Keef shops for trousers
While in Chicago, I got to do my annual cameo appearance in m00nglum's D&D game. (Thanks, dude. You know I love you.) Also present was the lovely desdenova, the debonaire prince_corwin, the insane crouchback, the very curly kmriley, and Mr. and Mrs verin_the_brown, who kindly hosted at their apartment. Below is the writeup of that game from Keef's point of view.
Anyone who is not a part of current or past Steinhall sagas will not know what the hell this is all about, but you're welcome to read it if you like.
Letter from Keith Richards to Roni Woods, elven guitarist and bandmate. Roni received the letter four years later after it had been transported variously (and in no particular order) by ten humans, seven elves, a mating pair of gryphons, a dwarf/halfling halfbreed, a flock of weregeese, and a badger. Content, spelling, and grammar are not the responsibility of the poster.
Ron, you old wanker,
I've been hanging round the old neighborhood lately. Too much time on my hands, I suppose, since His fucking Nibs doesn't want to tour. I lost a few days recently, and wound up in some Steinhall backwater just before the Hammer of the Gods came down. Of all the things I miss when I'm away from home, that is not one of them. It's colder than Heimdall's bloody ice bridge here.
I got myself holed up at an inn with a few obliging birds and was set to wait it out, when some folk showed up what I've met before. Bunch of youngsters from Sandhaven. You know, the town near the university. They helped me get my ring back. There was a mini-mage and scrawny gray elf university-type (though you're all scrawny, aren't you?) who reminds me a bit of Vrba, but not such a nutter. Mad for fireballs, which turned out to be a good thing, you'll see later. There was a very tasty druid, more on her in a bit. There was this monk from Egypt, who has got beautiful ink but is one of those super conservative cats, you know the type. Turned down the baggie because he says his body's a bleeding temple. I told him he wouldn't brag about that if he could see some of the Egyptian temples I've been in. You would’ve pissed yourself laughing to see his face. Then there was Jade, a nice little thief, who is too complicated to explain in this letter. And there was a new one who I hadn’t met, a mad half-elf named Evedare, who . . . oh, fuck it.
Most of them had nearly frozen their nadgers off getting to the inn. I set about getting some of them warmed up with drink while the others ran out to get warmer threads. The Egyptian bloke, Serket, looked absolutely miserable. Jade and I had a nice chat until she passed out. Seems they're chasing around looking for some bloke, a wood elf prince named Pradit. Well, his son, actually. Rang a bell with me, but I've got so much shite rattling round me head I couldn't quite remember who he was. They also got hold of an evil black sword, which they gave to some priest and they think they've seen the last of. They'll learn better. Fucking artifacts.
The snow was starting, and apparently the mad half-elf went to the local temple, then ran about in the snow until he had a vision. If I'd known that was what he was after, I could have given him plenty of visions and he wouldn't have needed to leave the fire. Anyway, Odin gave him a word, which I suppose was nice. Personally I think Odin's a fucking old bore, but it's no business of mine. The druid, Gabe, dragged Evadare in looking like an icicle, so I put him by the fire and gave him some tequila. Seemed to work.
So then, this amazing druid pulls out some Ericulata larsonii! I asked her to get me some a while back, and she remembered. Gods I love druids. (If you can manage not to be a wanker, I might give you some next we meet.) And then she asks if she can try some with me! That has to be one of the best times I've ever had snowbound. She shagged like a wild animal. Well, a mellow wild animal. Must be all that nature she hangs about in. Good stamina too. I think that's an elf whatsis. Trait. She got a bit squicky after the drugs wore off, which is a fucking shame. I thought we had a lovely couple of days.
After four days, the storm buggered off, and the Sandhaven kids decided to head to Nassburg. With nothing better to do, I decided to go along. The snow was bollock-high by then, and a fucking nuisance to get through. We got near a stand of trees, and Gabe spots a white horse and decides she must commune with it. So she’s halfway to the woods when we hear a shriek, and a bloody white dragon shows up. My first thought was, “Brilliant, new trousers!” Me black ones are a bit whiffy after 35 years. But sitting smack in the middle of a fucking snow field was not the place to put the boot in, so we made a run for the woods, the mages at the back tossing fire up its arse. Course it tagged a few people. Evadare and Jade’s attacks did fuck all, and even a fire elemental bounced.
When I got to the woods, I pulled out Conflagrator and prepared to wellie on it a bit, but the fucking thing decided that it wanted to talk. It talked some bollocks about the horse being a criminal, and said if we turned the horse over to it, it would let us leave its lands. Fucking cheek. The group started to argue about what to do, which I have enough of with Sir Michalon, so I stayed out of it. I really wanted to give the wanker my answer right up the backside. Dragons only start discussing things when they’re fucking knackered. But Jade wanted to move on into the woods and find the horse, and as I find meself a bit biased on her behalf, I went along with it. I can come back for the trousers later.
We followed the horse’s tracks. Gabe found a woodsman’s house, which turned out to contain quite a fucking specimen. Right out of Freddy Mercury’s wet dreams, he was. Having had a bit of life experience, I asked him if he were a horse, ever. He said no, but he was hung like one. Git.
So just then I remember about Pradit, the wood elf prince. He died over thirty years back, little wonder I forgot him. He was one of old Baron Arnold’s cronies, but he got done in by his brother Pinku, who sounds a bit like Sanjay with political aspirations. I couldn’t recall anything about a son. It turns out this cat knew something about it. Pinku got forced out 15 years ago, and serves him right. Rotanah, that’s the porn star woodsman, said that Pradit’s son might have gone to his clan, what are in Dreistall. So I say I can tell them how to get there, maybe write a few letters of introduction to help them along.
Rotanah said the horse had lived in those parts for years, and acted as if it owned the place. Some sort of magical creature probably, but who the fuck cares. The dragon showed up a week ago, probably driven off by a bigger creature. Now that might be worth looking into. Maybe it’s another dragon with a better color scheme. White trousers would look naf on me.
We buggered off to Nassburg, finally. Some rangers there were looking for the white dragon too. Their story was it’d been in the area for a few months. So I had a few last drinks with the kids and a word with Jade, gave them an introduction to Baron Hans for when they get in trouble, and headed back out with the rangers. That dragon is fucking done for. I would send the hide to Mick, but he’s being a shiny wet cunt right now, so I’m not acknowledging his existence. Maybe I’ll give it to Dave. There’s a bloke who would wear white dragonskin pants.
See you later, you elven bastard,
Keith
Anyone who is not a part of current or past Steinhall sagas will not know what the hell this is all about, but you're welcome to read it if you like.
Letter from Keith Richards to Roni Woods, elven guitarist and bandmate. Roni received the letter four years later after it had been transported variously (and in no particular order) by ten humans, seven elves, a mating pair of gryphons, a dwarf/halfling halfbreed, a flock of weregeese, and a badger. Content, spelling, and grammar are not the responsibility of the poster.
Ron, you old wanker,
I've been hanging round the old neighborhood lately. Too much time on my hands, I suppose, since His fucking Nibs doesn't want to tour. I lost a few days recently, and wound up in some Steinhall backwater just before the Hammer of the Gods came down. Of all the things I miss when I'm away from home, that is not one of them. It's colder than Heimdall's bloody ice bridge here.
I got myself holed up at an inn with a few obliging birds and was set to wait it out, when some folk showed up what I've met before. Bunch of youngsters from Sandhaven. You know, the town near the university. They helped me get my ring back. There was a mini-mage and scrawny gray elf university-type (though you're all scrawny, aren't you?) who reminds me a bit of Vrba, but not such a nutter. Mad for fireballs, which turned out to be a good thing, you'll see later. There was a very tasty druid, more on her in a bit. There was this monk from Egypt, who has got beautiful ink but is one of those super conservative cats, you know the type. Turned down the baggie because he says his body's a bleeding temple. I told him he wouldn't brag about that if he could see some of the Egyptian temples I've been in. You would’ve pissed yourself laughing to see his face. Then there was Jade, a nice little thief, who is too complicated to explain in this letter. And there was a new one who I hadn’t met, a mad half-elf named Evedare, who . . . oh, fuck it.
Most of them had nearly frozen their nadgers off getting to the inn. I set about getting some of them warmed up with drink while the others ran out to get warmer threads. The Egyptian bloke, Serket, looked absolutely miserable. Jade and I had a nice chat until she passed out. Seems they're chasing around looking for some bloke, a wood elf prince named Pradit. Well, his son, actually. Rang a bell with me, but I've got so much shite rattling round me head I couldn't quite remember who he was. They also got hold of an evil black sword, which they gave to some priest and they think they've seen the last of. They'll learn better. Fucking artifacts.
The snow was starting, and apparently the mad half-elf went to the local temple, then ran about in the snow until he had a vision. If I'd known that was what he was after, I could have given him plenty of visions and he wouldn't have needed to leave the fire. Anyway, Odin gave him a word, which I suppose was nice. Personally I think Odin's a fucking old bore, but it's no business of mine. The druid, Gabe, dragged Evadare in looking like an icicle, so I put him by the fire and gave him some tequila. Seemed to work.
So then, this amazing druid pulls out some Ericulata larsonii! I asked her to get me some a while back, and she remembered. Gods I love druids. (If you can manage not to be a wanker, I might give you some next we meet.) And then she asks if she can try some with me! That has to be one of the best times I've ever had snowbound. She shagged like a wild animal. Well, a mellow wild animal. Must be all that nature she hangs about in. Good stamina too. I think that's an elf whatsis. Trait. She got a bit squicky after the drugs wore off, which is a fucking shame. I thought we had a lovely couple of days.
After four days, the storm buggered off, and the Sandhaven kids decided to head to Nassburg. With nothing better to do, I decided to go along. The snow was bollock-high by then, and a fucking nuisance to get through. We got near a stand of trees, and Gabe spots a white horse and decides she must commune with it. So she’s halfway to the woods when we hear a shriek, and a bloody white dragon shows up. My first thought was, “Brilliant, new trousers!” Me black ones are a bit whiffy after 35 years. But sitting smack in the middle of a fucking snow field was not the place to put the boot in, so we made a run for the woods, the mages at the back tossing fire up its arse. Course it tagged a few people. Evadare and Jade’s attacks did fuck all, and even a fire elemental bounced.
When I got to the woods, I pulled out Conflagrator and prepared to wellie on it a bit, but the fucking thing decided that it wanted to talk. It talked some bollocks about the horse being a criminal, and said if we turned the horse over to it, it would let us leave its lands. Fucking cheek. The group started to argue about what to do, which I have enough of with Sir Michalon, so I stayed out of it. I really wanted to give the wanker my answer right up the backside. Dragons only start discussing things when they’re fucking knackered. But Jade wanted to move on into the woods and find the horse, and as I find meself a bit biased on her behalf, I went along with it. I can come back for the trousers later.
We followed the horse’s tracks. Gabe found a woodsman’s house, which turned out to contain quite a fucking specimen. Right out of Freddy Mercury’s wet dreams, he was. Having had a bit of life experience, I asked him if he were a horse, ever. He said no, but he was hung like one. Git.
So just then I remember about Pradit, the wood elf prince. He died over thirty years back, little wonder I forgot him. He was one of old Baron Arnold’s cronies, but he got done in by his brother Pinku, who sounds a bit like Sanjay with political aspirations. I couldn’t recall anything about a son. It turns out this cat knew something about it. Pinku got forced out 15 years ago, and serves him right. Rotanah, that’s the porn star woodsman, said that Pradit’s son might have gone to his clan, what are in Dreistall. So I say I can tell them how to get there, maybe write a few letters of introduction to help them along.
Rotanah said the horse had lived in those parts for years, and acted as if it owned the place. Some sort of magical creature probably, but who the fuck cares. The dragon showed up a week ago, probably driven off by a bigger creature. Now that might be worth looking into. Maybe it’s another dragon with a better color scheme. White trousers would look naf on me.
We buggered off to Nassburg, finally. Some rangers there were looking for the white dragon too. Their story was it’d been in the area for a few months. So I had a few last drinks with the kids and a word with Jade, gave them an introduction to Baron Hans for when they get in trouble, and headed back out with the rangers. That dragon is fucking done for. I would send the hide to Mick, but he’s being a shiny wet cunt right now, so I’m not acknowledging his existence. Maybe I’ll give it to Dave. There’s a bloke who would wear white dragonskin pants.
See you later, you elven bastard,
Keith