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Nothing.

At all.

Seriously.

[Jackrabbit]

Transvestites baby! What'd I tell you? Huh? Huh?

[TheNewerMartianEmperor]

Oldbeard is unimpressed by this creature. Back in his day, ancient undead moster thingies were far more menacing, one could destroy an entire country they could! Why, he remembers the battle of Ironblood's Retreat. There, a force of half a million creatures of the night struck against the heart of the dwarf empire. The defenders were lead by non other the Morul the first, great conquerer of the south. The agressors were led by a creature whose name is only pronuncable i the dark grey tongue of the dread gremlins, which is only known by two people today, one of whom is undead, and the other is Oldbeard. But he only remembers it on odd-numbered days. The creature was massive, ten feet tall and shrouded in shadows. It's power was unrivaled in all the lands, and it carried a scythe of pure midnight, and commanded magic of such power that it can no longer exist, lest it tear this world in twain. Again. It was killed by a bolt through the back of its left eyesocket that may or may  not have been fired by Oldbeard. (He tells everyone it was him, but no-one believes him, and in actual fact, he cannot remember.)

[Jackrabbit]

An alchemist’s store

“So, how much is all of this?” asked Oldbeard, gesturing at the bags of black powder and the lead pellets that ley on the table before him.
“Oh, make it… 200,” replied the alchemist.
“That’s very cheap lad,” said Oldbeard.
“Well, this stuff is in abundance. I don’t know what you want it for. Mining? And what are the lead pellets for? Are you a scribe?”
Oldbeard glared at him.
“Right, right,” said the man hurriedly. As a child, his grandfather had caned first and caned later, in lieu of questions, and this dwarf reminded him of him. He still slept badly at night because of the things his grandfather had done. Oldbeard handed over the money and left.
Walking back, Oldbeard paused in an alley. He didn’t want to get back too soon. Kogan had set up some sort of explosive trap or something and Olon was yelling his head off. In his day, kids like that showed more respect. The scrumble was good though. He heard it was made from applejack and whiskey. From the aftertaste, there was probably hydrochloric acid in there as well. The bartender had almost fainted when he ordered seconds. Anyway, tube, latch mechanism, safety (although he had to think for a minute before finally deciding to put it on. Being shot in the leg was not fun), it was a blessing that he still remembered how to make these things. It had been hundreds of years since he had. He hadn’t bothered to remake them earlier because it just felt… wrong, like he was defiling it’s majesty by placing it in the hands of these upstarts. If it hadn’t been for the downfall, these kids would have more respect. Anyway, if he just… there! Good as new. Or rather, old. He hefted his creation a few times. Now, how to test it…
“Hello, gritsucker,” came a voice from the other end of the alley.
Ah. Perfect. He could almost laugh.
“Did ye just call me a gritsucker lad? That’d be a dangerous word to be bandying about. I’m gonna give ye one chance to apologize,” he said. This was too perfect. He poured some of the powder into the opening on the back of his newly made weapon. Taking a pellet from his belt supply, he loaded it into the slot and shut the hatch. He slammed the bolt home.
“Apologize? Me and my friends here don’t think so, lawn ornament. Now, your money and your life. I’m feeling greedy.” Oldbeard’s ears caught the sound of a sword being drawn from a sheath.
“Right ye are then lad. Goodbye,” he grinned and brought his powder pistol round to bear. He aimed quickly and pulled the trigger.
The sound reverberated around the alley and out into the city, as the man slumped to the ground. Immediately, dogs began to howl. The crack of his powder pistol was enormous in the confined space, much more than Oldbeard expected. But no matter. Draw bolt, apply powder, insert slug, lock bolt into place and
CRACK
The second shot slammed into the face of the second would-be mugger, tearing it to shreds. The last man, looking at his stricken comrades, turned and ran.
Oldbeard grinned. Nostalgia was a wonderful thing.

[Archangel]

Cool. AWESOME!

[Jackrabbit]

CHOCOLATE!

Chocolate is both cool and awesome.

Is it possible to read too much Dr McNinja? I think it is.

[Jackrabbit]

Holy crap, page 65. HOW DID THIS GET TO PAGE 65?

[TheNewerMartianEmperor]

I don't. So, he has a gun now. The only thing more dangerous then a short-tempered, permanently drunk midget with the worlds only gun, is an old, old, cantankerous, often annoyed one.

[Archangel]

Holy crap, page 65. HOW DID THIS GET TO PAGE 65?

Beats me.

[Jackrabbit]

I don't. So, he has a gun now. The only thing more dangerous then a short-tempered, permanently drunk midget with the worlds only gun, is an old, old, cantankerous, often annoyed one.

They do have drawbacks, though. He's still not a totally unstoppable and undefeatable badass. At least, not legitimately. I mean, I can write it so he doesn't die and kills all his opponents, but he's not going to go through them like rice paper.

[TheNewerMartianEmperor]

Of course not! What would the fun be in that? He didn't actually do much in the battles he's been in, he mostly just sat around and complained to anyone who would listen.

[Slartibartfast]

Holy crap, page 65. HOW DID THIS GET TO PAGE 65?

The magic of evolution?

[GruffyBears]

The Tavern.

Walter looked hazily at Bjorn from across the table. He wished he'd stop spinning like that. Suddenly, a man in a battered tricorn hat grabbed Walter by the shoulder.
Walter turned to face the man, a stunned look frozen on his face. The man grinned, and said. "Dia dhuit, O Valorous Wolf." His breath struck Walter, like a punch to the nose. "Dia is Mhuire dhuit." he replied, as was customary.
Walter turned back to his drink. The man chuckled and walked off, his boots clanking off the wooden floor. Interesting, Walter thought, That he knew my old na-SHIT. Walter stood up suddenly and sprinted after the man. He knew his name. He knew his name. HE KNEW HIS NAME.
Walter looked around and saw nothing, but heard the clang of his boots down an alley. He lifted his glove, and fiddled with a new dial, moving the setting from '1' to '2'.
He followed the man in to the alley. Walter's knuckles itched. He stepped back, and a knife swung where his neck had a been. He looked at the man. "I'm takin' you home, pup." He recognized the man as Fredul, his ex-trainer.
Walter shook his head. "Sorry, oiliúnóir, but my heart is with my band." Fredul sighed, and lunged forward. Walter dodged and clicking the trigger of his glove revealing a 3-inch blade, lunged forward and stabbed his old friend in the face. He lowered Fredul's body gently and closed his eyes, as was tradition. Walter turned, another death hanging over his shoulders.
He stepped into the tavern and sat down at the bar. The bartender looked at him sympatheticly. "Something strong and long?" He asked Walter. Walter nodded, and as he began to drown his sorrows, The memories of old returned to his head.

[Limul Thak]

I'm going to a bad place soon, a bad place with NO INTERNET! ZOMG! [/idiocy]

So before I go, I want to have an update of my own (part journal, part narrative):

Limul Thak's Journal

It hasn't been too eventful around here. We entered the city and were immediately surrounded by idiots trying to make a monie or two. I don't get how free markets work; just give me anarcho-communism any day.

The lich crystal's subconscious is gone now. We know who it's observing, too: Tamunshin. Poor sap's been under Ancient influence for about five years, according to Navi. Oh, that reminds me: I got Navi back in my subconscious again, seeing as the lich crystal's gone now. I'm free!

Will write more later. I'm about to head after Tamunshin with Navi's help.

Limul Thak left the inn after giving Walter a nod; he was too drunk to care, apparently. He weaved through the alleys of the city, with Navi giving basic directions:
"Left, north, right, south..."
"Don't give me coordinates, now! I don't bloody know which way's north!"
"Just use the sol!"
"It's the SUN, daft git, and it's nighttime!"
"Fine. Left. Right. Wait! Somebody's coming."

Limul stopped and turned towards the running noise. He noticed a rather grungy man, a hoodlum or the like, doing what looked like escaping; But from what...
"Ahh! Ahh! *huff* *huff*"
"Hang on, there, friend. What's the problem?"
"*Huff* OHMIGODADWARFADWARFIMGONNADIEGONNADIE-"
"CALM DOWN, ARMOK DAMN IT!"
Limul slapped the hoodlum and shook him, making him calm down by force, a feat usually not possible. Dwarves, of course, aren't about to follow rules.
"Don't kill me! I don't want your money!" the hoodlum cried, before breaking down and sobbing again.
"Let me help," Navi said. Navi projected his essence into the hoodlum, and sang an old Elven song that was used in mourning to calm upset relatives, a song that Limul found to be epiphanic. He almost felt like Armok was claiming him, like he was about to breach the gates of Armok's bloody citadel... And suddenly, the song stopped. Both he and the hoodlum slumped over.

An hour passed as Limul got over his near-transcendence, and the opportunity he missed in grounding too soon. He finally shook himself awake and asked Navi, "What the bloody hell did you do to me?"
"It is an ancient elven song, sung to calm the upset. You, being relatively stable-"
"Relatively?"
"You are a dwarf, are you not? Regardless, you were not meant to hear such a song. It made you feel like euphoria would take you, did it not?"
"It did, yes."
"It was merely an illusion, I assure you. Please, we must focus on the task at hand!"
"Right, then. What's your situation, man?"
"I'm, er, I'm a member of; was a member of; a gang. Me and me mates took people's cash for drinks after work. Well, we ambushed an old midget; dwarf; don't kill me!; anyways, I'm the only survivor."
"Was that the cracking noise we all heard two hours ago?"
"Yeh; yeh; listen, me mates are DEAD! I just wanna go home..."
"What's your name?"
"It's... it's... er, Roland, sir."
"Well, Roland, you're helping me with what I'm doing, got it?"
"Y-yes, sir."

Limul followed Navi while dragging his new accomplice, Roland, behind him, until they reached a rather grim mausoleum braced against one of the city's walls.
"Stop here... the influence of the dread crystal on Tamunshin is within that grave. Wait here a moment while I evaluate the threat."
"Right. Tamunshin, a "threat". I'll just get my feather-duster, then," scoffed Limul, while donning his helmet and placing Navi in his bracer. He drew his axe and asked, "Are we good?"
"Yes, we are "good". Enter at your own choosing."
"Roland? Your ready, eh?"
"S-s-s-sure. Just let me get this axe off of my back, sir..."
"Roland?" Limul and Navi asked at once, turning around to see what the axe in question was. It turned out to be Bomrek.
"Bomrek? What. The. Bloody. Hell!?" Limul yelled.
"Wait. Another essence is here. An artifact of dwarven hands, I presume," said Navi quickly.
"Bomrek, what's on your mind?"
"Oh, clever," said Navi quietly, forgetting that he could not be heard outside of Limul's mind.
"Er... this is awkward. I was here to monitor Tamunshin, and I saw a friend being followed by a human. I figured I would, er, help out?" Bomrek said in explanation.
"Bomrek, this is Roland, a hoodlum-turned-sidekick. Roland, Bomrek, an acquaintance of mine."
"Er, hi Bomrek. Can you, you know... remove the, er, axe?"
"Oh, right, sorry."

Five minutes of catching-up later...
"So," began Limul, "Shall we enter the mausoluem?"
"I was worried about the danger, but my axe said oth-"
"What? Your axe talks to you?"
"No."
"..."
"..."
"Shall we?"
"I suppose."
Limul and Bomrek headed into the mausoleum, but Limul stopped short and asked Roland to follow suit. He slowly drew a dagger and did, to Limul's immediate relief, follow suit.

Limul Thak's Journal

We heard some creepy voices up ahead, so we stopped for a minute to let Roland calm down. Bomrek has a telepathic axe that acts as a perfect compliment to my elf, according to what Navi can find. It and Navi had a great conversation that ended relatively well for a talk between dwarf and elf; it was only cursed to a painful existence on the Plane of False Hope, and Navi was only sworn to be slain eternally by a demon of the Plane of Destruction. All in all, a perfect talk by most standards.

Apparently, Bomrek is trying to keep his axe a secret, but he knows about Navi, if not about the specifics anyways. I wonder what the secret's about...

Roland's breathing has slowed, so we're going to continue. It feels like it's going to be three weeks by the time we get to the bottom of this...

~LT

  See everybody in three weeks.

[TheNewerMartianEmperor]

Oldbeard's journal:

We entered this mud-heap that the tall-arse's call a city. I hate it here, the people are too loud, the merchants make me pay more then I want to and are also loud. The shops are devoid of any real food, with only these human crops to eat, which I suspect make loud noises when ya' eat em. Good news is, they got's the scrumple here! It's been ages since I had a proper pint. Just about the only good thing that comes from up here.

Well, the project's been goin' swell. Tested it on some young punks! Hehe, they'll need a bit more then a bucket of water to clean up that alley... In any case, I've noticed something about two of them id'jits what I work with. Namely that they've gots a 'fluence on 'em. Definietly not a demon's. Perhaps it's the ghoulies, or one of them bony fellers..... Maybe it's the evil eye! It's been ages since I saw one of them! I've watched that Limuers Tanks feller. he don't look too god either, and he's walking into a crypt as I speak! Not even doing the dead rite or nuthin', that's gonna come back to bite him in the arse. I'd better go after him, and stop him from getting his head bitten off.

[Labs]

The dwarf was walking down the hall at a surprising pace. He passed many offices until he came to the door at the end of the hall. He tried the knob but it wouldn't budge and he nearly busted through the flimsy thing just by pounding on it.
 
"Yes, yes who is it?" Came a voice from inside.
 
"You know damn well who it is!" Shouted the dwarf.
 
"Ahh the dwarf fisherman..... Labs was it?" Said the man.
 
"Yes, great job, now let me in!"
 
There was a loud click from the other side of the door and Labs opened it before the man had a chance to. As he steped into the office, a combination of pipe smoke and  the scent of highwood burning filled the air. As soon as he stepped in the man behind the desk asked:
 
"Now, why are you here little dwarf."
 
"Little?! Why you smelly little bast-"
 
"Now now, no need for rash behavior. Now tell me, why have you disturbed me while I am updating my records?"
 
"You cheated me you lying little macaque!"
 
The man raised an eyebrow. "How so?" he asked.
 
"You paid us for our last haul. We had a boatload. You paid us six hundred gold for a load of fish worth fifteen hundred."
 
"I did no such thing!" Snapped the human.
 
"Really now? My crew and I keep records of every fish we haul. We know you cheated us. Had you lived in the mountainhomes you would be hammered for such treachery."
 
"Hah! Listen you stout little man, I do what I please. This is my city! I am Akkar Batowsinur, master of trade! I control every good and ship that passes through this port. I have more power than the local government!"
 
"Mark my words human, you will regret crossing a dwarf."
 
Labs points to the man wielding a crossbow standing next to the door.
 
"If it weren't for him, i would do you in myself."
 
Akkar let out a hearty laugh.
 
"What could you possibly do? I have more security than the king!"
 
"Don't test me human!"
 
"Ha! Get this midget out of my sight."
 
The guard tried to grab Labs by the arm but he pulled away and stormed down the hall.
 
"Damn human. He will get whats coming to him."
 
_________________________________________________________________________________
 
I know my writing sucks but I still wanted to contribute something.