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PostPosted: Fri Jun 24, 2011 6:55 pm 
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Intro:

This is a character bio/background/short story experiment I worked on for an old pen-and-paper RPG adventure a friend of mine was going to run. It never did get off the ground, but I had worked up quite a bit of backstory on my halfling character. My friend (the GM) encouraged good role-playing and character development, and would give out starting XP bonuses and equipment for well done back-stories.

I'm in the process of rewriting the story, mostly because I've gotten that itch to write. Maybe it is video game withdrawal. I really haven't played anything in more than two months, due to a combination of work and moving. Anyway, the piece was pretty rough as I sat down and wrote it in big chunks without editing it. I'll edit it and then post each section as I finish. Currently it is actually pretty long, about 10 pages in Word, single spaced, with a double space between paragraphs. The narrative style needs to be settled on and then tightened up, but I just want to hurry up and post it and get feedback as it comes.

I'll create an OOC thread for editing comments and feedback.

Also, fair warning for any parents, the story probably would receive a PG-13 rating in the U.S. It isn't graphic, but it does deal with some mature themes and occassionally slightly sexual material. If you don't want your kiddos to read it, talk to them about it.

Cyrus and other mods, please, if I step over a line, let me know, but I'm pretty sure everything in here will be acceptable to anyone at high school level at least.

EDIT: OOC comment thread is here: viewtopic.php?f=23&t=20482
Mods, again feel free to merge/delete or whatever as needed, as I'm not perfectly sure of the protocol.

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PostPosted: Fri Jun 24, 2011 6:56 pm 
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Sammy Hoarfoot

Samuel Milo Hoarfoot II was born to Iris and Leopold Hoarfoot on a bright Wednesday morning in the quaint little villa of Hardbuttle.

Sam, or even “Sammy” to his friends, had a rough childhood. His father was a chef for the wealthy and renowned Wilibald Boffin. Mr. Boffin was a very well-to-do gentle-Halfling who also had a taste for adventure and exotic meals. Sam’s father Leopold was often away on quests accompanying his master, who saw no reason why one should not eat well, indeed as fine as possible, while out on the trail or in the countryside. On the whole, Sam quite agreed with Mr. Bofifn on this sentiment, except for the undeniable fact that his father was almost always away, and on the rare occasions when he was home, he spent most of his time fighting and arguing with his wife Iris. Shortly after Sammy’s tenth birthday, Leopold finally decided he had taken enough. There was a big row, with yelling moving from the kitchen, to the dining room, out into the bedroom, through the backdoor into the neatly kept yard and little garden with lots of tomatoes, and back in through the front door and into the kitchen. When the dust, clothes, furniture, and broken bottles finally settled, Leopold was gone. He never came home again.

It is said that an iris is a beautiful flower, and Iris is a beautiful name. Iris Hoarfoot was not beautiful at all. She was tall for a Halfling at three feet even, but her 56 pounds often left most polite folk referring to her as “big boned,” an oxymoron amongst Halflings if ever there was one. She was also a drunkard, and addicted to opiates. She tried hard to be a good mother, and she did love Sam, but she was unable to provide well for her son.

When young Sammy was in grammar school he was picked on a lot, and called names, especially “Junior.” This nickname Sammy hated above all. He had never met his grandfather, the original Samuel Milo Hoarfoot, and resented his father’s side of the family for the shortcomings and absence of his father. His mother Iris had insisted on naming her son after her husband’s father, to placate the family. Leopold’s family always believed that their son had “married down”, and done the family a disservice.

The name “Sammy” was another common insult used by bigger kids to emasculate Sammy, but soon his few friends started calling him that too, and it eventually stuck. They meant no disrespect, and indeed generally referred to each other as much worse in their own little group.

* * *

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PostPosted: Fri Jun 24, 2011 7:09 pm 
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The Early Years

On Sammy’s twelfth birthday a couple of bullies led by young Odo Proudfoot knocked him down and took from him his two copper pieces given to him by his mother. When he returned home, scraped, bruised, and crying, his mother was furious. She did not have extra money to give him just so some stupid, loose-loined sprout from across the field could take it from her son. Iris told Sam that he would retrieve the money immediately, and soundly beat the SOB who took it, or Sam would face her and her spoon until she had beaten two coppers out of him.

Sam was terrified, but he dutifully stalked his way across the large field to the Proudfoot’s house. He carefully waylaid young Odo, and gave him the worst fear-driven beating of his life. Sam ended up breaking Odo’s nose, a couple of ribs, and his left arm before he was done. He returned in shame to his mother, to find her passed out, sprawled upon their worn couch, her spirit now broken as much as his was. He passed her by, quietly closed the door to his room, laid down on the rickety old cot he called his own, buried his head in his pillow, and sobbed. That afternoon he cried himself to sleep, clinging desperately to his pillow.

Sammy would never forgive his mother for the way she treated him. He loved her, and through the years he learned a lot about life from her, but he never forgot that awful day and the beating he gave Odo. Sam and his mother did have some good times in his teenage years, and forged a relationship based upon space granted to each other in their small hole. Sam largely fended for himself, taking care of himself and his mother as best as he could manage.

When Sam was sixteen, he invited over his young flame Lily for dinner, at his mother’s insistence. Sam was terrified that things would go horribly, horribly wrong. Instead, his mother played the gracious host. However, a pleasant evening was not in the stars for Sammy, as he well suspected. Iris plied both Sam and his date with alcohol, and put them both up for the night in her own bed. Sam tried to protest, but again his mother threatened him if he didn’t grow up and become a “man.” She even checked in on him once or twice to make sure he was “getting things done.”

The following day, Sam packed up everything he owned and took it to school with him. He wrote a hastily scrawled note to Lily apologizing, and left it in her books. He then started walking. He avoided roads wherever he could, and kept out of sight as much as possible. He was stopped once or twice by a Halfling Outrider, but they let him pass through unhindered. It didn’t take long before he found himself in human lands.

After several months of stealing just enough food to stay alive, and hiding in farmer’s barns, he eventually came to the realization that without some drastic changes in his life, he would not survive the coming winter. He made his way to the city, and after much begging and some thieving, he finally managed to get hired on as a short order cook for “The Candlestick Inn.”

* * *

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PostPosted: Sat Jun 25, 2011 9:25 am 
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The Candlestick Inn

The Candlestick is a small, rundown establishment. Some would call it “quaint” and even “rustic,” but those that would generally aren’t the type that want to stay there. Its half-dozen rooms are never filled to occupancy during the best of times, and times are currently lean. The Candlestick is run and owned by Chuck and his wife Jenna. They are as decent folks as Sam has ever known, although his knowledge in such affairs is spotty at best.

Chuck is heavyset, balding man with a thick mustache curled up at the ends. He is a quiet, reserved man who doesn’t mind working with his hands, and loves his little inn deeply. He built the place from the ground up, starting from just a dirt lot, and is immensely proud of the living he is able to provide for himself and his wife, Jenna. The Candlestick Inn has been his home for over 35 years now, and he feels it is as much a part of him as anything ever has been.

Jenna is a bit heavy too, with dirty blond hair. She may have been a looker once, but hasn’t been for a number of years now. She runs the Candlestick for “her man” and has a heavy-handed way of asserting her authority over anyone she considers an employee. She keeps the books for the inn, and she’s meticulous about every detail. She is very wary and distrustful of others when dealing with money, and suspects most folk just want to rob or scam her and her husband. Thanks to her tight grip on the purse strings, she has managed to see the Candlestick Inn through many trying times and keep her husband’s dream of financial security and a cheerful, friendly business alive.

Jenna keeps a small office just off the kitchen. She has a little desk there, with a drawer that will lock. Jenna is a bit absent-minded, and she’s locked herself out of the office so many times that Sam has become a bit of a self-taught expert when it comes to locks. His nimble fingers are quite good and picking them, and he has to pick the Candlestick’s office lock so often that he eventually took the damn thing apart and rigged it to be easier to pick. Chuck and Jenna never knew, and they don’t have anything to steal anyway.

Sam sleeps in a little closet just off the kitchen. It is normally to be used for kitchen supplies and food, but there hasn’t ever been enough foodstuffs to store there as long as Sam has called the Candlestick home. Instead, he spreads his bedroll on the floor, and hangs his few belongings above his bed in the closet.

He is very good friends with Josie, the serving girl. She’s 17, blond, and busty with cute little dimples and a quick, toothy smile. Sam doesn’t treat her the best, but he does treat her the best he knows how. He flirts shamelessly, inappropriately, and plays practical jokes on her, but they get along well. She’s the best friend he’s ever known.

Life is hard, and more than once Sam has lifted belongings to guests at the Candlestick in order to feed himself. His wages are pitifully small, and occasionally non-existent depending upon business. Unfortunately, the clientele at the Candlestick aren’t much better, and thievery is always slim pickings.

* * *

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PostPosted: Sat Jun 25, 2011 9:33 am 
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Life in Leithan

Life in the city of Leithan has not been easy for anyone of late. A harsh winter and a poor harvest last fall have left everyone on edge and food has been scarce for everyone. There are rumors of troubles and war and other frightful things in the north, a drought in the south, and malaise everywhere. Sammy, however, has never felt better, or been happier, in his life.

The Candlestick Inn hasn’t had a patron in almost three weeks now, and Sam really isn’t employed any longer. Chuck and Jenna let him hang on, as he isn’t causing any trouble. He also provides some company for the team at the inn. Sam still cooks for everyone, but supplies a good portion of the ingredients himself.

Josie also hasn’t been paid in over a month. She remains at the inn for the same reason Sammy does. There is simply no place better to be. She doesn’t work, as there are no customers to wait on. Instead, she tries to help Sammy scrounge, beg, borrow, and steal food and money from others. The inn has a sizeable courtyard in the back, and a large garden is being prepared. Chuck hopes to be able to raise enough food this summer to at least keep the four of them fed. What they’ll do for business, no one knows.

When they aren’t working in the garden or out on the streets together trying to round up resources, Josie spends a good bit of her time tutoring Sam. She’s clearly not the best tutor in the world, but she spent quite a few years growing up in the orphanage, and has been schooled by various patrons who donate their time to try and help those more disadvantaged than themselves.

Sammy is quite bright, and picks thing up quickly. He has a keen interest in history, and enjoys reading books about places and peoples far away. At night, when he has a few moments to himself, he fantasizes about traveling to the wondrous places he’s read about, and having an adventure of his own. Seeing the great cities of the world would be a thrill beyond anything else he can imagine.


* * *

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PostPosted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 11:25 am 
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Just realized I never finished editing or posting this. I'm not going to finish editing it, at least not now, but will finish putting up what I've got.

* * *

One fine spring day in April Sammy catches Josie looking longingly at a dress in the window of tailor’s shop. They have managed to purchase a fatty pork roast and a few shriveled potatoes to cook for dinner, and are on the way back to the Candlestick Inn. For the next several days, Sammy makes it a point to somehow walk by the tailor’s with Josie every day. Every day Josie smiles and gazes at the dress, and then eventually sighs, and continues on her way with Sam.

Sam desperately wants to see his friend wearing that dress, but he doesn’t have enough money to buy the dress, even if he spends every last copper. He takes to sneaking out at nights after everyone else has gone to bed, and continues to scrounge to try and come up with the necessary copper pieces. After nearly a week, and after having traded in his old jacket in payment in addition to spending every coin he possesses, he finally convinces the tailor to let him have the dress. It is a pretty spring dress, rather plain, made of a thin, white material, and embroidered with pink, yellow, and blue flowers.

Sam presents it triumphantly to Josie on a fateful Saturday morning. He has carefully wrapped it himself, with intricate knots that only a halfling’s nimble fingers could ever hope to tie. Josie, of course, loves it.

Sammy got a few kisses in the celebration that followed, and of course ruined the moment by trying to cop a feel. Josie is too grateful to be mad, though, and gives Sammy’s hair a good tousle. At that moment, Sammy starts to realize that his friend will probably never see him as anything more than a friend, and as a child. Sammy has never had romantic interests in Josie (sexual interests are a different matter entirely), but the realization that he is viewed as immature and unsuitable for a relationship based upon his size wounds his ego deeply.

Josie immediately puts on the dress, and the rest of the day is a whirlwind of celebration, laughter, and general merriment of the kind that has not been seen in a long time at the Candlestick Inn. In the afternoon, Josie and Sammy head out to try and scratch out a living as they always do, Josie flashing shapely legs as she skips around town, excited about being seen in this dress this spring.

No doubt the legs are what caught the attention of a would-be ne’er-do-well embodied in the person of a large, ugly, and incredibly smelly half-orc. It may have been the bouncing bosoms, too. Hell, it could have been a half-dozen things. Surely an attractive, unguarded female played a large role in the half-orc’s mental calculus.

As Sammy and Josie were returning to the Inn, the half-orc seized Josie across the chest from behind and clamped a large palm over her mouth. I’m sorry to say that a slip of a 17 year old girl who hasn’t been fed well in six months is no match for a vicious half-orc brute, but she’s not. Sammy immediately jumped on the attacker himself, stabbing the thug in the calf, and promptly had his dagger jerked from his grasp as he was kicked by their attacker.

Chuck and Jenna saw the commotion, and rushed out the assist their semi-employees. They, too, were assaulted, by another half-orc, and a small goblin who appeared to climb out of the sack of one of the other two. The half-orcs quickly knocked everyone unconscious, and drug them all back into the inn. There they tied everyone up and stacked them in a corner of the common room.

Unbeknownst to the half-orcs (but knownst to us, lol) a passerby happened to see the confrontation in the street, and rather than scattering like most other civilians desperate to save their skins and the few material possessions they still possessed, he carefully observed the proceedings and planned for how best he would be able to help the victims. He was a man of average height, light olive-colored skin, a bit of scruff around the jaw and neck, and a head of dark hair cut long, with a single tie in the back, forming a loose tail that hung down past his shoulders. He had on a dark purple shirt and bright green pants that were lightly travel-stained. A bowler’s hat perched jauntily atop his head seemed very out of place. A sack thrown over his shoulder and a large case in his hand contained the traveler’s belongings, and the crow’s feet around his eyes contained wisdom beyond his years.

As the half-orcs drug their newfound prisoners inside, the man carefully creeped right up to a window of the Inn, peered inside, and listened carefully. It seemed the intruders were arguing over where the owners of this establishment kept their gold, and they were arguing about the value of the various belongings in the inn, and which they should take.

The stranger carefully set his packs down in the bushes, and extracted a small harp from the case. Strumming it almost absent-mindedly, he calmly walked into the Candlestick Inn, and into the whirlwind of activity generated by the orcs.

The orcs immediately turned to confront the newcomer, but he almost seemed to pay them no mind. The leader, Gorbag, demanded to know who the hell he was and what he thought he was doing. The gentleman replied he was the owner of this establishment, and he wanted to know, calmly if possible, exactly what the hell they were doing.

“Robbin’ ya!” snorted Gorbag.

“Oh, yes, well, good. You ‘ad better get on wit’ it, then. It’s going to take you all day to find the gold at this rate.”

“Gold, what gold?” shouted Gorbag. “This dump ain’t got nuttin but dirty rabbits an’ bugs, innit.”

“Surely you lads don’t think I’d keep gold just lying about during these tough times,” spoke the stranger. “And I believe you mean, ‘dust bunnies’.”

Chaos seemed to break out at this moment, except for the lazy strumming of the harp by the stranger. The orcs all broke out in bellows and grunts, and the goblin bounced around in joyous abandon.

“Oh, yeah, dust bunnies, hahaha!” squealed the goblin, dancing around and kicking at dirt in a corner of the common room.

“Gold! We’re rich!” hollered the second half-orc.

“Shut yer yap, ya bloomin’ idyet Hurk! There ain’t no gold in this ‘ere buildin’,” and Gorbag cuffed Hurk across the ear and the back of his head. “What we gots here is a fat lot o’ nutten, and a two-bit smaht arse as well.”

The stranger raised his eyebrow at the intruders, and just kept strumming.

“Oh, I assure you there is gold, my loud, smelly, and yet exceptionally intelligent and observant friend. You are also correct that I don’t keep it in the Inn. Its hidden, for safekeeping.”

“Then you’ll show us where it is, or I’ll hung that ‘arp ‘round yer neck!” growled Gorbag threateningly, leering a bit to show that he really was tough and mean. He showed his teeth and tried to make his eyes all squinty to really show he meant business, but he somehow got the feeling that he just wasn’t getting through to this annoying human. The strumming on the streams made his head all swimmy, and it was difficult to focus on the task at hand.

The strumming continued on the harp. “I appreciate your shrewd business sense, Gorbag. Clearly you have a good operation going here, and I don’t want to spoil that. Tell you what,” continued the man. “You can have my gold. But if you expect me to show you where it is, I expect a cut of the profits. We’ll split the loot 50-50.”

Ah, bargaining! This was something that Gorbag excelled at, and indeed it was the reason he was the leader of this little group of thugs. Gorbag found that he could loom and leer a bit, and people were quite amenable to driving a hard bargain. Gorbag wasn’t sure why his head felt funny, or why his insides seemed to be going in circles, but he was certain that a good, hard bargain was just what he needed to clear things up and set him straight.

“50-50’s bullshart!” grumbled Gorbag. “I’s gots to feed my fambily. You get 10%.”

“I won’t do it for less than 40%,” countered the gentleman, merrily plucking his fingers rapidly across the strings of the small harp. He seemed to be picking up steam, and really focusing on putting together a nice number. “I’ve got a family too, and a halfling besides. You have any idea how much they eat?”

“You take 20, or poor squealer over there won’t be able to get new shoes.” Gorbag was warming up to the bargaining nicely, and felt he was about to get the upper hand. This dumb stranger didn’t know who he was messin’ wit’.

“At 30%, I can’t even make ends meet at the inn. If I can’t ever feed customers, they won’t spend money with me, and you’ll never be able to get more out of me again. I’ll have to quit my job and join your crew, and then you’ll have to feed me too. You can’t afford that on only 70% of my gold.”

“Mhhhh... What ya say is true. Gorbag can’t feed you too. You drive hardest bargain Gorbag has seen. You take 35% of loot. Now, take me to it. Hurk, you pack up pretty things here.”

Hurk swelled up with fury, and immediately got in Gorbag’s face. “The ‘ell I will, you bloated gasbag! Last time you cheated me out of loot, ‘cause I wasn’t there to watch you split it. You take me wit’ ya!”

“I can’t get ta gold and pack up ur otter loots too, dammit Hurk. Yous know dat. Use ta lump o’ ass above your shoulders and fink!”

There looked to be a fight brewing. The stranger stepped between them, fingers flying over the strings of his harp now, and his brow furrowed. “Why don’t you both come, and have the little one pack up. Make him untie the halfling and force him to help. Surely he’s big enough to make one closer to his own size do the work.”

Gorbag looked at the stranger with a newfound respect. “You OK. You wood make good worker in group. You smart like me.”

“Squeeler, untie the hafling, and get busy! We be back soon.”

So the stranger and the two half-orcs stepped outside, and Squeeler carefully untied the halfling. Sammy had been awake for most of the encounter, and could not believe that these idiots followed whomever it was out of the inn. His head was sore from where he was thrown against the wall, but halflings are hardy folk.

The goblin immediately set about bossing Sammy around, telling him to pick up things and move them around so he, Squeeler, could get a good look at them and decide if they were worth keeping or not. Squeeler also wanted Sammy to undress Josie, as he thought that she’d make either an excellent wife, or fetch a bargain at a slave auction. Sammy managed to convince him that if he untied her to get her undressed, she was liable to cause trouble. Reluctantly Squeeler agreed.

After fifteen minutes or so, the stranger returned, but strangely enough without the half-orcs.

“Hey, where do dem boyz be?” squeeked the goblin. “Deys sposed to haf da gold!”

“Indeed they do, my friend,” the stranger replied. “They are down in the sewers now, sorting it for transport. They will be dropping my share off here at the inn momentarily. It seems to me, though, that it is hardly fair to make you do all the real work, while they get to count the money. You seem to have quite a nose for this business.”

The goblin would have none of it. “No funny bizness! I do my job, and I get my cut!”

“I suppose you get a 30% cut for doing your share then, and 30% for Hurk, and 40% for the leader? I hear its lonely at the top, commanding.” The strumming of the harp continued, but the stranger now had a twinkle in his eye, and a sardonic grin on his face.

“I don’t get no 30 share! I get fifteen share, same as all the other goblins, and double your stupid 30 share. You some kind of numnutz? 30 share is piss!” The goblin glared at the harper ferociously, as if daring to insult him further.

“Oh, I see now. Do they always give you the 15 share? Or do they sometimes tell you that there isn’t enough to go around?”

“Sumtimez dey do, yah. But we’re a fambily! Times be gettin’ beddur now, and now all little greenskins get a 15 share. Its a new rule, started today!”

“And how many other goblins such as yourself are there in your family, might I ask?”

“I’m the only one, ‘cuz I’m special!”

“Squeeler,” said the stranger, with a pained look on his face, and just a hint of a tear running down his cheek. “They are using you. They don’t think you’re special. They think you’re especially stupid. They are down there now splitting the gold between them. And they are going to tell you again that there isn’t enough for everyone to get a full share, and they give you another 20th, if they come back at all.”

The goblin started to look around nervously, and indeed, there was no sign of the two half-orcs. “Dey trikt me! Oh, dey stupid guys, dey trikt me agin!” He ran out of the inn, wailing, screaming that he’d find a way to make them pay.

Sammy and the stranger untied everyone and helped them to regain consiousness. The stranger introduced himself as a wandering bard named Tomas. They were all impressed with his bravery, and thanked him profusely for rescuing them. Josie gave him a peck on the cheek. They all wanted to know what he had done to the half-orcs.

Tomas recounted them following through the sewers to his “secret stash.” He led them directly to the town’s guard barracks, and directed them to a man grate. He told them that he had to go through first, and they were only to follow after he told them it was safe. Thinking that they were being tricked, and that he was going to somehow steal their gold, they pushed him out of their way and went through first without him. Tomas merely closed the grate behind them, and walked back.

That evening, Tomas shared their dinner, and regaled them with tales of lands near and far, and acts of bravery. There was singing, and Tomas played lively tunes on various instruments. Sammy convinced Josie to dance with him, and a wonderful time was had by all of the little band. Tomas decided to stay on for a few days and enjoy everyone’s company. He even paid room and board! Tomas didn’t have a lot of extra coin, but he had more than all four of them had seen in roughly six months, combined.

After all had gone to bed, Sammy went looking for Josie. He wanted to talk to her about the days events, and talk about Tomas. He heard some activity in her room, and he carefully peeked in the keyhole to make sure she was decent. He didn’t want to embarrass her. To his surprise, dismay, and great shame, she was bedding Tomas.

Sammy flew back downstairs to his little closet. He had never felt so inadequate in his life. He slept poorly, and decided he had to leave the Candlestick Inn, and say goodbye to Josie forever.

The following morning it was apparent to everyone that something was not right. Josie wouldn’t look at Sammy, and Chuck and Jenna were oblivious to what the problem might be. It was Tomas that took Sammy aside. They went for a walk, and had a long talk about women, life, and one’s place in the world.

“A woman, Sammy, is like a fine wine. A wine exists for one reason only, and that is to be consumed, to be drunk! Sure, wine collections are beautiful and very pleasing to the eye, but the wine knows what it is made for. The wine wants to be drunk, wants to please ze drinker. The wine connoisseur would be wise to respect the power of the wine, for it can make him drunk, and foolish. Properly cared for, a wine can be the most pleasing thing to a man.

“When you want to take a woman, you must treat her like a fine wine. Appreciate ze bottle ze wine comes in, pay attention to ze label, and make a fuss over her vintage. You must twirl her around, look her up and down, and take in ze scent of her. Then you must taste her! Get ze flavor of her on ze back of your tongue. Then you will know the true measure of her, and she will be pleasing to you! Never forget, Sammy, that a wine should not be too sweet, nor too cold. If ze wine is not yet ready to be drunk, it is best to forget it for a while. Care for ze wine, protect it, but worry not overmuch that it is not yet ready for drinking. In time, it will be, and when it is, it will be delicious.”

Tomas stayed on for five days, entertaining the family. At the end of the five days, he offered to take Sammy with him on his journeys. Sammy had expressed a desire to see the world that he had only read about, and Tomas was only too pleased to take him. They had many adventures together, and Tomas taught Sammy much of the world abroad, of women, and of music and laughter. Sammy wanted to see the elves, and they did head that way, but they never made it there. They had several encounters with elves along their journeys, however, and soon Sammy’s heart began to yearn to see places he knew again. He wondered how much he had changed, and how he would now measure up in Josie’s eyes. So the two began heading back to Leithan. It was near the vernal equinox, and the two decided on their way back that they would see the grand city of Greshan, and enjoy the celebration there. So it is that our little party finds themselves at an out-of-the-way country in near the Black Fenns forest, days from Greshan, days from the equinox, and full of excitement and the promise of a future adventure!

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Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God!


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PostPosted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 12:54 pm 
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As I said yesterday...

THAT BITCH!

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