# Taken By The Storm: The Diary of a Lady's Bodyguard



## Buttercup (Feb 8, 2004)

Last night I played in the first session of Steve Creech's new campaign, and I had a blast. I really like my character, and I've got some great plans for her, if she doesn't die, Steve being the Rat Bastard DM that he is. So anyway, I thought I would record her experiences in the form of a story hour. I hope I'm good enough at this that I can provide some enjoyment for anyone who takes the time to read it, and I also hope that readers get an idea of how much fun we're having. So without further ado, here's chapter one.

*Taken by the Storm*

*The diary of a lady’s bodyguard*



I have never kept a diary before, since I’m not really given to vapors and moonings like some young women. But my life has suddenly taken such an extraordinary turn that I must have a way to order my thoughts, lest I give way to madness and despair. 



Let me begin by recording my background. I grew up in the city of Faliner, the child of a career military officer. My education and interests were nothing out of the ordinary for my station, but I was always fascinated by my father’s swords. When I was 8, I finally convinced him to give me lessons. I demonstrated such an aptitude that I was enrolled in the elite Faliner Academy, which trained all the sons and some of the daughters of the gentry in swordplay, archery, riding and military tactics. I wasn’t much interested in tactics, and I don’t like horses all that much. But worst of all, I just wasn’t strong enough to use the big swords that the boys did. I was beginning to think that maybe I really didn’t belong at the academy, but Master Govier told me that I just needed to learn a different kind of swordplay. He enrolled me in gymnastics classes, and gave me a much smaller and lighter blade to use. Finally, I started to make some progress! As the years went buy, I became a star pupil, if I do say so myself.



It was in this way that I came to the attention of His Grace, Duke Fenris. He wanted a bodyguard for his daughter Lady Amelia, who would be entering society in a year, and by all accounts was turning into quite a handful. His Grace directed that my training for my final year focus on my future role as bodyguard to a noblewoman. The time passed swiftly, and before I knew it, I was wearing the Hawk and Rose livery of the Fenris family. 


All the reports were true. Lady Amelia *was* a handful. I don’t really blame her though, because the life of a bird in a gilded cage wouldn’t have suited me either. The way I saw it, I was her bodyguard, not her father’s. So I did my best to help her with her schemes and plots, while keeping her from coming to harm. Fortunately for me, her father never found out about our shenanigans, or I’m sure I would have lost my position. 



But that life is gone now, so I won’t dwell on it. Instead, I want to record all the strange things that have happened to me since the spring when Lady Amelia and I both turned 18.


It all started when my Lady Amelia Fenris asked me to deliver a package to the Stedwick estate. Normally, I’m not an errand girl, but Lady Amelia wanted to be sure that word did not get out about this package, and my loyalty and discretion are above reproach. I even overstepped myself and told her that it wasn’t a good idea to send me, because then she would be left unguarded. But she’s a stubborn one, is Lady Amelia. “Danira, don’t be silly, I’ll be fine. Just deliver this package to Jaston Stedwick—into his very hands, mind you—and hurry back to me. You won’t be gone more than a few hours. It’s only three miles.” Neither of us thought to worry about *my *safety. 



It had been threatening rain all day, and as I left the Fenris estate, I could see that the sky was pretty dark off to the west. No doubt about it, I was going to get wet. But my blades were freshly oiled, so I wasn’t too worried. No, what worried me was leaving Lady Amelia unguarded. Even though we were at her country estate and not in town, I didn’t kid myself that a good assassin couldn’t find her. I passed through the village of Fenris, and into the light woods beyond. A feeling of unease was growing in me, so I decided to pick up my pace a bit. I began to jog. 



As I trotted along the road through the woods, the sky continued to darken and the rumble thunder became nearly constant. Within ten minutes it had begun to rain, big fat drops that hit the ground, and me, with heavy splats. Suddenly there was a bolt of lightning stabbed the ground not four feet in front of me. I stopped short with the smell of charred stone in my nose and my hair standing on end. The sky opened up, and a torrential downpour worse than any I’ve ever seen in my life began to hammer down on me. I couldn’t see to walk—my hair was in my eyes and I felt like I could hardly breathe. I stepped off the road into a thicket and ducked under the bushes for the small shelter they provided.



The storm seemed to go on forever, but it was probably only about half an hour. It finally stopped, almost like somebody stopped pouring a pitcher. I scrambled out from my shelter, covered with leaves and mud, soaked completely through. A thick fog was everywhere. No matter, I thought. I knew where the road was, and I knew where my destination lay. So I began slogging through the wet leafmould back to the road. 



Except the road wasn’t there. I had gone less than 10 feet from it when I hid in the thicket, I was certain. Obviously I had got myself turned around. I slogged the other way, but the road wasn’t in that direction either. Now, I’m not an outdoorswoman. Give me the stinking alleys and narrow streets of a city any day. So I figured that maybe I should just wait a bit for the fog to clear, instead of wandering around in circles like some deranged animal. So I stopped where I was, took off my armor wrung out my shirt and trousers as best I could, and put my armor back on. I checked my beautiful sword, that Lady Amelia had given me last Winterfest, but it was fine. The scabbard was as good as the blade, and it had not gotten any water inside. My daggers were another matter, but since I really had no way to dry them off, they would have to wait. 



By the time I was done, the fog had lifted, so I tried again to find the road. After wandering around for about 10 minutes, I gave up in disgust and decided to climb a tree. Which was odd, once I thought about it, because the light woods I had been in, didn’t really have any trees big enough to climb. It was just a copse. Now though, there were big, old trees all around me. But like I said, I’m no outdoorswoman. What do I know about trees, really? I picked a nice tall one, and shinnied up it as far as I could. 



When I looked out from my high perch, the hair on my head stood up again, and my heart skipped a beat. There was forest stretching for miles in every direction, except for toward the northwest, where a chain of lofty mountains rose up. There are no mountains anywhere near the Fenris estate. You have to ride for over a week on a fast horse to get to the mountains. There was no river. There was no road. The forest did end about a mile toward the Northwest, and the mountains, and I could see what looked like a palisade about a mile farther than that. I climbed down the tree, feeling confused and a little angry. It seemed as though someone had played a practical joke on me, but I couldn’t imagine how. This was strange beyond anything I had ever heard tell of.



I began to make my way through the trees toward the settlement. When I came out of the woods, it was obvious that my lack of woodsman’s skill had led me astray. I was about a mile further east than I wanted to be, maybe more. I looked around, at the open ground ahead of me and the mountains rising up almost abruptly. And then I noticed him.



There was a man standing in front of a small cave in the rocks, about 100 yards from me. He was wearing only his small clothes, and looking around wildly. Every now and then, he tapped his wrist. I drew my sword and approached him, but stopped about 40 feet from him, when he finally noticed me. 



“Identify yourself, “ I said. He looked at me with total confusion on his face, and responded with gibberish. “What movie are they filming around here? That’s the most realistic looking costume I’ve ever seen,” he said. I asked him if he had suffered a head wound, since he was obviously raving. He seemed a bit insulted at my question, but continued to look around in confusion, and pepper his conversation with nonsense words, like Holly Wood and motion picture. Several times he mentioned a place called Cala-Forn-Ya. Although it seemed unlikely, I asked him if he had been hit by lightning. I have heard that sometimes people survive such a thing, and surely it would explain his raving. He laughed at me, and said he had lost an ocean. It’s a measure of how uncomfortable his strange behavior made me that I didn’t ask his name or House.



After a few minutes, I established that he did not know where he was any more than I did, so I asked him if he wanted to accompany me toward the settlement off to the west. He agreed, and picked up a long black bag made of some strange material. I was surprised that he made no move to take clothing out of his bag, since he was nearly naked, but made no comment. Lady Amelia always said that well bred women were supposed to pretend not to notice men’s bodies, and well, he was obviously brain injured, which isn’t all that attractive, if you know what I mean.



We walked westward for a few minutes, when I heard a wolf’s howl in the distance, quickly followed by another, answering howl. I suggested that we might want to pick up our pace a bit, and my companion agreed. We began to jog. The wolves’ howls grew more numerous, and seemed a bit closer. I looked behind and saw something that made my blood run cold. There were two huge wolves, each with a small person sitting on its back! “Run!” I cried, and we both took off as fast as we could go toward the settlement, which, now that we were close enough to make out details, appeared to be a rough fort, surrounded by a wooden palisade. As we ran, two more wolves and their riders joined the chase, and continued to gain on us. As we drew closer to the fort, one of the men on the walls yelled for the gates to be opened, and thankfully someone did it quickly, because we just managed to get inside the narrowly opened gate with the wolves hot on our tails. As we both collapsed on the ground, sucking air, we heard their large bodies crash against the once more closed gate. I was in no shape to do anything about it, so I was happy to hear that the four strange mounted warriors turned and rode at top speed back in the direction they came from.


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## Buttercup (Feb 8, 2004)

Many people were looking at us, but especially at my companion.  One man even asked him where his clothes were.  Further proving his mental instability, he claimed that he was fully dressed.  The guard told him that in many communities he could get thrown in prison for going out in public dressed in less than people sleep in.  My strange companion responded with information about his sleeping habits and attire that should not have been shared with anyone, but keeping Lady Amelia’s words in mind, I ignored his comments, and instead explained to the guard about my companion’s apparent head injury.   I then informed the guard that I was lost, and asked him the name of the community I found myself in.



The guard looked at me with growing understanding in his eyes, and, I thought, a trace of pity.  He began to ask us some questions about the storm, and what we had been doing.  I was beginning to get annoyed, since he met every question of mine with one of his own instead of answers.  Finally, he told us to wait, while he got someone who could explain everything to us.  Since I was still a bit winded, waiting was fine with me.  In a few minutes, the guard returned with an elderly man leaning heavily on him for support.  This elder introduced himself as Sir John, and began to talk to my companion.  Further embarrassing himself, my companion continued to talk his crazy talk, but to my surprise, Sir John seemed to understand much of it!  He certainly recognized Cala-Forn-Ya, and mentioned a place called New Jerzee.  He then turned to me and asked for the details of my experiences of the past few hours.



Sir John briefly explained that we were no longer in our own worlds, but that we had been “Taken by the Storm” as had he, over 75 years ago.  He said that he would explain the matter more fully later, but that the wolf riders who had chased us were merely the advance guard, and that everyone needed to prepare for the attack which should be coming directly.  He noted that I was already armed, and looked like I could handle myself.  He then turned to my companion, and asked him if he could use any weapons.  To everyone’s surprise, he opened his black bag, and took out an unusual sword with a slightly curved blade.  That wasn’t the only thing unusual about it.  The sword was obviously made of some cheap, shiny metal and was so dull that it wouldn’t cut a butterfly wing.  I almost laughed, but remembering that it is rude to laugh at the weak minded, stopped myself.  Whoever had sold this sword to him had obviously been an unscrupulous merchant—probably a carnival mountebank or some such, I imagined.   



The guards brought him some decent clothing, leather armor and a real sword, and then they offered us longbows if we knew how to use them.   I could draw the great bow they gave me, but barely.  My companion said the bow looked different than the ones he had seen before, but seemed to know how to use it, more or less.  Clearly he is stronger than me, because he could draw it more easily.  We were also each given 40 arrows.



We mounted the platform behind the palisade, and took our places with the guards.  From our perch, we could see the encampment of the wolf-riders about a mile in the distance, close to the trees.  I thought to myself that it was a good thing I did not come out of the forest where I had intended, for if I had, I would have walked right into their camp.  The guard told me the short people riding the wolves were Gob Lynns.  He explained that they were weaker than the wolves, but much harder to hit since they were small, fast and smarter than their animals.  I determined then, that when the attack began, I would do my best to shoot the wolves.  And so we waited.  And waited.  The guards said that usually their attack came much sooner upon the heels of their outriders, and that this delay was odd, since gob lynns never change their tactics.



Finally they began to ride toward us.  There were about 75 of them, and only about 35 of us on the walls.  We waited until they were in range, and the captain gave the command to fire.  Although I am not an archer, I am not so bad with a bow that I shame myself.  Several wolves went down, and one of them was mine!  My companion managed to hit a gob lynn.  Arrows were flying thick and fast, but few wolves fell, and now that they were closer, I could tell that some of them carried two gob lynns.  I sighed, and stretched my back and neck, before taking aim again.  While stretching though, my eye happened to catch some movement down on the ground inside the fort.  I looked and saw to my surprise that five gob lynns were inside, being held off by two men.  As I watched, one of the men fell to a nasty sword thrust.  



The stairs down were far away, so without really stopping to think I threw myself off the platform and tumbled into a controlled fall and through it back onto my feet in front of one of the nasty little creatures.  (The platform was only 12 feet high, so this wasn’t as impressive as it sounds.)  Up close, they really were ugly, with pointy teeth, hideous ape noses and splayed legs.  Sadly, mine was a pretty good swordsman too.  He kept dancing away from my blade, but managed to cut me a good one on my left arm.  I managed in spite of the pain to cut him back, and finally felled him.  I then turned my attention to another one.  The only guard on the ground with me was trying to hold off two, but looked like he needed some help.  Now and then an arrow would whiz over my head, but I was too busy to pay attention to anything but the nasty little git in front of me.  

I managed to mark him, but then I slipped slightly on the bloody ground and let my guard down.  The creature took quick advantage of my misstep and slashed right through my armor.  The blade bit into my side and I gasped and fell to the ground. Apparently taking me for dead, he turned back to the guard, who was doing amazing things with a sword in each hand.  He was bleeding from several bad wounds, and I couldn’t really see how he was still managing to fight.  Gritting my teeth, I stood back up and stabbed at the back of the closest creature to me that was attacking him.  Unfortunately, I was in such pain that my stroke went wide, serving no purpose but to draw the creature’s attention to me once more.  I feared that I was done for.   Just then, my brain sick companion appeared, sword in hand, and demonstrated that he knew quite well how to use it.  He cut the gob lynn attacking me nearly in two, and then turned to the other one.  Sadly, he was not in time to save the two-sword guard, who took a deep cut to the throat and fell lifeless to the dirt on top of one of the enemy.  Brain-Sick quickly finished off Two-Sword’s murderer, and turned to me to see how serious my injuries were.



As it turns out, the fight was over.  All the gob lynns and wolves who hadn’t been killed had run away.  What I wanted to know, though, was how those five got inside the fort?  I wasn’t the only one.  As Sir John and the rest had said, gob lynn tactics never changed.  Except that today they did.  This could only mean trouble.



But at the moment, I wasn’t really in any condition to think about gob lynns, or anything else.  I was wounded and bleeding in several places, and I felt like I might collapse soon.  In fact, I felt so bad that I didn’t even notice how filthy I was.  A healer soon saw to me, and after bandaging me up, put me to bed.  There must have been a sleeping draught in the tea he gave me, because I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.


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## Silver Moon (Feb 8, 2004)

Buttercup,
The story hour is great!   You do an excellent job of describing the scene so that the ready can clearly picture it in his or her head.   The characters are interesting, and the first person narration helps the storytelling.   Keep the chapters coming!


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## Liolel (Feb 8, 2004)

Very nice, very nice indeed. An interesting read. I will keep my eyes on this storyhour. Could you just provide an out of character list of the player characters so I know who to keep track of.


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## Buttercup (Feb 8, 2004)

The first thing I noticed when I awoke is how stiff and sore I was.  The wound in my side was throbbing, and the one on my arm was hurting only slightly less. The next thing I noticed was that the light coming in the window seemed like dim morning light.  I guessed that I had slept all day, and completely through the night, but it turns out that it was the day after that.  I had slept for almost two days!  The healer must have heard me stirring (and moaning) for he was by my side almost at once.  



And that was when it all hit me.  I shamed myself by starting to cry, but the healer, who said his name was Doak, just brushed my hair out of my eyes and handed me a pocket handkerchief.  He gave me some more of his tea, which put me back to sleep quickly.



When I awoke this time, Sir John was sitting in a chair at the foot of my bed. On the table beside him was a tray from which really wonderful smells were coming.  Oh, but I was hungry.  No surprise, really, when you consider how long it had been since I had a decent meal.  Sir John gently propped me up with some pillows, and then put the tray of food on a little stand over my lap.  My side still hurt pretty bad, but I was so hungry that I was able to ignore it and eat.  They say that hunger is the best spice, but even the most jaded gourmand would have found noting to complain about in that meal.  Grilled pheasant, tender vegetables swimming in butter, and some very tasty grain dish were accompanied by a cold fruity drink and warm crusty bread.  I ate so much that I made my side hurt more.  While I was eating, Sir John sat quietly, looking out the window.  When I finished, he smiled at me and took the tray away.  He then told me that I could ask him any questions I wanted to.



Where do you start with your questions when you want to know everything?  I couldn’t decide, so I asked him to start by telling me what he thought were the most important things.  And the most important thing was that I could never go home.  Sir John said he spent years and years looking for a way home, but never found one.   He finally gave up, and he advised me to do the same, but to do it now instead of wasting my life on a fruitless pursuit.  He told me a bit about the community of Kallon, which is where we were.  It was really nothing more than a way station on the main caravan route.  I asked if he had a map, but he explained that those could only be found in the big cities, all of which were far away.  I told Sir John that I was really more of a city girl, and that if there was a way to get to one, I thought I should probably do it as soon as possible.  There isn’t much use for a Lady’s bodyguard out in the back of beyond like this.  Sir John told me that the caravan should be coming through in about another sevenday, and that they would probably be happy to give me free passage if I helped guard.  Free was a good, I told him, since I had nothing but my weapons, armor and the clothes on my back.  I didn’t even have a whetstone to sharpen my blade.  This thought made me tear up again, because I recalled that Lady Amelia had given me my blade for my 18th birthday.  It was made by the finest swordsman in Faliner, and had the Hawk and Rose crest on the pommel.  It’s the finest sword I’ve ever seen, and sharp enough to cut a thought in two.



Sir John cheered me up by telling me that because of our part in the defense of the fort, Duncan and I could kit ourselves out completely from the community stores.   At first I didn’t know who he was talking about, and then I realized that Duncan must be the brain injured man who also got Taken.  I was ashamed of myself that I had forgotten about the poor fellow, so I asked if the healer had been able to do anything about his head injury.  Sir John laughed and assured me that Duncan was as much in his right mind as me, but that the world he came from was very different from anything I knew or could even imagine.  This sounded like it might be an insult, but I let it pass, since Sir John was a very old man, and maybe he was one of those who thought all young women are just empty headed.  



I asked if Sir John had any history or geography books, but he said no, which made me more determined than ever to get out of this gods forsaken hole and find civilization, or whatever passed for it around here.  I figured that I should at least ask this Duncan if he wanted to accompany me when the caravan passed through.  At least he was as much like a fish out of water as I was, if not more so.  And he wasn’t half bad in a fight, which is never a bad quality in a companion.  All this talking had made me sleepy again—it’s amazing how a sword cut to the side can tire you out—so I excused myself to Sir John and slipped into slumber once more.

---
This brings me to the end of the session, more or less.  Next update in two weeks.


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## Buttercup (Feb 9, 2004)

Liolel, right now there are only two players, Danira (your narrator) and Duncan, the "brain sick" one.

Danira is a Dex based fighter with Weapon Finesse (Short Sword).  

Duncan is a D20 Modern style Fast Hero.  He was a Hollywood stunt man before he was taken.  

I have a feeling that the two characters have very similar stats.  I know they both have an 18 dex, but I think Duncan has a higher strength, and Danira has a higher charisma.  Both are quite physically fit, but Danira is from a late medieval analog world, with no magic.  Duncan is from our world and time.  It will be interesting to see how this develops.  We're hoping that Steve can scare up another player or two, but if he can't, I'm sure we'll still have plenty of fun.


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## the Jester (Feb 9, 2004)

Nice work, Buttercup!  

I really like the story so far- the perspective the diary format gives is very cool, and I really like the name "Brain-Sick" for Duncan!   I hope you get a couple more players, but it looks to me like whether you have 'em or not you're going to be having a blast!


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## Ghostwind (Feb 9, 2004)

Wonderful story! The diary captures everything fairly well except the visual of the color draining from Buttercup's and the other player's faces when the Rat Bastard DM (aka me) had them on the ropes and more than a little worried. Just wait until the next time they play and see what's in store for them. (cue evil DM laugh...)


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## the Jester (Feb 9, 2004)

Sounds like you run an awesome game!


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## pogre (Feb 9, 2004)

the Jester said:
			
		

> Sounds like you run an awesome game!




Agreed! and surely there cannot be much better things to do in Fort Wayne for entertainment? I should think a Creech game would fill up rather quickly!

BTW - that is not to insult Fort Wayne but to heap praise upon Buttercup and Creech. NE Hoosiers need not get offended


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## Horacio (Feb 9, 2004)

Superb beginning!
I want to read more...


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## MavrickWeirdo (Feb 9, 2004)

I like the personal touch and the translated names ("Cala-Forn-Ya" and "Gob Lynns").

so please keep having fun this way.


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## Belen (Feb 9, 2004)

I really enjoyed it.  It had a good flow and was well written.  Heck, I lived near you guys, then I'd want to play!

Dave


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## Darklone (Feb 9, 2004)

I always wanted to play in such a game...


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## Piratecat (Feb 17, 2004)

This is really good. I like the diary approach very much, partially because I think I'd have trouble writing in that style myself. When do we get an update?

Meta question: do folks find the Times New Roman easier to read than the default arial? I'm so used to the font here, I do a doubletake whenever I see anything else!


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## Silver Moon (Feb 17, 2004)

Piratecat said:
			
		

> When do we get an update?!



I'll echo that question. 



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> Meta question: do folks find the Times New Roman easier to read than the default arial? I'm so used to the font here, I do a doubletake whenever I see anything else!



No, I find it harder to read, but it works very well for this particular story hour.  Beyond that, I'll keep the arial.


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## Horacio (Feb 17, 2004)

Piratecat said:
			
		

> This is really good. I like the diary approach very much, partially because I think I'd have trouble writing in that style myself. When do we get an update?




I hope soon 



			
				Piratecat said:
			
		

> Meta question: do folks find the Times New Roman easier to read than the default arial? I'm so used to the font here, I do a doubletake whenever I see anything else!




I find it difficult to read, yes.


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## MavrickWeirdo (Feb 18, 2004)

Piratecat said:
			
		

> When do we get an update?






			
				Buttercup 2-8-2004 said:
			
		

> This brings me to the end of the session, more or less. Next update in two weeks.




I guess that would be 2/22/2004


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## Ghostwind (Feb 18, 2004)

We play again on Saturday, the 21st. So assuming the character lives to see another adventure, updates will occur sometime after that. (Insert Evil DM laugh here....)


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## MavrickWeirdo (Feb 25, 2004)

*It's later now*

When do we get an update?


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## Terry O'Brien (Mar 7, 2004)

*A word in my own defense*

Duncan has shown that he is capable of handling himself in this fantasy world. (After all, he's seen "Fellowship" and "Two Towers"!) He is pretty decent with a sword (all those years working the SoCal RenFaire circuit) and knows how to handle himself in a tough situation. 

My ambition for him is to make him a d20 Modern martial artist but we'll see what other options show up. So far, we've very little magic.

Terry O'Brien


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## Buttercup (Mar 8, 2004)

Sorry I haven't updated.  Real Life has been quite busy.  Hopefully I'll get it all written up later this week.

Terry, your character is just fine.  I'm glad Duncan didn't die on the ship yesterday. And Danira is not really thinking he's 'brain sick' anymore.  Eccentric, perhaps. 

P-Kitty, I don't see Times Roman.  I see the default font.  And I typed the document in Arial, so I'm not sure how you could be seeing Times Roman.  Strange.


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## the Jester (Sep 16, 2004)

Update?

I was just posting in the "How many story hours do you follow?" thread, and I realized I never saw this one again; loved the beginning, want more!


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