Eternal mind of the spotless sunshine


Blind Io
November 2, 2009, 6:13 pm
Filed under: rpg

io3

I am Blind Io.

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Character Stories – Logan Warsong
August 7, 2008, 3:58 am
Filed under: rpg

There’s going to be a segment here, under the ‘rpg’ category, that will focus on character stories. Here’s the scoop: I play RPG. There. That’s enough scoop for ya all.

The only real pre-requisite we all have in our adventures is the outline of a decent story for every character we make. And, since we’re all a bunch of weird people with too much free time and way too many splat books to choose from, we indeed make a lot of very diverse characters. Even though the builds are what eventually make the characters we play, it’s the story we write that truly incorporates all that we plan to achieve within the game – who we are, what we seek and so forth.

Today’s character is Logan Wargsong, first-born of the mighty Warsong Clan of the Ungian Mountains.

Barbarian 2/Ranger 1/Fighter 2/Occult Slayer 5/Frenzied Beserker 10

The roaring fire dwells within me. I am a son of the rock, an heir to the throne of the montains. I am Logan of the Warsong Clan. Father has set immense goals for me. He sees in me the politician I am not. The leader I intend on becomming on the battlefield, not on the high courts.

I am a warrior. A pure-blooded warrior. I revel at the sight of battle. I lust the taste of blood – my own and my enemies’. We have endured much underneath these mountains, and it was at the cost of many dear comrades, relatives and friends.

We have come to an unwelcome tranquility of late. The threats from beneath have ceased almost to a complete halt. It may be the calm before the storm. Cousin has taught me the lesson of preparing for the inevitable. All want the riches imbedded in these magnificent stones. We own the mines. They are ours by right. None may take them from us. Our livelihood is here, in the beautiful glistening materials that await our skillful hands.

Come forth, ye foul demons. Move closer to the blades of my axe. Let me quench my thirst for your blood in a downpour of your entrails. Ye pathetic excuse for pointy-eared elves. You fool none. The magic that flows within you is raw, untamed – heretic. The great gods do not shine down upon thee.
We need not the works of the Arcanum. They bring no fear to our sacred halls, protected by the light of Moradin. Sit tight, await your doom. We will all be here, eager to purify these rocks, to be done with your evil presence.

I have studied you all. I know what you are. I know everything about you. You do not fool me. Nor can you fool any of my clan. These rocks flow within our veins. We hear them, feel them and know every crevasse, every steep corner and every speckle of dust.

As I sharpen my blades the mighty horns sound. You have all come at last. It is the battle cry I have been waiting for a long, long time. It brings a smile to my face, makes my skin prickle and my blood boil.

I will get you all.