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Topics - Sazo

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Journals & Backgrounds / Personal Journal - Post Return
« on: February 22, 2019, 02:05:24 pm »
Leather Bound Journal - (There are many entries but only a few of particular interest)


     Fucking Hell it feels good to be off that boat.  If I had to listen to that crew sing "The wind she is a'blowing" one more fuckin' time I would have hung myself from the crows nest.   How the hell can people be so cheery in the middle of storm, in the middle of the damn ocean?  All things considered though... the trip was far better than the situation I just left.  Being Summoned to your 'foster' family's house to find a cutlass driven through your sisters heart isn't exactly my idea of vacation.   (an indent in the paper suggests the writer sat here a moment before continuing)   How did they know where to send the summons in the first place, I had already left the city.  Makes me consider the possibility that someone was talking about things they shouldn't have been. The worst part... is it's my fault.  Whoever did it, wanted me off my investigation for that Orb.  With the note they left they weren't very subtle about it either.  "You're too Late Seeker."  They were right. I was. I'm sorry Saphira. I know it doesn't make up for it, but I promise you I won't stop until whoever this was pays for it with their blood. (Another Small indent sits here)  I think I'm going to dedicate this journal to you, it will at least make me feel a little better about not being there when you needed me in some small way.  I'm fortunate I'll be able to make good on that promise I made, because had I not had proof that I wasn't in the area when it happened I would still be sitting in that gods damned Jail Cell.  Useless law officials, how much sense would it make for a "supposed murderer" to go around asking questions about the murder he just commited?  Yet, I spent 3 months in the rat infested hell-hole.  Listening to Barlow in the next cell talk about how he'd "Found Amanautor" and how he's "Changed Forever!" was beginning to make driving my face into the brick wall sound appealing.  His incessant rambling kept me up more nights than I can count.  I did manage to get a little information out of him though. He had apparently overheard the guards talking about how they saw a tall figure outside your house the night before I had arrived.  I know. It's not a lot to go on but as luck would have it I'm pretty good at grabbing threads and pulling them until they unravel.  It's why I was promoted in the first place.  On another note, because I'm going to get wound up if I don't stop talking about it...   a lot of shit has changed here in a just a few months.   An enclave crashed into Valstiir, there's been some growth in the surrounding area, the wonbrie is all fucked up because some sort of evil entity has taken up residence and some elite group of Zealots that's part of Dukkarus stepped in to 'keep the peace' and by "keep the peace" I mean burn innocents alive.  The good news is the house is still intact and a lot of my colleagues are still here, and are doing well. As soon as I get finished speaking with Natasha about what happened I would assume I will be getting back to work.  Speaking of which, it looks like Natasha wants to speak to me now so I'm going have to continue this later.  See ya Sis, Love ya.
 
P.S.  Rest in Peace.  I'm Sorry.

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Netherese Library / Submission: Remember
« on: February 02, 2019, 06:01:43 am »
((This book will probably be cut into volumes, but you will be able to get it in the game as an actual book


"Remember"


(On the inside cover, otherwise completely blank reads a small passage)
"To my dearest friend Snacks.  Words cannot begin to convey the loss that I feel with your passing.  May the burdens you carried be forever laid at your feet and may Selunes light forever warm your face.  You will never be forgotten."

     Half-Orcs.  Dumb, Ugly, Malicious, temperamental creatures that don't deserve a place amongst civilized people.  Or so the stigmatism usually goes.  My sincerest hope is that I can change even one of your minds and through that, pass on the legacy of one of the greatest heroes this realm has ever, and will ever know.  If nothing else, it is my responsibility to pay homage to the noblest, most kindred spirit, I have ever had the privilege of knowing.  It is my life's honour to have not only known him but to have called him my dearest and closest friend. 

     In order to understand the monumental blow that came from his death, you must first understand how he lived.  The shoes he has left to fill are far too great for myself or anyone that I know of.  He did not just impact me this way, but almost all of those who knew him.
     His name was Kroznack, and yes, he was a half-orc.   When hearing him talk, most people assumed he was slow, or that his mental capacity was that of a 'typical' all but brainless half-orc.  He was anything but typical; and anything but brainless. His tactics in battle were often what meant the difference between life and death and usually, those tactics meant putting him in the direct path of danger while trying to minimize it for everyone else, as he was always leading from the front.  What people also didn't know, is that Kroznack spoke four different languages.  Common, was the last of which.   So when he spoke, it would sometimes appear as if his speech was broken.  Yet, he always managed to find his point and convey it beautifully.  Far better than I could ever convey to you how much of an impact he had on those who knew him.   Up until now, I told you his name was Kroznack.  Up until now, many of the people who knew him wouldn't even know who I was actually talking about. Perhaps now, after his death, that's not the case but many did not know his real name in life. His name to most people and how he introduced himself was "Snacks."  From his first steps on Hadrian soil, it was evident what type of person Snacks really was.  His name, at least the name he went by, was given to him because of his nature.  He arrived by ship, as did a lot of us here.  Though, I venture to say that most of us don't receive the kind of treatment a half-orc does when approaching new people.  At least not in a primarily human settlement.  When Snacks originally took the boat here he approached the captain, his "broken" common in tow, and saw the obvious apprehension in his eyes.  Wanting to clarify that he was no threat he spoke to him.  In an effort to say "Kroznack is good" the words didn't quite ring true.  The Captain replied...  "Well yeah, Snacks are always good".  Feeling the point had been made, or..  not wanting to spend the energy to attempt clarifying things and possibly sabotaging himself in the process, "Snacks" simply nodded and affirmed "I Snacks".   At least, that's as accurate an interaction as I can remember based on what my friend had told me.  The point remains, his intentions were pure from the very day he set forth in our city.  Ironically enough...  the first person he ever met here; aside from the captain that is, is me. 


     Now, I have no claims to stake and I am not going to try and advertise myself as the only friend Snacks had but what I will tell you, is Snacks and I spent a majority of our time together.  I had more outings with Snacks then I can even begin to count and as much as he would argue this point, I was far luckier to have been graced with his friendship, then he was to have mine.  Why he put up with my nonsense half the time I'll never understand but he did.  Without complaint and often times to my surprise, he would mention the value that our friendship had to him.  He also seemed to get enjoyment out of my occasional lapse in judgement because it gave him an opportunity to be the man he is..  or was. 


Snacks could always be found at the front of the line. Standing tall against whatever evil had brought attention to itself, regardless of his chances to win.  He stood defiant against anything that had the will to bring harm to those around him and those he didn't know alike and never, not once, regretted it.  Not even with his death.  While he was gentle and forgiving, and entirely selfless, I cannot imagine the fear his adversaries must have felt knowing he would be the bulwark between them and their desired goals.  He was imposing, and fearless and most of all..  a fierce protector of the people.  I won't go into detail about his victories, instead, I aim to tell you what he was like as a person.  That is where he truly shined. He set a standard in Hadrian that will forever ring true as the precedent that is set to bear the marks of a hero.  While his accomplishments are many... it's the lives he changed just by being who he was that makes Snacks the shining pillar of hope he is, even in death.  Make no mistake..  his accomplishments and heroic deeds vastly overshadow that of most of the heroes in Hadrian... but again, that's not what gave him his greatness.  If his heroics are something you wish to learn about, seek out the halls of MoonGlow Keep and inquire there.  He was a Sword of Lady and embodied them and their virtues like no other sword I know, or will ever know. 


     It was not uncommon for Snacks to give people things they themselves could not afford in an effort to equip them better for the perils they would inevitably face on a day to day basis outside of Hadrian's walls.   It was commonplace for him to insist that he take the brunt of whatever punishment or damage that was to come about from such encounters and never...   asked for anything in return.  He didn't want any songs to be sung about him, or 'books being written for him', he didn't even want recognition when helping people on their feet.  Which was something he did every chance he got?  He took the blame for offences he had no part in to shelter those he cared for, simply to take the punishment they would receive for doing whatever it was they had done.  Giving no thought or consideration to his name, reputation, or well-being.  Saying he was a good person would be like telling you the frozen wastes are cold.  It's more than an understatement, it's not even in the same category. More than that, he was an even better friend.   He took blades and spells in place of people with awful demeanours simply because he didn't like to see others hurt, regardless of who they were.  He believed no one, and I mean no one was beyond redemption and often prayed to Selune for the guidance of the souls of those he had no choice but to fight.  Snacks' spirit was.. indomitable. Unfettered, unshakeable and tempered to portray the stalwart defender he was. His presence was far larger than the nearly seven-foot Half-Orc body his spirit was anchored to.  He commanded the utmost respect without having to ask for any of it, and when the needs of others arose... his own didn't matter.


Snacks left behind more than friends.  He left behind an entire city the welcomed his steps when he would return from his deeds.  He left behind a family that would willingly give up their lives to have him return.  He left behind a realm that is only safe because of the action he took, to keep it that way.   When he died, a piece of my soul went with him, along with many other comrades I know.   Hadrian, Netheril and the people of both, are far worse off without him.


The echoes of Snacks' deeds will ring throughout Hadrian, and all of Netheril far longer than I will be here and my hope is that this passage will carry his legacy, and give it name long afterwards.  To those who knew him, there is a place his memory is marked for the passage of time, a monument in Hadrian itself dedicated to remembering him and others that have fallen to protect those that cannot protect themselves. 


It is with a broken heart, and fragmented spirit that I pen these words as my final goodbye to the best friend, comrade and family I have ever known.  Rest in Peace My friend, we love you.

I'll see you soon.
- Sazo Kalen'Thras


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sir Kroznaks was a kind soul but as with anyone he did have his demons.

It was that constant struggle that shaped who he was. He was able to see situations from more than one angle given the unique perspective offered to him through his heritage, past demons and present service to the Swords as a Selunite convert.

Late in his life, I was honoured with the opportunity to get to know him and spend much time in close interaction.
I was never disappointed in our time together. He was a true friend and was fiercely loyal to any who had gained his trust as well as a formidable foe to any who dared harm those he held dear.

We all lost much with his passing but I feel those who lost the most are the ones who came after who would not have the opportunity to know this amazing individual first hand.

~Slave Three of Noble House Skettus
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"Snacks was a man who just by being around made myself and others desire to be the better versions of themselves, the versions that he saw when looking at us."

-Artificer Zilta of House Skettus

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"Nobody is perfect... or so they say, but Snacks was pretty damn close."

- "Doinky"

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General Discussion / Returning from extended Absence
« on: January 29, 2019, 08:12:24 am »
Hey Guys!  Wanted to give a shout out to anyone I didn't speak with today to inform everyone that I've returned from my extended absence.  Had some really heavy stuff going on that couldn't be avoided and then had my children here while all that was going on, that resulted in me not having the time to dedicate to the server (or anything else really).   That being said...  I'm back and in good form (Or so I like to think.)   More over, I'm really looking forward to RPing with you guys again and getting involved in grand plans of grandeur and glory, I'm also hoping to do what I enjoy most, causing waves and watching them turn into Tsunami's.  Short of something unforeseeable and terrible I'm not going to be going anywhere so I'm in it for the long haul.   Sorry I didn't get too much time to reach out and convey what was happening but I did try to speak with a few members of staff to keep them somewhat informed as to why I wasn't around. 

Thanks guys, excited to be back.

Sazo.

4
Journals & Backgrounds / Sazo Kelan'thras: A world left behind
« on: April 20, 2018, 08:42:08 am »
((DM Approved))

Entry 1 ~


The Clanging of blades...  it's all I've heard since I was old enough to hold a sword.  My father was intent on me joining "The Wolves" the royal guard of our worthless King.  Not only is the king a stark raving mad lunatic, but he's even got an entire rogue military group dedicated to removing him from the throne... most of its members are former members of the wolves.  In Fact, the name of the group is the Wolves Shadow.  The symbolism being that the group represents everything that the ‘wolves’ do not.

While I've always had a love for the blade.. even when my father made me practice nights on end until my shoulders wouldn't move, I've never seen myself guarding some self-righteous madman intent on slaughtering his own people.  That's why I ran.  I ran as far from home as I could get.  On my eighteenth birthday no less.  I found myself just far enough away from home that I didn’t arouse suspicion and I wasn’t completely out of my comfort zone. After a few months..  I was even comfortable.

At this point, all things considered of course...  my life was actually going pretty great.  Aside from the whole ‘looking over your shoulder everyday thing’.  I met a girl..  an Elven Girl at that, and I was well on my way to making a name for myself as an adventure of some repute within Orgnath.  So much so, that I caught the eye of some very powerful people.  Very powerful and very influential, but we’ll get to that later.

 After a few successful jobs, word had traveled pretty fast.  All the way back to Erolith... were I was from.   At the time I was in Dawncross which is a few leagues west of Erolith and on the other side of the Backbreak mountains.   I knew it would take weeks before my father could reach me.  Maybe even a month or two.  At the very least, I would have enough time to say my goodbyes and prepare for the road.  What I thought I knew however... was wrong.   

Within a week I was back running again.  Foot soldiers marched on the gates of Dawncross and I wasn’t the least bit prepared.  The first time I ran from my father was easy..  I literally had nothing but what I was running from to leave behind.  This time that wasn’t the case.  I was leaving Keynara,  she was a shield maiden for the woodland elves of Yil, which made it impossible for her to come with me.   Even with our goodbyes and me promising to return to her...  I felt like a piece of me died that day.  More importantly, I couldn't explain it... but I felt like I was inadvertently lying to her.  Part of me knew, somehow, that I wouldn't be returning anytime soon… if at all and I could see in her eyes, that she new too. That was the start of my downward spiral out of control..  The proverbial staircase into another time and world. 

Broken, Broken-hearted, and armed with an ill-conceived and time-depraved plan, I stumbled across the country-side searching for some semblance of rest.  Unfortunately for me, there was none to be had.  After months of traveling and being forced to make camps in and outside of towns for fear of being discovered, I finally found myself on the border of what is ‘affectionately’ known as “The Paradox.”   

The Paradox is a harsh, cruel place that lives and exists within its own set of laws.  During the day it reaches temperatures that exceed 130 degrees and rivals the greatest deserts in all of Orgnath. It’s completely covered in sand and many travelers have fallen victim to the spontaneous sandstorms that seemingly erupt from nowhere.  During the night however, it is a very, very different place.  On the stroke of midnight, to the minute, the temperatures drop below freezing and the sands shift to form a dense, mirror like solid slab of ice.  The sandstorms are replaced by tornado-esque hail storms of razor like ice fragments and the air is damp and cold.  The exact origin of this malicious area of the world is unknown but most believe it’s a bi-product of the war between the Primordials and the Gods.  I digress..

Anything that pushes you to the point of considering going into the Paradox is a bad situation.  Anything that pushes you to the point of considering going into the Paradox unprepared..  Is a dire situation.  That’s how much I refused to go back.  Here I was..  In basic travellers clothes, preparing to make my death march across the most vicious terrain known on the material plane, all because I refused to live my father's dream for me.  That, and some part of me felt that it was partly because I had become accustomed to running.  Either way, I stood on the precipice of death with one foot in the sandy, ice-covered grave.  Luckily for me… there was a cave within walking distance that I was sure I could reach before nightfall.  Or at least I thought I was lucky.

Not two footfalls into the cave and I realized the error of my ways.  Was the temperature acceptable?  Yes.  Was it dry?  Yes.  Was it empty?  No.  The first question to enter my slightly malnourished brain had me questioning what kind of gods-awful creatures could live in a place like this.  The first statement in reply to that question..  Was, I really didn’t want to know.   As I pushed myself against the wall to slowly make my descent into the cave, I heard something that at the time, sounded slightly like birds.  Highly aggravated, communicating birds.  I had already committed myself to entering this cave and afterall, it was getting dark outside and the temperatures were going to drop at any moment.  I had little choice but to live with my decision, if you can call it that, and figure out what to do.  Before I could decide whether or not I wanted to retrieve and light my torch from my pack, I was faced with yet another impossible situation.

To give some context to this, let me explain that prior to these events, and for the last few years, Erolith along with most other towns in the southern region of Felstorm had been plagued with abductions, murders, and theft. The assailants..?  All but unknown.  The only thing that was certain, was that whoever was behind it, was organized and efficient.  That is.. Until I stumbled into this cave.  I found out the hard way that Felstorm… and eventually Orgnath, was under siege.  Even the Erolith childhood stories used to scare kids into obedience couldn’t compare to what I was about to witness.  I should have taken my chances with the Paradox.

Where was I?   Oh, right, Birds.   As I began to slowly descend into the cave these birds began to sound not so much… like birds. I guess what stymied me was the fact that the sounds were echoing off the cavern walls so it was incredibly difficult to sort out the original sound. They all seemed to blend together.  As I grew closer to the source, it became much more distinctive.  The sound was more ‘dog-like’ than ‘bird-like’.   The only way I can describe it.. Is the repeated sound of a dog being hurt by surprise.  A ‘Yip’ if you will.

Jackalweres.  Now, I didn’t know this, but typically Jackalwere’s work for someone or something demonic in nature.  A creature that I again… didn’t know existed until now, known as a Lamia, had taken up residence in this cave.  Picture if you will a giant and morbidly grotesque lion with the upper half of a lithe and slender female human.  That’s what I was dealing with here.  Before I even rounded the final corner of the cavern that opened up into the main common area of the underground shelter the yipping had silenced and I was greeted by a female voice. 

“You have wandered into the wrong den pup.”  Those words still echo in my head everytime I enter a dimly lit cavernous space or underground passage.  As she finished the sentence each one of my arms was gripped tightly within the clawed hands of a seperate Jackalwere.  I was being ushered toward the center of this surprisingly comfortable looking chamber.  They didn’t live as I would have expected, of course, I don’t really know what I was expecting to be honest.  Lavish looking throw pillows were piled underneath her as she lied with her front paws crossed, head down, staring at me with an excitement fit for a child receiving a birthday gift.  As I was forced to approach my escorts stopped me some 6 feet away.  I promptly felt a clawed hand push down on the back of my head and with a gutteral “Kneel”. I was forced on my knees, head bowed. 

For the next five or six minutes I was reminded of how stupid I was, how brilliant she was, and how her ‘boss’ had been looking for me.  From what I could gather someone within the ‘local’ government wanted me gone.  After my long session of being chastised, ridiculed and mocked, I was told I would be on my way.  Once again, my fur-covered butlers reinforced their grip and stood me up.  With a smile she said “Goodbye.” and with a massive shove I was pushed directly into a mirror I was certain would shatter on my face.  Closing my eyes I braced for impact. 

What was this sensation?  Wind on my face.  Salt in the air.  No ground beneath me.  Wait.. what?  No ground beneath me??  I was falling!  This time I actually was lucky.  I was falling, but not far.  According to the nearly dumbfounded crew of the boat that I landed on, I mysteriously showed up in the air a few feet above the boats main deck and fell flat on my back. “Where am I?”  was my first question.  “On your way to Hadrian” was my first reply.

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