Post by Merjak on Mar 3, 2010 21:10:27 GMT -5
As you open the journal the inside cover has a message scrawled in handwriteing that seems to shift as you to suit whatever script pleases your eyes the most.
My name is Thorn Rhoads. If you've killed me, well congradulations are in order I suppose. I've never been an easy target. If I've just misplaced my journal and you've found it, please ignore the whole killing thing. At any rate if it's not on me anymore I suppose I can't complain if you read it. Just be warned my life was pretty dull. Don't want you to die of bordem looking for anything juicy.
The first few pages you flip through are scrawled with instructions to make specialty potions aparently invinted by this Thorn Rhoads person. The most amuseing of which he calls the "Essence of Ogre" which gives the wearer a smell so bad even flys avoid them.
Entry 1:
If you've taken this journal off a dead blood elf called Merjak he didn't steal it from Thorn. He, I, am Thorn Rhoads. Through some form of magic I don't understand I was taken out of my body and placed in a new one. But we'll get to that later. For now let's start with a young boy of ten with no name and no family...
Yes yes I know same old sob story you've heard before right? WRONG! Actualy I didn't have a name because at 11 the children of my village choose thier own names. Intresting thing I really should use it for my children if I ever procreate. As for family, children had no family at all, and they had all the family they could handle. Most of us myself included never knew which woman birthed us. Every woman in the tribe was our mother or grandmother. My father I was told died in some fight in some place. I think he was actualy a guy named Juba who used to give me alot of preasents.
Anyway to the story. It was the day before I named myself. I was exited and spouting all sorts of names I thought were great to my favorate mother Kilika. Her daughter Sage who was almst old enough to be a mother got mad because I knocked her over bouncing around the room. "Your name should be Thorn because your a thorn in my ass" she said to me. That was the coolest name I'd ever heard. So the next day around fire at my birthday feast I declared myself to Thorn. For some reason alot of people laughed. Still don't understand why. Thorn is a perfectly reasonable name.
My last name Rhoads. That's a bit more intresting. See I was a champion rod fighter among the young men when I turned 16. And our sirnames were unique to each man (mostly) because they were given for our deeds. So when it came time for the village elders to name me they decided I would be Thorn of the Rods. A sir name given to the best rod fighter of each generation. However the scribe that wrote that down was either stupid or deaf because it came out "Thorn of the Rhoads". And sicne that's how it was written, that's what I was called.
The next two pages are missing, and the next three that arn't are coverd in incoherent diagrames. One of which depicts a sheep, a goblin grenade thrower, a target, and a vial of fish oil.
Which brings me to my eighteenth year. My village was visited by a woman from some place called Stormwind. We'd never seen anything like her. She was pale as the moon and had white hair. We didn't know such light skinned peoples existed. Anyway she came to us looking for people with magical talent, and I was one of three she found.
Not long after I arrived in a town called Dalaran which was full of wonderfull things and where I learned to master the magics of the Arcane. The others got bored and left. I was facinated. I wont bore you with any of the details, but take it form me if you ever see a mage girl with her nose in a book and talk her into a date, get ready for a sack boogie... WOW!
Well that's all for now my writeing hand is cramping. But I suppose if your reading this it wont matter as I'll have surely written more at a later time.
((to be continued))
My name is Thorn Rhoads. If you've killed me, well congradulations are in order I suppose. I've never been an easy target. If I've just misplaced my journal and you've found it, please ignore the whole killing thing. At any rate if it's not on me anymore I suppose I can't complain if you read it. Just be warned my life was pretty dull. Don't want you to die of bordem looking for anything juicy.
The first few pages you flip through are scrawled with instructions to make specialty potions aparently invinted by this Thorn Rhoads person. The most amuseing of which he calls the "Essence of Ogre" which gives the wearer a smell so bad even flys avoid them.
Entry 1:
If you've taken this journal off a dead blood elf called Merjak he didn't steal it from Thorn. He, I, am Thorn Rhoads. Through some form of magic I don't understand I was taken out of my body and placed in a new one. But we'll get to that later. For now let's start with a young boy of ten with no name and no family...
Yes yes I know same old sob story you've heard before right? WRONG! Actualy I didn't have a name because at 11 the children of my village choose thier own names. Intresting thing I really should use it for my children if I ever procreate. As for family, children had no family at all, and they had all the family they could handle. Most of us myself included never knew which woman birthed us. Every woman in the tribe was our mother or grandmother. My father I was told died in some fight in some place. I think he was actualy a guy named Juba who used to give me alot of preasents.
Anyway to the story. It was the day before I named myself. I was exited and spouting all sorts of names I thought were great to my favorate mother Kilika. Her daughter Sage who was almst old enough to be a mother got mad because I knocked her over bouncing around the room. "Your name should be Thorn because your a thorn in my ass" she said to me. That was the coolest name I'd ever heard. So the next day around fire at my birthday feast I declared myself to Thorn. For some reason alot of people laughed. Still don't understand why. Thorn is a perfectly reasonable name.
My last name Rhoads. That's a bit more intresting. See I was a champion rod fighter among the young men when I turned 16. And our sirnames were unique to each man (mostly) because they were given for our deeds. So when it came time for the village elders to name me they decided I would be Thorn of the Rods. A sir name given to the best rod fighter of each generation. However the scribe that wrote that down was either stupid or deaf because it came out "Thorn of the Rhoads". And sicne that's how it was written, that's what I was called.
The next two pages are missing, and the next three that arn't are coverd in incoherent diagrames. One of which depicts a sheep, a goblin grenade thrower, a target, and a vial of fish oil.
Which brings me to my eighteenth year. My village was visited by a woman from some place called Stormwind. We'd never seen anything like her. She was pale as the moon and had white hair. We didn't know such light skinned peoples existed. Anyway she came to us looking for people with magical talent, and I was one of three she found.
Not long after I arrived in a town called Dalaran which was full of wonderfull things and where I learned to master the magics of the Arcane. The others got bored and left. I was facinated. I wont bore you with any of the details, but take it form me if you ever see a mage girl with her nose in a book and talk her into a date, get ready for a sack boogie... WOW!
Well that's all for now my writeing hand is cramping. But I suppose if your reading this it wont matter as I'll have surely written more at a later time.
((to be continued))
Founded April 26, 2005