Being a Dirge

[Whysprr_Wyrd]

Stickied, eh?  Well, new dirges, or new to this board, and old dirges too, welcome to you.  Please take a few minutes to introduce yourselves via this thread.  Some ideas for how are below. 

---

 

So, I was responding to another post entirely tonight, when I got to thinking.  This is a dangerous thing for me to do. 

 

Why are you a dirge?  Or, more precisely, how are you a dirge? 

 

There's just a whole ton of fascinating folks who post here.  Whether it's finding an unexpected and astonishingly strange bug in Zander's, or helping a newbie, or complaining about how we complain about the complaining, there's always some brilliance being shown off. 

 

I want to know more about you fascinating Dirges out there; in particular, how you conceive your characters.  This is just for entertainment; well, actually, except for a few unfortunate souls farming plat for a living, it's all for entertainment but you get the idea.  And I'm throwing out some questions not to constrain, but to nucleate the discussion.  If you start answering one of 'em and wander onto some strange shores, that's a good thing and should be pushed along. 

What do you do when you're not hunting and questing?  What do you want out of life -- are you family-oriented, are you a power-seeker, do you just want them to say, "We need a good player, get ". 

What music do you play?  Would you rather play in an amphitheater for ten thousand screaming fans, or in a loud, smoky blue-collar bar for fifty serious drinkers, or an avant-garde jazz club for the twelve people on the planet who understand your music, or a volunteer-run church-basement folk coffeehouse?  Do you play music because it's in your bones, or because it's indoor work with no heavy lifting, or because your family did it forever and you never considered doing anything else, or for hot-and-cold-running-groupies? 

If someone asked you what a perfect day was, what'd it be?  Why're you out there getting whomped by vicous beasties instead of vending exquisitely-embroidered-tunics in Qeynos Harbor? 

Are you cute?  Are you doing anything Friday night? 

Oops.  Strike the last paragraph. 

Whysp

"A group without a dirge is like a day without drizzle"

Fab sig by Lunna!

Edited to fix an egregious typo

Edited for 'stickied' context

Message Edited by Whysprr on 07-17-2006 06:40 PM

Message Edited by Whysprr on 07-19-2006 09:16 AM

Message Edited by Whysprr on 07-19-2006 09:16 AM

[Lordviperscorpian]

I kill FP.

[Aya Lin]

Whysprr

 

Wells met.  As a young pup I was always singings so papas took mes to entertains the crowds near the Executions plaza in Wests Freeports.

 

I likes enterainings them but I likes making them crys even more.  Dark, mournfuls songs full of sadness and pains.  Papa saids I was depressings but the crowds gave more moneys when they crieds.  The militias were distracteds enough that they didn'ts always notice papa pickings their pockets soes he was happys.

 

Now I'ms a rough toughs adventurers I like questings the bests, with friends if I cans, but alone if I must.  After a hard days shiny gatherings and drake slaughterings nothing makes me happiers than relaxings over a nice ales at the Inns in East Freeports.  The Bartenders theres still crys when I sings which takes me backs to my young days whens I was trainings to be a bard.

 

 

[DwarvesR]

I am dirge because I usally like to try to be a bit unique in my character choices.  Dirges are quite uncommon, so I wanted to be one for that reason, and especially as a Freeportian High Elf, since a High Elf can be a Dirge without betraying, I figured very few would bother.  I felt that the Dirge seemed a little more appropriate to Freeport, being a bit more offensively oriented.

Then once I started playing my Dirge I fell in love with everything she could do -- how fast she ran, how she could tailor her buffs to each group she was in, how she could solo decently well, but didn't have to worry *too* much about the whole "stun and get behind" thing. . basically I just enjoyed playing her.

And I get to look this good too:

As to the "Am I cute?" question, well, I certainly like to think so, and I don't have any plans for Friday. . . .

[Kaeylum]

I became a dirge for one reason, to bring pain. To find that one note, that when played right, will make peoples heads explode. Plus chicks dig the bad boy musicicans.

[goyom]

We get to sing the brown note to the mobs???   =P

[Kullgen]

I envision Dajaan as kind of a protest song-singing folkie Kerra. His songs aren't happy, but they rile people up into action. He's probably an activist for Centaur rights, being seen as part animal himself. A perfect day for him would be one where he found a field of shrubs to pick, sent a few hundred Gnolls to hell, and tripped an Erudite. I've been playing off and on since release (more off than on, but frequent rerollings), and I NEVER wanted to play a scout. At release they were so much different, and the game was a pain. When I came back this time, fully expecting to only play for a week tops, I made Dajaan. He's the only character I've gotten past 23. Granted, he's only 31, but that's an amazing accomplishment considering my history. I'm constantly amazed at how much FUN I have playing him, and how much my duo partner (a monk) and I can do together. Throw in a healer and we're nearly unstoppable. I'm a compulsive board-browser, and always looking for tips on whatever class I'm learning at the time, and your posts are rapidly becoming my favorites, Whysprr.

[Rijacki]

A hush falls over the crowd in the dark lounge as the drum starts a rolling beat.  A strong woman's voice rises over the drum.Rumble ThunderA beat starts on the cymbol and rises to a creshendo.Crash down lightningA single spotlight lights part of the stage, a woman's bareback with golden glyphys dancing on the chocolate skin.  A mournful trumpet and piano join the drummer to accompany the singing.Rumble ThunderRain come tumblin' downRumble ThunderRain comes tumblin' downDon't care 'bout no feverDon't care 'bout muddy ground

The singer turns and is holding the tinkered amplification device as if it's a lifeline and bleeds her heart into her song.Crash down lightningLight my way from hereCrash down lightingLight my way for meCrash with the white lightLet the whole world seeHer eyes close in pain as she raises one hand and brings it down in a fist, swaying lightly to the music.  She punctuates each word with passion and internal pain. See me so wet and blueSee me coming on back home to youno need for me to try to hideThe rain washed away all my prideBlow rain waterBlow wind, thunder rollIf I find any shelterStrike it down and rain some moreRain down rainSoak me through and throughRain down rainsoak me through and throughI'll either drown or learn my lessonCome crawling on home to youI'll either drown or learn my lessonThe music stops and she sings the last line alone.Come crawling on back home to youShe drops her head, spent of all passion, and lets the amplification device fall limp in her hand to her side as the band finshes with a soft slow flourish.(( The song is by Big Maybelle, Rain Down Rain.  Ohelia is a torch singer.  While -I- like a -wide- variety of music, the music I feel most comfortable listening to while I play her is smoky blues, cabaret, lounge songs, torch song, "singers and standards", French cabaret, old stuff and new.  It's her fault I have bought several CDs in the last month *laugh*.  But while playing Rijacki, I tend to listen to industrial and electronica *laugh*.  When I play my happy-go-lucky ratonaga it's swing and Broadway.  The first dirge I started on AB is more industrial and metal, -pain- music *laugh* (but she's a follower of Sayrn so, of course *laugh*).Ohelia's parents were convinced she would be a priest (why else would she have "compassion" for her glyphs) and are rather scandalised by her singing.  They're even more scandalised that she sings in public.Ohelia is elegant but channels the passion of pain and deep emotion into her songs even though she hasn't experienced many of the things she sings.  The compassion imbued in her since birth and marked on her skin in her glyphs are part of why that's true.  She can express the pain someone else might be bottling up, releasing it from the one who is crippled by it.  She can also use her voice, her songs to bring other release, to release the life force from those who are destined to die.I -love- the dirge.. or maybe Ohelia has just got me wrapt *grin*.  I have fun with dirge, solo, group, raid, exploring at mach speed.  I've been playing EQ2 since release (Rijacki was my original character).  Ohelia was created in February.  I played EQ1 and, while I -loved- bard, never got a chance to play one past the 20s (circumstances kept preventing it).  I -suck- at kiting, though *laugh*.  I rolled Ohelia to test the waters on Guk while contemplating moving Rijacki.  Ohelia has become my raid character (I had intended to raid with Rijacki *laugh*) and I love playing her (or did I say that already)?  I had nearly quit the game because I wasn't enjoying playing on AB and so I was looking for a different "connection" because I enjoy EQ2 and didn't want to give up something I -love- just because one place was getting me.. umm.. down.  I'm sooo glad I did. ))

[Priestbane]

Sorschae is a bit of an oddity, and not because I was going for an oddity.  I had just gotten off playing DAoC, and I *love* the thematic nature of that game (still possibly my favorite game to date, though for raw fun, CoH has everything beat, on a limited basis).  When planning EQ2 I was very doubtful I'd enjoy it... I *hated* EQ1 because of arbitrary mechanics that didn't make any sense, awful graphics (immersion is audio and visual for me), poor customer service with regards to reconciliation of issues (and I'm not talking getting my way here either, I have worked for years in a customer service environment), and while I certainly liked the lore in EQ1, it was extremely aggravating to play.  I did anyway... for *five* years, because there was not much choice... my friends had left UO to play here and I play for my friends, not for the game platform... until EQ2.

I like EQ2.  I like it a lot.  I don't like everything in it, but the quality level *is there*.  So I keep playing it, and will likely enjoy my NEXT 5 years of MMOing very much... despite a marked lack of an increase in their customer service ability.  (A policy of locking responses to customer service tickets without asking the customer first is INSTANT aggravation, but I digress.)  Maybe they'll get that improved someday.

So, back on topic:  When planning the move to EQ2, I had 5 people who wanted to play consistently.  After doing a little research (pre-beta) we decided that we should have one of each of the four archetypes at least.  I chose the scout.  (I've always played tanks or heavy melee before... I just like that kind of class.  I wanted something different, but wanted to stay with the melee part)  We had a Warlock to be, a Guardian to be, a Warden to be and a Mystic to be.  While researching the scout classes, I found that I liked the concept of the rogue, but I like magic... and then I saw that dirges would get to resurrect.  Dirges could be neutral, and we hadn't picked our starting city yet.  Dirges were bards (ew, right?  I was used to being a heavy tank, and here I was picking arguably the least tanky of the scout classes), which meant they could do magic as well as melee.  And Dirge sounded neat to me... not a silly fop... a serious battle-scarred veteran of pain and anguish.

And then, to be contrary, I picked a tiny little woodelf with butterflies in her hair.

When DoF came out, I picked the "Cheerful" voice option.

 

I'm wierd like that.  Anyway, after having come fresh off of DAoC, I was still VERY much in the Norse mode, so rather than any old guitar strummer... MY dirge was going to be a battle-chanter, a skald (didn't actually play one in DAoC though; played a thane there), a warrior-poet.  Her voice was her weapon, her inspiration, her leadership, and her instrument.  Everything about Sorschae's music is angry-mournful.  To tie her into Norrathian history, her anger and rage does come, in part, from the senseless ravages wrought by and during the age of cataclysms.  But her anger and rage is boxed up so she can be a healthy member of society.  If there were no clearly defined evils in Norrath for her to combat, she'd be a sociopath, since those evils are where Sorschae can relax her guards and let loose.

 

A perfect day for Sorschae is a steely-grey sky, and sharp, cold air.  The only audience for Sorschae's music are her brothers- and sisters-in-arms, and the opponent she intends to fell.  She does not play for entertainment, except the entertainment of the last extreme defense (or offense) of life.

I *personally* (the player of Sorschae) enjoy grouping the most, and raiding as a comfortable third-of-the-time occupation, because I enjoy cooperative efforts.  I enjoy soloing (and the capacity to solo) as a means to an end without bothering other folk, and often as a challenge.  I quest a lot, but not obsessively, because I enjoy learning lore, and am a little competitive, and the number of quests complete is a metric. =)

My loot dice are broken.

 

EDIT:  I was reminded WHY I picked butterflies in the hair... it's part of the dichotomy, see:  butterflies are carrion eaters.  =)  Oh yeah, and Sorschae's bed actually FLOATS on hearts.  You should check out my thoroughly messy apartment in Qeynos Harbor sometime...

Message Edited by Godstalk on 06-10-2006 11:30 PM

[Cazri]

Before EQ2 was released I was reading class descriptions and changing my mind every week what I was going to play. First bruiser, second warlock then I read about bards, I wasn’t in the slightest bit interested in playing a bard. I knew EQ2 was full of quests like EQ and they would be hard to solve. I read the features of the Bard.

Sneak

Track

Safe fall – [expletive haxx0red by Raijinn] safe fall? They aren’t Rogues.

And I assumed being a bard they would have Speed (wrong! At that stage anyway)

 

So the idea grew that if I was going to discover new quests and see them through without the help of allakhazam’s (the old ogaming) that a Bard would be ideal. This appealed to me greatly, a one man quest machine.

Being brought up on camping named, kill stealing and kiting this made sense. Now choose between the two bards.

 

Troubadour: arcane essentially and some mezzes, a charm perhaps?

Dirge: disease based no mezzes but rez at higher levels.

 

 

Deciding factor, my friends and I were going Freeport, we were going to be EVUL. I’m sorry although a troubadour looks better on paper, it just sounds too [Removed for Content]. Dirge it is.

 

In other games I have played I had made the mistake of starting one character, levelling abit, and then starting a new one. I would end up with 5 level 20 characters and not one at level 50. I set a goal for myself, no alts until I am max level. I have had a station account since they put SWG on it and to this day I only have 3 characters on my account two of which are level 15, and 11 respectively. So from the day EQ2 was released to now I have been a Dirge, with a few sabbaticals from EQ2 to other games or just real life.

 

The thing I like most about my character is how my guild mates love him. I may not always be a true believer (as in I think I am gimped from time to time). But the tanks, mages and other scouts just love me to death. My especially favourite time is when they fight (jovially) at the start of a raid which group gets me. It’s like I am the first guy picked for the kickball game in the schoolyard. It’s nice to be wanted.

 

My wife plays EQ2 also, and these days she is the quest guru, I just take a back seat and go along for the ride. I still like my dirge for the same reasons I did before I even got him and for a few new ones as well.

[SorrySonOfA]

I'd never played a game of this sort before.  The guild I was in for playing a FPS was talking this game up big when it was about to roll out.  I gave it a chance.  I had lots of questions, and learned alot.  I played as a wood elf ranger because that was what was suggested to me.  It was ok, and I did enjoy alot of the scout aspects of the game.  I hated however that there was nothing for me to do in the way of helping the group other than evacing or a dinky speed buff.

Tomlesh was created on a lark.  He was a human since I had no idea what stats would be good for a bard.  I envisioned him as the town drunk that somewhat amused those he was around.  For the longest time he had the worst kill to death ration of anyone I knew.  I would play him from time to time with absolutly no seriousness at all.  He only got to come out if the guild had a new toon that needed a little help.

Then one day I was griping about my ranger not being able to solo his way out a wet paper bag (not totally accurate, but I was in a awakward level), and a guildie says "Well he doesn't have to be your main.".  I puzzeled on that for a bit.  My ranger was 30 levels higher than any of my other alts, and most of my friends were in the middle of thier drives for 60.  I started doing pick up groups with my dirge.  I found I could solo very well, and pick up groups were oddly much easier to find as a dirge.

Strange thing was my dirge ended up hitting 60 sooner than several of my friends mains.  And now I have a level 70 Dirge, 65 Inquistor, a level 56 Ranger (rotting in a dark place), 51 Warden, and numerous other sub-30 toons.

I still play my dirge as a bit of a wild man though. 

[Rijacki]

---

Cazrial wrote:

But the tanks, mages and other scouts just love me to death. My especially favourite time is when they fight (jovially) at the start of a raid which group gets me. It’s like I am the first guy picked for the kickball game in the schoolyard. It’s nice to be wanted.

---

That's the icing on the cake for me.  After having played a ranger in EQ1, it's very very nice.

[Kyrsten]

My dirge started as an alt.... which seems to be a fairly common theme among other dirges I chat with.  Kyrsten was born after my main hit L60 and that nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me of that one person who raided T5 with us all the time, who could invis, could dish out damage, who ran like the hounds of hell were chasing her, could revive the fallen, and still take a decent hit or three.  My main was a conjuror and wasn't capable of much else other than winning DPS drag races, which I found to be rather boring.  Enter the dirge.  At the time I had no idea about all the buffs the class offered, but was in love from the start.  She's now my main.

 

Kyrsten is a rather bloodthirsty Dark Elf, and is always ready for a fight.  She knows that while her talents make her invaluable to the wise, the same range of skills sometimes makes her appear weak when directly compared to others.  That's ok with her though, she knows what she's good at and has worked to excel in those areas.  She fears no encounter, has no use for a shield, and feels that her place is alongside her group or raids tank - to ensure her enemies hear every demoralising word of her dismal recital while she buries a blade in their bodies.  A perfect day would be filled with good friends questing together.

 

From an outright roleplaying perspective, she's somewhat distrusting of those she doesn't know, fiercly loyal to her friends, and has an mischevious streak that she manages to hide most of the time.  She's willing to take risks with her own life and will not hesitate to throw herself in front of a vulnerable ally in an attempt to save them.  Any for-pay performance would be something very dark and brooding (think Type O Negative, Rasputina, Lacuna Coil), with a stage backdrop made to resemble the Silent City.

Message Edited by ShadowRayven on 06-09-2006 08:29 AM

[Krescendo]

Hey, I hoped it would be like my EQI bard. In the ways it is, I like it. In the ways its better, I like it. In the ways it comes up short, well../shrug.

I play all out. I am a button pushing fool--a carry over from my EQI bard days. I run low on power (raiding) on almost ever mob, unless there is an chanter in the group. I will hang back if I know my survival is crucial for the raid, otherwise I try, pretty much unsuccessfully, to do all my debuffing AND make the DPS parse ( I do make the bottom slot of the top ten every now and then).

If I wanted to stand back, I'd wear a dress and carry a 'wand'. (Btw, I know some very successful bards who wear robes, stand back, and conserver their power, its just not me.) In addition, I two-box some (with a templar), so chain and mitigation are concerns of mine for my main armor.

Krescendo (Kerran) and his dwarven buddy Bhandade (templar) are brothers in spirit if not in the flesh. Sometimes their interests take them in seperate directions for weeks at a time, sometimes they a duoing their way through blue and even con heroics, taking each fight to the edge..

and sometimes, they take a break whilst I go fritter my time away on sub-thirty alts, because, when you get down to it, that part of EQII is every bit as fun as the end game. I have a 19 troll troubador, and I can tell you, playing a young bard is far better now than it was when the game opened, at least for me.

Message Edited by Krescendo on 06-09-2006 08:30 AM

Message Edited by Krescendo on 06-09-2006 08:34 AM

[Salmastryon]

EQ2 is my first MMORPG.  My RL friends have been trying to get me to play one since pretty much EQ1 came out.  I was vastly unimpressed and uninterested.  It cost money monthly to play and there was no plot.  In games, I'm all about the story.    So, after EQ2 released my freinds start telling me about what they are doing in EQ2, but this time it was different.  They were started talking about this quest or another or what they thought this npc was up to etc... not about corpses runs training mobs or crazy log zerg runs on some named boss.  At anyrate, it sounded vaguely interesting but I still wasn't going to fork out the money for it.  Then someone decided to give me EQ2 for Xmas. :smileysurprised:   And well the rest is history. I am thoroughly hooked. Kurai wasn't my first character, she was my second.  Ok technically my third, but the human in qeynos got axed at lvl 8 so she doesn't count :p  Basically, my first toon was a Warden and I pretty much liked her until I hit 25  the I got very frustrated soloing quests in nek forest.  This was back when druids were aggro kings and there were so many clerics running around that no one would pick me up for a group.  So I needed a toon to play solo when my friends weren't around to group with.   The really ironic thing was that when I created Kurai I really wasn't expecting to play her much, so I made her a Tier'dal just cause I liked the hairstyles and I choose a bard because typically in RPG games I typically like playing a thief that can melee and use magic.  I really should of started out as a bard from the start and not let myself be talked into trying soemthing new and being a priest class, because I loved playing a dirge.  Kurai quickly became my main, even though I finally got my warden to 30 and she could solo easy in EL.  My poor warden has languished ever since then, only coming out to tradeskill(she's my jeweler) or to help out a lower level guildie if they are hard up for a healer.At anyrate. due to the nature of her inseption Kurai didn't have much or any characterization at all.  Once I got hung up on her though, I started to really dive into the old EQ1 lore I could find on websites about tier'dal and any of the quests in EQ2 I could find.  She also started to develop a personality because of a delusional Iksar SK she plays with on occasion Kurai is a worshiper of Innoruuk and is nostalgic towards the old Thexian empire.  She suspects there are worthy reminents left somewhere in Norrath, but is pragmatic and patient enough to know she has time and wants to live comfortably while she waits.  She is scornful of and hates the weakling Tier'dal in Longshadow Alley and Nek forest who are lost in the past or have become needy and dependant.  She hates the people around her in general and specific and sees them to blame for how pathetic society has become.  She became a bard because it got her into places to listen to people with power.  There, she quickly discover they were as stupid as everyone else.  Since then, Kurai operates by learning whatever she can and using it to her advantage.  She's made somewhat of a name for herself in circles as being the person to go to if you need to find some strange gear for a gnome. a Sage wants you to hunt down this long list of runes or any number of places or things an adventurer needs to find.Kurai plays nice and puts up a polite facade to other races and people eventhough inside she holds them in contempt, because in her experience, in this world, the more people that owe you favors or think you are their friend, the more advantages you have.  The one exception is high elves and wood elves.  More often then not Kurai is openly disdainful and insulting to them.  But, the stupid air-headed things think she's just secretly nice on the inside and keep coming back.As for music Kurai play atmospheric music or ballads.  She plays soft melodies at meetings of influential people.  For other audiences she plays ballads, some of which are of interesting adventures to lure adventurers in purchasing info from her or gathering favors. Other times for her own pure enjoyment she plays ones of lost homelands or historical events that mirror painful memories too closely for the listener.  Kurai's music as her life is all about manipulating people she considers her inferiors for her own gain.  She also has an affectation of wearing red glovesI don't find myself RPing Kurai as much as I use to, because she is well, quite truthful something of a [expletive haxx0red by Raijinn]   Also, I've got a bunch of friends not really into the RPing thing that play wood elves and high elves and sometimes they take things Kurai says when she's in character a little too personally.  But, I'm still the go to gal if you want to get any quests done, or you want to read any of the numerous books scattered around(my room is overflowing).  I don't know how many people have asked me to sum up some bit up EQ2 lore or the plot of a quest line.  Ironic thing is my other alts rarely get asked to tell stories, just Kurai.

Playstyle, I'm mostly in groups, duos or trios, though I do solo often enough I got some gear I switch to for that.  While I like raiding, I wouldn't want to do it regularly, so it is an ocassional thing mostly when I get the motivation to organize one or I get invited to one.Edited for grammar and typos.

Message Edited by Salmastryon on 06-09-2006 11:55 AM

[Atd]

I played EQ1 for 5 yrs and quit when PoP came out and ruined my Porting busniess so I played DAoC and was a Skald and I loved the class. EQ2 came along and I was invited to beta so I played around with classes and when the game went live I chose a Warlock because I liked playing one in beta over the Dirge I tried.

I was 50 when LU13 came out and shelved my warlock and started a Zerker and while grouping with a Dirge one day I was amazed at how we were mowing thru mob's and when the Dirge went LD the group leader decided to keep fighting and needless to say we were wiped on the first pull. I talked to that dirge later and learned why we did so well with him in the group and thats when I chose to make my Dirge.

Atdanl is a Ratonga and named after my DAoC skald Atdan. I made him a Rat because I like small races and liked the Idea of a "Speedy Gonzolas" guy that would make the snooty folks that owned a horse mad when I ran in and out of the horses legs :smileyhappy:

The songs I play are sad and dark songs of lost love and missed treasure and mostly played just for me to listen to but every now and then a companion that I hunt with.

I mostly solo but I do like grouping with guildies and friends and I'm only 44 so no rading yet but I'm getting closer to that age.

My perfect day is going out and gathering items for my Jeweler to use and exploring and Love the speed to get away if I'm not hit by to high a level baddie:smileyhappy:

If you have ever seen a Ratonga in a full set of Ebon then you wouldn't have to ask if I was cute cause /em cues up ZZ Top " Every girls carazy about a sharp dressed rat "

Atdanl Catwhacker 44 Dirge

 

[Hubo]

Me ? Well....I sing happy songs about gigits and woozleboms and fibbledigs ! 

I got tired of always figuring how many widgets in a woodget. So what did I do you say ? Great question ! I picked up a lute and sang a tune.  And from there it history and I've never stopped.

For some strange reason you taller folk find my cheery melodies about hibbikins quite confusticating and annoying. I just don't understand why.......oh well...where was I. Oh yes....anyway non-gnomes seem to get all in a dither over my light hearted tunes....upset, even angry and chase me hither and yon !!!!   Guess that makes me a Dirge.      A genius is not appreciated in his own time I guess.

Well...that is....come to a gnomish tavern and you'll see all of us dancing and singing along to my platinum hits such as "Who burnt my eyebrows with a flaming tally-kook" , "Two fillidobs are better than one giglesnort" and everyone's favorite "Iggi, plik, zippi-do-kik".

So swing on by.....I can often be found playing in the Deep Mug Tavern in the Baubleshire.....I seem to always get the 3-5am shift when nobody is around......but you just wait until the word gets out that Izzo Fizzletune is on stage !!! I'll pack the house !

Oh....I almost forgot.....since my entertainment income is a bit...lacking.... these days I moonlight as an adventurer. Nothing like some fresh air and testing out my latest songs using my favorite X sharp and Z flat notes....which conveniently turn nasty orcs' and goblins' brains to mush. Mmm.....I'll have to work on those i guess.

 

Message Edited by Hubo on 01-10-200712:42 PM

Message Edited by Hubo on 01-10-2007 12:42 PM

[Lindar Phamoncry]

I have always been a bit "different" and welcome any chance to express it(pale skinned Ayr'Dal with B&W Patriot spikes and metal in my face oh yeah!)... that combined with an evil twist on it and I am set(even if SOE claims they are neutral.. what do they know anyways?)

 

Who is Lindar? He's an effing rock star that's who! That little guy in the corner you don't mess with because he is so [expletive haxx0red by Raijinn] hard! He knows the streets as he has lived there his entire life... smuggled out of Qeynos as an infant by a band of Carney folk (c'mon now whats scarier than Carnies?) in an effort to conceal a Noblewomans Infidelities who's husband was off on a crusade. He's independent and looks after himself and nobody else(in RP only) as is the Freeport way!

 

He spends his evenings drinking and eavesdropping the tavern patrons... distracting them as to steal their secrets(and their coin), so that he may further his knowledge of treasures untold. He has a reputation of being "The Dirty Dirge".. for its been rumoured that even a number of Ogress have found satisfaction by his means. He lives life by his rules, and despises those that would think themselves his better due to their false sense of ethics and morals(ie: Q's).

 

Is he free Friday night? ask the Milk Maiden! (though she knows better than to expect a call the next day unlike those fruity Troubs)

Message Edited by Lindar Phamoncry on 06-09-2006 05:16 PM

[Rijacki]

The variety is great!  Good thread

[Whysprr_Wyrd]

Briefly; I played one other MMO, Gemstone III nearly 13 years ago now.  I’m a tactician of the eggshell-armed-with-hammer school, so it was scout or mage, and I’m a devoted but modestly-talented amateur musician myself, so I chose bard, then dirge almost a year ago now, with absolutely no notion of the tactical plusses or minuses.  Whysprr’s my main, I don’t have anyone else above 15. 

I’m not a lore-mistress, or even a lore-one-night-stand, but Kurai pointed me to sources so I could use actual battle names instead of making something up.  I shamelessly appropriated the poem at the end, but it’s by J.B. Goodenough; I’ve never written anything nearly so perfect. 

=====

Qeynos Harbor.  Great sweeping vistas of sea and sky through wide windows, the smell of the sea and the cry of the gulls on the breeze.  At night the brilliant chandeliers would give a lovely light, illuminating the carefully-chosen paintings, the tasteful furniture.  A lovely Ayr-dal woman in a white silk gown plays her harp by the east-facing window overlooking the harbor; her playing is effortlessly beautiful, you almost wonder why she bothers to practice, except for the sheer joy of the music. 

Naaaah.  Try again. 

The first thing you notice is the smell.  Alcohol, unwashed clothing, and could that be weapon oil?  Unlikely, weapon oil smells clean.  The place badly needs airing out, which, since the one window is grimy and appears to have been painted shut the last time the place was painted, which was a very long time ago, it seems unlikely to get.  An expensive but battered guitar on the floor, between a pile of unwashed clothing and a pool of something which appears to have been deposited there quite late last night and which is the source of some but by no means all of the smell, indicates that a musician lives here.  Who’d have guessed?  Assorted bits of clothing, a man's and a woman's, strewn across the floor lead to a couch, where…

Nope.  Not really.  Let’s try this one. 

This room is clean, mostly.  Orderly, anyway, though far too cluttered to be called neat.  The wood of the walls and floor have been upgraded from the basics, but it looks like the work was done in a hurry by nearly the cheapest contractor who had to work around furniture the owner didn’t entirely clear out. 

The Winterfest decorations haven’t been put away yet. 

Two immense tapestries dominate the room.  They were clearly designed for a much larger space.  If you were to look behind one of them you’d find a statue of Antonia Bayle, face turned toward the wall.  It’d almost make you wonder if the owner didn’t write that very strange piece in the Qeynos Quibbler the other week about the ubiquitous statues being Antonia’s secret police magical monitoring devices.  Surely not. 

There’s a large table, where a map of Norrath, which one would guess was the table’s reason for being, is slowly being compressed to charcoal under alluvial layers of papers, books, Winterfest candelabra, and the odd wine bottle. 

There’s a jeweler’s workbench and a small forge.  Both are cheaply made and obsessively neat.  Hanging nearby is a set of utilitarian artisan’s clothes, sweat-stained, and scorched in places.  A note lies on the forge; “Sell by June 14th.  Upgrade workbench?” 

There’s a weapons rack.  Look, I told you the place was cluttered, we’re not done yet or even close.  There’s an axe, a sai, a longbow.  All of them look well-used and well cared-for.  If the owner of those weapons drove a car, it’d be a sensible sedan and the records of every oil change would be in the glove compartment.  There’s a stone tomahawk and a wicked dagger hung on the walls in much the same condition.  Other, slightly more formidable-looking weapons on the rack look less-worn, as if the owner is just using them for practice, at least for the moment. 

There’s a suit of chain mail by the weapons rack.  Mismatched chain mail, by the looks of it.  The purple shoulder-pieces are particularly hideous. 

A large dog asleep in a corner snores messily.  His name is Wyllym.  Any sensible person would consider him far too large a dog for the modest apartment.  The condition of the furniture reflects this simple fact.  There’s a leash hung by the door.  So that’s what that was for, not for... shame on you! 

There’s a small writing desk.  Under a glass alchemist’s flask is a thick sheaf of invoices for jewelry orders marked ‘paid’.  If you leafed through them, you’d mostly see bills for ranger runes, other scout upgrades, some belts, a few odd knickknacks.  There’s a bankbook in an upper drawer, with a shocking balance for the occupant of this modest apartment. 

In the center of the desk is a letter.  It’s from someone named Myssth, with a Freeport address, and it’s asking for money.  Asking rather peremptorily and rudely, hinting at terrible things which will happen if it’s not forthcoming.  Next to it is a reply, short and courteous, addressed ‘My Dear Sister’, with two platinum pieces stacked on it.  If you looked in the wastebasket you’d see a half-dozen replies wadded up; some angry, some disappointed, most refusing to send any money.  There are no tear-stains – no, not one – on any of them. 

There’s a quest-journal on the desk.  Lots of pages started, some completed, many crossed out, a few torn out, quite possibly in frustration. 

Under a back edge of the forge is a limp mass of cloth.  It hardly seems likely, but it might be a pair of men’s underwear.  There’s no other clothing on the floor, the owner isn’t that sort.  Is she reminding herself of something, or is it merely that she considers the underwear the owner’s responsibility and damned if she picks ‘em up?  From the condition of the floor around them, they’ve been there a long time, quite undisturbed. 

There’s a small dressing-table.  It resembles the weapons rack in that it contains weaponry, in this case those of a woman – possibly a performer of some sort -- fighting a spirited but ultimately doomed rear-guard action against Time’s legions.  The owner is more heavily-armed than a woman in her twenties needs to be, so this places her age, well, probably above that.   The bottle of bright-red, could it be hair dye?   Gods forbid. 

A large bulletin-board has papers tacked to it.  They’re in categories, each one with a single pin through a stack of pages; Willow Wood, Castleview Hamlet, Baubbleshire, Elddar Grove; one for each area of the city.  They look like a musician’s set-lists with comments: 

Starcrest Commune, Celeste’s Celestial Cabaret:  Tough crowd.  Narrowly missed by fireball on the seventh verse of the Battle of Defiance – omit that verse for Erudite audiences.  Stopped after second verse of The Hedgehog Song when wizard in the corner started making menacing passes.  Tried the Tragedy of Tristan and Isoult but it fell flat.  Tuned to E/F/G#/Bb and did scale and rhythm exercises for two hours, was given a bonus and invited back.  They don’t like historical ballads.  Avoid drinking the Starry, Starry Night.  Really.  

Baubbleshire, Bilroth’s Bar:  Great crowd, sang along, often in same key and in harmony.  Narrowly missed by sling-stone on the second verse of the Battle of Defiance – omit that verse for Halfling audiences.  Narrowly missed by crossbow quarrel on fourth verse, ditto for gnomes.  They don’t like historical ballads.  Had to do two encores of The Hedgehog Song. 

Willow Wood, Glendith’s Grotto and Piercing Pavilion:  Avoid pastoral love songs for this group.  Narrowly missed by arrow on the sixth verse of the Battle of Defiance – omit that verse for Ayr-dal and Feir-dal audiences.  Sing-alongs were marginal except during second set, when they became, unfortunately, inevitable.  They don’t like historical ballads.  Hedgehog Song went over well except that one couple started acting out the thirteenth verse and the guards had to be called.  (Attached to this set-list is a copy of a firmly-worded note asking the proprietor to reimburse the performer for bail expenses). 

Elddar Grove, Serafina’s Splendor:  It’s a really bad idea to change the lyrics of the Hedgehog Song to include High Elves.  Chased out during first set, just made Willow Wood border ahead of the longbow fire.  Didn’t get to try any historical ballads.  Didn’t get paid.  Note to self:  Koada-dal sense of humor bears no relation to mine. 

Castleview Hamlet, Lugluck’s Lagoon:  Noisy venue.  Crowd sang along enthusiastically but that just wasn’t a good idea.  Narrowly missed by flung mud on the eighth verse of the Battle of Defiance – omit that verse for Froglock audiences.  Don’t bring the good instruments to this place, the humidity is lethal.  Hedgehog Song met with polite incomprehension – amphibians!  They don’t like historical ballads.  Avoid the Steaming Swamp-water, ‘cause that’s not the name of a drink. 

Graystone Yard, Glod the Dwarf’s House of Heavy Drinking:  Need to learn more verses to ‘Gold.’  Narrowly missed by thrown axe on the eleventh verse of the Battle of Defiance – omit that verse for Dwarven audiences.  Hedgehog Song seemed like a bad idea, didn’t try.  They love historical ballads as long as the trolls lose.  Write something about the War of the Fay?  The more verses the better.  If Thoris offers to play backup on hammers refuse politely.  Ale is good, but twelve is too many.  Politeness has its limits. 

Graystone Yard, Harga the Barbarian’s House of Heavy Drinking:  Need to learn more verses to ‘Fight, Fight, Fight.’  Narrowly missed by thrown war-hammer on the twelfth verse of the Battle of Defiance – omit that verse for Barbarian audiences.  Hedgehog Song caused small riot, broken up by bartender with club, all part of the evening’s fun.  They’re bored by historical ballads.  They throw heavy objects when bored.  Try some ballads with higher body counts.  Refuse all invitations to dance; use weapons if necessary.  Politeness is wasted here.  Ale is terrible. 

There are more.  The pages on the bottom are yellow and brittle.  It looks like years worth of set-lists. 

There’s a modestly-sized bed.  It could sleep two, but you wouldn’t want to make a habit of it.  Next to the bed is a pair of journeyman’s boots, one upright, one on its side.  A slight wavering of the air above the upright one suggests that it’d be a bad, possibly fatal idea to inhale over it.  Also next to the bed is a mandolin on a stand.  The strings need to be changed.  The strings needed to be changed three months ago.  There are six packages of very expensive high-quality strings in a desk drawer, if you were wondering.  The leather mandolin case is lying nearby.  It’s covered in signatures; most of them you wouldn’t recognize, but one or two are prominent musicians in Qeynos; surprisingly prominent musicians. 

There is something, probably it’s a someone, in the bed.  It’s hard to be sure, because only three things give any indication of what’s under the blankets. The first is a slim hand, fingertips calloused from playing a stringed instrument, palms from holding weapons, clutching the edge of the blanket, quite possibly for dear life.  The second is a lock of hair, in a short, practical cut, but a shade of red rarely found in nature.  The last item issuing from the blankets is a tormented groan; either that of someone who knows she should get up but last night ended just a couple of hours ago, or else that of the same someone who also drank too much wine.  It could go either way. 

Next to the mandolin is a chair.  A music-stand sits in front of the chair.  On the stand is a piece of composing-paper and a pen.  There’s an almost-finished song on it, laced with crossed-out words and rewritten phrases.  Put together, sorting through the cross-outs and ink-blots but leaving the performance notes in, it reads like this, more-or-less: 

The fire is out, the moon is down; the parting glass is dry and done
And I must go and leave this town, before the rising of the sun.  (Weak line even if it sounds pretty?  Why not sleep in and leave with some daylight?)

Long’s the road, and many’s the mile, before I rest my soul again
With girls who weep, and girls who smile, at all the words and ways of men.  (Can I sing this?  It doesn’t scan if I write it ‘boys’ / women.  Don’t sing this at Lese’s in Starcrest!)

For some there are who may not bide, but wander ‘till their journey’s end
Nor take a girl to be a bride, nor keep a man to be a friend.  (Actually, there’s more than some there’s a bloody lot like this)

When I’ve done with wandering, I will sit beside the road and weep
For all the songs I did not sing, and promises I did not keep. 
(mandolin break here – use Drunken Dwarf’s Waltz?  Draog’s Dream?  Repeat last verse as tag)

Another groan comes from the bed.  The light streams in the windows.  The dog gets up and pads over to the bed. As he walks past, his tail stirs the mandolin strings.  They’re out of tune.  No matter, that; tuning is something one does every time one plays; all the time, as long as one plays.  The dog sniffs around. 

In a few moments there’s going to be some action; when a cold, wet nose contacts bare skin.  A kind person will leave at this point.  I’m sure you will, too. 

Best,

Whysp

 

[TwistedFaith]

I hit the cap on my ranger and I was looking for a new class. I REALLY like the scouts but in all honesty I am finding the whole DPS thing to be a pain and unfullfilling. I rolled the Dirge because there's more to this game than DPS, DPS classes are easily replaceable, lets see some Assasin/Ranger/Warlock/Wizzy try and do what my Dirge can do both in raids and in groups.

[Cazri]

---

Whysprr wrote:

Briefly; I played one other MMO, Gemstone III nearly 13 years ago now. 

---

My wife played Gemstone III and I played Dragonrealms, I asked her and she said that she recognized your name. She was Lady Sephrenia and Jubbley.

[Whysprr_Wyrd]

(Shaggy-Dog Story alert:  Softball is a dangerous game.  Standing in the field, there’s time to think.)

Dear Dirges,

It occurred to me that I may have inadvertently caused confusion, mentioning my sister Myssth without explanation in my previous posting.  Here is the story of our curious birth, and the prophecy that still haunts our lives…

A small village, somewhere in the Shattering.  Struggling to survive, through meteorfalls, rampaging Things, and wild magics.  Until It came.  Spawned of the debris when a meteorite vaporized a great magical library, it lived in the wilds, until it happened upon the poor, defenseless village. 

The Eater of Vowels. 

More a miasma than a creature, it fastened on the isolated townsfolk.  Micheala became Michael, and severe strains were placed on a marriage.  Chs and mdnss reigned. 

In the midst of the horror, twins were born to the Weirdwind family.  Using the last ‘y’s left in the village, my parents named us; I, the elder by a few minutes, Whysprr, and my sister, Myssth.  Shortly thereafter, Aisie and Ian died, the first, but by no means the last in the village to succumb. 

An ancient witch uttered a prophecy at our birth: 

Two sisters, born under the terror;
One will serve the dirges of Norrath
One will be a royal pain in the fundamentals. 

We were raised by the struggling village.   I soon demonstrated my talents for story and song; Myssth, hers for lying, petty theft, and borrowing small sums of money.  And when the gnolls drove us from our home, I settled in Qeynos as a dirge, and Myssth, true to the prophecy, became a highly-skilled brigand in Freeport. 

I’ve done my best to serve the dirges of Norrath, as you who read these messages know.  But with the discovery of the Kingdom of Sky, I have become aware of an ambiguity in the prophecy.  I have spent rivers of platinum consulting sages and seers, mystics and mages; I have wandered strange realms seeking knowledge from beings unknown to humanity, but none can tell me which interpretation of the prophecy is correct, though some of my fellow-hunters in Tenebrous Tangle have expressed strong opinions. 

You will recall that the prophecy was spoken during the reign of the Eater of Vowels.  Thus, it was not, precisely “One will serve the dirges of Norrath”.  It was really “n wll srv th drgs f Nrrth.”  It is therefore unknown to me, whether my destiny; my wyrd; is to serve the dirges of Norrath as scholar, example, and mentor, or the droags of Norrath, as a vitamin-filled, tasty snack. 

Best,

Whysprr Wyrdwynd

Dirge of Kithicor / Droag Munchie – it could go either way

[Priestbane]

We need to get you to a doctor right NOW, Whysprr...

[Rijacki]

*snicker*

[Anvilhead]

K runs an old school punk band with a lot of dark lyrics.  The smart mouthed, politically opinated front man of his band.

The Clash, The Dead Kennedy's, The Sex Pistols....that's the music that plays when K starts into battle.

Music is a hammer.  You beat folks over the head with it.  Heavy in sound with lyrics that are heavy in sentiment.  Always rebellious, and always in trouble.    Frequently he finds himself at odds with his band too.  Screaming, petulant, and always *right*.  He holds nobody above the scorn and ridicule. 

Can't stand his dismissive attitude?  What else would he expect from someone like you?

That being said, if you aren't the target of his jibes, there's a sort of guilty dark humor in it.  He speaks the bad things that nobody else wants to say, and adds a very dark twist of humor to it.  You'll admonish him for saying it in public, and suppress the laughter you hear inside.

It's the ability to say what others won't that people see and enjoy in his songs. 

 

Well, that's the nice portrait of him anyways. :smileywink:

[Figment_]

So here's my In-game description on my guild's forums for you all, nto the most politically correct thing in the world, but i had to post on this one instead of just lurk.  Every one has such a diverse background, i thought this may fit in.

Woodlark Whirlythingy, Maker-Upper of Titles

Fidelis- Lucan

Dirge (63): Weaponsmith (69): Gnome (99)

 

I know some of you know me already, but I was shocked to find that some people didn't!  I thought I was loud enough for most of Norrath.

Well lets do this like a bandage, fast & painless.. Hey I'm trying something new here! 

I have about 4 professions at the moment, tho I'm not too good at one of them, I'll go worst to best & explain myself & how I got into this stuff.

Profession the first: Boozing.  Being a lush is basically in the bardic handbook, on page 3.  The alcohol lowers inhibitions of me and my audience, and soothes an overworked throat.. see professions 3 and 4.  Still working on the lush thing, I'm a lightweight.

Profession the second: Weaponsmithing. Momma and Daddy were tinkerers in Ak'anon (I guess like you would expect that, they were gnomes too), before it got really bad there & they had to move.  The sounds and smells of a forge are some of my earliest memories, though they stopped tinkering and started weapon making.. weapons were sadly more useful than fizzgigglers, though no one really thought so.

Next: Dirge...ing.  Well, after all the shattering and the travelling, people were changed..  Especially the adventuring types. Even in the 'good' (more on that later) city, there were people who benefited in hearing songs about the sad times, to know that things would be better for fighting.  Momma saw this & sang her magic into those old funeral songs.. helped people cope, ya know?  Well happy songs always sound the same to me, after hearing her sing..  She's the one who named me after the little bird over in Oakmyst, kinda plain looking but when it opens it's mouth, it's song is poignant.. The only bird who will sing in mourning for its mate, dontcha know.
I may not be the best dirge out there, but Daddy said that I always had more spit & vinegar than sense.

Lastly, I'ma prostitute..  Maiden of the Night, Madam of Negotiable Desire, [Removed for Content].  However you want to label it, all the same thing.  Qeynos is a city of goodness, but who do you think funnels the bad thoughts & urges of the good people?  Some of them trust me wouldn't be able to find a signifigant companion, regardless of how good they act.  Good people can have bad ideas, thoughts & do bad things.. I just give so of them an outlet so that during the day they can stay good, and at night be naughty.  Or, in some cases, punished for the naughtiness they think has no place in their mind.  I have bedded Captains of the Guard to tavern wenches; from High Priestesses of Elrossi Marr to apprentice wizards from the tower.  The Ironforge Exchange considers this just another trade, taxes me and my ladies, and the Queen herself (quietly) sanctions my work.  Even a city of light has shadows, I just work in the (near)legal ones.

Well, thats about all i want to tell people in an informal way like this, if you have questions for me, just ask.

And if anyone needs my 'services'-  Last room on the left, top of the North Qeynos inn.

WL

Message Edited by Figment_ on 06-17-2006 05:46 PM

[Desdichada]

I have been reading this forum for a year, but this is my first post. Greetings All, strange, I think I know most of you and you have no idea who I am.

 

I played a shadowknight on Firiona Vie and although I always wanted to roll a bard, the rules set on FV allowed only one char. When I moved to AB, the SK was the main for a while, and then I rolled a bard. There wasn't really any hesitation on the subclass - dirge is the closest in spirit to a shadowknight as I played it, and being a Russian, I could not possibly be a troubadour. If anyone has ever heard Russian folk or drinking songs or whent through Russian lit, you would understand. Here is a short quote from an old drinking song: "Every day makes our path to the grave one step shorter".

 

So, Cagliostra is a moody gnome that often uses her dagger as a bow to play her mandolin. Since we are exchanging stories, here is one from my guild board.

------

An Harlequin

It has been one of these moody days when Cagliostra would feel like she was meandering in a sticky swamp of apprehensive anticipation. And for no reason at all. Nothing really happened yet, the day was young, maybe too young, and maybe the previous night was too involving with attending festive events her new home was putting up. She has been with the Shadow Slayers for some time now and was gradually becoming accustomed with the etiquette and curtseys and smiling when not feeling like smiling, with the understanding that her actions and behaviour were representing more than just herself. It was different now.

Prior to her joining the Slayers, on a swampy, moody day like that, she would just walk around the city. She would stay around the Harbor, nursing a feeling of being alone in the crowd, the feeling that only a city dweller can understand and appreciate. She would actively seek things that could compound the mood. She would get to the fishing wharf and look with disgust at the merchants and their help cleaning fresh catch, almost enjoying the stench, the look of blood puddles, the sight of dirty obnoxious kids playing by the docks and chasing wealthy looking adventurers. Everything that was bad on days like this was good, it was all leading to the wave of inspiration, a necessary tradeoff in Cagliostra's world.

Now, a Slayer, Cagliostra was feeling a bit uneasy when moods like this would suddenly coat her with some socially repelling oil. Slayers were all so visibly made of Light, they were almost blinding. And she was trying not to display her inner struggles too often. During functions at the lounge, she would sometimes go alone to the library and mindlessly thumb through books, often not even being aware of what those books were about. She even tried not to disturb Frogloks in Castleview with her music anymore.

Dear Bristlebane, this day was bad. So bad, that Cagliostra did not even think of hiding her mood, she was heading directly to the Harbor wearing all her fighting gear still covered with blood stains from the first boat ride to Enchanted Lands earlier that morning. She wasn't sure if she was going to indulge herself with the misery of the Harbor scenes or go someplace into the wild and spill the anger oozing from her onto creatures there. Then she saw Vegalas Brimmstone, her guild master.

He was clad in the regal shiny armor he would sometimes wear for his walks around the city, usually followed by an acolyte or two, but this time, he was surrounded by a swarm of dirty little kids Cagliostra hated so much on her inspiration fishing trips to the Harbor. After brief greetings, Vegalas in his mild and firm manner suggested she played something to entertain him and the kids. This could not have come at a worst time, but she was not going to disobey his request.

Sure, she could have just forced herself to be a polite performer, pleasantly singing some troubadourish ballad that all kids loved to listen to. Oh, something about heroes and slaying of mighty foes and such, but the anger of the day just started boiling over inside the gnome. She was about the same height as the kids were, so unlike the tall elf guild master, she had a direct and level eye contact with her presumptive audience. She scanned them, as if sizing the crowd and then she turned her face into a mask, a mask of nothingness, a mask of a wide grin and empty eyes. Her mandolin sprang into her hands and rang with a distorted tremolo.

Kids stiffened and some backed off, not sure what were they looking at, or what was gazing at them. But then Cagliostra moved. Her steps were wooden as if she were a wooden marionette, but her moves followed a pendulum like rhythmic pattern forcing the stops and sets in the ringing distorted tremolo of gnome's mandolin. The gloomy anger of the day started bursting out of her, as she played the sorrowful figure of an harlequin her grin swapping into a scowl mad at the world, or into the crying grimace mourning a loss of something dear.

Kids, in their innocent, mindless cruelty, started to laugh at the pure market square show unfolding in front of them, totally unaware of how real the performance was. And then some kids started following her moves and her face masks. Others joined in. Suddenly wooden sticks and some metal junk pieces appeared from nowhere and kids were banging on them following Cagliostra's insane dissonance and rhythmic patterns eventually forming a circle behind her and in a flash it was a mad theater of noisy harlequins crookedly marching and dancing around the towering shining figure of Vegalas Brimmstone.

 

Desdichada, 58 SK, Shadow Slayers, AB

Cagliostra 56 Dirge, Shadow Slayers, AB

 

[Salmastryon]

I'm not trying to necro this thread, really.  But, this is a great thread where people have introduced themselves and thier Dirges.  I was thinking we should get it stickied so new people could introduce themselves and they could read about the older folk.

Message Edited by Salmastryon on 07-17-2006 05:47 PM

[Shadowinajar]

A small woodelf (more or less attaractif:womanvery-happy with a long scar running down her cheek, grey hair and some Butterflies attached to her hairdo, sits beside a mug full with ale.

 

Its the willowood where she occupies a whole bench under the tree watching people come and go.

As you come near you can sense she´s humming a tune of sorrow along with time.

 

Her clear grey eyes look at you  sharply  with some mystic distance  within,  but on the lips dances a smile of warm welcome

and  humor.

 

You know her from the tavern, she´s workin there and most times in the end she´s very drunk, you wouldnt be suprised if she

would not get a coin out of this work if she gotta pay the ale.

 

and if youre not wrong shes a member of the Firionas....erm ..ohoh ...thats it .you stared to long at her..

 

*solemonie throws a  bottle of ale over to the stranger*

 

struggling with you reflexes to catch the bottle..you realize..well now i gotta have a chat..but otherwise...hm...

worse could happen.

 

You place yourself next to her as she makes some space for you removing her guitar with a swift motion,

*plop* opening the the ale you say ..* Hey Sole*...and she grins:womanhappy: