Brute

Brute smiles and gives Salinye a wink. Thank you for a refreshing and wonderfully optimistic view of the Pen. It does me good to hear the words from someone who is new to the Pen, as I'm sure it does for most everyone else.

Brute pats Ayshela on the back and gives her a hug and a warm smile. No tears, now miss. If everyone leaves, I'll be all alone boo-hooing myself a river in here. Deg, Zool. You two are inspirational. truly. We will never replace what you both have to offer to the Pen. I cannot express the profound loss we will feel in your absence. How many have become a part of the Pen due to the efforts of Zool and a few others that stood at the founding? Many of us. And like ripples on water, we brought others to share what we had found. The growth was likely never forseen by the founding members, but it grows nonetheless. Your decisions to leave, I respect. When you both leave, take with you the knowledge that you made significant impacts on the community of the Pen and on the individual members. May you both find comfort and peace. Friendship and welcome will always await you both here. You both will be sorely missed, so do stop by now and again to sample the booze and tell us how things are going. Brute gives each a farewell hug and stuffs a few necessities in their travel packs: a map, flask of booze, spare flask of booze, umbrella, and a flashlight.

*Brute adds his big arms to the hug.* Hang in there, kiddo! You take care of yourself and stick by your mom and your dad. You will all need each other in fearfull times like these. I truly hope things turn out ok. I'll gladly lend you an ear should you want to talk to someone. IM, Email, whatever.

Fear is like a plunge into dark, icy water. It rips the air from your lungs, leaving a stabbing pain in your chest, both denying for a brief second the ability to react, and boosting all senses tremendously.

Would it help speed things along if I threatened to hold him down and belch noxious booze fumes in his face until he agrees to start? I really would like to hear the gnome lad's story. In detail. So roll some dice, shuffle the maps, plot a course, and get started! Good grief!!

I must agree with Starlight. Love works wonders. Even if it 's just a friend that suddenly calls out of the blue when you're feeling down and was wondering about you, that helps. Willpower is an awesome thing. I've discovered over time that I possess a lot of it, but unfortunately, it must compete with an equal amount of laziness. And ya know, kinda breaking away from the popular idea of individuality in this thread, depression might be overcome at times by simply realizing that "Hey, no one else around me is wallowing in self-pity. Why the hell should I be the sad one?" That 's always been the most reliable way for me to pull myself out of the dumps- that simple little self-rhetoric. Sometimes it's quite shocking to actually imagine an outside perspective of how we seem. .....I don't think I quite captured my thoughts in that last statement... anyway, I guess it's exactly as Tzim said...it's a test of endurance. When you've reached your limit, either you give in, or you find a reason to survive. As far as the biochemical problems of depression goes, I have no personal experiences with that. I do believe Peredhil completely though. I see no shame in admitting the problem and seeking a correction through medicine.

Quite a topic here. Personally, Physical abuse to anyone, esapecially children, makes me want to lay my big mitts on the abuser and give them a taste of what it's like to use fear and pain on someone else. Trust me, I'm a big guy and It wouldn't be pleasant for anyone to be at the recieving end of my wrath. I say these things because it makes me both furious and disgusted to think of anyone beating on a wife or a child. Several points were made, and yes, people can grow up in terrible environments and it typically twists their perspectives. However...With a tiny bit of love, determination, and a need to end the pain inflicted and recieved, anyone can end the cycle. For that's almost always what these situations turn into, an endless cycle of fear and pain, waiting for one brave person to make up their minds that they love their child or spouse enough to not abuse them. There are shelters, councilors, and hotlines galore for anyone in need of help. Perhaps Rune, should you talk to this person again, you might mention that there is help available, and the attitude that person has is definately not a healthy one .

thank you, everyone. I *do* try to maintain a positive attitude and not let show that sometimes I can be something other than the happy-go-lucky drunkard, but it appears I slipped up. I sincerely appreciate all of the encouraging words, and it really helped to improve my demeanor. It's kinda weird to feel a warm fuzzy by reading words of people who've I've never met in person (well, most of you, anyway. ). Weird, but nice. Again, thank you each and every one. It means a lot to me. Brute happily raises a large flagon full of Bruteweiser and toasts his friends of the Pen.

All of these characters so far have great potential, it seems, especially when placed together in a group. It will be very interesting to see how they develop over time and interaction with each other. I can see already how personal conflict (nothing too serious) may arise. How I wished I could keep pace with the posts and join in...... Nonetheless, reading will be rewarding enough, I think.

I think what Sali is looking for is simply a detailed description of your characters. Elwen, for Iriador, simply post just that- an outward physical description, mannerisms, and such...anything that can be observed by the characters. Anyone else can probably post a little more detail, such as brief history, attitudes toward other members, races, (if any) etc. Physical descriptions should be a must, along with mannerisms and personality quirks. Basically, give the other PCs a good starting point to reference with. A lot of the characters' personalities will develop or become apparent as the story progresses. Is that what you were looking for, Sali? Don't worry about placing the bios in another folder. For now, this should be fine. You have a need to access such info, along with everyone else in the story, so this is as convienent a place as any, I think. Have fun with yer story, folks! I'll enjoy reading!

(ooc: I foresee a problem on my part already...I can post at best, once a day. So, I think that I may just slide back into the shadows from whence I came and observe as a reader. I cannot truthfully tell you that I will be able to keep up with the pace, plus I've got a nasty cold at the moment that's just taking hold. I have a feeling that I wouldn't be able to keep up in my current state. I'm very sorry, Damon. This has the makings for a fine story, led by an able DM. Llerro smiled in amusement behind his veil. He recognized several of the members of the party immediately. He had had substantial offers for both the old man and the elven girl, both of which had been turned down. The assassin seldom denied contracts, especially when they carried such hefty payments, but his reasons for those two were sound. He had refused to end the old man's life simply due to respect for him. Llerro had trained most of his young life for his profession as an assassin, but along with the knowledge of killing, came a knowledge of thievery. Llerro had heard of Enos' abilities for years. Boasts of feats that were either quite impossible or extraordinary. Llerro had seen with his own eyes that the latter was the case, and so held the older man in great reverance at the skill in which he performed. It was that reverance that had guaranteed Enos' safety from his blades at the frustration of a wealthy nobleman. Llerro shifted slightly as Damon began his boisterous speech to the companions. Iriador, as she called herself, glanced quickly toward him and caught his eyes for a brief moment. Llerro's decision to deny her contract took no hestation at all. He had heard of her from unamed sources and knew the risks greatly offset the gains. Although Llerro had risen quickly in his profession, becoming a highly sought means to an end, he knew his limits. Elwen was quite beyond them. Giving her a wink with his emerald eyes, he turned to Damon and addressed him. "I believe I have been misinformed. You will have no need of my skills, good sir." Llerro the Blade bowed slightly to the bemused coordinator of the quest and turned ofr the door. He chuckled silently to himself at the irony hidden to them all. (OOC again: Once more, I'm sorry to leave, just as it is getting good, but I fear that I may do you all an injustice ny impeding with the flow of the story. Were my time not so limited, I would gladly take part in this. Perhaps another time. I *wil* read and follow it though. You can be sure of that. I hope that my farewell post aids, rather than hinders, the story. )

Through the door, a lithe figure slips in, garbed in black. He silently winds around the tables and approaches the gathering party. "I am seeking employment," he whispers quietly through a dark veil which covers most of his face, save for two piercing green eyes that seem to scan quickly over the other mercenaries, measuring them. "I am Llerro the Blade. I can go where others cannot and avoid detection. My services are not cheap," he adds as his eyes come to rest upon the prospective employer. The thief comfortably rests his gloved hands upon the hilts of twin daggers sheathed at his waist. Small pouches line a bandolier that is worn across his chest. Llerro stands with an ease awaiting a response.

simply excellent, Yui! Bravo. The attention to detail here is quite impressive. excellent body structure, shading, and symmetry. oh..and when I saw the hands and feet (two features I always found hard to replicate in such acurate detail) I was impressed all over again. Nifty work, kiddo! keep this up and you'll find yourself with a very long list of people begging you to draw characters for them.

Thanks for the kind words, you two. I do appreciate them. Just when I thought I had truly rid myself of the emotional turmoil of the recent past, I realized with a short conversation with my ex that I haven't done so entirely. *Sigh* I feel so much like a ship caught in a fierce storm, with only a single beacon to light the way to safety. Responsibilities and an overwhelming love force me to follow the light and struggle against the storm with all my might.

Brute patiently awaits a royal order to perform a Quill-Quest, thereby bestowing a purpose into his bleak existence. The booze just helps keep the bleak-ness at bay.

Brute sat idly at the worn tavern stool that accomodated him on many occasions. Finishing his mug of stout ale, he motioned to the bearkeep for a refill. "Been a hard day, Brute? You've only had two," the rotund barkeep asked, concern for his most steadfast patron etched into his eyes. "Yup." Brute muttered as he sipped the ale. " You could say that." The pale mage's mind twisted over and over upon the words spoken earlier. A vacant look took up residence within Brute's ebony eyes. To the astonishment of the barkeep, Brute stood and moved away from the table. leaving a near-full mug of ale. Brute took several steps toward the door when he stopped suddenly and clutched his broad chest. Pain wracked his features and produced a grim wail of pain from the mage as something tore within his chest. His powerful, blackened hands tore open his robes to reveal an angry red mark streaking across the alabaster skin of his sternum. With a loud crack, his chest split open and vomited forth a blackened and shattered heart. Brute gasped in pain, his vision swimming dizzily as the organ shattered upon the floor like delicate porcelain, sending black shards around his feet. Moments passed as other patrons watched in sickened awe. Brute's chest was knitting back together of it's own accord, seemingly. The flesh pulled itself back across exposed bone and melded together, leaving only a long, pink scar. Despite the ordeal, Brute was the first within the tavern to recover his senses. He looked down in dismay at his destroyed and broken heart. "F@#&! Another damned organ gone." The barkeep, now nearly as pale as Brute himself, stammered out, "Br..Brute..Have a strong drink, lad. You..you must be in terrible pain. It'll take the edge off." Brute stopped silently on his way to the door and spoke over his shoulder. " I don't think I have the heart ot enjoy my beloved booze at the moment. Perhaps later." The necromancer left the tavern with a dark and grim look in his eyes. (ooc: heh. My way of saying today sucked. God, I wish I could just once take my own damned advice and get on with my life.)

Well, we all go through times where it would seem nothing we do is good and everything we touch ends up broken. For some people, those bad times are worse for them. Like Tas said, hang in there. I don't really know what's going on specifically, but I'm willing to tell you this and let you decide of it may apply. Sometimes, when we hurt, we push everyone close to us away, especially if they are connected in some way with the pain we feel. Try hold onto those who are close to you, and talk to them. If conversation becomes forced, or takes a negative turn, allow yourself time to cool down and think things through. Keeping close friends and people who really care about you at arm's length hurts them, along with yourself. I've made this mistake before, and it cost me greatly. Make amends, if there is need to do so. It's better to try to heal pains now, than to look back later and wish for a chance lost forever. Again, I've really no idea if any of this is relevent to your situation, but i hope that I've helped in some way. Mind you, should this leave you wondering what kind of an idiot I am, this is all entirely wisdom from the bottom of the bottle.

Brute pauses in his daily route to the tavern to admire the artwork that has attracted so many others. Taking advantage of his tall stature, he looks over the tops of those in front of him and smiles. Brute quickly catches the eyes of the blushing artist and grins to her, silently mouthing the words,"Great job, kiddo!" Brute gives a quick wink, a nod, then continues along his way to a worn stool at the bar. (You continue to amaze me with your many talents. Tell Aegon I said hullo. )

Spying the return of the infamous Doctor Evil, Brute lumbers over and produces a jug of his most evil concoction of booze. "Would you care for a drink, yer Evilness?" Brute asks with a grin.

Brute arrives at the party. late as usual, and quickly spots Wyvern. "Hullo, O Scaly One! Happy birthday, my friend." Brute offers the almost-dragon a map that indicates the location of an actual dragon hoarde. "I dunno if it's authentic or even guarded, but I thought you could find some way to profit from it nonetheless." With that, Brute smiles and turns towards the door. He whistles loudly and waves. "Ok, fellas! Bring 'em in!" Several large brutish men begin carrying in barrel after barrel of booze. "A little something to wash down the cake with," Brute offers with a wink. (I hope you have an excellent birthday. May you always be in the good company of friends and family on this celebrated day and all others to come.)

As Ethics stands admiring his aim, Brute strolls up beside him while popping booze-flavored gummis into his mouth. "Well, hullo there stranger!" he says to the new applicant with a grin. Brute looks from Ethics to the catapult, then his dark eyes trail upwards to the broken window. "Nice shot," Brute says as he thumbs another gummi into his mouth. Brute looks back to Ethics and winks an ebony eye. "I suppose O Scaly One will be along soon. Half of the town probably saw that golden box fly through the air towards his study. If Wyvern didn't actually see it himself, he'll definately hear rumors about it, I'm sure. Good luck with the application, my determined friend." With that, Brute pops the last gummi into his mouth and opens a flask of booze to wash them down with. The tall mage lumbers off to a nearby tavern to drink a bit and to spread a few rumors.

Alaeha's comment about dumb people greatly outnumbering the intelligent ones sparks a dim memory in Brute's booze-addled brain. "Needed something..flashlights?" he mumbles. With a shrug, his dwindling memory gives way to the ever-present obsession. "Mmm..tasty booze!"

With a look of surprise upon his pale face, Brute stares in awe at the list of promoted. "Wow," he mutters to himself, "I'm a Quill-bearer." A slow smiles spreads across his white face and touches the ebony eyes set upon it. "Booze...I'll certainly need lots of it fer the celebration and such." The mage lumbers away from those gathered about the list. Emerald rings glitter brightly on each of his darkened hands as he silently counts the barrels required for the task at hand. (Thanks for the promotion!! And congrats to everyone else who received one as well!)

A most excellent post, Lumpy! Thanks for sharing with us. For what it's worth, I think yer teach is crazy.

Brute dusts off his email and checks it thoroughly. Yep. Still works.