07/20/06

The first thing is to add a link for the story on how the Cataclysm Happened

Here are the Character Sheets in word format.

The Freeport Map

The Best Place to go to get the EQ2 Maps Is Game Pressure

Here's a little tale to get you going;

Oakhaven’s Story.

The trouble with drinking to excess, is waking up the next day. Then why do it? You ask.

Well, when you are a half-breed, in my case half elf and half-human, no one is prepared to give you an even break. Well that’s not strictly true, there was old Hammel, he found me in the forest when my father’s kin threw me out of Kelethin. Just because I pounded on my half [full elf] brother, for name calling my mother. They would sooner believe that my tainted blood would not let me behave in a civilised manner, rather than that a civilised pure blood would have no manners.

He taught me the ways of the woodsman, how to track, snare, prepare and cook the creatures of the wildwood. More importantly, he taught me how to avoid those who would do the same to me.

Hammel was the exception, a truly good man that was prepared to see the good in others until they proved otherwise. In the towns and villages of both races all I met was rejection and so I took to drinking to give me, all to brief periods of, peace.

Now given my proclivities, I am used to waking up in strange surroundings and not knowing how I got there. But never, and I mean never, have I woken up in the middle of an ocean, clinging to a half empty barrel of beer. It can have a very sobering effect on a person. The gnome, however, was still inside my skull trying to smash a way out with a battle hammer. My usual sluggishness on waking, rapidly took a back seat to my total incredulity. I mean, Talltrees, the last village I remember being in, is over a hundred miles from the sea. How the hell did I end up here, wherever here is?

 A quick check of my assets, is not encouraging. Apart from about 3 gallons of beer [if seawater has not contaminated it] all I have on me are a few copper pieces and the clothes I wear. Not even a belt knife.

After so much bad luck I did not think things could get worse. Wrong!!! Gazing around, praying for a ship and trying to hold onto the barrel, I spot a smudge on the horizon. Thank you gods!

Moments later, the thought “why me “ crosses my mind. “What great evil have I committed to be so cursed”  Heading swiftly in my direction is a Drakota [small dragon kin, but still fifty feet long , nose to tail.]. It looks as though I am to be a snack, when suddenly it veers off course and dives. I can see it breathe a long gout of fire and then continue on. I cannot see what it attacked but its course change takes it away from me. Again, thank the gods.

I am more than pleased, some hours later, to be pulled from the sea by the victims of the dragon attack. A small sailing ship, heading to an island where it appears that survivors of a great cataclysm are gathering.

I work my passage as far as the island and disembark there.

If I thought I would have time to rest and figure out what I would do with the rest of my life I was rudely mistaken. We were told that goblins were attacking and that we were to man the barricades. To do this I was given a long knife, a loaf of bread and a water bottle. Wonderful!!

Luckily, Hammel had shown me a trick or two and I was able to more than hold my own. By the end of the day the goblins had donated a few pieces of armour and a battle-axe to my welfare fund. When I say donated, I really mean bequeathed as they were no longer alive. But I am sure they would not have minded.

Just as I am getting used to helping on the barricade the chief scout sends for me. And when I find out who told them I was good at not being seen I am going to introduce them to the soft end of my axe.

Once more I am amazed [I really should be getting used to being amazed by now], as the chief scout of the island turns out to be a rat man. Never in my life have I seen such, but he seems to know what he is about. Except of course when he asks me to sneak into the goblin camps and free some prisoners. I tell him that that is a suicide mission. But he persuades me, appealing to my good nature [ which up until now, I did  not know I had] and the fact that some dumb fighter types were going to stage a diversionary attack with a few finger wigglers casting spells to cause even more confusion.

Another scout was also assigned to the task. A Halfling by the name of Tamarisk or some such. The journey to the camp was fairly uneventful. The stalk to the prisoners was fraught with trouble. The Goblins had set out a number of lookouts on the most likely routes into the camp. The only way we could take them out, without them raising the alarm, was for us both to creep up behind one and back-stab him at the same time. If we got it right he went down without a sound and no one the wiser.

Once, we got it wrong, and a messy fight ensued. With several goblins joining the fray. Luckily the warriors had done their part and drawn off most of the goblins. The mages covered our retreat, slaying several and causing the others to think twice about casing us.

The upshot of it all was that we succeeded, were justly rewarded and the Ratman taught us a few new scouting tricks. Great!! At last, somewhere I can stay and be appreciated. Wrong!!!

Some idiot informed the Qeynosian ambassador of my deeds and he wants to offer me a job in the city.

Well, I will meet him and see what he has to say, you never know, my luck might change, but I would not bet on it if I were you.