91
BM General Discussion / Re: Ending Credits
« on: July 02, 2017, 04:56:23 PM »
Nahhh depressive is a matter of choice
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92
BM General Discussion / Re: Ending Credits
« on: July 02, 2017, 11:01:20 AM »
If you dont crush your weed up yourself, put it in a blunt yourself, your own brother hand you some dust. I roll up.
93
BM General Discussion / Re: Ending Credits
« on: July 02, 2017, 10:59:49 AM »
Well i would not object to dostoevsky at all. Just not on the list. Cold and tactical works for me. Strategy im not so good at irl. Im kicking that john doe, that stuff you dont even know what youre smoking.
95
BM General Discussion / Re: Ending Credits
« on: July 02, 2017, 04:55:39 AM »
I'm going to detox in a few days to get my bloodstream and my brainstream right. I will not be smuggling a cell phone and charger into the facility in my underwear this time, so I will be detoxing from a lot of drugs including BM.
I'm not leaving detox til I finish reading these books:
Sun Tzu - The Art of War http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22462372021
Bukowski - Factotum http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22455675121
Short fic of N Mailer - http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=11995943868
Huck Finn - http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=13433654661
Abe Lincoln vamp hunter
http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=13793519632
John Adams
http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=17065266051
Swordsmen and Supermen http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=20773221506
On War http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22422566551
http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=19286417308 how much land does a man need?
Tom sawyer http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22449508233
All of these with expedited shipping cost less than 71 dollars. Separately they are all less than ten a book.
I am presently homeless and have been for a while now. Not the first time in the last three years.
Colasan and Unterstrom. Ikalak and Toren Stronghold. Fontan, Domus and Isadril. Sleeping on pavement.
Consider this a kickstarter rather than an ending. If interested, i can pm my shipping address where ill be detoxing for hopefully a long while. Maybe two weeks.
I'm not leaving detox til I finish reading these books:
Sun Tzu - The Art of War http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22462372021
Bukowski - Factotum http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22455675121
Short fic of N Mailer - http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=11995943868
Huck Finn - http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=13433654661
Abe Lincoln vamp hunter
http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=13793519632
John Adams
http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=17065266051
Swordsmen and Supermen http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=20773221506
On War http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22422566551
http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=19286417308 how much land does a man need?
Tom sawyer http://www.abebooks.com/servlet/ListingDetails?bi=22449508233
All of these with expedited shipping cost less than 71 dollars. Separately they are all less than ten a book.
I am presently homeless and have been for a while now. Not the first time in the last three years.
Colasan and Unterstrom. Ikalak and Toren Stronghold. Fontan, Domus and Isadril. Sleeping on pavement.
Consider this a kickstarter rather than an ending. If interested, i can pm my shipping address where ill be detoxing for hopefully a long while. Maybe two weeks.
96
BM General Discussion / Re: Ending Credits
« on: July 02, 2017, 03:58:45 AM »
Jang McTang didnt i tell you
97
Roleplaying / Re: Wolves of War: House Dodger
« on: July 01, 2017, 06:48:27 AM »
(Many years later)
Heimar shrugged, smoked a joint, and lived happily ever after.
For a time.
Heimar shrugged, smoked a joint, and lived happily ever after.
For a time.
99
East Island / Re: How could Xavax bounce back?
« on: June 29, 2017, 05:06:16 AM »
And I'll add a vote of confidence for Selenia as leader, its not like it's looked good for Xavax any time recently and the realm still held together and fought well given the opposition.
100
Colonies / Re: Sink the Colonies
« on: June 29, 2017, 04:50:16 AM »
You pulled a real nasty plan out for Aren, for sure. Shock and awe indeed.
Lots of reasons why Dodgers dont trust Ketchums but that is a House they respect too.
Whatever happened to Traitor King Ash in Oritolon?
Lots of reasons why Dodgers dont trust Ketchums but that is a House they respect too.
Whatever happened to Traitor King Ash in Oritolon?
102
East Island / Re: How could Xavax bounce back?
« on: June 29, 2017, 04:17:18 AM »Why? What's my IC motivation? We're both playing this game, I didn't sign up to play the villain in your story. Godric has a lot of self discovery to do. And the fact again he has joined a realm doomed to fall does little to help his need to surpass his father. He will be in pursuit of that goal.
Of course you can do whatever you want with your character. Thats not a command, that is me expressing that it would be a disappointment to me if Xavax did not rise again or at least try. You have a group of characters that have been bound by a common cause and a charismatic leader. They are the villains in my story as I and my allies are the villains in theirs. I hear they write good stories in Xavax.
I strongly believe if the Xavax stay together, or at least some portion of them depending on your own individual tastes but can I please stop having to constantly tread on eggshells, that they will continue to be able to affect the continent and have fun doing so.
There will come a point where there is traction, and there will come a time where there is pushback. You will not always be getting beat. Any realm or realms you join up with in this quest will be greatly strengthened. You will have great big armies with lots of gold.
Torxanib Godric Torrarin ka Habb can gain his glory wherever he wishes but the most glorious path might be that of the Phoenix.
103
Roleplaying / Re: Wolves of War: House Dodger
« on: June 29, 2017, 03:34:02 AM »
(Business handled in Shinnen, they refit in Askileon after a long trip. On the coast of Garuck Udor, a welcome party awaits)
The march back to the Silver City was uneventful until they reached the bridge of Ciarin.
It was always a breathtaking sight, the ancient bridge; stretching across the great Strait of Ciarin, miles long, it dominated one's vision and imagination as soon as it came into view.
Yet it was not the bridge that occupied Heimar's thoughts as the Ravens marched along the coastal cliffs, but the bright and many-colored mass that shifted and danced around the small village at the bridge's northern end. Step by plodding step the colors became shapes, the shapes figures; men and horses and camels and carriages.
An Udorian caravan. And from its size, it was not difficult to guess to whom it belonged.
The shape of Fabri men Bolkos was easy enough to discern, even from a mile out. No other man of such girth could have handled a horse with such grace, wheeling and cantering his proud Udorian stallion at the head of the caravan train, kicking up a cloud of dust to greet them as his followers assembled.
Sir Kilhorn rode ahead to greet the greatest of the Udorian merchant-lords, his cousin's father by law. He motioned for Heimar and Malkin to join him. With a shrug to Tusk and Rather, Mama and Kipping, Heimar spurred his horse to catch up.
Lord Fabri was a rare man, the kind of man whose weight only added to his gravitas. He sat upon his graceful Udorian steed as if born in the saddle, his prodigious belly resting comfortably upon the horse's back, his eyes sharp and unwavering. He smiled broadly as Sir Kilhorn approached, ignoring the two soldiers at his side.
"Ah, cousin," he exclaimed, extending an arm to embrace Sir Kilhorn as their horses drew within reach of each other. "I am hearing of your victories day and night. I trust my kinsmen in the northern desert showed you appropriate hospitality?"
Sir Kilhorn replied something in his usual rasping whisper, which sent Fabri into deep, sonorous gales of laughter. Heimar shook his head; while most men shivered to see Sir Kilhorn, Fabri seemed to find him endlessly entertaining.
"Ah," Fabri cried suddenly, "I had almost forgotten. Talea, my daughter! Come show our Knight our newest kinsman." With this he snapped his fingers twice, as if summoning a servant, and from behind him a camel lumbered forth, led by a dark-skinned driver. Upon its back was a huge and colorful hawdah, a kind of large box meant for comfortable human transport, its sides draped richly in multicolored textiles.
Heimar's heart skipped a beat, for he knew that within it was one of the greatest beauties of the world. He had been everywhere from the utmost shore of Morek to the Fissoan Isle and never seen her like. He had lain with the finest women of the finest brothels from north to south, and yet he knew he would never taste such perfection.
Talea men Fabri, wife of Lord Jonn Dodger, drew back the hawdah's curtain with a flawless hand. Her head was covered in silk and golden thread, her neck and wrists blazed with jewels of a dozen hues. Her eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, rimmed with black kohl; her lips were full and moist and expressive; her cheekbones high and noble.
Yet it was what she held in her arms that drew Heimar's gaze. A tiny figure wrapped in bold red linen, its wrinkled face greeting the Ciarin sunset with a squalling cry, its miniature hands balled in miniature fists as if ready for a fight. A born warrior, a son of the Isle and Garuck Udor both. Lord Jonn's son.
Talea presented the child in hushed tones to Sir Kilhorn, who regarded the babe as one might a chicken or a duck at market. He quickly turned to converse with Lord Fabri, and the two rode off a short distance to discuss matters unheard.
Heimar waited until their backs were turned before easing his mount toward the hawdah. Talea smiled to see him, and his heart threatened to give out entirely.
"Captain Heimar," she greeted him smiling, her Udorian accent only slightly thicker than her father's. "So good to see you after such time."
"M'lady," he replied with a slight bow. He could not take his eyes from the child. "May I?"
"Of course," she said, holding the baby out for his inspection. Heimar extended a callused finger, which was quickly grasped in a tiny, chubby hand.
"So strong," he murmured, overwhelmed. "What have you named him?"
"Jonn Shintuk," she replied smiling, wrinkling her nose as if the words themselves were odd and wondrous. "As his father wished, should the child be a boy. His people have such strange names." Her laughter was like windchimes in a gentle breeze. Heimar could only stare as the baby pulled at his finger, eager to explore all the wonders of a new and unfamiliar world.
His reverie was broken by a deep and commanding voice behind him. "Ho, Lurian! Who dares approach my sister?"
Heimar wheeled his mount to face the source of the challenge, and his face broke into a smile to see Telos, eldest son of Fabri, and sometime soldier in Lord Jonn's Ravensguard. "Ho, Udorian," he replied, "who dares let months pass without word to his comrades?"
Telos laughed, and they embraced over the manes of their horses. A glint of steel caught Heimar's eye, and he raised Telos' saddle-blanket with a quizzical eyebrow raised. Telos shoved Heimar's hand away with a disapproving grunt, covering once more a wicked-sharp killeen, the deadly saber of the Udorians.
"We have some matters to take care of," he murmured in a gruff whisper. "This night I ride with you."
Heimar did not have time to press his old friend for more, for Sir Kilhorn was suddenly behind him, tapping his shoulder. "Come," the yellow-eyed Knight rasped, "there is work to be done."
Heimar did not want to know, but he asked anyway. "What is it, my liege?"
"Unwelcome competition," Sir Kilhorn rasped, and with that he wheeled his steed and rode back toward the column. Telos nodded, and they both spurred their horses.
Heimar took one last long look at the baby, fading off into the distance, before he and his mother and the hawdah were all lost in a cloud of dust.
The march back to the Silver City was uneventful until they reached the bridge of Ciarin.
It was always a breathtaking sight, the ancient bridge; stretching across the great Strait of Ciarin, miles long, it dominated one's vision and imagination as soon as it came into view.
Yet it was not the bridge that occupied Heimar's thoughts as the Ravens marched along the coastal cliffs, but the bright and many-colored mass that shifted and danced around the small village at the bridge's northern end. Step by plodding step the colors became shapes, the shapes figures; men and horses and camels and carriages.
An Udorian caravan. And from its size, it was not difficult to guess to whom it belonged.
The shape of Fabri men Bolkos was easy enough to discern, even from a mile out. No other man of such girth could have handled a horse with such grace, wheeling and cantering his proud Udorian stallion at the head of the caravan train, kicking up a cloud of dust to greet them as his followers assembled.
Sir Kilhorn rode ahead to greet the greatest of the Udorian merchant-lords, his cousin's father by law. He motioned for Heimar and Malkin to join him. With a shrug to Tusk and Rather, Mama and Kipping, Heimar spurred his horse to catch up.
Lord Fabri was a rare man, the kind of man whose weight only added to his gravitas. He sat upon his graceful Udorian steed as if born in the saddle, his prodigious belly resting comfortably upon the horse's back, his eyes sharp and unwavering. He smiled broadly as Sir Kilhorn approached, ignoring the two soldiers at his side.
"Ah, cousin," he exclaimed, extending an arm to embrace Sir Kilhorn as their horses drew within reach of each other. "I am hearing of your victories day and night. I trust my kinsmen in the northern desert showed you appropriate hospitality?"
Sir Kilhorn replied something in his usual rasping whisper, which sent Fabri into deep, sonorous gales of laughter. Heimar shook his head; while most men shivered to see Sir Kilhorn, Fabri seemed to find him endlessly entertaining.
"Ah," Fabri cried suddenly, "I had almost forgotten. Talea, my daughter! Come show our Knight our newest kinsman." With this he snapped his fingers twice, as if summoning a servant, and from behind him a camel lumbered forth, led by a dark-skinned driver. Upon its back was a huge and colorful hawdah, a kind of large box meant for comfortable human transport, its sides draped richly in multicolored textiles.
Heimar's heart skipped a beat, for he knew that within it was one of the greatest beauties of the world. He had been everywhere from the utmost shore of Morek to the Fissoan Isle and never seen her like. He had lain with the finest women of the finest brothels from north to south, and yet he knew he would never taste such perfection.
Talea men Fabri, wife of Lord Jonn Dodger, drew back the hawdah's curtain with a flawless hand. Her head was covered in silk and golden thread, her neck and wrists blazed with jewels of a dozen hues. Her eyes were dark and heavy-lidded, rimmed with black kohl; her lips were full and moist and expressive; her cheekbones high and noble.
Yet it was what she held in her arms that drew Heimar's gaze. A tiny figure wrapped in bold red linen, its wrinkled face greeting the Ciarin sunset with a squalling cry, its miniature hands balled in miniature fists as if ready for a fight. A born warrior, a son of the Isle and Garuck Udor both. Lord Jonn's son.
Talea presented the child in hushed tones to Sir Kilhorn, who regarded the babe as one might a chicken or a duck at market. He quickly turned to converse with Lord Fabri, and the two rode off a short distance to discuss matters unheard.
Heimar waited until their backs were turned before easing his mount toward the hawdah. Talea smiled to see him, and his heart threatened to give out entirely.
"Captain Heimar," she greeted him smiling, her Udorian accent only slightly thicker than her father's. "So good to see you after such time."
"M'lady," he replied with a slight bow. He could not take his eyes from the child. "May I?"
"Of course," she said, holding the baby out for his inspection. Heimar extended a callused finger, which was quickly grasped in a tiny, chubby hand.
"So strong," he murmured, overwhelmed. "What have you named him?"
"Jonn Shintuk," she replied smiling, wrinkling her nose as if the words themselves were odd and wondrous. "As his father wished, should the child be a boy. His people have such strange names." Her laughter was like windchimes in a gentle breeze. Heimar could only stare as the baby pulled at his finger, eager to explore all the wonders of a new and unfamiliar world.
His reverie was broken by a deep and commanding voice behind him. "Ho, Lurian! Who dares approach my sister?"
Heimar wheeled his mount to face the source of the challenge, and his face broke into a smile to see Telos, eldest son of Fabri, and sometime soldier in Lord Jonn's Ravensguard. "Ho, Udorian," he replied, "who dares let months pass without word to his comrades?"
Telos laughed, and they embraced over the manes of their horses. A glint of steel caught Heimar's eye, and he raised Telos' saddle-blanket with a quizzical eyebrow raised. Telos shoved Heimar's hand away with a disapproving grunt, covering once more a wicked-sharp killeen, the deadly saber of the Udorians.
"We have some matters to take care of," he murmured in a gruff whisper. "This night I ride with you."
Heimar did not have time to press his old friend for more, for Sir Kilhorn was suddenly behind him, tapping his shoulder. "Come," the yellow-eyed Knight rasped, "there is work to be done."
Heimar did not want to know, but he asked anyway. "What is it, my liege?"
"Unwelcome competition," Sir Kilhorn rasped, and with that he wheeled his steed and rode back toward the column. Telos nodded, and they both spurred their horses.
Heimar took one last long look at the baby, fading off into the distance, before he and his mother and the hawdah were all lost in a cloud of dust.
104
Roleplaying / Re: Wolves of War: House Dodger
« on: June 29, 2017, 03:15:07 AM »
The Heart of Palms was an enchanted place, Heimar thought. The way the sunlight filtered through the high fronds, the wind sweeping down from the canopy of the thicker palms around it. "A place of powerful energy," Sir Kilhorn had called it. Their guide had brought them here the first time, now Sir Kilhorn led the way.
The rest of the men had envied those few who made the first trip. Heimar had been Sir Kilhorn's first choice, to his surprise. He expected to be left in command of the Ravens as they made the long grip to Giask via Irvington.
Instead he had saddled up alongside Sir Kilhorn, Rather and Tusk and Mama, who rode with another horse tied behind. The rest of the men were under command of Malkin, Heimar's second, who was given the captain's uniform and insignia to wear in his stead. The less questions, the better.
As the rest of the Ravens marched southeast to Nuas, Sir Kilhorn led them north through the trees of Kamade. Their sure-footed horses tread silently across the thick carpet of fallen leaves, their riders mindful of every muffled sound through the thick forest.
Half a day's ride brought them to the Dead Forest, the southern edge of the Palm Sea. Here the desert sands had invaded the forest, choking out the life therein. Broken and dessicated trunks stood like stakes pounded into the earth, their sharpened edges guarding the army of green behind.
And yet within sight was the beginning of a forest of another kind, a sea of green waves glimmering with the reflection of the sun. Sir Kilhorn circled his horse at a canter until a great column of dusty sand flew up. And soon another cloud of dust was seen, the slow-growing worm of a caravan making its way across the sands, leaving the cover of the palms.
The arrangement had already been made by the Udorian merchant-lord Fabri, and few words were needed for the transaction. The native merchant was given five horses in exchange for four camels. The camels were to be re-exchanged with his cousin in Vaal, who would provide them with four hardy riding horses to take them north.
The merchant also provided a young guide, himself mounted on a camel worthy of the best of the caravan guard. Silent, he led them under the edge of the Sea, motioning for them to cover their faces. Glances were exchanged, but Sir Kilhorn drew his scarf tight around his nose and mouth, and drew his hood down over his eyes without a word.
Heimar and Rather and Tusk followed his lead, and they would soon be glad they did. As they made their way into the sun-blotting shade of the Sea they heard it, a hollow roaring, growing before them. The wind plucked at their garments as the camels protested quietly beneath them.
The boy guide chattered at them in his language as they moved closer and closer to the roaring. Soon a hiss was heard all around them and beneath them. In the dim green-tinged light, Heimar could see just enough to know that the sand was shifting around the plodding feet of his camel. He fought against the surge of terror growing in his chest.
The boy's chatter turned to singing as the dark grew darker and the sand grew higher. Soon it was whipping about his ankles, and the roaring was all around. The camels grunted and groaned with fear, the boy's voice and its bright melody maddening in the terror surrounding them.
And just as it was at its worst, and the whipping sands reached his waist, hissing the promise of drowning on dust, the camels suddenly fell into file. And soon they were breaking through, and in the blinding glare of the sun Heimar could see that they were in a new place entirely.
The rest of the men had envied those few who made the first trip. Heimar had been Sir Kilhorn's first choice, to his surprise. He expected to be left in command of the Ravens as they made the long grip to Giask via Irvington.
Instead he had saddled up alongside Sir Kilhorn, Rather and Tusk and Mama, who rode with another horse tied behind. The rest of the men were under command of Malkin, Heimar's second, who was given the captain's uniform and insignia to wear in his stead. The less questions, the better.
As the rest of the Ravens marched southeast to Nuas, Sir Kilhorn led them north through the trees of Kamade. Their sure-footed horses tread silently across the thick carpet of fallen leaves, their riders mindful of every muffled sound through the thick forest.
Half a day's ride brought them to the Dead Forest, the southern edge of the Palm Sea. Here the desert sands had invaded the forest, choking out the life therein. Broken and dessicated trunks stood like stakes pounded into the earth, their sharpened edges guarding the army of green behind.
And yet within sight was the beginning of a forest of another kind, a sea of green waves glimmering with the reflection of the sun. Sir Kilhorn circled his horse at a canter until a great column of dusty sand flew up. And soon another cloud of dust was seen, the slow-growing worm of a caravan making its way across the sands, leaving the cover of the palms.
The arrangement had already been made by the Udorian merchant-lord Fabri, and few words were needed for the transaction. The native merchant was given five horses in exchange for four camels. The camels were to be re-exchanged with his cousin in Vaal, who would provide them with four hardy riding horses to take them north.
The merchant also provided a young guide, himself mounted on a camel worthy of the best of the caravan guard. Silent, he led them under the edge of the Sea, motioning for them to cover their faces. Glances were exchanged, but Sir Kilhorn drew his scarf tight around his nose and mouth, and drew his hood down over his eyes without a word.
Heimar and Rather and Tusk followed his lead, and they would soon be glad they did. As they made their way into the sun-blotting shade of the Sea they heard it, a hollow roaring, growing before them. The wind plucked at their garments as the camels protested quietly beneath them.
The boy guide chattered at them in his language as they moved closer and closer to the roaring. Soon a hiss was heard all around them and beneath them. In the dim green-tinged light, Heimar could see just enough to know that the sand was shifting around the plodding feet of his camel. He fought against the surge of terror growing in his chest.
The boy's chatter turned to singing as the dark grew darker and the sand grew higher. Soon it was whipping about his ankles, and the roaring was all around. The camels grunted and groaned with fear, the boy's voice and its bright melody maddening in the terror surrounding them.
And just as it was at its worst, and the whipping sands reached his waist, hissing the promise of drowning on dust, the camels suddenly fell into file. And soon they were breaking through, and in the blinding glare of the sun Heimar could see that they were in a new place entirely.
105
Roleplaying / Re: Wolves of War: House Dodger
« on: June 29, 2017, 03:13:30 AM »
(Enter Kilhorn and one of my favorites, Captain Heimar. There are VERY SADLY 
two of my favorite writings ever missing at the front of this tale plus another that was fun. Brief recap:
Kilhorn is so weird its impossible to write from his perspective, which I invite you to interpret as you will. The stories are told from common as muck, jaded soldier Heimar's perspective. Heimar was captain of Jonn's last two units and Kilhorn's only unit on Dwilight. Yes, three straight Captain Heimars.
The first story was a character intro in which Heimar tells his yellow eyed, sharpened teethed, bark-skinned new Lord about a scout report or something and Kilhorn just sits in the sun ignoring him. It lasts about two paragraphs and ends with "Sir Kilhorn lay in the midday sun, his strange skin glistening as if covered in oil," or something like that. I wrote that, died laughing and hit send, it was complete.
The second story introduces the fact that they are drug runners and pirates and due to a really long sailing bug takes place on a ship headed for Fissoa's Isle of Madina illegally to conduct raids during peace talks that is caught in a doldrums. All Heimar and a growing cast of cronies want to do is die high. All I can hope is it turns up one day in some random file.
Third story they got all riled up about potentially being punished as pirates and got ran off the Island by Baal Zephon Beldragos, the "green priest" and his militia. With barely twenty gold to show for all their trouble. They could take consolation in the fact they wouldn't need to worry about piracy charges... Kilhorn had a trump card to deliver to a man in Shinnen, and while nothing went as they would plan, it would all come out right in the end...)
two of my favorite writings ever missing at the front of this tale plus another that was fun. Brief recap:Kilhorn is so weird its impossible to write from his perspective, which I invite you to interpret as you will. The stories are told from common as muck, jaded soldier Heimar's perspective. Heimar was captain of Jonn's last two units and Kilhorn's only unit on Dwilight. Yes, three straight Captain Heimars.
The first story was a character intro in which Heimar tells his yellow eyed, sharpened teethed, bark-skinned new Lord about a scout report or something and Kilhorn just sits in the sun ignoring him. It lasts about two paragraphs and ends with "Sir Kilhorn lay in the midday sun, his strange skin glistening as if covered in oil," or something like that. I wrote that, died laughing and hit send, it was complete.
The second story introduces the fact that they are drug runners and pirates and due to a really long sailing bug takes place on a ship headed for Fissoa's Isle of Madina illegally to conduct raids during peace talks that is caught in a doldrums. All Heimar and a growing cast of cronies want to do is die high. All I can hope is it turns up one day in some random file.
Third story they got all riled up about potentially being punished as pirates and got ran off the Island by Baal Zephon Beldragos, the "green priest" and his militia. With barely twenty gold to show for all their trouble. They could take consolation in the fact they wouldn't need to worry about piracy charges... Kilhorn had a trump card to deliver to a man in Shinnen, and while nothing went as they would plan, it would all come out right in the end...)