Post by Jace on Oct 7, 2009 8:49:48 GMT -5
"Never was much one to talk about myself.". mummers the husky voiced man infornt of you peering into the mug of ail in his right hand. "But I suppose the story needs to get out, if only to keep the memory of Darrowshire alive. So many today forget it was once a happy little farming village."
The storm of sadness in Jace's eyes seems to escilate as he remembers his home, his friends, his lover. "My childhood was that of any other smith's boy, worked for my master, played with other village children, got into trouble. Nothing different there than any other kid eh? Wasn't untill my master died and I was named the master blacksmith of Darrowshire that anything worth knowing about happend."
He takes a heavy pull from his mug of ale and lights a fat dwarven cigar before speaking again the pungent smell soon filling the air. "A year before Darrowshire's fall a mage came to town, comissiond me to make a staff of several rare metals, all of which were to be enchanted seperatly before being forged. It was my greatest achievment, and item of more power and beauty than any farm smith should ever have thier hands in making."
The cigar is raised again to his lips a deep drag and exhalation add yet more pungent smoke to the already fairly foul smelling tavern air. "The problem started when he decided not to pay. He threatend force to take it when I refused him and in retaliation I plunged the staff into my hottest fire melting it before his eyes. That's when real friendly like he gave me this." Jace's voice takes on an angry tone as he points at the glossy purple scar over his eye. "In thanks for his gift I gave him the buisness end of my hammer."
He grimmices and shakes his head. "How was I to know the mage was a Lordaeron noble? Next thing I know I'm serving a sentance of 20 years in the Lordaeron army as a field smith. Which I escaped from during a battle by stealing the armor of a dead soldier. When I finaly made it home... Darrowshire was in ruins the scourge having wiped away all I once knew, leaving only thier ghosts behind. So many souls screaming in agony it drove me mad for a time, and i remember nothing untill a few months ago when I woke up sitting in this very chair after some flame haired rogue bashed me over the head for grabbing her arse. What I was told anyway.."
He takes another drag off his cigar and polishes off his ale before continueing. "Since then I've been sitting here, waiting. Don't know what for, a sign from the gods, a lass with a nice arse to grab, another ale. Maybe I'm just waiting for that flame haired rogue to return so i can thank her for waking me up, or maybe I want to punch her for it. Don't know which it is, wont know till it comes." He goes quiet then, obviously done talking to you his stoney gaze insisting you leave him be to drink away his misery.
The storm of sadness in Jace's eyes seems to escilate as he remembers his home, his friends, his lover. "My childhood was that of any other smith's boy, worked for my master, played with other village children, got into trouble. Nothing different there than any other kid eh? Wasn't untill my master died and I was named the master blacksmith of Darrowshire that anything worth knowing about happend."
He takes a heavy pull from his mug of ale and lights a fat dwarven cigar before speaking again the pungent smell soon filling the air. "A year before Darrowshire's fall a mage came to town, comissiond me to make a staff of several rare metals, all of which were to be enchanted seperatly before being forged. It was my greatest achievment, and item of more power and beauty than any farm smith should ever have thier hands in making."
The cigar is raised again to his lips a deep drag and exhalation add yet more pungent smoke to the already fairly foul smelling tavern air. "The problem started when he decided not to pay. He threatend force to take it when I refused him and in retaliation I plunged the staff into my hottest fire melting it before his eyes. That's when real friendly like he gave me this." Jace's voice takes on an angry tone as he points at the glossy purple scar over his eye. "In thanks for his gift I gave him the buisness end of my hammer."
He grimmices and shakes his head. "How was I to know the mage was a Lordaeron noble? Next thing I know I'm serving a sentance of 20 years in the Lordaeron army as a field smith. Which I escaped from during a battle by stealing the armor of a dead soldier. When I finaly made it home... Darrowshire was in ruins the scourge having wiped away all I once knew, leaving only thier ghosts behind. So many souls screaming in agony it drove me mad for a time, and i remember nothing untill a few months ago when I woke up sitting in this very chair after some flame haired rogue bashed me over the head for grabbing her arse. What I was told anyway.."
He takes another drag off his cigar and polishes off his ale before continueing. "Since then I've been sitting here, waiting. Don't know what for, a sign from the gods, a lass with a nice arse to grab, another ale. Maybe I'm just waiting for that flame haired rogue to return so i can thank her for waking me up, or maybe I want to punch her for it. Don't know which it is, wont know till it comes." He goes quiet then, obviously done talking to you his stoney gaze insisting you leave him be to drink away his misery.
Founded April 26, 2005