http://www.thepathfinderchronicles.com/2013/06/earthdawn-appreciation-day.html
Earthdawn Appreciation Day!It is Earthdawn Appreciation Day! +R.S. Tilton 's brain wave. In fact it is almost over in Australia but as I have been tied up with LUGCon gaming goodness I have been hard pressed to find the time to post but here is my component for it. Just let me say that Earthdawn is one of the greatest games that I have ever played, and still play today :). So now to the introduction of the greatest Windling Windmaster/Horror Hunter that ever lived...
"My name is Klim" The little dark haired scarred Windling says to you as he flies low over your head. His body seems to have been ritually scarred so you have a hard time spotting an actual piece of fair skin on the normally jovial creature. this Windling is surely not jovial in any way. "What is yours?" He asks cooly sitting on the back of the chair opposite you. "And paint it on the table with these, don't say it or I will drag your tongue from your mouth and cut it off so you will never speak again." He looks as if he means it as he pulls from a sack a thin brush and a pot of green ink.
You think to laugh but see by his demeanour that he is not having a good day so you pop the top off of the ink well and dip the bristles in. You glance down and then back up at the figure who is intently looking at your face. With all the focus you can muster you look down and write your name on the tabletop, embellishing it perfectly like your mother had taught you with tribal symbols and patterns proving you not to be one of the Horror's minions. The heat on your neck tells you he is still watching as after ten minutes you push the pot of ink back toward the diminutive winged, scarred figure. He hops off the back of the chair and to the pot. Leaning ever so slightly he puts the cap back on and places both back in his pint sized sack. He walks directly up to your face and points to a wound on his arm.
"See that scar?" He looks momentarily at the still infected wound. "Well it will be a scar eventually. You know how I got that?" He smiles a grim smile as he looks for your response. You silently shake your head from side to side. "I got that last time I saw you."
"Liar." The word escapes your lips, almost surprising you at its abruptness. "I mean I have never met you before!" Your voice sounds strange, different somehow. Like you are calling out in a tunnel or something.
"I'm not talking to you." The weird little Windling named Klim seems to be talking to someone else but he looks at you. "I am talking to the bag of meat that you are currently housed in. I am sorry that I have to tell you this but I was one of the ones that opened the Kaer. You fled into the desert and I have been tracking you ever since." Some of that seems familiar to you, but you feel like it is distant. A memory long forgotten.
"I have been tracking you as you bought with you an unwanted guest on your travels." Klim hurls a pile of dust into your eyes and though it is only dust, somewhere you feel something in massive agony. "Look at your script." Klim speaks directly to you now. It is almost like he is in your head.
You obey and look at the image on the table. It is not what you wrote. You wrote an elegant script but that which is on the table is an image of Klim undoubtedly, but he has been impaled on a stake and crows sit eating his eyes. You are beginning to wake and understand. You know now that you are no longer in control.
"I cut this wound so the pain would remind me of the pain that I would have to deal to you when I dealt with your control would be mine to share. I will remember you Olaf. I will sing a dirge in your honour at the Moot of the Thunderclaw. Know it to be true." With tears the Windling hurls himself into the air and then plummets with a black blade toward you. here in Travar, the last place you will ever know you welcome the power of the Horror Hunter as he plunges his blade into your eye and up into your brain. He has come to set you free and forever more send your captor back to the hells that spawned them.
Earthdawn Appreciation Day!It is Earthdawn Appreciation Day! +R.S. Tilton 's brain wave. In fact it is almost over in Australia but as I have been tied up with LUGCon gaming goodness I have been hard pressed to find the time to post but here is my component for it. Just let me say that Earthdawn is one of the greatest games that I have ever played, and still play today :). So now to the introduction of the greatest Windling Windmaster/Horror Hunter that ever lived...
"My name is Klim" The little dark haired scarred Windling says to you as he flies low over your head. His body seems to have been ritually scarred so you have a hard time spotting an actual piece of fair skin on the normally jovial creature. this Windling is surely not jovial in any way. "What is yours?" He asks cooly sitting on the back of the chair opposite you. "And paint it on the table with these, don't say it or I will drag your tongue from your mouth and cut it off so you will never speak again." He looks as if he means it as he pulls from a sack a thin brush and a pot of green ink.
You think to laugh but see by his demeanour that he is not having a good day so you pop the top off of the ink well and dip the bristles in. You glance down and then back up at the figure who is intently looking at your face. With all the focus you can muster you look down and write your name on the tabletop, embellishing it perfectly like your mother had taught you with tribal symbols and patterns proving you not to be one of the Horror's minions. The heat on your neck tells you he is still watching as after ten minutes you push the pot of ink back toward the diminutive winged, scarred figure. He hops off the back of the chair and to the pot. Leaning ever so slightly he puts the cap back on and places both back in his pint sized sack. He walks directly up to your face and points to a wound on his arm.
"See that scar?" He looks momentarily at the still infected wound. "Well it will be a scar eventually. You know how I got that?" He smiles a grim smile as he looks for your response. You silently shake your head from side to side. "I got that last time I saw you."
"Liar." The word escapes your lips, almost surprising you at its abruptness. "I mean I have never met you before!" Your voice sounds strange, different somehow. Like you are calling out in a tunnel or something.
"I'm not talking to you." The weird little Windling named Klim seems to be talking to someone else but he looks at you. "I am talking to the bag of meat that you are currently housed in. I am sorry that I have to tell you this but I was one of the ones that opened the Kaer. You fled into the desert and I have been tracking you ever since." Some of that seems familiar to you, but you feel like it is distant. A memory long forgotten.
"I have been tracking you as you bought with you an unwanted guest on your travels." Klim hurls a pile of dust into your eyes and though it is only dust, somewhere you feel something in massive agony. "Look at your script." Klim speaks directly to you now. It is almost like he is in your head.
You obey and look at the image on the table. It is not what you wrote. You wrote an elegant script but that which is on the table is an image of Klim undoubtedly, but he has been impaled on a stake and crows sit eating his eyes. You are beginning to wake and understand. You know now that you are no longer in control.
"I cut this wound so the pain would remind me of the pain that I would have to deal to you when I dealt with your control would be mine to share. I will remember you Olaf. I will sing a dirge in your honour at the Moot of the Thunderclaw. Know it to be true." With tears the Windling hurls himself into the air and then plummets with a black blade toward you. here in Travar, the last place you will ever know you welcome the power of the Horror Hunter as he plunges his blade into your eye and up into your brain. He has come to set you free and forever more send your captor back to the hells that spawned them.
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