Sindal
2019-04-28, 03:13 AM
Hi everyone.
So, one of my companions I play with unfortunately lost his PC not long ago. (He has a new one now)
We were all rather emotional about about, and so I decided to give him a proper 'good bye' that could be immortalized.
Which I'll put down, below.
For the sake of people who don't want to read the story of someone who died, here's a question for you:
'What is your stance on character deaths and resurrecting people?'
On a personal note, while it's possible, I dislike the notion of Resurrection folks. Sorta cheapens the punch of a story a bit...
Anyway! Enjoy and if you've got some character death sob story too, I'd love to hear them.
(for the benefit of your reading, imagine Kosh with the voice of Sam fisher, Alister with voice of a stereotypical Russian soldier and Shakoto with the voice of Puss in boots)
(the DM also pulled this number on us to listen to while he described **** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRZPqunSnNg&feature=youtu.be&list=PLBKadB95sF46sIN2fmEWPPzlCeRXx-Lio)
-
“…Comrad Kosh”
Kosh wordlessly turned his head toward the other male.
“...Tell me…how…it happened…” the grizzled soldier replied, between drawn out breaths.
The half-orc turned his gaze back to the sapling, an almost harmonious hum of magic emanating from it as it continued to breathe life into the two hulking treants nearby. The reply came after a weighty pause “…You sure?”
“Glynhorn was my charge…my companion…my friend. For me to honor him, truly honor him, I must etch his story into his totem. The full story. All must know of his deeds; all will bear witness. There will be no doubts.” Alister replied, some parts brave, some parts breaking. Large tear marks stained the scuffle dusted fur around his face. His clawed fingers nestled into the earth below, past the overgrowing grass.
The half-orc turned his head the other way, craning his head to look behind him. Shakoto wasn’t kneeling like they were. Arms crossed, tail still, lips pursed tight and eyes cast down to hide them. They glanced up for a moment, feeling Kosh’s gaze. The feline man could only raise a hand in a half-baked gesture.
Kosh looked forward again. Back to the tree…to the deceased body of his friend at its base.
“…I wish I didn’t remember it this clear…”
---
CRASH
The lumbering form of an ogre stumbled, buckled, then fell as arrows sunk into its flesh. The goblins riding upon his back toppled out in a heap of splintering wood and confusion. Kosh paid them no mind as he lowered his bow and pressed onward, his eyes deadest on a glimpse he’d seen a moment ago.
Magic. Rituals. Sacrifices. Never good. Never good at all. The yelps and screams of both goblin and village militia alike filled the area. Clashes of steel and inexperienced hands cried out as the people bravely fought for their homes. The dark of night was lit only by makeshift magic torches floating above, prepared for the raid. The oaken groans of the treants bellowed nearby as they defended their quarter of the town from the rest of the ogre force. Glynhorn had seen to that.
He heard the footsteps of those behind him. Goblins scrambling to their feet, looking for cheap shots. But he could already hear the gnolls at their heels, fangs bared and ready to defend their pack. Shakoto leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the twank of a crossbow bolt and dagger alike sung from above.
“Over there!” the catman yelled and gestured past a tall wooden home, the telltale cries of distress guiding his eyes “They’re doing something with the children!”
It was all the indication Kosh or Glynhorn needed. As the half-orc turned a corner and raised his bow to fire, the wood elf raised his yew wand towards the sky, tapping the stars as if to rouse them. The moon seemed to glow, twinkle even, until a pale light beam descended down in the direction of the threat. Some yelps were a good enough answer.
Target sighted. An orc, clad in robes dotted with painted eyes, sat calmly among the chaos in a make shift chalked out circle. Goblins around him scavenged and looted with abandon as his voice chanted with growing strength, his own eyes closed tight. A broad, towering hobgoblin commanded them all, armed to the teeth and dressed in heavy metals. He barked orders, pointing with his spear towards the approaching forces.
The half-orc ranger had enough time to fire shots at the magic user, before the goblins caught up on his back for swipes. But the boys got to them just as quick, their blades and teeth sinking into the green skin’d runts like fodder. The last of the flanking force felt the lacerating thack of the wood elf druid’s plantlike whip, as he caught up to Kosh.
The hobgoblin turned his gaze at the new target, launching his spears without skipping a beat. His lackies followed suit, raising their shortbows to follow by example. Kosh leapt back, while Glynhorn’s reflexes did not kick in in time. Projectiles flew and struck his body as he tried to retreat back around a corner. One arrow lodged into his calve, and the druid toppled backward with a pained grunt.
The gnolls rushed forward again, forming into whatever wall they could make between the goblins and their companions. Kosh was already taking aim as he notched an arrow, set on neutralizing the main threat. The goblins could be dealt with. Magic was not easy to fix.
…And that…was a truth they learned that night…
As Glynhorn tried to raise his head from the ground, panting from exhaustion, his dark eyes widened in shock. The shaman stood from his spot. Even from where he lay, the movements of hands reflected in his own eyes as clear as day. The sparks grew. A wicked, hungry flame grew and festered on the orc’s fingertips like a caged animal. He raised them with a vicious urgency, punctuating the last word of his incantation, as a fireball burst into the open air.
…
…Time slowed, for Glynhorn. Visions passed through his eyes in a messy, emotional blur. A stinging sensation below his eyes jarred his senses and he could not tell if it was tears welling in his eyes, or Corelons marks searing themselves upon his features. Places. People. Tastes. Feelings. Sounds. Songs. Smells. Hopes. Sorrows. Smiles. Laughter.
Friends…’Dreams’…The word struck him harder than any mortal weapon, echoing through his mind and rippling through his consciousness.
‘What is a dream? It’s a wish your heart makes.’
Time flooded back into the elf’s world like a broken dam as he grasped at his wand with purpose. He could smell the air burning already as it became thick in his lungs.
‘What is my dream?’
He recited the words under his breath, his tongue twisting yet the syllables sounding out the same they always have. He knew it off by heart now. He’d never forget the first time he cast it. “Roam too far on a clear night. And the moon may just bite”
‘My dream is…’
His arm ached to raise as he did, pointing and directing the luminous energy to a new destination. He angled it till it cut down to the ground like the waxing crescent, causing the orc to flinch as he let the crackling arcane energy go. There was no anger in the energy as it streaked down. No remorse. No hatred. Just a simple prayer.
‘That my friends…’
“Watch out!” Kosh’s head turned to Glynhorn’s fallen body only for a split second, before he noticed the fireball lurch up into the air and begin to drop like a meteor. He yelled out, he and the gnolls ducking for cover as an explosive rumble hit the ground…Off target from the rest.
‘…can keep dreaming’
The last thing Glynhorn felt was the muscles in his face flexing into a relieved smile, before his body was flung back and crashed into a nearby stone wall with a cracking thud. His leafy robes scorched, straw-blond hair singed and his skin charred to a near unrecognizable state.
The smoke cleared. Kosh’s body now stood perched upon the well he had ducked behind. Embers still clung to his eyebrows as he raised his bow again. His paler eyes darkened as they searched the crowd and singled out the shaman, his tusks grinding inside his mouth as he sneered. The orcish side of his heritage flared and burned in his chest, as vengeance brimmed in his heart.
“OPEN YOUR EYES, COWARD!” he bellowed in orcish, aiming for the caster’s neck, a blood oath struck “SO I CAN SEE THE LIFE DRAIN FROM THEM!”
---
“…and you know the rest…” Kosh trailed off, his fingertips lightly clutching pieces of grass.
Alister was silent, only a nod at first. Behind them on the hill, Shakoto’s muzzle was buried in his paw. Muffled sniffles from behind his hand. The clamor of townsfolk in the far distance gave off an ambient buzz as they rejoiced or tried to find what they had lost in the battle. Orange, gentle rays of dawnbreak began to light up the world.
The bear of a man crawled forward slowly. Strong, thick arms surrounded Glynhorn’s unconscious body the same way any father would hold their child. He squeezed with all his might…then let go. Clawed fingers raised to the elf’s eyes, and carefully closed them.
“Rest now my warrior, your hardship is over….”
---
So, one of my companions I play with unfortunately lost his PC not long ago. (He has a new one now)
We were all rather emotional about about, and so I decided to give him a proper 'good bye' that could be immortalized.
Which I'll put down, below.
For the sake of people who don't want to read the story of someone who died, here's a question for you:
'What is your stance on character deaths and resurrecting people?'
On a personal note, while it's possible, I dislike the notion of Resurrection folks. Sorta cheapens the punch of a story a bit...
Anyway! Enjoy and if you've got some character death sob story too, I'd love to hear them.
(for the benefit of your reading, imagine Kosh with the voice of Sam fisher, Alister with voice of a stereotypical Russian soldier and Shakoto with the voice of Puss in boots)
(the DM also pulled this number on us to listen to while he described **** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FRZPqunSnNg&feature=youtu.be&list=PLBKadB95sF46sIN2fmEWPPzlCeRXx-Lio)
-
“…Comrad Kosh”
Kosh wordlessly turned his head toward the other male.
“...Tell me…how…it happened…” the grizzled soldier replied, between drawn out breaths.
The half-orc turned his gaze back to the sapling, an almost harmonious hum of magic emanating from it as it continued to breathe life into the two hulking treants nearby. The reply came after a weighty pause “…You sure?”
“Glynhorn was my charge…my companion…my friend. For me to honor him, truly honor him, I must etch his story into his totem. The full story. All must know of his deeds; all will bear witness. There will be no doubts.” Alister replied, some parts brave, some parts breaking. Large tear marks stained the scuffle dusted fur around his face. His clawed fingers nestled into the earth below, past the overgrowing grass.
The half-orc turned his head the other way, craning his head to look behind him. Shakoto wasn’t kneeling like they were. Arms crossed, tail still, lips pursed tight and eyes cast down to hide them. They glanced up for a moment, feeling Kosh’s gaze. The feline man could only raise a hand in a half-baked gesture.
Kosh looked forward again. Back to the tree…to the deceased body of his friend at its base.
“…I wish I didn’t remember it this clear…”
---
CRASH
The lumbering form of an ogre stumbled, buckled, then fell as arrows sunk into its flesh. The goblins riding upon his back toppled out in a heap of splintering wood and confusion. Kosh paid them no mind as he lowered his bow and pressed onward, his eyes deadest on a glimpse he’d seen a moment ago.
Magic. Rituals. Sacrifices. Never good. Never good at all. The yelps and screams of both goblin and village militia alike filled the area. Clashes of steel and inexperienced hands cried out as the people bravely fought for their homes. The dark of night was lit only by makeshift magic torches floating above, prepared for the raid. The oaken groans of the treants bellowed nearby as they defended their quarter of the town from the rest of the ogre force. Glynhorn had seen to that.
He heard the footsteps of those behind him. Goblins scrambling to their feet, looking for cheap shots. But he could already hear the gnolls at their heels, fangs bared and ready to defend their pack. Shakoto leapt from rooftop to rooftop, the twank of a crossbow bolt and dagger alike sung from above.
“Over there!” the catman yelled and gestured past a tall wooden home, the telltale cries of distress guiding his eyes “They’re doing something with the children!”
It was all the indication Kosh or Glynhorn needed. As the half-orc turned a corner and raised his bow to fire, the wood elf raised his yew wand towards the sky, tapping the stars as if to rouse them. The moon seemed to glow, twinkle even, until a pale light beam descended down in the direction of the threat. Some yelps were a good enough answer.
Target sighted. An orc, clad in robes dotted with painted eyes, sat calmly among the chaos in a make shift chalked out circle. Goblins around him scavenged and looted with abandon as his voice chanted with growing strength, his own eyes closed tight. A broad, towering hobgoblin commanded them all, armed to the teeth and dressed in heavy metals. He barked orders, pointing with his spear towards the approaching forces.
The half-orc ranger had enough time to fire shots at the magic user, before the goblins caught up on his back for swipes. But the boys got to them just as quick, their blades and teeth sinking into the green skin’d runts like fodder. The last of the flanking force felt the lacerating thack of the wood elf druid’s plantlike whip, as he caught up to Kosh.
The hobgoblin turned his gaze at the new target, launching his spears without skipping a beat. His lackies followed suit, raising their shortbows to follow by example. Kosh leapt back, while Glynhorn’s reflexes did not kick in in time. Projectiles flew and struck his body as he tried to retreat back around a corner. One arrow lodged into his calve, and the druid toppled backward with a pained grunt.
The gnolls rushed forward again, forming into whatever wall they could make between the goblins and their companions. Kosh was already taking aim as he notched an arrow, set on neutralizing the main threat. The goblins could be dealt with. Magic was not easy to fix.
…And that…was a truth they learned that night…
As Glynhorn tried to raise his head from the ground, panting from exhaustion, his dark eyes widened in shock. The shaman stood from his spot. Even from where he lay, the movements of hands reflected in his own eyes as clear as day. The sparks grew. A wicked, hungry flame grew and festered on the orc’s fingertips like a caged animal. He raised them with a vicious urgency, punctuating the last word of his incantation, as a fireball burst into the open air.
…
…Time slowed, for Glynhorn. Visions passed through his eyes in a messy, emotional blur. A stinging sensation below his eyes jarred his senses and he could not tell if it was tears welling in his eyes, or Corelons marks searing themselves upon his features. Places. People. Tastes. Feelings. Sounds. Songs. Smells. Hopes. Sorrows. Smiles. Laughter.
Friends…’Dreams’…The word struck him harder than any mortal weapon, echoing through his mind and rippling through his consciousness.
‘What is a dream? It’s a wish your heart makes.’
Time flooded back into the elf’s world like a broken dam as he grasped at his wand with purpose. He could smell the air burning already as it became thick in his lungs.
‘What is my dream?’
He recited the words under his breath, his tongue twisting yet the syllables sounding out the same they always have. He knew it off by heart now. He’d never forget the first time he cast it. “Roam too far on a clear night. And the moon may just bite”
‘My dream is…’
His arm ached to raise as he did, pointing and directing the luminous energy to a new destination. He angled it till it cut down to the ground like the waxing crescent, causing the orc to flinch as he let the crackling arcane energy go. There was no anger in the energy as it streaked down. No remorse. No hatred. Just a simple prayer.
‘That my friends…’
“Watch out!” Kosh’s head turned to Glynhorn’s fallen body only for a split second, before he noticed the fireball lurch up into the air and begin to drop like a meteor. He yelled out, he and the gnolls ducking for cover as an explosive rumble hit the ground…Off target from the rest.
‘…can keep dreaming’
The last thing Glynhorn felt was the muscles in his face flexing into a relieved smile, before his body was flung back and crashed into a nearby stone wall with a cracking thud. His leafy robes scorched, straw-blond hair singed and his skin charred to a near unrecognizable state.
The smoke cleared. Kosh’s body now stood perched upon the well he had ducked behind. Embers still clung to his eyebrows as he raised his bow again. His paler eyes darkened as they searched the crowd and singled out the shaman, his tusks grinding inside his mouth as he sneered. The orcish side of his heritage flared and burned in his chest, as vengeance brimmed in his heart.
“OPEN YOUR EYES, COWARD!” he bellowed in orcish, aiming for the caster’s neck, a blood oath struck “SO I CAN SEE THE LIFE DRAIN FROM THEM!”
---
“…and you know the rest…” Kosh trailed off, his fingertips lightly clutching pieces of grass.
Alister was silent, only a nod at first. Behind them on the hill, Shakoto’s muzzle was buried in his paw. Muffled sniffles from behind his hand. The clamor of townsfolk in the far distance gave off an ambient buzz as they rejoiced or tried to find what they had lost in the battle. Orange, gentle rays of dawnbreak began to light up the world.
The bear of a man crawled forward slowly. Strong, thick arms surrounded Glynhorn’s unconscious body the same way any father would hold their child. He squeezed with all his might…then let go. Clawed fingers raised to the elf’s eyes, and carefully closed them.
“Rest now my warrior, your hardship is over….”
---