

"I am...whatever people pay me to be: farmer, labourer, bodyguard...but I gain no pleasure except for the satisfaction of earning my daily bread."

He wasn't sure if that was exactly what Brenn was looking for. He watched the blacksmith work on his blade, and continued to speak.

"As you have probably noticed - no, don't worry, everyone does - I have the blood of great warriors flowing through me, both Dwarven and Elvish. Ask me not how this came to be, for I have yet to find the answers myself."

Bronk was captivated by the work of Brenn, who was quickly smoothing out the notch in his blade. The axe had been made for him by his "uncle", an old dwarf who had watched over him for many years. Unique by its size, the axe was engraved with both Dwarven and Elven script. Bronk loved it, the only link to his past. Brenn worked on.

"I...tire of daily tasks, going from one village to another to find work. Life must contain more than that, no?"

Brenn smiled. A real adventurer. And half-elf, half-dwarf? He must have tons of stories."I would be the last one to know. I've lived and worked here all my life." He looked at the axe. Perfect again. He swung it through the air a couple of times. Again he was surprised by the weight, almost letting it slip out of his hands. "I've always wondered how far the world stretched. Sure I've seen maps, but I've never really seen anything." He handed the axe back to Bronk. "How far did you travel?"

"I have worn many pairs of boots out, this is true. My home is in the East, near the base of the March Mountains. It is a small village, hunters and craftsmen mostly. It was said that the Elders had fled from the evil of the Ukrash, and found safety in the arms of the great mountains..." Bronk stopped suddenly, emotion catching his voice and surprising him.

"Well, they were safe...for awhile. Ukresh have a nose for their prey, and they never forgot my people. A war-band found us, and killed us all." The words were true: there were no survivors, and Bronk himself felt dead inside.

"I...I was but a small child, and my mother had shielded me with her own dying body. I was found by a dwarven hunting party many days later, and they adopted me as their own. Until my Elven heritage began to show through."

Bronk stopped again, this time wondering why he was speaking this openly to the stranger in front of him. He realized he trusted this Brenn the Blacksmith, knowing that his Elven senses were confirming his feelings.

"I have been...a nomad for a decade, travelling everywhere and seeing nothing. I need to find my destiny."

With this, Bronk stared at the blacksmith, a young man of similar age, and asked his own question.

"What of you, friend Blacksmith? What is your tale?"

Brenn laughed.

"My TALE? My "great story of adventures" is only limited to this village and the occasional trip to the city. I've worked here since I was really young. My brothers and sisters had no love for the workshop. They all moved to the city, sick of the life here. Some married, some didn't. My mother died of grief when they stopped visiting a few years ago. Now my father has been ill for a long time."

Sadness took over him too. I may soon be the only one left. "

So now I run the workshop and take care of my father. I wish I could travel, but I can't. First I was too young and now I am bound."

Brenn suddenly smiled.

"But I'm not complaining. My life is good. The pub is good," Brenn winked to the half-dwarf, half-elf. "The girls are pretty. I enjoy my life as a Blacksmith."

He fell quiet for a moment, thinking.

"I don't know what I would do if I were free. I've never thought about it..."

And again there was silence. Brenn picked up suddenly: "So, master Bronk. Where do you intend to go now?"

There was honor in this man, thought Bronk. He looked thoughtful at Brenn's question, and considered carefully before answering.

"I have no plans, and this is my blessing, and my curse. I am free to go where I wish, but I do not know where I need to be."

The half-breed looked at the blacksmith, realizing that the young man at least had something that Bronk wished for...a purpose. He was a blacksmith, a provider of steel, a strong part of a community, a family man...but this did not seem to be Bronk's destiny.

"Tomorrow, I'm not sure where the road will lead me. For today, well, this pub you speak of appeals to me greatly, for I have not tasted ale for nearly a week....what say you? Will you join me later?"

"Sure, see you later Bronk." As the half-dwarf left the shop, Brenn smiled and he started his work. He could not keep his mind on it though. The stranger had tickled his sense of adventure. But my Father... He was the only thing keeping Brenn here. But what should he do? He could not just leave. True there was enough money to keep him alive a very long time. Brenn had been saving so he could once move to the city, but his fathers illness had gotten in the way. NO! I should not think of my father that way.

Bronk put three silver coins on the table in front of Brenn...probably too much for the small work that was done, but the nomad had a pocketful of coin and believed in rewarding work well done. After a hearty handshake and a promise to meet at the pub after sundown, Bronk left the blacksmith shop and wandered through the market, just starting to come alive in the morning sun.

He pulled his cloak low over his eyes, to hide from the prying eyes of the merchants. He bought some lunch supplies, and hiked out of the village, up a small hill and dropped his gear under a large willow tree. He planned to spend the day doing nothing, conserving his energy for the upcoming evening. Bronk was going to party hard tonight. He had to...he never knew what the morning would bring, so he tried to live each day as if it were his last.

The day passed slowly, sinking into night. Bronk made his way to the pub at the end of the market, looking forward to a cold beer and a warm fire.

They had just shortly left the forest, they were now travelling east, towards East Tondure, they would go near Kirran Moutessan but they would not stop there. Following Athrondiel, who was on a brown horse, Tassar was on a black one, and the three hobbits shared a white and brown spotted one.

"What makes you dare to go so far east?" Athrondiel asked as they rode.
"I wish to see if the rumors are true," Tassar said. "To see if the Lich Lord has actually risen."
Athrondiel was silent after that.

Six hours passed, and they set up a camp, in a niche in the side of a giant rock out in a plain.

"Here we will rest, it is still another good three days to East Tondure," Athrondiel explained. "Get some rest, you will need it."

The five of them lay on blankets, with another blanket over top, they drifted off into the night.

The pub was exactly what Bronk needed.

Dark and warm, with a blazing fire and the muted rumble of many voices. The pub was already half-full, with the rough and tumble assortment of oddities one would expect in a place like this. Keeping his hood on, the halfbreed made his way to a table near the back, with a good view of the door. Bronk was hoping that the Blacksmith would show, if only for some friendly conversation.

As the evening progressed and the ale flowed freely, he overheard some travellers speaking, talking about a city towards the east. From their discussions, it seemed that there may be some opportunity for Bronk to get work in the small villages that existed along the old road towards East Tondure, it being harvest time and all. Though the thought of that area brought back bad memories for Bronk, money was money and winter was coming.

He decided he would stay the night here, and leave for the east in the morning. He lifted his tankard and drank deeply, watching the door for the arrival of Brenn.

(OOC: Bronk really needs to listen more closely lol :p East Tondure is ruins now, it fell ages ago, Tassar read that in the book in the library, also, what village is Brenn and Bronk in?)

<<OOC: I wish we had a map...ok, changed my post to reflect the destruction of East Tondure. At this point, the village where Brenn and Bronk are has not been named...>>

(OOC: I am working on a map don't worry)

Tarq knelt on a pillar, one of the few still standing. The pillar overlooked East Tondure, and the road that goes to it. Stifling a yawn, he decided to sit, and sharpen some of his daggers. So, getting out his 50+ daggers, he lay them out neatly in front of him. Then, he got out a piece of paper. But this wasn't any ordinary paper. Made by the sea, this paper had millions upon millions of sand grains. The grains were stuck onto the paper using a strong type of glue. The paper was rare, but was known as: Sandpaper. Picking up the first dagger, Tarq inspected it, and then started to sharpen it...

Bump

The beer was cold, the stew thick and hearty, and the music pleasant to the ear. Best of all, no one bothered Bronk, sitting in a darkened alcove near the fireplace. He had watched the door all night, hoping to get a glimpse of the blacksmith named Brenn...some friendly conversation would be good right about now. He was surrounded by people, yet he felt very much alone.

His future was cloudy and unknown, as was the norm. Tomorrow, he would start on the road for the villages in the shadow of East Tondure, seeking work. For tonight, he would stay here in the pub for as long as the owner allowed, then find a secluded place to camp for a few hours. Bronk would be gone by the morning sun.