V
VikkiWolfbane
Guest
<html> <head> <meta content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" http-equiv="content-type"> <title>YMCA Story Night 101306</title> </head> <body> <h1 style="text-align: center;">YMCA Story Night!</h1>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I was chatting with the guests that did show up there about the event that just went on about an hour prior. Talking about the coins that were gotten off the rats. Which, by the way, I did find out something interesting about those little coins. When you lock them down in your house and you double click them, it flips them in the air and it'll tell you whether you got heads or tails. *note to self~must bring one of those coins for the Y* Ahem, anyways back to the Story Night. Apparently me talking about the coins gave Dor the idea for this story she was about to tell us. It's called, "A Few Gold Coins". And it was originally penned by a gentlemen from another shard, Rumil of Lorain.
"I die, but I shan't go alone! My last request must be honored! Bring me the head of Irongrip Goodfellow! Bring it here! Bring it today! Irongrip Goodfellow, curse his name and ancestry! Thirty years I've hated him, and now he'll die with me! Go quickly! Bring me his head so that I may die in peace!" The crazed elder, a merchant named Declan, shook his fists like knots in a rope, then sagged back on his musty bed. Over and over he muttered, "Irongrip Goodfellow"!
Belgar plucked at his beaded moustache. The barbarian was hung in leather and fur, an old steel helm, and an iron-rimmed shield much battered. A bearded axe was shoved in his broad belt. "I usually don't accept assassinations, but I usually don't miss three meals in a row, either. Where do I find this Irongrip Goodfellow"? Eyes closed, the merchant waved a claw. "Penders can direct you". The servant nodded at the dim stairwell, and Belgar descended to the street. A wardog hopped up. Like his master, Tug was pitted and striped with scars. His tail, and one ear had been bitten down to half. Penders pointed down the dusty street. "Irongrip's tower stands by the south road. You can't miss it". "I've attended your master as you asked. Might I have a retainer to visit this Irongrip fellow"? Coins changed hands. Belgar picked up his bindle and bow and wended south by the marketplace. "We took their coin, Tug, so we took the job". The dog's tounge lolled and dripped.
Late in the day, only a few stalls were open, but Belgar bought himself a wedge of cheese, and a loaf of black bread, and drank from the communal fountain. Locals and travelers of all races and colors lingered and laughed and hoisted tankards. Belgar was moved to ask his dog, "Why do you suppose, Tug, among all these brawny idelers, none have collected the bounty on this Goodfellow's head"? Farther along, a chicken went to Tug, who ate it beak, feathers, and feet. The farm wife asked, "What bit off his ear"? "I did", said Belgar. "He's mean when he drinks". South of the road split, amidst towering white pines reserved for the king's masts. Belgar glimpsed a white tower's top between boles. Down a slope lay a meadow muzzy with bees and hummingbirds. Centermost and alone stood the tower of Irongrip Goodfellow.
Jigging down the steep road, Belgar walked right up to the tower, for it was unwalled, unfenced, and undefended. Around and 'round went Belgar and Tug, but found never a seam, chink, crack, door, or window. Finally the Barbarian stopped circling and plucked his moustache. "This will take some thinking, Tug. Let's spend our last cash and ask some questions". Mounting the road, Belgar wove among pines to study tower from on high, but the top was domed and smooth as a bald man's pate. "At least we know what keeps the idlers at bay. I wonder what else they can tell us". The sky-roofed tavern was busier than before. Stepping under the tent fly, Belgar plucked a coin on the soggy bar. "A beer in a mug and one in a bowl, barkeep. And pray tell, how might I enter the tower of Irongrip Good--" "Get Him"! "He's Mine"! "Stand Aside"! Belgar gaped as idlers sprang up to fight.
With swords, axes, polearms, stools and benches, the crowd elbowed each other to kill the stranger. The stranger had no desire to kill, so Belgar left his axe in his belt and merely raised his shield. A giant ran his snout full into the iron rim. Beer spumed in an arc as Belgar smashed his tankard against the other giant's eye and tripped the behemouth into his partner. A swordsman caught the iron boss against his jaw. Tug tore into a trio of dwarves, who promptly screamed. Belgar knocked one man into a crate of chickens, and another into a flowerbed, then jerked a long-armed pikeman over the bar to crash amid crockery. Some laggards still shoved to get him, so Belgar hauled up the bar and pitched it in their faces. The two kegs that propped the bar followed, bursting into staves. As the tent fly fluttered down, Belgar grabbed a pole and pounded heads and shoulders until the locals' enthusiasm waned. Catching his breath, Belgar snagged a broken-nosed man by the hair and dragged him to eye level. "Apologies, friend, but I'm cranky when hungry. May I ask why"?
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"to be continued"</span>
<div style="text-align: left;"> What a cliffhanger Dor! *grins* Can't wait to hear the rest of it next week. And I hope to see all of you next week as well! Until then Good Luck, Have Fun, and Safe Journeys!
Lady Vikki Wolfbane
UOS Sonoma News Reporter
</div> </div>
</div> </div> </body> </html>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I was chatting with the guests that did show up there about the event that just went on about an hour prior. Talking about the coins that were gotten off the rats. Which, by the way, I did find out something interesting about those little coins. When you lock them down in your house and you double click them, it flips them in the air and it'll tell you whether you got heads or tails. *note to self~must bring one of those coins for the Y* Ahem, anyways back to the Story Night. Apparently me talking about the coins gave Dor the idea for this story she was about to tell us. It's called, "A Few Gold Coins". And it was originally penned by a gentlemen from another shard, Rumil of Lorain.
"I die, but I shan't go alone! My last request must be honored! Bring me the head of Irongrip Goodfellow! Bring it here! Bring it today! Irongrip Goodfellow, curse his name and ancestry! Thirty years I've hated him, and now he'll die with me! Go quickly! Bring me his head so that I may die in peace!" The crazed elder, a merchant named Declan, shook his fists like knots in a rope, then sagged back on his musty bed. Over and over he muttered, "Irongrip Goodfellow"!
Belgar plucked at his beaded moustache. The barbarian was hung in leather and fur, an old steel helm, and an iron-rimmed shield much battered. A bearded axe was shoved in his broad belt. "I usually don't accept assassinations, but I usually don't miss three meals in a row, either. Where do I find this Irongrip Goodfellow"? Eyes closed, the merchant waved a claw. "Penders can direct you". The servant nodded at the dim stairwell, and Belgar descended to the street. A wardog hopped up. Like his master, Tug was pitted and striped with scars. His tail, and one ear had been bitten down to half. Penders pointed down the dusty street. "Irongrip's tower stands by the south road. You can't miss it". "I've attended your master as you asked. Might I have a retainer to visit this Irongrip fellow"? Coins changed hands. Belgar picked up his bindle and bow and wended south by the marketplace. "We took their coin, Tug, so we took the job". The dog's tounge lolled and dripped.
Late in the day, only a few stalls were open, but Belgar bought himself a wedge of cheese, and a loaf of black bread, and drank from the communal fountain. Locals and travelers of all races and colors lingered and laughed and hoisted tankards. Belgar was moved to ask his dog, "Why do you suppose, Tug, among all these brawny idelers, none have collected the bounty on this Goodfellow's head"? Farther along, a chicken went to Tug, who ate it beak, feathers, and feet. The farm wife asked, "What bit off his ear"? "I did", said Belgar. "He's mean when he drinks". South of the road split, amidst towering white pines reserved for the king's masts. Belgar glimpsed a white tower's top between boles. Down a slope lay a meadow muzzy with bees and hummingbirds. Centermost and alone stood the tower of Irongrip Goodfellow.
Jigging down the steep road, Belgar walked right up to the tower, for it was unwalled, unfenced, and undefended. Around and 'round went Belgar and Tug, but found never a seam, chink, crack, door, or window. Finally the Barbarian stopped circling and plucked his moustache. "This will take some thinking, Tug. Let's spend our last cash and ask some questions". Mounting the road, Belgar wove among pines to study tower from on high, but the top was domed and smooth as a bald man's pate. "At least we know what keeps the idlers at bay. I wonder what else they can tell us". The sky-roofed tavern was busier than before. Stepping under the tent fly, Belgar plucked a coin on the soggy bar. "A beer in a mug and one in a bowl, barkeep. And pray tell, how might I enter the tower of Irongrip Good--" "Get Him"! "He's Mine"! "Stand Aside"! Belgar gaped as idlers sprang up to fight.
With swords, axes, polearms, stools and benches, the crowd elbowed each other to kill the stranger. The stranger had no desire to kill, so Belgar left his axe in his belt and merely raised his shield. A giant ran his snout full into the iron rim. Beer spumed in an arc as Belgar smashed his tankard against the other giant's eye and tripped the behemouth into his partner. A swordsman caught the iron boss against his jaw. Tug tore into a trio of dwarves, who promptly screamed. Belgar knocked one man into a crate of chickens, and another into a flowerbed, then jerked a long-armed pikeman over the bar to crash amid crockery. Some laggards still shoved to get him, so Belgar hauled up the bar and pitched it in their faces. The two kegs that propped the bar followed, bursting into staves. As the tent fly fluttered down, Belgar grabbed a pole and pounded heads and shoulders until the locals' enthusiasm waned. Catching his breath, Belgar snagged a broken-nosed man by the hair and dragged him to eye level. "Apologies, friend, but I'm cranky when hungry. May I ask why"?
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"to be continued"</span>
<div style="text-align: left;"> What a cliffhanger Dor! *grins* Can't wait to hear the rest of it next week. And I hope to see all of you next week as well! Until then Good Luck, Have Fun, and Safe Journeys!
Lady Vikki Wolfbane
UOS Sonoma News Reporter
</div> </div>
</div> </div> </body> </html>