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Berzerker Black Profile
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Registered: 09-2010
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How Black met the Fury


As I awoke, my head screamed at me, not unlike the shriek of a bordello madam who had discovered that I had left without paying, but this came from inside my skull. Rising from the ground became an ordeal all in itself. Every small movement was accompanied by my body telling me that the loose dirt under my face was much more comfortable and I should lie back down. Sadly, I couldn’t heed my body’s advice, or else I would become a corpse, as opposed to just smelling like one. When I finally regained my footing, my stomach rose in a final act of defiance, and I was forced to choke back the bile in my throat.

“That is the LAST time I drink whiskey.”

I lied to myself. I lie to myself quite often, actually. Every time I raise a bottle, I end up lying to myself, just as I end up lying face down in the dirt outside of some gods-forsaken town in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, no one ever sees fit to steal the old boat oar that I keep with me. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but this thing just won’t leave me alone. I don’t even remember the last time I was near any body of water larger than a pond. I don’t mind it, though. It’s damn good at chopping. I’ll probably use it until it breaks, and even then the pieces will somehow find a way to haunt me.

I struggled to my feet, but I was still far from balanced. Luckily, I caught myself on a nearby tree before I was forced to start all over again. Looking back, falling over might have been preferable, as I would have just gone back to sleep. Well, I might have if my head didn’t feel like a tribesman’s war drum. The rhythmic poundings were becoming unbearable.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

Over and over again. In my moment of weakness, my treasonous stomach launched another surprise attack, and I choked up the contents of my gut, or I would have if I had eaten anything to vomit in the first place. This seems to be a recurring theme in my life. I would have lost everything I had, except that I had nothing of value to begin with.

Even through the pain of the insides of my skull was feeling like the ground underneath a war pony that had been spooked, I managed to detect the unmistakable gurgling of a nearby creek. Hopefully some water would be enough to bribe my body and head to quiet down. To my surprise, I was right. I had managed to pass out close to a small brook with clean water. Drinking to my heart’s content, I mused to myself. I probably passed out trying to get a drink.

The water was just what I needed. My head quieted down, and my stomach was sated to the point where I could keep down some breakfast. Not that the stale bread in my pouch was much of a breakfast, but I knew I couldn’t complain. My bottle was empty of spirits, and the last of my food stores were now in my belly. It was time to work.

Being a highway robber isn’t as easy as some people might think it is. Sure, if you’ve got a sizable gang, you can ambush a caravan and reap the spoils. However, as the only living member of “Black’s Marauders,” I really didn’t have that option. Not to mention the do-gooders and town guards that would rather stick a pike in you than look at you. I had to be careful about who I robbed. Occasionally I would luck across a nobleman travelling alone or knock out a courier to steal whatever coin he might be carrying, but most of the time I had slim pickings. That day was no different.

I had to keep careful watch of the road. Sometimes the decision whether to strike or hide was tough. This time though, it didn’t seem to matter.

I paused my story long enough to poke at the dwindling fire. The burning coals were a welcome change from lying passed out in the forest. I was about to continue my story, but stopped when I looked across from me and caught an icy glare from Azhara. “Your story is terrible, Black. If you keep telling it I may have to stab you.”


Last edited by Berzerker Black, 3/9/2011, 1:26 am


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THE BEATINGS WILL CONTINUE UNTIL MORALE IMPROVES.
3/9/2011, 1:21 am Link to this post Send Email to Berzerker Black   Send PM to Berzerker Black Blog
 
reggie dagooblin Profile
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Re: How Black met the Fury


impressive

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u can be good or simply outnumber them ....or be a goblin and do both
3/9/2011, 10:56 am Link to this post Send Email to reggie dagooblin   Send PM to reggie dagooblin Blog
 
Thurston2028 Profile
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Re: How Black met the Fury


agreed...nut Az doesn't stab...he smashes...lol

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Thurston Thorin

Master-At-Arms - Fury of the Called

Black Dog Clan

"Vires et Decus"
"Teach by example, if your student does not survive then he was not worthy of the lesson"
3/10/2011, 2:13 am Link to this post Send Email to Thurston2028   Send PM to Thurston2028
 


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