Post by Mouse on Oct 29, 2005 12:17:37 GMT -7
The Shade Board (http://www.cgshade.com/board/index.php)
- Shade Player Creations (http://www.cgshade.com/board/forumdisplay.php?forumid=17)
-- Bandyt's chronicles (http://www.cgshade.com/board/showthread.php?threadid=1910)
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Posted by bandyt on 09-24-2004 08:58 AM:
Bandyt's chronicles
He sat in the darkest corner of Byrendel’s crowded pub, his cloak hood covering his face as he sipped his ale by himself. His name was Bandyt, and he was by nature a loner, you could say anti-social. He preferred to remain in the shadows and out of the center of attention, partly because of his history, partly because of his lifestyle. His very name labeled his destiny as it were. He was considered one of the most ill-reputed and notorious forms of outcast in shade: a thief. And he was good at it.
The thrill of using stealth and cunning to make a living for himself had grown from a hobby to an art. He was an accomplished pick-pocket, and prided himself in his ability to scout and stalk areas in the world undetected. What prided him the most was the fact that he could keep his activities undiscovered. A good thief is one that doesn’t get caught.
The night grew late, and the young aspiring warriors started to retreat to their homes. Travelers stopped by for a cold meal or directions to the inn, but the overall racket that was always a part of Shade’s busiest town seemed to subside to a buzz. Bandyt peeked through the window, looking at the moon dodging in and out of the clouds. The air was cool and dry, and combined with the liquor of the ale creeping into his veins, his started to wander. He remembered growing up, the dirty streets of Coradale, his home town, and how he came to be who he was today. He grew up for most of his life as an orphan, his parents having been killed when he was only 4 years old. They were poor, but worked hard for the small bags of gold they brought home. One day they left home and headed south to the marshlands. He had heard them talking about hunting for treasure, gold and platinum, pearls and enchanted items, forged in the depths of Chaos’ realm. At the time he understood very little of the “Crypt”, or even who or what Chaos was, but the name was embedded in his 4 year-old memory, even as he watched them disappear through the thick forest, he felt a sad chill over him. That was the last time he ever saw them. News came back to the town that his both parents were swallowed up into a hole in the ground while surrounded by huge beasts and demon-like creatures. The name “Chaos” was all over the reports, and Bandyt vowed silently to avenge his parents and make this Chaos pay.
A young orphan in Coradale, Bandyt was in no way totally defenseless. He was not a son of a noble or clan chief, and he had no fortune to inherit. Because of his status, he had no friends or mentors that could take him in and care for him. In fact, the very landlord that hassled his parents for the little gold that they did make never even knew he existed, because his parents kept the fact that their family was expanding, otherwise the landlord would force them into a larger living space and charge them an even higher rent. In essence, he was a ghost. He had to learn to fend for himself by force. It was not even an option.
He had stayed in his parent’s house, which remained empty for some years. For food Bandyt would pick fruits and breads from the busy salespeople’s stalls. His small size made him ideal for slipping between the tall warriors and mages. He learned to pick gold from unsuspecting youngsters, especially pompous sons of nobles, they were his best hits. He could read from their very faces how aware they were of their surroundings, and choose his victims with extreme care. He wouldn’t dare try that on a mage, lich or strong warrior, but he found that most undead fighters, even though very strong, lacked intelligence and could never detect his cunning.
Eventually, the landlord started renting out the home to another family. They never even knew he was there, since he would sleep silently in the attic, but he could hear them laugh and the smell of their warm meals would bring tears to his eyes. His father was a struggling hunter, but on the rare day he would bring home enough boar or rabbit from the forests around Coradale, it would be like a king’s feast to him. After a few months this became more difficult. He had grown quite a bit, and the recurring memories of his family life was too much to bear, so he left his shelter and took to the streets.
He was becoming good at his art, though. And his confidence almost got the better of him once, when he passed by the pub to “grab” a meal late one night. He almost got caught by the pubkeeper, and had to hide under the table in the kitchen while the cook cursed at the waitresses losing their patron’s food again, as they did nearly every night. Luckily, a lone wolf had strayed into the town and was just passing by the backdoor of the pub. The cook leapt outside and killed the wolf with a huge meat axe, allowing Bandyt to slip out of the pub unnoticed.
Bandyt chuckled to himself as he remembered how the food suddenly stopped being taken after the death of the wolf, settling that case as far as the pubkeeper was concerned. He put his empty cup back down and sighed under his dark cloak.
Suddenly the doors of the pub were thrown open with a bang, and a rowdy bunch of undead fighters walked in. Bandyt didn’t know them, but he could see the letters “SOC” on some of their shields. This bunch was surely in high spirits, even though they were smelly from the stench of sweat, blood and decay. They dropped from their shoulders huge bags of expensive weapons and the gold in them was so heavy it sounded like seashore sand when they moved. Keeping calm he listened to them brag about their victories, the dragons and demon lords they overpowered, and their conquest to and from Xian.
As they began to cheer for themselves more, they became more relaxed and Bandyt knew it was now or never to make his move. He slipped from under his cloak, leaving the garment seated upright and facing the window. It looked like he never even moved. He stealthily stayed low, just under the level of the tables and stools, and crept to the closest bag he could reach. He felt helms and shields, but they were way too bulky to pull out without making noise. He finally felt the hilt of a slim dark dagger, and pulled it out. He looked up, but none of the warriors had changed the slightest in their activities. As he reached back in the bag, he heard one of the fighters yell to the bartender “A round of your best wine for everyone! On me!!” The loud cheers and laughter that followed drowned out the sounds of Bandyt pulling a silksteel robe and steelwood shortbow as well as 5 or 6 handfuls of gold.
The waitresses started moving around, delivering fresh goblets of expensive wine to everyone in the pub. Bandyt knew enough to know when his opportunity had passed. He started to head for the door when he noticed to burly clansmen heading towards his cloak decoy. “Hey you! Over there by the window! You not the drinking type? Haha!” Bandyt just ran out into the shadows outside the pub, some gold pieces slipping from his fingers as he hurriedly stuffed them in his backpack. Just as he disappeared down the alley the warrior realized that the cloak was empty. “What the…!!” “Must be a sorcerer or something, Matrix…” “Hmmm… could be… I don’t trust sorcerers…” He turned back to the bar, his attention caught by the skirt of a passing barmaid, and never noticing that some of his things were taken.
- Shade Player Creations (http://www.cgshade.com/board/forumdisplay.php?forumid=17)
-- Bandyt's chronicles (http://www.cgshade.com/board/showthread.php?threadid=1910)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Posted by bandyt on 09-24-2004 08:58 AM:
Bandyt's chronicles
He sat in the darkest corner of Byrendel’s crowded pub, his cloak hood covering his face as he sipped his ale by himself. His name was Bandyt, and he was by nature a loner, you could say anti-social. He preferred to remain in the shadows and out of the center of attention, partly because of his history, partly because of his lifestyle. His very name labeled his destiny as it were. He was considered one of the most ill-reputed and notorious forms of outcast in shade: a thief. And he was good at it.
The thrill of using stealth and cunning to make a living for himself had grown from a hobby to an art. He was an accomplished pick-pocket, and prided himself in his ability to scout and stalk areas in the world undetected. What prided him the most was the fact that he could keep his activities undiscovered. A good thief is one that doesn’t get caught.
The night grew late, and the young aspiring warriors started to retreat to their homes. Travelers stopped by for a cold meal or directions to the inn, but the overall racket that was always a part of Shade’s busiest town seemed to subside to a buzz. Bandyt peeked through the window, looking at the moon dodging in and out of the clouds. The air was cool and dry, and combined with the liquor of the ale creeping into his veins, his started to wander. He remembered growing up, the dirty streets of Coradale, his home town, and how he came to be who he was today. He grew up for most of his life as an orphan, his parents having been killed when he was only 4 years old. They were poor, but worked hard for the small bags of gold they brought home. One day they left home and headed south to the marshlands. He had heard them talking about hunting for treasure, gold and platinum, pearls and enchanted items, forged in the depths of Chaos’ realm. At the time he understood very little of the “Crypt”, or even who or what Chaos was, but the name was embedded in his 4 year-old memory, even as he watched them disappear through the thick forest, he felt a sad chill over him. That was the last time he ever saw them. News came back to the town that his both parents were swallowed up into a hole in the ground while surrounded by huge beasts and demon-like creatures. The name “Chaos” was all over the reports, and Bandyt vowed silently to avenge his parents and make this Chaos pay.
A young orphan in Coradale, Bandyt was in no way totally defenseless. He was not a son of a noble or clan chief, and he had no fortune to inherit. Because of his status, he had no friends or mentors that could take him in and care for him. In fact, the very landlord that hassled his parents for the little gold that they did make never even knew he existed, because his parents kept the fact that their family was expanding, otherwise the landlord would force them into a larger living space and charge them an even higher rent. In essence, he was a ghost. He had to learn to fend for himself by force. It was not even an option.
He had stayed in his parent’s house, which remained empty for some years. For food Bandyt would pick fruits and breads from the busy salespeople’s stalls. His small size made him ideal for slipping between the tall warriors and mages. He learned to pick gold from unsuspecting youngsters, especially pompous sons of nobles, they were his best hits. He could read from their very faces how aware they were of their surroundings, and choose his victims with extreme care. He wouldn’t dare try that on a mage, lich or strong warrior, but he found that most undead fighters, even though very strong, lacked intelligence and could never detect his cunning.
Eventually, the landlord started renting out the home to another family. They never even knew he was there, since he would sleep silently in the attic, but he could hear them laugh and the smell of their warm meals would bring tears to his eyes. His father was a struggling hunter, but on the rare day he would bring home enough boar or rabbit from the forests around Coradale, it would be like a king’s feast to him. After a few months this became more difficult. He had grown quite a bit, and the recurring memories of his family life was too much to bear, so he left his shelter and took to the streets.
He was becoming good at his art, though. And his confidence almost got the better of him once, when he passed by the pub to “grab” a meal late one night. He almost got caught by the pubkeeper, and had to hide under the table in the kitchen while the cook cursed at the waitresses losing their patron’s food again, as they did nearly every night. Luckily, a lone wolf had strayed into the town and was just passing by the backdoor of the pub. The cook leapt outside and killed the wolf with a huge meat axe, allowing Bandyt to slip out of the pub unnoticed.
Bandyt chuckled to himself as he remembered how the food suddenly stopped being taken after the death of the wolf, settling that case as far as the pubkeeper was concerned. He put his empty cup back down and sighed under his dark cloak.
Suddenly the doors of the pub were thrown open with a bang, and a rowdy bunch of undead fighters walked in. Bandyt didn’t know them, but he could see the letters “SOC” on some of their shields. This bunch was surely in high spirits, even though they were smelly from the stench of sweat, blood and decay. They dropped from their shoulders huge bags of expensive weapons and the gold in them was so heavy it sounded like seashore sand when they moved. Keeping calm he listened to them brag about their victories, the dragons and demon lords they overpowered, and their conquest to and from Xian.
As they began to cheer for themselves more, they became more relaxed and Bandyt knew it was now or never to make his move. He slipped from under his cloak, leaving the garment seated upright and facing the window. It looked like he never even moved. He stealthily stayed low, just under the level of the tables and stools, and crept to the closest bag he could reach. He felt helms and shields, but they were way too bulky to pull out without making noise. He finally felt the hilt of a slim dark dagger, and pulled it out. He looked up, but none of the warriors had changed the slightest in their activities. As he reached back in the bag, he heard one of the fighters yell to the bartender “A round of your best wine for everyone! On me!!” The loud cheers and laughter that followed drowned out the sounds of Bandyt pulling a silksteel robe and steelwood shortbow as well as 5 or 6 handfuls of gold.
The waitresses started moving around, delivering fresh goblets of expensive wine to everyone in the pub. Bandyt knew enough to know when his opportunity had passed. He started to head for the door when he noticed to burly clansmen heading towards his cloak decoy. “Hey you! Over there by the window! You not the drinking type? Haha!” Bandyt just ran out into the shadows outside the pub, some gold pieces slipping from his fingers as he hurriedly stuffed them in his backpack. Just as he disappeared down the alley the warrior realized that the cloak was empty. “What the…!!” “Must be a sorcerer or something, Matrix…” “Hmmm… could be… I don’t trust sorcerers…” He turned back to the bar, his attention caught by the skirt of a passing barmaid, and never noticing that some of his things were taken.