Cloudy, with a chance of Suffering

[spudnik]

Under the window, bathed in moonlight lay Spudnik smoking an herb he had plucked and dried from a hunting ground long ago. the tobacco cache had been gradually drying up and it would be time soon to cultivate more. he puffed slowly, letting the smoke render him sleepy and mellow. the blood coloured moon bathed his darkened room in a mist of pink. laying there reminded him of simpler times, when the clan hall was bustling and busy. another puff and he'd soon forget that too.

he exhaled slowly, calming himself down. it had taken a whole barrel to stop the raging tonight. of late his hunting consisted of showing up to the grounds, swinging wildly, and getting beat up pretty bad. only when the beating got to be too much he began to show signs of an extraordinary ability.

it was as though somehow his rage became a small ball of fire that he could fire at his foes whom recoiled in agony the more of those balls were unleashed upon them.

Spudnik had levelled the Den of Evil two days ago, and yesterday levelled the Sel Mahum training grounds; tomorrow Senka had invited him to the Monastery to help wage a holy war. Spudnik needed to be relaxed and calm in order to summon the rage.

tomorrow it would be no doubt that this bedroom would be cloudy with the smoke. much less cloudy than Spudnik's memory; on his tabletop sat an unopened letter from someone named Kekropus. yet another letter, beneath it, was from someone named Cellphine. just who these people were, probably wouldn't jog his memory anyway.

[spudnik]

I remember this to be much harder.

The cobblestone ground seems somehow much less firm than it used to be; ether that or my glutes has gotten as hard as the ground and that's not all that likely.

the way I get my rear handed to me these days its for sure not my hindquarters that's gotten harder.

I sit here, just selling the junk i find. Yesterday half a dozen weapon fragments, day before that a dozen Synthetic Coke... i thought i priced it to haggle, but people are paying sticker price for my garbage.

It worries me a bit. Have I forgotten to check somewhere, that might be Buying higher than my Sell price? Lately it seems like every friggin dwarf is on a Crafting spree. with tears they buy it probably because im only one of a handful of vendors for this crap.

Maybe tomorrow i'll pull out all the stops and sell those buff scrolls....

I am going to be soo rich......

[spudnik]

okay just be cool man, be cool. the man is paying you sticker price, and thats going to be 80 million adena. just act as though this isn't the bigest sale of your life and lets party hard later okay?

I got buff scrolls, who wants buff scrolls? step right up and get your buff scrolls only 1 million adenas each friends! thats delightfully easy to stomach isn't it? only 1 m each.

i'll auction these fists off next. the adena pile has grown so large i think i can afford better.

Ive got a Requiem Fighter too Ladies and Germs. decently priced and quite valuable.

I see sir is interested in my Leather Belt of B grade. tell me sir youve seen this belt for 15 in some parts well i'll offer it to you for 10! hear that 10!! oh, you'll take it... for 10 ... right... ok thank you pleasure doing business with you.

jeez mon

alright lets see what we got here... 110 111 112 113 ... 117 .... 125... 150... 185... 190... 200. whew. 200 million. i have 200 million adenas.... and ive still got more to sell....

Weapon Fragments Armor fragments Treasure boxes come get them!!

why yes sir i do have some resurrection scrolls. how much will you give me for them ? oh? well then here take 3 that's all i will spare for right now. thank you!!

add 5 million to the coffer

[spudnik]

strollin'

just taking a walk. looking at the merchants, seeing what's up for grabs.

this guy has something called R grade gear. i wonder what kind of people need that stuff? its always interesting to watch the people of Giran hustling and bustling, to and fro, just watching the hundreds of dwarves trying to buy and sell.

it seems like every other store wants some crystals, and every other merchant is selling treasure chests still unopened, while so few have any real substantial items to sell and fewer still seem to be looking to buy from those merchants.

this guy ive seen selling the same armor set for a week now. i wonder what his asking price is.

2 Billion adena...

no wonder it was all week here.

well i wonder what my money will buy. oh auctioneer, my dear, what have you got in an R grade Fist type weapon ?

the Claws of Spezion you say. my my. can i try it on? well can you model them for me then? doesnt he look smashing.... and now tell me is this the best one you can get for R grade, or are there others ?

and how much are those others ? well then i guess that settles it, I'll take your Spezion Claws.

they look pretty spezion too.

well lets take these to the clan hall and try them on the practice dummy.

[spudnik]

Old SHuniaman had a farm.... *poke* *poke* *jab jab*

E I E I Oh.... *poke Smash*

guess i need a new dummy.

these are pretty d**n strong. i need to lie down, my head is killing me.

While Spudnik slept again the ringing of adenas in his ears blared a siren of desire. he had to have more, and he dreamed now of sitting, vendoring his goods. in the morning he would do that, and in the space of only a few minutes earn a lot more adena.

he traded again to the auction house, who gave him Twilight armor, a kind of green armor that would provide far better protection for the long fight ahead.

[spudnik]

It is nightfall. I am again alone with my thoughts. the wonton death and destruction brought about by me has been excessive of late. I stir a little and the walls tremble. I feel overgrown, and excessive; like a rather large thing in a rather small container. I reach my hand to grasp a cup but in reaching for it i have destroyed the cup and its resting surface. I am become my own enemy; the only enemy there ever was. I cannot remove myself from the suit of stink and death that encapsulates me.

so i sit here by my window, under the moonlight, looking out and smoking. it has become my pass-time. i cannot sleep, for now though my eyes grow heavy i fear the sleep of long years; to renounce the daylight and the whole of Aden world for eons, as i once did. i cannot risk such. to awake after a dozen years to find you are as old and alone as the lonely tower of Insolence; a pillar of fortitude and power in a bleak and broken land full of would-be heroes and boy-lovers. none with the stones to face the obstacles of true power.

for to be by oneself is a far more dangerous place to be than at the feet of Baium himself; for the mind is easily seduced and betrayed by thoughts and delusions, that it must be checked with many other minds and purposes elseways the self can grow too large to exist.

and so i sit and smoke. for in smoking my mind is quietened, and my disturbances are few. i may trust myself to keep myself and not to destroy myself, whilst in the grey mist myself is not given to pomposity, flamboyance, or other forms of grandiose thoughts of posterity.

i have some money left from the purchasing of my items, perhaps i shall have this one tattoo made. it shall be words that i alone recognize and respect. words of meaning and power. of sobriety and clear and unmistakeable meaning.

Temet Nosce

even in pronouncing it i am given pause. i see myself from the eye of the hawk encircling my kills. i am aware of my limitations, aware of the calamity i bring forth, and aware of the purpose through which i am driven and the ends thereof. This will be my second Tattoo.

Purusartha

I encapsulate power, for i am a Brahman and i will attain moksha. i will be free, for i am a God.

[spudnik]

I must escape this coil. I must begin anew. I must be reborn. I must pay for my crime. I am resolved to change. I will change because I am Brahman. The Only One Who May.

My great green vesture I hang up and shall not return to it until the dire need arises. These long clawed arms I remove, I place in a sealed container. They are no longer mine.

Naked I seek the magisters of the Talking Island, whom grant me rebirth. I must speak a new cause to fight for; shall I vanely seek a cause of nobility? to become a knght and fight for religion? whose religion shall I use? what religion has its own God as its follower? at this, the magisters smile wanes, and her lips purse in an attempt to conceal the look of disdain for my arrogance. a flick of her staff and a beam of light curses me.

whether or not it is a curse has yet to be determined; I am greater than this. I will determine the validity of such a curse.

I am become a templar. for the order of Shilen. I am to do her will. they strap armor upon me and it feels weighty. heavier even than my green carapace. but i have left that behind, and I cannot dwell upon it now; I must do the will of those that command me; but none of them know who I am, and that makes me the perfect enemy. I have seen the will of shilen; it is a worm that eats the ground under my feet, sneaking and squirming, slithering in whichever direction it chooses, wreaking havoc where it crawls out of the earth.

no, I shall only pretend to do her will. I shall stop it from occurring. I will be the Champion of the people.

for I am Brahman. none may command me.

[spudnik]

At first, he was sent to Hunter's Village, to train and seek out all traces of Einhasad worship, or Gran Kain worship either in or around the town.

and so he went. a long march from Giran. his fortunes spent or hidden. he marched. his vestige much simpler than he was used to, but at the same time much heavier. none would recognize this very old orc unless they were equally as old.

bound and determined, he made the last corner of the journey; now a small gentle slope of path would lead him to the village.

but stepping upon the threshold of the gates he was met with no welcome, nor expectation, nor abode. none of the faces turned to see him. some powerful elves went to and fro taking no mind of him.

there are no churches in Hunter's village, so the task of finding worshippers is relatively simple; you walk past the doors of the stick-built huts and listen to the spoken words of the people inside. often times it is but idle chit chat or conversations held over supper. seldom do you find chants or hymns to gods.

but he walked past those doors daily, intent on hearing any such thing. when he didnt hear anything he would head out to the enchanted forest, to pass time, speak with the peasants in the forest, and train. the ways of combat were not lost on such as he; old and experienced in all forms of it. it gave him no joy as it once did, to hunt enchanted trees and water creatures and Satyr. no satisfaction came to him to do this, but do he must, if he was to carry out his duty.

a message came to him one night after some weeks without contact. Shilen would see the forest burned; it passed to him to ensure all who remained in the forest were detained to be burned alive.

a treacherous thing as this warranted immediate action. he would make for the northern entrance and begin evacuating. the people of the forest needed salvation, for dark clouds of hell fire would rain down brimstone upon them and many people would perish if Spudnik were not there to secretly save if only a few.

he packed a lantern and headed out into the night.

he stumbled down the path and came upon the first house, and began to knock. the people woke and began to follow him; further down the path he went as the people gathered with him. it began to rain. Spudnik smelled something on the rain though, as though it smelled like it wasn't right.

the people he had massed together huddled together in the wet cold rain. Spudnik climbed to one of their roofs to speak to the mass of people, to warn them all that Shilen would call down Brimstone and Hellfire and they would all perish.

he raised his axe to the sky when a bolt of Lightning caught it, sending electricity through his body and onto the rooftop of the house upon which he stood.

immediately the house, the grass, the people, and all the things that the rain had touched ignited in a massive ball of fire.

he heard dozens of voices cry out in agony, as they all fell to the ground like soft wax falling off a candle. he was thrown from the rooftop in the explosion, and due to his immunity to fire, emerged unscathed if for a few bruises.

Shilen had her victory. Spudnik was made a fool of. he must not return to the hunter's village lest they see him an enforcer of the will of Shilen, murderer of the cmmon folk; he could at least do that, and cut his losses. he could still help elsewhere. it's a big old world and Shilen can't follow him everywhere.