- Posts: 20
- Joined: Fri Aug 30, 2019 9:15 am
Name's Logrum, and if anyone finds this journal it means I'm either dead, eaten, or burned to a crisp and somehow the thing that got me didn't destroy, devour or incinerate this book, which means i was either killed by a dragon or some idiot who doesn't know how to read. Haven't even started livin' and already thinking about how I'm gonna die. That's adventurin' life for ya. - this stuff seems to be written on the first page of the journal along with the date.
The caravan ride to the Coast was not safe at all, we were ambushed by some bandits who seemed to be either hungry, insane or desperate. Probably, all three of those. Needless to say, we dealt with them swiftly. Why did I come to the Coast? Why didn't I choose to stay on dad's farm and keep addin' blisters to blisters? Fame mostly, gettin' a few gold coffers along the way wouldn't be bad either, I'd send at least half of it to pops and mom... Why the hell am I writting this stuff down... Damn journals, seems like almost everyone keeps one, so why shouldn't I. I bet they write down dumb stuff as well. So, how to get fame? How to earn some adventurin' money? I ain't no thief, so stealin' is not an option. Magic was alien to me as much as, well, magic I guess. What I did know how to do, was swing an axe, a hammer, or to be more precise, a damn good maul. Right, killin' was the way to go. Nasty business for sure, up front, personal, you see the life leave their eyes once you give em that proper hit. But what else was I to do, young and strong, fighting seemed like a perfect thing for me. Should I try to be a mercenary? A hired killer? Nah. Most of those guys are nothin' but (hero) who abuse the less fortunate, the sick, the weak and the poor. I kept hearing stuff about some ruins south of the Wyrm's Crossing, it was apparently infested with kobolds and as far as I know, people like when you get rid of nasty buggers who keep raidin' and stealin' your crops. Do keep in mind that this happened a month ago, I believe, you certainly lose track of time when you start this... lets call it, profession. Kobolds were easy enough, they stored lots of goodies in there, made quite a profit, bought some decent armor, the warmace as well, think I'm starting to like my job. Certainly beats hacking firewood and ploughing the fields for days on end.
Hmmm... People certainly seem not to be inclined to, at least, have a conversation with a half orc. Met a human in Cloakwood, blondie guy, seemed kinda young, swung a longsword along with a wooden shield. Proper (hero), if you ask me. What happened? Without any warning while I was fending off the blasted grass goblers or whatever people call em, I was approached ( this is mildly put) by the said Goldielocks and the bastard had the guts to openly threaten me, callin' me a monster and all sorts of names. Now, lemme tell ya. I ain't no monster. People usually give me odd looks when I tell em mom was an orc, and a very beautiful one at that, and dad was a human. Nobody raped anyone, though they did hide their relationship for a while, which is quite understandable, considerin' what happened between the two races. I swear I'm not gonna turn this into some odd love fantasy. Anyway, enough of that. Back to the blondie guy, I kept my temper, told him I was no monster, showed him I had manners, which I deem very important in any person. Mind you, I do like a proper brawl, wrestle here and there, but proper behaviour is also of paramount importance. He backed down, either intimidated by my size, or just surprised he stumbled on a not-so-dumb, me wanna smash humie, half orc. Didn't even know his name, and he didn't ask for mine. Quite rude, however I do hope to see him again and have a proper conversation.
Felt I was gettin pretty darn good at this adventurin stuff. Gold seemed to be pouring in, I was by no means wealthy, but I had more than enough for my expenses and even managed to save a few coppers here and there. I'm gonna write about meetin' one of the loveliest women I have ever seen. Despite being of orcish descent, I was by no means ugly, well maybe to some, mostly elves who to me looked like dainty,forest princesses who smelled like wet cauliflowers. As i was saying, I wasnt that bad to look at, tried to keep my beard neat and clean, always tied me hair to a tail so it wouldn't get in the way, and bathed as much as possible, which at some points wasn't enough, and if anyone reads this and remembers me by the smell, I hereby apologize. Alright, that woman i was talking about, i seem to derail more than often, but with so many things happenin' around me i cant really keep track on everything. So, where did i meet this goddess? Believe it or not, at the bottom of a smelly, damp gnoll cave, and let me tell you right now, nothin' smells as bad as a wet gnoll. Might be the fact that they do resemble oversized, bipedal dogs and we all know how dogs smell after a night of pouring rain... Back to the lady. After fighting my way through, with a fella i picked along the way, goes by the name of George Addams, sailor type guy, always smelled strongly of sea salt, no matter how much time he spent away from the sea, which always seemed rather odd to me, hmmm.... Where was I? Ah yes, George helped me fight through, said he had enough, packed his share of the loot and left, he fought good for a man his age, although with a rapier but he seemed to be a natural at it. Come to think of it, he could've been some pirate who just came here to plunder... Hells, I don't know, seeemed like a proper guy to have around, nice and friendly. Anyway, after he left, I delved a bit more, only to find, to my surprise, a women encased in stone or as smarty pants like to call em petrified. Now lemme tell you, the moment those stone eyes gazed upon me, I saw her and I swear, I saw her flinch, the type of flinch someone does when approached by a large half orc wielding a proper sized warmace at the bottom of a dark cave. So here I was, gazing upon this statue of a woman, lookin' around for basiliks or whatever the hell petrified her. But nothin' was there, no nasties, just her and me. And what was I supposed to do? Haul her back to Candlekeep and hope someone helps her? Actually, that did sound good. But thats not what ol' Logrum did. I realised she was not fully petrified,and how did i know that you ask? Well, for starters, she could shifts those angel eyes of hers, and despite all my effort to help her, she seemed scared. Again, understandable, I know how I look to certain people. I started to, and I fully understood the risk, to try and chip off the little pieces of stone. Gently as I could, she started to move, once she realized I was there to help and not to abuse her in her current condition her cheeks went flaming red, so red it felt like the sun was about to pop out of her face. I helped her outside, we talked, she said her name was Rhea, and that she was a cleric of Lathander. Now, what most of people here don't know is that Lathander is also my deity. So this felt almost like destiny, if you believe in that sort of stuff. Ah, forgot to write down this as well, I had received a nasty cut along my right eye, which made me wear an eyepatch, which made me look even more brutish and well, made me look like a common bandit. The scar took days to heal, and even after several days it still looked like crap, and I couldn't open my right eye fully. But look at this, Rhea, well versed in healing, took off my patch and applied some, hell, I dont know what it was, all i know is that i could see afterwards. We talked for a while, I didn't wanna push my feelings so hard and so quick after meeting her, but she did say i was quite a charmer. Oh god, this is turning into a love novel. Thats it. No more writting for me, next thing you know im gonna start writting sob stories.
- Posts: 20
- Joined: Fri Aug 30, 2019 9:15 am
Damn that Artorias. He got me hooked on this writing journal stuff. I should probably explain. Aight, Artorias Withermore, you win this one. Being a good boy I always was, traveled south, all the way to Beregost. Heard people were afraid to stray too far off the road to Nashkel. Why? Overgrown, winged, venomous lizards. Aye, wyvrens. If ya ever heard people say someone's bark is worse then their bite, well, ya can say the same thing about these buggers. Except, that their stingers are the most dangerous weapon they possess, do keep in mind that they also have a huge head full of sharp teeth. Packed my stuff, headed south. Nobody got famous by fighting kobolds, gnolls, goblins and an occasional orc here and there. Though not true dragons, wyvrens did carry some weight to their name. Met some people camping about 20 miles south of Beregost. Right, lemme try and remember their names.
1) Lacey Vale, fiesty woman if I ever knew one, equally deadly with a sword, a whip or just her shield. Not bad on the eye either, bit on the skinny side but we can work on that. Good to have around, i wonder if her whips would be good for backscratching?
2) Elsinan White or popsicle boy as I liked to call him. Frost mage, covered in a thin layer of ice, friendly chap though, always seems to throw some wards my way, and i try to keep that icicle safe from the wyvrens as much as possible. Pale as milk, and cold as northern winters, watched his gloves freeze from the inside out. Kinda freaked me out there, didn't wanna tell him. He avoids fire and tiefling women! Would he be good at brewing ale? Ice cold beverages every day, damn that does sound good....
3) Artorias Withermore, one of those mage types, he seemed to know damn lot about everything and more. Lemme tell ya, magic was always odd to me. But this guy seemed to just pop spells outta his pocket, and the first thing i thought to myself is, oh great, another one of those book worms who think they know it all, no real experience on the field. Boy, was I wrong. I'd explain what I've seen him do, but you wouldn't believe me. Best part of it? Damn friendly lad, good sense of humour and a decent heart. Type of people you wanna hang around, quick of mind and tongue, we often throw a few taunts (if you can call it that) to each other and even to others who accompanied us. Kept talking about magic as it were Art, hells if i know what he meant... Damn, look at me, hanging out with wizards, wouldn't want any of their magic to rub off on me, don't want to sneeze and accidentally blow my head off (if thats how magic works). I'm lookin' forward to seeing more of the Coast, as well as its people. Who knew this place attracted so many interesting personas.
Note to self: Borrow some pencils or quills from Artorias or just hunt some birds. Additional note: Wyvren meat not that bad, should try and make patties.