12-26-2001, 09:20 PM | #1 |
Elven Warrior
Join Date: Dec 2001
Location: rural oklahoma
Posts: 324
|
I am starting a Forum RPG-Its called Siroc
Raynor slept heavily that morning; the night before had seemed endless, and the stormy
wind had not been kind to his stable or to his house. On his roof large patches of fresh dirt and straw shone through. His stables were temporarily patched with large strips of leather stretched tightly with grass rope. Raynor was born in the village of Brador, a small village much like Euthiar, the one Raynor eventually chose to set up his home. He, however has little memory of Brador, for he was apprenticed early at the arts of smithing in the fortress of Sylarion. His time at Sylarion was fondly remembered as was his master Sias a man of strength and integrity. The entire villiage had suffered damage much like his, and the villagers must have suffered a night much like that of Raynor’s, for silence was a widespread curse upon the small village of Euthiar. Raynor awoke, sat on his bed and thought to himself how very peaceful this morning seemed. His small room was illuminated by a window in the in the north corner. Raising himself from his bed, he walked toward the window, and looked out at his stable, thinking about the previous night. “I would have done better to put that bit of leather on the top hole and to the top leather on the smaller towards the bottom of the roof. It isn’t really all that bad, although if I had proper light I think it would have turned out a much greater success. Oh well...it was an easy and an inexpensive solution. Ugh.. I’m going to have to trouble myself with that idiot Isticar. ” The Carpenter, Isticar, was an insufferable idiot. Raynor dreaded dealing with the man and had many times entertained himself with thoughts of beating the pompous braggart’s head into his chest. Nevertheless if he were to fix his roof today he would have to see Isticar and get the wood he needed. Raynor turned to a small trunk at the foot of his bed. He took from it a few coins and hung them in his pouch. While making his way there he thought of exactly what he would need so as to not stay long in Isticar’s Yard. When he got there Isticar was sitting outside on a small stump trying to light a small pile of kindling. He looked up and saw Raynor approaching. “Ah.. It’s my good friend Raynor. Business has been very good since the storm. Unfortunately, your profession doesn’t benefit from these little mishaps. Business isn’t going very well for you is it?” This was exactly the kind of comment that angered Raynor. “I manage” “That you do my good friend. So what do you need to buy?” “ 4 large rods and 4 bushels of thatch.” Isticar hurried to the back parts of his yard and brought back the shingles and the staffs. One of the staffs was a bit short but they looked like they would do fine for what he needed them. He pulled from his pouch six coins and paid Isticar. Isticar smiled a toothy grin and thanked Raynor for his business. Raynor left the yard relieved that he had managed to have very little conversation. After spilling his shingles more than once, he finally reached his house and set them down in the corner of his room. He decided he would put them on later in the evening when the sun was not so high in the sky and it was not so hot out. Raynor’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a shadow moving across the wall of an alleyway on the opposite side of his house; the menacing shadow moved slowly along the wall as it neared the edge of the house. A body followed the shadow out from behind the house and into the street. Raynor immediately identified the creature as a Graan warrior. His cold eyes combed the streets and the houses. Graans rarely stray from their caverns and never go into an area inhabited by humans. Raynor knew something was wrong. He turned and ran toward the back of his house and grabbed his pitchfork. He had run into Graans before but he had always been on horseback and had never had any conflict. Raynor ducked . When he looked back out his window there was no sign of the mysterious warrior. After a short wait Raynor got up from his hiding place reasoning that the man probably had not come for him. Making sure that a pitchfork was close at hand, he unwrapped a loaf of bread he had bought the night before. The baker in that town was well-experienced and his bread was of great quality (or so many people of the town say ). Raynor didn’t particularly enjoy it but it was sustaining. He stuffed it in his satchel, walked to the large trunk and took a pair of leather work pants and a homespun linen shirt. He changed quickly and again went to the window to see if there was any sign of the Graan. At that moment, he heard a horn blowing very close by. He turned his head to the left just in time to see the Graan, a ram horn to his lips. Raynor looked up the hillside that rises up on the east side of town. The hillside was filling with Graan , some with large menacing axes and some with torches. Raynor heart filled with terror as his mind went back to the stories of villages being razed to the ground and the inhabitants slaughtered. He grabbed his pitch fork and darted out the door running toward the west. The streets were beginning to fill with curious people, wandering what the loud blast of the horn was from. Raynor shouted to the people instructing them to run. He ran to the house of his friend Kell and pounded at the door. Kell answered somewhat groggy “What’s wrong Raynor” “There’s no time. Get your children and your wife.. run to the woods, Hurry . I’ll meet you there.” Kell looked at him inquisitively. Raynor again shouted “Now!” Kell immediately awakened his wife and oldest son, Ceral, a sturdy lad of seven. He and his wife picked up the two youngest, Meron, a child not yet four and a babe in arms, called Little Kell. They ran behind Raynor to the woods of Euthiar half a leauge west of the villiage. As Raynor approached the forest he turned to see the first of the simple huts being put to flame. Raynor, Kell and his family rushed into the forest. ******* Sias strolled the wall looking across the large expanse of area. Everywhere there were billowing pillars of smoke, their origins hidden from view by small rolling hills. Sias however knew exactly what they were. The farthest on the right is (or was) the city of Ditanar, on the far left Rolton , the three close ones were Euthiar, Sdaynar and Pithal. Sias had seen the Graan use such destructive forces in his service during the Territorial War of 5436. Dont worry about making your posts this long... this is just an introduction...
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"We will have peace","Yes we will have peace...we will have peace when you and all your works have perished - and the works of your dark lord to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar,Saruman,and a corrupter of men's hearts. You hold out your hand to me and I percieve only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just - as it was not,for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine, for your own profit you desired-even so, what will you say of your Torches in westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Hama's body before the gates of Hornburg, after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of greater Sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewither for I fear your voice has lost it's charm. Last edited by CardenIAntauraNauco : 12-28-2001 at 07:05 PM. |
12-27-2001, 12:55 AM | #2 |
Elven Warrior
Join Date: Dec 2001
Location: rural oklahoma
Posts: 324
|
Thats the opening if any one wants to join say so... The first person will need to be the Siäs a great smith now in his 50's.
Siroc is not Tolkien-related. It's a pathetic attempt by me to make something like it. I dont know if this is how they do these in this forum but I guess ill find out. So whoever wants to be Siäs write in. Ill put a list up of some of the races in siroc later.
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"We will have peace","Yes we will have peace...we will have peace when you and all your works have perished - and the works of your dark lord to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar,Saruman,and a corrupter of men's hearts. You hold out your hand to me and I percieve only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just - as it was not,for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine, for your own profit you desired-even so, what will you say of your Torches in westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Hama's body before the gates of Hornburg, after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of greater Sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewither for I fear your voice has lost it's charm. |
12-27-2001, 01:49 AM | #3 |
Elven Warrior
Join Date: Dec 2001
Location: rural oklahoma
Posts: 324
|
deleted
__________________
"We will have peace","Yes we will have peace...we will have peace when you and all your works have perished - and the works of your dark lord to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar,Saruman,and a corrupter of men's hearts. You hold out your hand to me and I percieve only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just - as it was not,for were you ten times as wise you would have no right to rule me and mine, for your own profit you desired-even so, what will you say of your Torches in westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Hama's body before the gates of Hornburg, after he was dead. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of greater Sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewither for I fear your voice has lost it's charm. Last edited by CardenIAntauraNauco : 12-27-2001 at 11:05 PM. |
12-28-2001, 07:18 PM | #4 |
Sapling
Join Date: Dec 2001
Location: rural Oklahoma
Posts: 7
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This sounds like the start of a great story
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"If you're the one, you'll save the world. If you're the other you'll be lucky to save yourself. |
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