Shall I tell you about my life.
Posted: Sun Oct 17, 2010 12:54 am
As I write this it occurs to me that my time on this realm is short, I may have another twenty good years left in me or I may have twenty days. Frankly it frightens me, so I write this for my children and my children’s children, so that they may understand me, for who I was and what I have done. I am cursed; to begin with.
I stared off under a different name, my clan name was originally ‘Tombhelm’. I haven’t gone by that name in over a century, and I no longer belong, it is not who I am now and it will never be my name again. See I began my adult life as a guard, just like my father and his father before him, but I was a disgrace, not fit to guard so the clan humoured me. They had me guard there library, now that I think back I see that I do the same and give demeaning tasks if not worse to incompetent Fist. Anyway, I spent most of my early days guarding that post like the fool boy I was, after some time it occurred to me that I had little else to do but spent my time reading and eating. I got fat, both physically and on knowledge.
If I ever tell people of my past, I tell them that this eventually give me a wonder lust that got the better of me and I left the clan, wife, children and all. But that is a lie, one that I have told many times that I now believe myself. My family knows what happened and why I was outcast for my failure I do not need to repeat it. It was on that day that I took the name ‘Rocshanks’ for myself and headed north, out of the icy cold peaks of Amn and into the new brave realm of the sword coast.
Skip a couple decades and you’d have found me a drunken bar brawler and a would be tomb raider. At that time I still longed to return home, I still hid my first name in fear that my kin would hear it and realize who I was. In all my days, from that day to this one, it has never happened, and it is never likely to happen ...and if it did I would no longer care. My time as a tare away criminal where spent with a giant of a human called Kelton and a cursed blood tiefling nicknamed Sonny. Kelton was man that could cleave a tree in half and Sonny was a sneaky bastard, slit many throats from the shadows. I was the anvil of our team, I took the beatings and went back for seconds. My face does not thank me for it.
This is when the curse reared its ugly head again, not content to ruin my former life but now to end the lives of so many others. You see our crew was well balanced but we always needed a doctor, priest or some spell chucker to round us off, the problem was they always ended up dead. We lost a lot of hired spell swords and the like. Our worse lose was thirteen men in the Cloakwood mines, we stormed that place with what would have been two dozen swordarms. Less than half of us escaped with heavy wounds, only myself, Kelton and Sonny left unskaved . This curse was blamed on the tiefling of course, I fecking hated that wee bastard cursed blood.
I found that my lifestyle became very profitable in the crew. I wore the finest full plate, plated in gold and encrusted in gem stones. I was so devoted to the following of Abbathor, he would have been proud. If he saw me now he would more than likely spit on me, yet I merely pay the bastard lip service these days. My fortune was short lived, with the departure of Kelton, who returned northward to his home and the disappearance of Sonny, I saw fit to waste my coin on booze, loose wenches and gambling. When I was broke and the team was gone, making coin was hard. I could barely scraped together drinking money let alone pat for the wenches I was used to.
So I joined the Flaming Fist. Many people at the time thought I was only dwarf to join the fist, but that’s a load of toss. There had been many dwarfs before me, there was even a detachment used against the Red Wizard War long before I even joined. Then not to recently we have used that detachment again that damn undead dragon; what I night that spoiled! We didn’t even get to the starters at the Duke’s dinner with Rokranon and his bum boys.
The early days of the Flaming Fist were hard ones, Captain Crownsliver, Company Sergeant Heppenzeiler, Sergeant Harrow and Corporal Ness whipped me into shape. Well maybe not Sergeant Harrow, that lazy nonce would have barely scratched his own arse. If things had have been different, however, such as, if the Ironfaar clan had have been more than a mere whisper of its former self then I would have never have joined the Flaming Fist. So when I heard rumblings that the Ironfaar Clan had new leadership I made sure to extend the hand of the Fist and forged an alliance with them. From little beginnings they went from strength to strength, and I made sure that any troubles would disappear that could have hindered the clan.
That came to an end though when Crownsilver offered me an ultimatum, either stay in my officer rank and remain the Ironfaar Fist diplomat or give it up and become a Sergeant. I couldn’t resist, it was a bigger pay packet and I skipped the pretty rank of Corporal. I think it was about this time that our secret weapon join us, Myrhun. Sent from Candlekeep he was a man that lusted after power, I saw it in him. It was the same lust I had for gold. Myrhun became a good friend, many guard shifts were spent taking the piss out of each. I miss my friend...
Then the war was to come, no one saw it coming. Beren was one of us or so we thought. It turned out he merely joined the order to protect his own interests. As an apprentice he spoke to superiors as equals, he lead raids into territories we had no domain over and even launched an assault into the depths of the ground in a quest to purge Drow from their holes. Cross started of as a good man, but whatever it was that he found it changed him. Some kind of demonic rock if I remember, we held it in the castle for a while, had it guarded in a locked chest with two guard posted to it.
We were to outcast Beren and punish him for his disobedience but before we could He fled and formed his own mercenary company. His stance directly opposed the Flaming Fist and our control. Cross and his Valiant Shield declared war on us when we finally caught up to him. He would not stand down when demanded to, things turned ugly from there on in. I have little memory of it now, but from all accounts there was much bloodshed.
After war was declared on these brigands, Toybox sought me out. Toybox, or as she introduced herself to me as the ‘misses’, it didn’t really matter what her alias was we had a file on her and her activities a mile long. Nothing was done about it of course. See the Fist ad thieves had a mutual agreement, you pay us and we pretend it didn’t happen. Those were the god old days when the thieves guild was smart and lead by an intelligent leader, unlike today. Anyway the ‘Misses’ wanted the names of those were at war with, she paid handsomely for them I was even given my own ‘other name’. Whiskers they called me. When we began our search for Valiant Shield we the never found half of them. For the records it is assumed that they had fled our lands, ... I doubt it!
Whatever power that was used to slay Crownsilver of great evil, it held him in the in-between place, neither in the realm of the dead nor the realm of the living. He was to wander the citadel in limbo, a ghost. When those who were responsible or his death were brought to justice it seemed as if his spirit was free. Yet when they brought Justin back he was not the same man, he was different, he was tainted. I believe whatever tainted Cross had now tainted the Captain. Those of the Valiant Shield who did not disown their leader Beren or fled from the land were slaughtered.
It was not long after the war when my wife showed up out of the blue. After so many years she had finally found me, I guess that I had been like a needle in a haystack before but during the war I had made a reputation for myself. The girl still loved me, that much was clear. The only comely wench that got my rocks off and scared the absolute seven shades of crap out of me. She had a wicked left hook and I reckoned she had a little devil in her, she was a devil in the sack for sure. Then came my curse, right on time.
...I still visit her grave from time to time. I shipped off on my first tour of Chult the day after.
I fecking hated Chult, too fecking hot, the people were too feckin stupid and the wildlife... well feck me frogmen that the locals call Bullywugs! I was glad to get back on home turf, and reacquaint myself with old routine. Though when I returned there were a lot of new Fist faces, and many faces that I may never see again. I wonder whatever happened to Corporal Dredd, she was my type of wench, Sergeant Ironfaar reminds me a lot of her. Those two would really get on well together. I was glad to see that the Ironfaar finally found a replacement my old position, Grunga is a good woman and she maintains a strong connection enforcing that old pact. The only thing I have against the girl is her method of aiding injuries, once you experience it you can’t un-experience it as I’ve said before. It was about time we got a Doc in the Company, though I think Corporal Mortimer has been lacking on his duties recently.
Though when I did return it was apparent that the fresh meat was as soft as s’ite. It was up to Colours Celtis and myself, both of us veterans of Chult, to whip these fannies into shape. The populace had had it too easy for too long, the old school teaching hit them hard which I feel lead to the incident with the Red Field. Obviously, the new command structure has not seen eye to eye with the new command of the thieves guild and our old way are now dead. With the cleansing of the docks it was inevitable that something would lash back. That trouble happened to be the Red Field, full of criminal scum bags. That was quickly sorted without bloodshed, we had learnt our lesson with Cross and his bunch of arse bandits.
Speaking of arse bandits, we still have that git Counsellor Wren in our midst. Fecking foreigner trying to change the way we do things here, what the hell do we need a counsellor for? If we are hiring soft fannies that need to go have a cry to some wet nosed toff then I must not have been doing my job well enough! Though the guy is now a war hero and has seen the ugly side of what we do, he has earned his place there is no doubt with the men. My investigation was dropped on him, he was willing to let a criminal guilty of impersonation go free, I fecking had him and Captain Guthrun let him off. He even got his own way an got the damn guilty convict off the charges, though that was shorted lived, not more than a week later, that Kaden numpty over stepped his bounds again and got banished. I can smell bad apples a mile away, who are these bell ends that question my judgement when I have been doing this job for years?
Whatever I had been doing my efforts were noticed by the Commander who made me the Colours. I was now responsible for carrying the Dukes colours to battle. Not too many of the noble peers were happy at that promotion, a dwarf from the ranks entrusted with the colours, only in second company would that happen. The pounces in first company would rather polish their armour and (person) fight than do some real Flaming Fist duty’s, bunch of fairies.
Then came my second tour of Chult, as if the first wasn’t bad enough.
Since my recent return the curse has made its appearance once again. In the last week we have lost the Commander, my friend. I have a written eulogy yet unread, and the sad thing is it may never be read. Not content with taking the Commanders life the fates of the curse have seen fit to take my protégé as well. Lightbringer was an empty head to be sure, he only got a second chance because I stuck my neck out for him. I took him under my wing and trained him, eventually he became a useful trooper but it was all in vein. His association with the Weave and whatever his master there did, confused the idiot. He thought it was acceptable to call upon dark arts, a spell of necromancy, something to use as a last resort. I do not weep for him, he has disgraced me.
The situation at hand now has advanced me in rank once again. Captain, a dwarf captain. I thought my peers were angry at Colours, that’s nothing next to the highest rank a non noble can achieve. I will make many enemies now I am certain.
I now sit in this stone clad fortress, I write what I have done over the years so that there is something of my deeds on paper, something that can be read and remembered. There will be trouble ahead.
I stared off under a different name, my clan name was originally ‘Tombhelm’. I haven’t gone by that name in over a century, and I no longer belong, it is not who I am now and it will never be my name again. See I began my adult life as a guard, just like my father and his father before him, but I was a disgrace, not fit to guard so the clan humoured me. They had me guard there library, now that I think back I see that I do the same and give demeaning tasks if not worse to incompetent Fist. Anyway, I spent most of my early days guarding that post like the fool boy I was, after some time it occurred to me that I had little else to do but spent my time reading and eating. I got fat, both physically and on knowledge.
If I ever tell people of my past, I tell them that this eventually give me a wonder lust that got the better of me and I left the clan, wife, children and all. But that is a lie, one that I have told many times that I now believe myself. My family knows what happened and why I was outcast for my failure I do not need to repeat it. It was on that day that I took the name ‘Rocshanks’ for myself and headed north, out of the icy cold peaks of Amn and into the new brave realm of the sword coast.
Skip a couple decades and you’d have found me a drunken bar brawler and a would be tomb raider. At that time I still longed to return home, I still hid my first name in fear that my kin would hear it and realize who I was. In all my days, from that day to this one, it has never happened, and it is never likely to happen ...and if it did I would no longer care. My time as a tare away criminal where spent with a giant of a human called Kelton and a cursed blood tiefling nicknamed Sonny. Kelton was man that could cleave a tree in half and Sonny was a sneaky bastard, slit many throats from the shadows. I was the anvil of our team, I took the beatings and went back for seconds. My face does not thank me for it.
This is when the curse reared its ugly head again, not content to ruin my former life but now to end the lives of so many others. You see our crew was well balanced but we always needed a doctor, priest or some spell chucker to round us off, the problem was they always ended up dead. We lost a lot of hired spell swords and the like. Our worse lose was thirteen men in the Cloakwood mines, we stormed that place with what would have been two dozen swordarms. Less than half of us escaped with heavy wounds, only myself, Kelton and Sonny left unskaved . This curse was blamed on the tiefling of course, I fecking hated that wee bastard cursed blood.
I found that my lifestyle became very profitable in the crew. I wore the finest full plate, plated in gold and encrusted in gem stones. I was so devoted to the following of Abbathor, he would have been proud. If he saw me now he would more than likely spit on me, yet I merely pay the bastard lip service these days. My fortune was short lived, with the departure of Kelton, who returned northward to his home and the disappearance of Sonny, I saw fit to waste my coin on booze, loose wenches and gambling. When I was broke and the team was gone, making coin was hard. I could barely scraped together drinking money let alone pat for the wenches I was used to.
So I joined the Flaming Fist. Many people at the time thought I was only dwarf to join the fist, but that’s a load of toss. There had been many dwarfs before me, there was even a detachment used against the Red Wizard War long before I even joined. Then not to recently we have used that detachment again that damn undead dragon; what I night that spoiled! We didn’t even get to the starters at the Duke’s dinner with Rokranon and his bum boys.
The early days of the Flaming Fist were hard ones, Captain Crownsliver, Company Sergeant Heppenzeiler, Sergeant Harrow and Corporal Ness whipped me into shape. Well maybe not Sergeant Harrow, that lazy nonce would have barely scratched his own arse. If things had have been different, however, such as, if the Ironfaar clan had have been more than a mere whisper of its former self then I would have never have joined the Flaming Fist. So when I heard rumblings that the Ironfaar Clan had new leadership I made sure to extend the hand of the Fist and forged an alliance with them. From little beginnings they went from strength to strength, and I made sure that any troubles would disappear that could have hindered the clan.
That came to an end though when Crownsilver offered me an ultimatum, either stay in my officer rank and remain the Ironfaar Fist diplomat or give it up and become a Sergeant. I couldn’t resist, it was a bigger pay packet and I skipped the pretty rank of Corporal. I think it was about this time that our secret weapon join us, Myrhun. Sent from Candlekeep he was a man that lusted after power, I saw it in him. It was the same lust I had for gold. Myrhun became a good friend, many guard shifts were spent taking the piss out of each. I miss my friend...
Then the war was to come, no one saw it coming. Beren was one of us or so we thought. It turned out he merely joined the order to protect his own interests. As an apprentice he spoke to superiors as equals, he lead raids into territories we had no domain over and even launched an assault into the depths of the ground in a quest to purge Drow from their holes. Cross started of as a good man, but whatever it was that he found it changed him. Some kind of demonic rock if I remember, we held it in the castle for a while, had it guarded in a locked chest with two guard posted to it.
We were to outcast Beren and punish him for his disobedience but before we could He fled and formed his own mercenary company. His stance directly opposed the Flaming Fist and our control. Cross and his Valiant Shield declared war on us when we finally caught up to him. He would not stand down when demanded to, things turned ugly from there on in. I have little memory of it now, but from all accounts there was much bloodshed.
After war was declared on these brigands, Toybox sought me out. Toybox, or as she introduced herself to me as the ‘misses’, it didn’t really matter what her alias was we had a file on her and her activities a mile long. Nothing was done about it of course. See the Fist ad thieves had a mutual agreement, you pay us and we pretend it didn’t happen. Those were the god old days when the thieves guild was smart and lead by an intelligent leader, unlike today. Anyway the ‘Misses’ wanted the names of those were at war with, she paid handsomely for them I was even given my own ‘other name’. Whiskers they called me. When we began our search for Valiant Shield we the never found half of them. For the records it is assumed that they had fled our lands, ... I doubt it!
Whatever power that was used to slay Crownsilver of great evil, it held him in the in-between place, neither in the realm of the dead nor the realm of the living. He was to wander the citadel in limbo, a ghost. When those who were responsible or his death were brought to justice it seemed as if his spirit was free. Yet when they brought Justin back he was not the same man, he was different, he was tainted. I believe whatever tainted Cross had now tainted the Captain. Those of the Valiant Shield who did not disown their leader Beren or fled from the land were slaughtered.
It was not long after the war when my wife showed up out of the blue. After so many years she had finally found me, I guess that I had been like a needle in a haystack before but during the war I had made a reputation for myself. The girl still loved me, that much was clear. The only comely wench that got my rocks off and scared the absolute seven shades of crap out of me. She had a wicked left hook and I reckoned she had a little devil in her, she was a devil in the sack for sure. Then came my curse, right on time.
...I still visit her grave from time to time. I shipped off on my first tour of Chult the day after.
I fecking hated Chult, too fecking hot, the people were too feckin stupid and the wildlife... well feck me frogmen that the locals call Bullywugs! I was glad to get back on home turf, and reacquaint myself with old routine. Though when I returned there were a lot of new Fist faces, and many faces that I may never see again. I wonder whatever happened to Corporal Dredd, she was my type of wench, Sergeant Ironfaar reminds me a lot of her. Those two would really get on well together. I was glad to see that the Ironfaar finally found a replacement my old position, Grunga is a good woman and she maintains a strong connection enforcing that old pact. The only thing I have against the girl is her method of aiding injuries, once you experience it you can’t un-experience it as I’ve said before. It was about time we got a Doc in the Company, though I think Corporal Mortimer has been lacking on his duties recently.
Though when I did return it was apparent that the fresh meat was as soft as s’ite. It was up to Colours Celtis and myself, both of us veterans of Chult, to whip these fannies into shape. The populace had had it too easy for too long, the old school teaching hit them hard which I feel lead to the incident with the Red Field. Obviously, the new command structure has not seen eye to eye with the new command of the thieves guild and our old way are now dead. With the cleansing of the docks it was inevitable that something would lash back. That trouble happened to be the Red Field, full of criminal scum bags. That was quickly sorted without bloodshed, we had learnt our lesson with Cross and his bunch of arse bandits.
Speaking of arse bandits, we still have that git Counsellor Wren in our midst. Fecking foreigner trying to change the way we do things here, what the hell do we need a counsellor for? If we are hiring soft fannies that need to go have a cry to some wet nosed toff then I must not have been doing my job well enough! Though the guy is now a war hero and has seen the ugly side of what we do, he has earned his place there is no doubt with the men. My investigation was dropped on him, he was willing to let a criminal guilty of impersonation go free, I fecking had him and Captain Guthrun let him off. He even got his own way an got the damn guilty convict off the charges, though that was shorted lived, not more than a week later, that Kaden numpty over stepped his bounds again and got banished. I can smell bad apples a mile away, who are these bell ends that question my judgement when I have been doing this job for years?
Whatever I had been doing my efforts were noticed by the Commander who made me the Colours. I was now responsible for carrying the Dukes colours to battle. Not too many of the noble peers were happy at that promotion, a dwarf from the ranks entrusted with the colours, only in second company would that happen. The pounces in first company would rather polish their armour and (person) fight than do some real Flaming Fist duty’s, bunch of fairies.
Then came my second tour of Chult, as if the first wasn’t bad enough.
Since my recent return the curse has made its appearance once again. In the last week we have lost the Commander, my friend. I have a written eulogy yet unread, and the sad thing is it may never be read. Not content with taking the Commanders life the fates of the curse have seen fit to take my protégé as well. Lightbringer was an empty head to be sure, he only got a second chance because I stuck my neck out for him. I took him under my wing and trained him, eventually he became a useful trooper but it was all in vein. His association with the Weave and whatever his master there did, confused the idiot. He thought it was acceptable to call upon dark arts, a spell of necromancy, something to use as a last resort. I do not weep for him, he has disgraced me.
The situation at hand now has advanced me in rank once again. Captain, a dwarf captain. I thought my peers were angry at Colours, that’s nothing next to the highest rank a non noble can achieve. I will make many enemies now I am certain.
I now sit in this stone clad fortress, I write what I have done over the years so that there is something of my deeds on paper, something that can be read and remembered. There will be trouble ahead.