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Concentration, precision, commitment.
Posted: 22 Jan 2008 06:48 PM |
There was much to be accounted for. Firstly, the knife had to be well balanced, and well honed. A dull edge or a nick in the blade could snag in the flesh all too easily. Also, the first cut had to be exact. Its accuracy would guide all those that followed. But most importantly, there could be no hesitation. If one hesitated in that first stroke of the blade, it would echo through each following cut. Neglecting even one of these aspects could ruin everything.
This wasn't his first time, and it wouldn't be his last, but each situation was different. He had to be cautious. So Fennigan studied his target carefully. In situations like this, one could ill afford to make a mistake. He slowed his breathing, measured the distance with a practiced eye, selected his angle of attack, and struck.
The first cut was over as fast as a lightning strike, and it was perfect. As the blade dug in, the skin parted, and the flesh cleaved neatly. One cut became two, then three, and a fourth followed. All was going to plan. Each time he hit his chosen mark with ease. He worked quickly, and no sooner than it started it was over.
The redheaded Hin bent over and collected his prize with a greedy smile on his face and inspected it carefully. He had picked his target well, there was no question. And, with a bit of cleaning, there would be no evidence of his actions here.
"There we go, that should be just enough" he whispered as he turned. His stomach growled out in obvious disagreement with that statement. "Well," he added, grinning down at his belly, "if you insist."
He cut one final slice from the side of smoked bacon, and then carried them all to heated skillet waiting nearby. As they hit the pan, each responded in turn with a satisfying sizzle. "Damned shame that Shale fella ain't around," he mused to himself. "I sure could go for another batch of his biscuits about now." |
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Afternoon reading.
Posted: 23 Jan 2008 04:23 PM |
Serai had a rather extensive library. Most of the books were informational however, which made for dry reading. Only a few books written by gnomish authors kept his attention long enough to finish. Particularly the ones referred to by their respective authors as "self help" tomes, and "how to" guides.
The first of these "how to's" Fennigan came across was meant to be a guide for budding thieves, Pockets, Locks, and Noses: A guide to picking. It was a rather boring read, with far more concentration on the noses than anything else.
The next book he stumbled across had been written by a rather addle-brained elderly gnomish monk. The Whey of the Curd was apparently a treatise relating the the teachings of Asashi to the making of cheese. It was filled with odd little sayings like "Be the Cheese" and "Always act for the grater Gouda".
The book that truly caught his attention was one of the "self helpers". Undeath and You: Am I a Lich? was written by a gnomish wizard for his fellow wizards who might have been too caught up in their work to notice that they had died. It included a list of several warning signs.
*Dry skin.
*Weight loss.
*Exposed bone.
*Lack of hunger, thirst, or libido.
*Aversion to healing potions.
*Do people flee in terror at the sight of you?
*Have your eyes been replaced with precious gemstones?
On the last page, the author went on to promote a book to follow this one entitled Were, am I?. Which he proclaimed would be the definitive guide to determining if you were or were not a Lycanthrope.
As the Hin re-shelved the last book he sighed to himself, "I gotta get out more, if I keep this up I'll be nuttier than the piker what wrote this mess." |
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The hunter is wounded.
Posted: 24 Jan 2008 04:26 PM |
Fennigan had been following him for nearly a quarter of an hour. Each time the Hin closed within striking distance the other would dart off again. He realized that the only way to win this fight was to drive the other into a corner. His weapon at the ready, he slowly maneuvered the other, driving him back into the room where all this started.
He quickly calculated each step in advance. When the other moved in the direction he desired, he allowed it. A feigned attack would cut them off when they did not. Slowly the dance continued, until he saw his opening.
He screamed out, "Tactical error!" The rolled up copy of the Port Royale Tribune smacked down on the counter top, crushing the other underneath. It was over, the fly was dead. The fat woman standing over the stew pot let out a barking laugh.
"What?" questioned the Hin.
"Tactical error?" the cook giggled out.
"What about it? It's a battle cry, you know, real warrior stuff!" he puffed up his chest and held the newspaper out menacingly.
Her laughter redoubled at his pose and obviously wounded pride. "No it isn't, a battle cry is something like let the blood flow!" she waved a large wooden spoon like a sword in his direction. "Or," she jabbed the spoon at him causing him to take a step back. "avast ye scurvy son of a dog! But tactical error? That's just a minor criticism." She jabbed the spoon in his direction once more continuing to laugh.
"Fine then, you daft old biddy, next time kill your own flies," he turned to leave, more embarrassed than angry. Muttering to himself as he went. "Ain't like she's ever been in a battle, who does she think she is anyway."
Again the old woman's laughter raised as she called after him. "Aww, don't go off all mad now, come on back dearie. I'm sure I can come up with a battle cry you'll like! How about you dress funny! Or maybe, you have very bad manners! How's that one?"
The sounds of the old cooks cackling echoed all the way down the hall and into the sitting room where Fennigan stood pouring himself a brandy. "Jokes on you old woman," he mumbled into his drink. "There were two flies." |
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Know when to say when, and when to say what they want to hear.
Posted: 02 Feb 2008 10:01 AM |
"I am Fermentra, Goddess of ale!" the gnome cackled out.
The hin laughed and turned to his current drinking partner. "I told you that lass couldn't hold her drink much longer."
The dwarf nodded back then returned his attention to the mug before him.
The gnome stood on wobbly legs. Raising to her full yet inconsequential height, she extended her arms high over head. "Bow before Fermentra!" Then, as if in slow motion, she toppled over hitting the ground with an unsettling thud. Before either of them even had time to check that she was still breathing she began to snore.
The two at the table broke out in laughter that barely pierced the ongoing din of The Black Pearl. Of the four who had sat down together, only two remained upright. "Fermentra" now slept soundly on the floor. The human, who had earlier in the evening challenged the dwarf to go mug for mug, was face down on a nearby bench obviously defeated.
The dwarf slapped Fennigan on his back with a meaty paw. "Ye could near be a dwarf lad. Ye hold yer drink near fine as any of me kin."
He laughed thinking back on conversations with Fat Sam, when he'd proposed the idea of being made an honorary dwarf. "I ain't got the beard for it. Most hin are right hardy drinkers though. You should make a trip to Swiftfoot hall and see for yourself."
"I might do jes' that some day." He quickly drained his mug and wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. "Ye up fer 'nother round laddie?"
Fennigan nodded and motioned a waitress to bring over refills. "Nothing makes friends faster than buying a few rounds." He handed the waitress a few more coins.
"Aye, ye keep buying laddie and I'll keep ye company."
The hin let out a barking laugh. "Well, at least the table is down two. That'll keep my purse a bit fuller for a bit longer."
"Ye gon' share that joke then, the one ye mentioned before our grand goddess there went down for her nap?"
"Oh, aye, lets see now." He paused long enough to gulp down nearly half his drink.
"Well, one day, this here orc comes running into this healers hut. He's yelling and in a panic carrying his friend in his arms. 'Me think me friend be dead' he's yelling." Fennigan waved his arms about in mock panic eliciting a chuckle from the dwarf.
"So the healer is telling him, 'Calm down, calm down, I might be able to help you, but first we gotta be sure he's really dead.' So without even hesitating, the orc drops his friend on the ground, pulls out his sword, and stabs his friend right in the heart. He looks back at the healer and says 'Ok, now what him do next?'"
The dwarf slowly broke into a smile, then a chuckle, and then a nearly hysterical laugh as he slammed his fist on the table. And at just that same moment, a rather large hand grasped Fennigan by the shoulder and whirled him around, chair and all. "Funny," he thought. "Didn't notice him before."
Standing over him was a large, and reasonably upset looking half-orc. The beast of a man leaned down and stared the hin right in the eyes. The dwarf halted his mirthful fit long enough to take notice and began to back up from the table.
The orclun stared at Fennigan for a long moment, then his lip started to quiver. With moisture in his eyes and in the most sincerely concerned voice the hin had ever heard from an orc he said "His friend get better yus?"
Fennigan was taken aback, he'd been mentally preparing for a brawl. Open mouthed he just nodded dumbly and answered. "Yes, his friend got all better."
The orc's face lit up with a smile. "This is a gud story! Is gud this orc help his friend!" He twisted the chair containing the hin back to its original spot with disturbing ease and merrily plodded toward the door.
He and the dwarf exchanged glances simultaneously exploding into another fit of laughter. "I sure hope I never get knocked unconscious around that fella."
"Why's that?" asked the dwarf.
"He might bloody well try to heal me!" |
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That Darn Rat
Posted: 08 Jun 2008 02:45 AM |
((Standard disclaimer, though you might have heard rumors if you've been to port. I normally wouldn't openly publish one of fen's letters to Jessup, but I had so much fun with this I just had to share what happened. Of course only two people will be aware of the letter's contents RP wise.))
After a long night of cleaning up, hauling debris out of P&J tours, Fennigan was exausted. He'd cleared out most of the dust and ash as well. It was slightly more difficult moving out some of the bits of fallen ceiling. But he persisted, and eventually finished the job. Tired, sweaty, and covered in filth, and not too few cuts and bruises he returned home and sat down for the truly difficult part.
Not getting killed.
Pouring a brandy from the house stock, he carried it off to his office and sat down to write a letter.
Several crumpled parchments later....
Mister Jessup,
I'm sure by now you have seen the mess that was made in P&J. I can't tell you how sorry I am, and I'm willing to pay for the damages. I tried to clean up the mess as best I could. But let me explain what happened.
It's going to be hard to believe, but you know me, you know I wouldn't lie to you. What follows is the best description of the events I can provide.
It was a rat.
Yes, a rat.
I came across this little bastard over in the Four Winds, and it soon turned out to be a lot more than just a rat. This bugger was smart, I went to get some poison for Uwe to put out for the rat, but the little piker not only beat me to the shop, but stole all the bloody poison too!
That's when the real trouble started.
I went to see if Calbert or Malicia had any, and the bugger followed me. I could see this thing wasn't just your average rat, so I tried talking to it, something that smart and that good of a thief, (he stole gold right from my own pocket!) would have been an asset to the organization. But he wouldn't have it, it started dropping scrolls and running off, and then they'd go off like some kind of time delayed trap.
It set off a fireball that nearly set me and Calbert both on fire, then it turned him to stone! After that it called up a big old deader skeleton, but I made sure to bash that thing to bits. Well, by that point I'd figured I couldn't let it keep on making a mess of the place so I plunked an arrow right through the rat, and of all things that could have happened, the blighter even in death called up a Balor, that's when things got bad.
The demon wouldn't listen to anything I was saying, I was going to politely direct him home, but he snatched up the rat and called it back to life then started wrecking up the place. Setting magical fires and stomping stuff to bits. So I killed it (the Balor that is). On top of that, a damned purple badger showed up, making everything worse!
Then the rat came back in, it started dropping more scrolls and called down rocks from the sky, that's what made the majority of the mess. Well, I tried to talk to the thing again, but it was just playing with me. So then I thought I'd lure it out before it brought the whole building down. But turns out the thing was trying to lead ME out! It was setting a trap or something. Even turned one of those fellas you hired to guard port to stone!
The thing left a trail of turnips for me, yeah, I thought the same thing you probably are, that blasted mad wizard was involved somehow. Well, this here rat was still doing his thing and dropping those scrolls, and then things got weird.
It snatched some scrolls out of one of them cannons and turned itself into a dragon. Of course I bolted over the railing at that point. The dang thing laughed and flew off, then dropped a bunch of strange looking throwing stars near right on top of me. I've got them still, they're real fancy, you can have them if it saves you snapping my neck for the trouble I caused.
Well, I went to try and hire one of those beggars from the port temple to help clean up the mess, I was going to pay him good, half before, and half after the job was done, and the bugger took the first half and piked out on me. If it ain't to much to ask, I'd like a chance to cut that bastards throat. Or just gut him and watch him bleed out. Probably stupid of me to pay him anything before, but what sort of man turns down doubling his money just to avoid a bit of work? I want his head.
Well, I went back and saw to Calbert, making sure he was flesh again, and of all things I found near him, it was just the scroll I needed, that rat went and left it for me. Whatever that thing was, it was just toying with me the whole time, trying to make me crazy, or look crazy, either way I hope I never see it again.
Every word of this is true Mister Jessup, as hard as it is to believe, every word of it. But damned if I'd believe it either if I hadn't been the one the little bastard was trying to get. Like I said, I'll pay for the damages if you say so, I got some coin saved up. But it wasn't all my fault!
Sealing the letter, he returned to P&J and left it with Calbert. |
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