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[{IP}jimmyman]

Day 1:
'Woke up in back alley today. Found a knife in my shoulder meat. I will wring that bastard Vyre's throat,' the dwarf hastilly wrote down in his notes. He could barely remember the night before. Too drunk still, he leaned forward and yanked the knife out.
"I've me a bad habit of doin' that..." he mumbled as he stood up, "oi! And here's the food."
He was sick in the rubbish on the side of the street. He leaned back up and looked forward down the alley. The day was dark and dreary, and he no longer felt the comfort of the previous night in the city. He was in a small village near the mountains that held his birthplace, Oster, and he wasn't too fond of civiliaztion.
By midday, he'd exited the city, retrieving his trust poleaxe from the nearby tavern, and was heading north and then west, across Imbara. He hoped to make it past Anaburg with little problem, but knowing how he was there would be problems.

Day 2:
'Camped in forest clearing, woke up and killed a deer for food. Drying meat now for jerky.'
Donlokie looked down at the writing he'd scribbled into the paper. There is easily more i could write...but i just can't bring myself to try he thought as he widdled at the antlers of the buck with a skinning knife he carried and looked off into the distance. He would have to remain there that night, which only bothered him more. The patrons from the tavern last night weren't too thrilled with him and he didn't look forward to fighting innocents.
Except that Vyre...
He took extensive pleasure knowing the bastard would be among the group when they arrived. He layed down for a quick nap as the meat dried, knowing he'd awake when they came.
***
Not more than two hours later, he heard rustling. He looked up and could see the figures dancing around the bushes, his fire illuminating their sillouettes.
"Aright laddies, let's git this shindig goin,'" he managed before an arrow wizzed by his ear.
He lept to the right, rolled, and grabbed his polaxe, jumping to his feet to parry the attack of a minotaur's axe. His polearm was short, thick, and powerful; meant to take a good hit or two.
He swivvled to the left, hacking at the back of the minotaur's leg, hamstinging the brute. He dropped the poleaxe when he saw the three men coming for him, and grabbed his two axes. He swung with his left blade to meet the humans sword. Sparks flew and his runes started to flare, overheating the sword of the man he was fighting. His other axe worked under his other foe's defenses, and he spun it, crashing the flat hammerhead into his knee. He screamed and fell over.
He turned back to the other man and glared daggers over the fight for a break in the combat. As he did, the man gave up and fled, taking the third man with him.
He looked around for te Vyre, knowing well that the runt had run off.
"Bastard creature, i'll have to go after him some other time..." he turned back to his fire and sat, staring into the distance, knowing well the Vyre could easily come back and put another dagger in him.

Day 3:
'Booked passage with a travelling caravan in exchange for me shoing the horses. Also traded jerky to get a private wagon, it's owners run down by bandits the other day. I still don't trust these people, the patrons from last night reside in the wagon two wagons over. The only up to this is getting the sleep i missed on last night. Jerky tastes damn good compared to the bread from the tavern. I need beer.' Don leaned back in his carriage, staring out the slit he cut in the front of it. It had been several hours since he'd woken up and written that, and he could tell the caravan was going exceptionally fast.
"Oi, i long for the taste of war...tis' been too long since my axes have bathed in blood," he mumbled to himself under his breath as he whetted the poleaxe. There was a long taste for battle since Anaburg had become Anaburg. There was also that longing for adventure. Maybe in a town somewhere i'll meet me some nice people worth travelling with he thought as he set down the poleaxe and set to cleaning the runes on his handaxes. This was the most tasking process a Dwarven smith went through, but because he was a master smith, he was one of the few who could rerune an axe.
He set the axes down on a ceremonial blanket, and began to weave his way into the magics of the axe. He willed it to change the runes and set to fixing in his mind the meld between axe and wielder. He pictured the runes he wanted and set a hand on each axe, channeling his Dwarven magic into the weapon.
As he drew the runes in his mind, they began to form on the weapon over the old ones. These runes would make his weapon block powerful attacks and parry better, opposed to his old runes that would heat an enemy's weapons to a point that hurt the hand to hold. He looked back out the slit to the encroaching darkness at the sun slid down behind the hills.
"Just what i wanted, these bastards to camp on the plains, why can't we at least reach a village in these lands."
He rolled over in the cart and pulled his blanket over him. In moments he was asleep, and in an hour the caravan had stopped.

Edited by {IP}jimmyman, 07 June 2010 - 01:27 AM.

[{IP}jimmyman]

(OOC: i have NO idea how the Ssadjin talk, correct me at will [will be edited with more])
((VORT: They are from a different continent, so their grasp of the language probably won't be too complete, and they have big long lizard tongues, so expect a bit of hissing. I'm'a edit a bit below if you don't mind, example-style. Also, the Ssadjin don't have any magic. They have lethal poison stingers in their tails and wicked sharp claws, but no magic.))
Day 4:
'Fire. Smoke. I'm prepared to lash out at any beast trying to enter my wagon. If any passerby find this here, know i died valliantly.'
He sat and stared at what could be his last writing in his notes. He was almost nearing his 87th summer, and knew today could be his last day. He set his poleaxe down quietly. He could hear the voices outside and the rummaging being done to some carriages. He strapped his right handed on on his back and grabbed the left one and looked out the slit. Tallish forms were moving around. They weren't minotaurs, he could tell, and they were either in his mind melds, or something else.
He turned around and set quietly out of the wagon and onto the ground, crawling beneath it and looking. He couldn't understand the language, and from what he was seeing the creatures he saw weren't melds. He immediately angered at all of this, the caravan could have reached a village by now and they wouldn't be in this perdicament. He crawled out from under the wagon and walked up behind the strange scaled creature. As he was about to strike, it turned on him.
"What the bloody hell are ye'?"
He managed those words before a mace lashed out and hit him in the stomache sending him flying back a few feet. He got up, unslung his right axe, and stared balefully at the creature.
"Damn ye', that hurt like hell ye' bastard. What are ye' anyways ye' scaly skinned freak? Lizard melds have all but vanished nowadays."
"We are Ssadjin. Free from sscity of Anaburg. We ssaw caravanss, now come here for foodss. And new weaponss."
Don lunged at the Ssadjin, but it brought up its mace to deflect the blow. But Don's runes did a little help. As he hit the blow, the mace was pushed back just a little, and Don swung around it, slicing the lizard man in the leg.
"Avast ye' caravan people! We're under attack! Lizard slaves from Anaburg! They've come to loot us!" Don cried, and soon cries of alarm and fighting broke out across the caravan. But the lizards were sneaky. Already a few fires had been set around the camp and cries of alarm and pain from came from the travellers. He turned back to his foe.
"Bastard, they were nice people! And you killed them," he fixed his piercing gaze on the enemy, something that never failed to scare one, "I'll avenge every single person slain or hurt here, and it starts with you."
He lunged once more, dancing asside the mace strike and lashing out at the lizard's leg. His enemy jumped back and brought the handle of the mace crashing into Don's stomach. He was shaken a bit, but still rushed back into the battle, swinging his axes up to reach the macehead. As the blades connected, he willed his runes to be flared to life and he began to push back the mace, which only frightened the Ssadjin. He pushed hard, then brought both blades around, burrying them deep into the lizard's leg.
"How's that for pain ye' green bastard?"
The Ssadjin fell to the ground, dropping his mace. Don came up, spat, then planted both axes in the beast's chest. He looked around to see the Ssadjin being routed away from the caravan.
"I need beer."

(Jim: Okie dokie Vort thanks )
Day 5:
'Helped the humans clean up. Dragged the lizard bastard away from camp and searched his corpse for anything out of the ordinary. I found a small amulet carved with a rune. After much searching and probing, the amulet has little magical value. Must be a belief in some god. I've befriended the Minotaur i hamstrung the other day. His name is Sholl. I've promised to reforge the Ssadjimathingy's hammer into a weapon of reckoning in my apology. Today's looking up.'
Don looked up from his repairing of the wagon. Sholl was looking down at him.
"Any help friend?"
"Nae laddie, just a tad wee longer and i'll have this wagon fixed. Then you and me can head out for some place where we'll find our adventure."
He looked past Sholl to the departing caravan. He aided in fixing some wagons, and was left in turn with one his own and supplies for a month. He also helped gather and reforge at least two weapons that day too for the humans. The sun was dipping low in the sky and he needed to tighten one last bolt.
"I sorry for other night Don. Was stupid of me to allow Vyre to trick me. I feel ashamed, really since you've blessed my axe and make me hammer."
"Don't think much of it laddie," Don said as he finished tightening the last bolt, "ye've suffered enough fer your foolery. Ye're my bud now, and we'll travel."
He looked up at the big Minotaur, smiling at his fortune of finding a fellow like Sholl.
"Let's get this wagon rockin' my friend."
Don crawled into the back cab and put the flap he'd cut up so he could see the landscape. Sholl climbed into the driver's seat and cracked the rein on the two horses connected to the wagon. The carriage whipped into action and started across the plain, smoothly at the moment, for the flatland.
Don leaned back and began to whet his axes, knowing that there were lizard men across the plains now. He wondered their origin, as the Embaru now ran Anaburg. Oh well. He reached over and grabbed some of his jerky and tore a piece off to eat, then handed the rest of it through the flap to Sholl.
***
Within an hour they'd reached a town southwest of Anaburg. He looked expectantly to the red glow coming from the southern end of town. He'd spend all day working on that hammer, and then he'd celebrate with a few beers. And some ale.

Edited by {IP}jimmyman, 08 June 2010 - 12:04 AM.

[{IP}jimmyman]

Day 6:
'Worked on that blasted hammer all day. It's done, and i've runned Sholl's axe. The hammer has my blessing, and the Minotaur has taken extremely well to a mace. Heading to a bar this day, must drink my troubles away. I've been seeing shadows outside the village, worrying for more lizard man attacks. I'll be leaving tonight, there's a premonition bad things will happen tonight.'
He sat with his pack next to his bar chair.
"Anosher aile pleesh?"
He stared shakily down at his bag and put the diary back in. There were ale splotches all over the page after rereading. He turned and found his complacent companion sipping his beer. He picked up his bag and walked, almost undrunkenly, towards Sholl.
"Let'sh leaf, shomefing will go down. We need to leaf," he shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts, "leave, sorry, now. Are you for it?"
"Aye, lizard men form attack group around town in north and west. We go south," Sholl said hoisting his hammer.
They left the building in a hurry, Don still relatively drunk, and made it to their carriage. That's when things went bad.
"Hop in carriage friend, i hear foes."
No sooner had he said this than three lizard men came charging through the streets.
"Looksss here. Foodss for usss," one said with a grin.
Sholl planted his mace in this one's face, Don lept at another with his poleaxe, bringing it down on the freak's shoulders. As the last one turned tail and fled, Don hopped onto the driver's seat of the wagon next to Sholl and they sped south, Don tossed his pack through the flap in the Wagon covering. They made to a place Sholl has stated as Valenti. Don hoped for a good place.

Edited by {IP}jimmyman, 08 June 2010 - 12:02 AM.