Scorpiox
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Lárgh-múnd stares impassively as the two dwarves enter the premises. The curator tolerated their presence for reasons of maintaining relations with the dwarf clans of Titaan, but that didn't mean he had to like them. "One of my brothers will show you to your room, as I am occupied in the present time." "The mythology of the norse is one of the most diverse in this world, but far too much for me to explain in the short time we have, unless you ask me questions more specific. The culture is also one of great depth, but as you have hoped for knowledge in things more precise, I can endevour to answer you. It would be correct to assume the norse society to be almost wholly based on equality, in that females do not suffer any lower standing than the males of their clan. If you were to find a single raiding party, you would likely find more males preparing to fight than females, for the reason that it is less common for them to desire conquest and glory than their counterparts. For the norse, marriage is a pact upheld more loosely than in cultures you may know more well. Their is no assigned age for when a female is deemed appropriate for marriage, but the age thought most socially favourable is greater than sixty seasons. A male and female choose each other, live and reproduce together, but it is not uncommon nor unacceptable for both parties to build relationships with others - so long as children are only conceived by the married pair. Children produced between an unmarried male and female is a subject of shame, and would often lead to the banishment of the one deemed to have instigated the unlawful behaviour."
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Haldor leaps up onto the deckside, roaring, all illness forgotten. He singles out a particular foe and charges headlong at him, drawing his newly-weighted Dualis Sceptres as he closes in. "C'mere, you wee bastard! Call that a beard? Any old git can grow one, but it takes a bloke of certain calibre to keep his under control. I'll have you swinging by that before we're done!" Viking Sailor A, front row.
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Haldor stumbled around the deck, blinking at the sudden brightness and rubbing his eyes. "Nords, I should have known." He snorted, all but forgetting his seasickness in his growing anger. "If it ain't burning, something's wrong, that's how they think, that's how I am supposed to think. I have no loyalty to these clans, they're little but barbarian's wearing shiny helmets. I say we go in and make them stop."
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"Of course. The people and warriors of Vártland do not hesitate to make themselves know across this world, for deeds both good and nefarious. What is it about the unabashed clans of the Northern Continent that you would like to gain more knowledge."
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Haldor scratched his head. "In that case, so are men, elves, dwarves - everything's bloody evil. Your job's a waste of time. Singling out one group and then 'hunting' it is helping nobody, witches are responsible only for a part of the evil done in this world, and many of 'em do a lot more good work than you ever will. You ought to rethink your career. How about hunting 'bad people', that generic and wide-ranging enough for you? Perhaps just 'people'? That's one group that sure gets around in being bastards." He continued leaning against the banister in a seated position, this way, the ship's constant yawing would have less of an effect.
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Only in the sense that De'kra used to be nicknamed 'Demonspawn', I think.
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JimB contacted me to give some prompts on what to write, actually.
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Why is that a 'Boo'?
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Lárgh-múnd looms over En Sabeh Nur's shoulder as he looks around the Embassy's expansive hallway. "You have need of me, keeper of the magic arts? You come here to seek knowledge, yes? I will speak my best to speak to what it is you seek, but there are things that even I do not have truth of. Imps exist one of this world's most hidden and mysterious creatures. They do not walk upon the land as you do, human, but dwell underground of their own world, away from where eyes see and ears listen. I have not heard much of these creatures in the past time of late, Imp-kind do not venture from their secluded kingdoms in leisure. They are neither demon nor goblin folk, although bear likeness to these creatures in ways of their own. There are few who understand the true nature of the Imp, and fewer still who would wish to share this truth with others of your kind. I have not set eyes upon one of the Imp folk for as many summers as you have lived, you would waste your time in the pursuit of finding one. Is there any other knowledge that you wish to gain from me whilst you stand here?"
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Thank you very much, Chromeknight!
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"Gah... you're making me feel more ill." Haldor clutched his head and kept his eyelids tightly closed. "Somebody shut the little bugger up, else his time on this earth's gonna be even shorter than he's expecting."
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Haldor's face was turning an oddly pale shade, even for a nord. "Easy for you to say. I don't see no glistening sea, it's all green, murky, and keeps on moving the bloody boat up and down, up and down. Have you ever thought of just how many big, slimy, angry monsters we're sailing over right now? Think, if but one of them came up and decided to stop us, we'd have to swim for it... all the way... for months. We'd drown. The sooner we get off this blasted thing the better. It ain't natural, sailing. If men were supposed to go over the seas on jolly holidays like we seem to, we'd have fins." He made a sickly groaning noise. "The only thing nice about a port is that at least you ain't on the sea!"
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"Went off to knock-off an old dictator someplace called Lacticium - something like that anyway - went without many hitches, saved the damsel in distress, the usual stuff." "Sure, I went on all kinds of boats... when I had to... when I was forced. We were too far up in the north to be involved in any of the regular raids, but now and again, the big blokes'd take their little boys along to sink some ship and make them into men. The trick is to be too busy chucking over the side to do much and get sent home. I hate the way it moves, there ain't no place I can stand without the bloody floor moving underneath. How am I supposed to do anything when the ground can't even stand still? Bloody hell..." Haldor hunched over and shut his eyes tightly, clutching his stomach.
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"I'm a nord, never said that I ever went viking..." He grimaces.
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Haldor was leaning back against the side of the ship, looking up at the sky and pretending that he wasn't about to be seasick at any moment. "Bloody boats..." He muttered to himself, feeling distinctly uneasy. In an effort to distract himself from the constant yawing of the deck, Haldor called out to Tesni once he'd heard something he didn't like. "Testing strength's all well and fun when there's nothing on the line, but we're dealing with lives, and potentially war, here. I won't be fightin' no-body unless I have to, and fightin' other heroes... not a chance. This ain't no picnic we're off on." He turned his head and took a brief look at the heaving green seas below... and immediately wished he hadn't. "Ugh... couldn't we have walked? Where are you, Jess, I'm not feeling too good."
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Haldor's face lit up as he saw Jess. "Jess, I didn't expect to see you here. Glad to hear you're off to Baltarok too. I'm with the orc-clans, trying to sort-out some troubles over the new bridge, what about you?" He raises a serious eyebrow. "I trust you're not here to bash our heads in..." The nord laughs heartily and pulls his love into an embrace.
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"I get what we have to do, seems simple enough, but no doubt difficult. Still, couldn't have hoped for a better group of folks to fight with if the situation comes to that."
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Paid Membership with perks? Any interest?
Scorpiox replied to Siegfried's topic in Forum Information and Help
As much as I adore this site, I wouldn't pay to use it. Sorry. Although advertising is annoying, they are certainly tolerable if they are funding the site. -
I've made a fair few purchases, so my stats are probably worth updating. Haldor arrived not long after Guts, nodding respectfully to the orc as he greeted him. "Haldor Skovgaard, of the Westfold norse clans. These orc clans you mentioned in your note, what can you tell us about them?" He began absent-mindedly polishing his axe-blade as he waited for the others to arrive.
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Haldor spies a burly orc posting the names of the chosen heroes for his quest, and on investigation he realises that he has indeed been selected. Hastily, he scribbes a not on a piece of paper and pins it roughly to the table, hoping that Jess will find it. Confident that his writing made enough sense, Haldor left the hall after the rest of his party.
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I think you ought to remember that English isn't Wedge's native language, and also that it's nothing the hell to do with you.
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Haldor leant back in his chair and whistled a tune. Jess had gone to bed hours earlier, but he was staying up to relax by himself. He dragged one of his heavy Gladiator's Helmets out of his bag and planted it on his table with a loud clunk noise, and began speaking to no-body in particular. "Ah. There's too much stuff going on in this hall. Too many silly gits rushing about with their hands waving, need to just sit down and give a bloke some peace an quiet. And this..." He gestures towards his helmet. "I've been carrying around long enough. I need to shift it before my back fixes up for good." For Sale: Gladiator's Helmet (SP: 3), accepting offers.
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Why have you not written an analysis for Throlar?
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De'kra is inherently not a bad character, and in cases is very interesting to read, such as his conversations with Arthur. There are ways that you can improve how you play him however, the suggestion of which you refuse to accept. You are welcome to do what you like with your character, but as you are clearly unable to accept any criticism of your writing it is probably best to just leave the discussion here.
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I hate to interrupt like this, but... why are you just re-telling the Bionicle story and selling it off as De'kra's backstory?