Status

Recent Statuses

6 mos ago
Current "Bother. Isn't there anybody at all?" "Nobody!"
7 mos ago
Trying on shoes and going for a walkabout - will return to closet when I'm good and ready!
3 likes
2 yrs ago
Fell into the abyss of Closet... digging out from under all of the shoes.
2 likes
4 yrs ago
Time is mine for a full month! :) Yay!!!
1 like

Bio

A long time player, I have been co-writing (aka "role playing") for "ae long tahm". I have a fairly involved career which some years can be nigh all encompassing for months and months at a time. However, I always seem to return for the sheer delight of creating alongside another imaginative individual.

Most Recent Posts

“No, ser,” thin Jude shook his shaggy head, the furs about his ruff curled and stiff with cold and frozen water vapor. He was a man with ear hairs and grey at his temple, for all his youthful appearance. His knobby hands had long fingers which were lighter than the more social Pinter and he often hid behind the prettier man – clinging to the acceptance of his odd self in conjunction of the more capable thief. Still, under it all he was a watcher and he had seen the danger flash before them in Commander Rundall's dark eyes, like fire on a far hill. Then, like the fire hitting a pine, the commander flared. Pinter grunted at the plate into his face, falling off the log into the packed snow behind him. The smaller man made a soft curse and Jude swiftly went to help him stand.

Pinter, suddenly silent as Jude, stood to attention and allowed for the remonstration. There was blood at his nose and across his lips, diced potato on his coatfront, and he did nothing to wipe any of it away. His own gaze glittered but his own fires had banked, successfully brought to heel by a single, well timed blow of a man who was far more wise than either of them. At his side, Jude gave a stiff bow and left to do as bid, leaving Pinter to bow stiffly after. “Ser,” the blatant thief allowed, bent to get his own plate and pick up the Commander's.

Across the fire, it was quiet and like a group of hounds, the rest of the company watched the interaction, not truly understanding the meat of the issue, but well aware that something of import had happened. When Pinter went to get a pick and, slinging it over his shoulder and wiping his face with his sleeve, stalked toward the privy line, there was a run of sniggers down the line. Lurch was a fair master well enough, provided you didn't genuinely piss him off. Then he could be spiteful. This was of the kind variety. Pinter and Jude were reprimanded but not ousted, which was well enough for everyone else.

Pinter gone into the shadows, Jude was quick about getting more food and setting it onto a new plate, new biscuit, new serving of meat, new of all, returning with it presently and offering it to the commander then going to sit in with the rest of the group which had, as soon as Pinter had begun to work on a new latrine, begun to chatter and game and sing and joke with one another all over again. Like a child who had lost his stronger sibling, he looked a bit lost as he bopped about the camp attempting to find a card game to take part in or a joke that he would not be the butt of. In due time, he settled at the second fire near a large shouldered man named Karl who often took in the more unaware ones for a time simply out of the goodness of his Church born heart.

No one else bothered the commander, uncertain of their welcome now. He wasn't a bad man, but he wasn't the most friendly of them either and men quickly learned, in much the same way as Pinter had, to leave him to his devices if at all possible.

Beyond the campfire, in the great white darkness, the troupe of three paused for a moment. The sky distant trees were backlit by the starlit sky and strangely, the snow managed to be the darkest thing in the world, while simultaneously glowing all around. The three huddled, then one went on while another huddled in on itself and tramped back the way they had come. A breath, then the one in the center turned and followed the first on again. Far beyond them, the giant, skeletal trees reached up into the sky and sleeping branches turned to stone from the ages raked fingers across the stars and glowed unearthly white agianst snow and stars, nothing giving any more light than the stars themselves, yet all reflecting their light back to them.

Cat, the bitch, shook herself and followed her mistress, her breath leaving ice on the many small whiskers on her muzzle. Thirsty in the cold, she paused and snatched some snow then trotted back on the woman's heels while the great man behind her huffed and bellowed, his great chest trying to get the air in that his large body needed. He was far too big, really, to not have to break trail a second time after the woman's more slender self had cut into new snow over the old trail. The bitch could scent the otherness under the snow where something had passed days before. She had scented a bear behind at one time, but the bear track was even older and had crossed then went on its own way. There, deep under feet and feet of snow there was life here. Her keen ears caught small minute animal stirrings of miniature life forces warmth and filled with purpose. The humans missed the many tells that they were not alone, but the dog did not. She sneezed once then followed again, not yet time for her part in their hunt. Now, it was the woman's eyes which led them.

Bart had opened his coat to let the cold hair in to cool down his heaving chest. Karis was a slender shadow ahead and no matter how long they'd walked in the dark, his eyes could only catch snippets of the dog's presence, her more slender, delicate frame lost in the trail's shadows. Ahead of them, the trees remained far away. It was, it seemed to him, almost as if Werric's prattling about how things were always further away than they seemed was true here in the steady trudging. For no matter how long they walked, the trees did not seem to grow any faster than a hill or a mountain in the distance would. He frowned at the quiet around them. They had been walking for some time after Karis sending Werric on his way. Not that Bart had been against the decision for the man was starting to wear on Bart's ears. She and Bart had that in common. Still..

“Think 'e's right?” he rubbed his chest with a meaty hand. “Seems they's not getting' closer. Bigger'n they seem at first?” he asked her opinion for if there was magic in the air that kept their path from gaining on a copse that should have been reached long before, the woman would know of it. Her keen tracking wasn't just recognizing where something had passed, but – of greater importance – how it had passed.

As if his voice had been all that was needed to call more out of the silence, there was a sudden coughing grunt to their side. An instinctive drive to survive honed by years, Bart dropped to a knee and whipped out the long sticked gun from his back, facing into the distance where, despite muffling effects of snow, he could hear something large lumbering their direction. It wasn't visible, he realized a moment after, not because it wasn't large enough to see. Rather, it was white as snow itself. It barrelled toward them. There was a brief moment he wasn't sure where its head was and wasn't sure where he should shoot. Then, the bitch sounded a yelping howl of anger and fear and the huge creature skidded to a snowy half and shoved itself to its back feet, rising over them.

Bear. He recognized it as bear, though it was larger than any bear he'd ever seen. White as snow with black claws on its huge paws, it roared at them and the bitch squawled back at it, her high pitched yelping obviously confusing it. Bart held fire, squinting against the darkness to try and make out an eye. The skull of the beast was likely thick enough that only a particular shot would take it down. Where had it come from, anyhow? His mind wandered in that long eternity of emergency when more thoughts and moments could live between one breath and the next. If it turned, they'd be better off not antagonizing it if it were like bears in other worlds. If not, he had to be ready.
Heh - I'm thinking I've got the book table by my bed most people do :)

Currently:
Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith
Tales of Earthsea (compilation) - the incomparable Ursula K Le Guin
Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguro (new fave writer)
Various Pratchett novels - always shifting, always present
some silly book about super heroes - junk food and easy read, but fun nevertheless and for nights when the day has just been too long to concentrate - think this one is Steelheart? Ironheart? it's good, and total teeny bop stuff.
:) Will check back as the idea percolates.
And found it - Okay! I'll figger somethin' out, yeh? CS forthcoming.
edit: Pardon - app forthcoming.
That is fabulous - pardon; thanksgiving and family time.

So since Discord isn't really a thing in this world - where would you like characters set, ideas and such? Here? Or somewhere I've missed somewhere?
Interested if you're still accepting new-faces on the station.
This sounds amazing. Giving it a bump for posterity and to keep it on my radar.

But seriously - color me intrigued.
ten.
Notes from initial conversation:


Desert Kingdom:

Name: Echar

This desert kingdom has a strange history. Centuries before, in the neighboring country of Driunia, a noble family was beset upon by the reigning king. The whys are likely lost to time, though there was no doubt some dispute over who was next to sit in the throne. The entire family, seeing that it was on the brink of a great ousting and much blood, fled over the mountains into an inhospitable land just beyond. The deserts were not of interest then, being only sand and sea and a long mountain range that cut the sands off from other lands. Some nomadic tribes lived and died, but they were few and far between.

So fled this noble house and, because they were of a mind to rule, they began to set themselves up as the rightful rulers of sand and stone. They intermarried with some of the nomadic tribes, took on some of the indigenous people's ways and inserted many more of their own. Then some short time after, they discovered a reddish mineral which, when taken with certain waters, makes for a acerbic, pain killing drink. It is mined in the sands and the placement of these mines, along with the flow of this mineral, are all kept very secret.

There are passes through the mountains to either side, countries there pay a good deal for the mineral as well as for precious stones that are mined out of the mountains and other strange things only the people of the sands can offer. However, the easiest path is to take to the sea and simply navigate around the ends of the mountain range and into the harbors beyond. This is difficult, though - due to there only being one seventy mile stretch along the coast which is not dunes with a hard enough soil base to support buildings and that the people of this land are not sailors. Fishers at times, but not sailors. They've been at the mercy of the need of other countries and while their commodities are expensive to buy, so too are the merchants that come to their coast willing to overprice their own goods.

It has created something of a complex system of trade wherein the country moves goods over the mountains, into their own country, to their more inland (there is one large river that runs, Nile'like, up into the countryside and to the mountains) capital city of Ithor. There, the goods are sent to the harbor city and sold, undercutting the overpriced merchants, at times. But the overhead for the merchants is so small while it is much greater for their own country, that even this is only somewhat successful.

Then there are the pirates.

Ships of precious stones and minerals and the like are great fun for pirates. :) So after centuries of this strange trade war that happens between all comers, the Echarians have reached out. The pirates are still... well, pirates, but they've been organized for some time, their own country for all intents and purposes.

This plan is a bold move by the latest Queen (Echarians are matriarchal) Tra Brade. She has offered her second born, a daughter, to their prince.









Echarian culture:
Matriarchal. Very specific greetings, partings, etc - traditional. Children are sent to stay with tribes when they need to be toughened up - sometimes children do not return. Hunts use long legged cats. Hunting is a big pastime. Only their queen is flashy. Most of them are bare faced and wear leather and black. Men are clean shaven, women wear pants and soft leather sashes with intricate stitching on them. The stitching must have meaning, but it's not something spoken of outside of the home. Not sure about what they ride yet - something.
So I'm going to open a "0th" post that we can both access to keep our notes in one place. I'll add what we did in the posting back and forth and some ideas for the country. I'll leave it to you as to what sorts of misinformation you'd like to use/make up for your folk. Seems like their vision of the other country would be mostly dependent on their own cultural perspectives. :)

I'm going to leave things fairly open ended at this time. Feel free to make assumptions and I'll add/take away as needed. I don't mind your having a hand in making bits of the country in game. In particular if they are in the desert to start. It'd be silly for me to be the only one with the information.

It also does not seem to alert if we put something in the 0th post. It only alerts that there's something new if you put in another post, like this one.
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