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About Grimshar

  • Rank
    Immortal of Sithrak
  • Birthday 03/05/1993

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  • Skype

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  • Location
    Washington State
  • Interests
    Gaming, Hiking, Hunting, Target Shooting, Electrical Engineering.
  • Occupation
    IT Support Specialist

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  1. OOC: Marsh of Horrors

    Bump. Talked with Phaedara a couple days ago. I don't want to say anything concrete, but it sounded like Phaedara is still going to be out for the foreseeable future. If I had to hazard a guess I might say three more months before Phaedara would be back.
  2. Homesteading Old School

    The following morning Renkor awoke with a languid stretch and a happy groan. The new floor of his home was blissfully smooth compared to the lumpy earthen ground he had been subjected to for the past few weeks. Coupled with his bed roll it felt like he had been sleeping on a cloud all night. His stomach grumbled angrily, knowing that breakfast was imminent, and he hauled himself out of bed with a dissatisfied noise. A lazy morning sounded quite nice after their hard travel to cover distance as rapidly as possible, but if he wanted to get anything done in a reasonable amount of time he had to force himself out of bed. Motivation was fickle, an tended to flee at the first sign of a challenge, discipline was the only way of getting things done. Grigori's eyes glowed as he watched Renkor get out of his makeshift bed and rummage through the packs, searching for the dried meat and cheese rations that he had packed for this journey. They were tough and unpleasant compared to the fresh foods you could find at any major town or hub, but nothing else would keep quite as long. When he finished with his small meal he stood and pushed open the door that lead outside, as soon as he was clear the drake bounded out of the small room and scampered to the edge of the plateau before diving off the edge with a gleeful cry. Renkor watched him as he soared across the sky, rolling and swirling about like a child at play. The drake was a beautiful creature, and would one day in the distant future become a dragon. For now, though, he was still considered a baby among his kin, a newborn infact, being only three years old. Though ever since they had arrived in the land known as Taen the drake had been growing much more rapidly, whether that was an effect of this plane or just a natural part of a drake's growth cycle he had no idea. He was probably the furthest you could get from being an expert on drakes and dragons without actively trying. He left Grigori to his joyous flight and turned his attention back to the earth, or rather the stone plateau that they had alighted on the night before under cover of the waning light and a rainstorm. They had chosen a decent enough place, the plateau wasn't very deep, but wide. It ran for several hundred yards along the side of the mountain, and the distance from the mountainside to the edge of the plateau at it's deepest was only twenty or thirty yards at best. Not nearly enough for a town or even a collection of buildings to be built, but perhaps he could grow some food up here? It would be a welcome change to foraging in the jungle on a daily basis for extra food supplies, it would also be a welcome bonus to not have to travel down the mountain side and back up. He would need to find a way to transport some nutrient rich soil up here, the meager amount of dirt that he could see wouldn't grow anything. First he needed to find a source of clay, it would be the foundation of his new home. Not literally of course, but, with clay he could make many different things that would ease his new life. He returned to his new home in the mountain and set about packing a bag. Perhaps he could even convince Grigori to give him a ride down the mountain, to save him the near day long journey down.
  3. Homesteading Old School

    Renkor and Grigori spent the first day frolicking through the peaks of the mountains, dipping into the turbulent storm clouds that hung over the horizon like a blanket. Lightning flashed across the sky, rippling through the clouds and illuminating the sky in brief flashes. Electricity crackled off in the air around them, sparking off the bits of metal embedded in their gear and dancing across Grigori's scales. The boom of thunder smashing into them with a nearly physical effect, the sound so consuming that for the tiniest of moments it was easy to forget that sound was one of his senses. As they played in the thunderclouds, allowing themselves to be free of all thought and worry for a short time, the torrential downpour of rain washed away the cloud of negative emotions that had been rampaging through him since his recent escapades in Valjer. It was time to move past it, time to accept what had happened. There wasn't any way that he could go back and change what had happened, at least he didn't know of any way to travel through time, so he needed to grow up and accept the ramifications of his actions. When the sun began to dip below the horizon Renkor guided Grigori down towards the stone mountain below. They skimmed the belt line of the mountains, the area high enough that the trees couldn't grow, and the soil was really just dirt. It didn't take them long to find what he had been looking for, a flat plateau with a small opening into what he hoped was a cave system. He left Grigori to stand there and headed for the opening, if it suited his needs he would be able to widen the opening enough that the drake could fit inside. The opening was about as wide as his shoulders, which wasn't saying much considering his slight frame. The inside was pitch black, and he sighed as he realized he hadn't pulled any torches out of the packs on Grigori. He returned to the drake and pulled one free before heading back to the opening, sheltering it from the wind and rain under his cloak. Flint and steel met, sparks flew, and the torch blazed to life. It illuminated only a few yards into the pitch blackness that sprawled into the cave. He squeezed through the narrow opening, thankful for the overhang that prevented the rain from penetrating the caves entrance. The slope of the cave went inward, if the rain ever fell into the cave, the cave would flood. As he padded deeper into the cave the air took on a musty taste, ventilation was poor then, and it was unlikely that the cave opened up elsewhere. After ten minutes of following the cave system, squeezing through smaller and smaller opening, and generally getting dirty, he decided to head back. If anything lived in here it wasn't there now, and Grigori wouldn't let anything into the cave without a fight. He left the torch burning on the ground just inside the entrance to the cave and ran out to pull a bundle from Grigori's saddlebags, intent on getting them some shelter from the endless rain that pelted them. He unwrapped it as he returned, and pulled free a bundle of thyme as large as his fist. He knelt a few yards into the cave, and grasped the thyme tightly in both hands. For some reason herbs served as a potent magical focus that allowed him to properly manipulate his latent magical energy. If he was truthful, he always felt the closest to the earth when he was growing his own produce and working the land. Perhaps that was why herbs were his gateway to manipulating the earth. He worked his magic, kneading it into the shape he wanted, before releasing it into the herb and guiding it to take shape. The stone walls and floor around him started to slough and run towards the front of the cave like wax dripping from a candle. The herbs in his hands began to flake and erode like they were burning, but no flame or heat made its presence known. Stone piled upon itself, smoothed itself, changing shape and restructuring on a molecular level into the shape that he desired. When the last of the herb faded away and his shoulders slumped with fatigue, all that remained was a now larger cavern with a flat floor and walls. The deeper parts of the cavern had been walled off and what appeared to be a solid stone wall now blocked the cavern opening. All in all, he had spent a weeks worth of accrued energy to create what was essentially a one room house in the mountainside. He pushed himself upright, not realizing that he had fallen over, and pushed against the cavern opening's new wall, the slightest touch sent the wall swinging open. A perfectly crafted dwarven door, a trick he had picked up from a lesser known clan living in the Cold South. From the outside the door was nearly seamless, and while not crafted in the manual dwarven fashion, passed as decent. Grigori came bounding up to him, his icy tongue scraping against his head before the beast pushed his way into the cavern. With the drake now occupying the room there was considerably less space, but enough. He let the door swing shut behind them and set about pulling packs off the drake, he would sleep like the dead tonight, and he would prefer to at least be comfortable for the duration.
  4. Homesteading Old School

    Renkor awoke to a chittering sound, or maybe it was more of a tweeting, a warble? Either way something had woken him up from the deep trance he had been enjoying, laying on a soft bed of loam and earth. He lay there, listening to the near deafening silence around him, the only noise that of the birds and bugs. There was something almost solemn about the quiet, he couldn't bring himself to shatter it with the noise of his presence. So he refused to get up, remaining supine on the ground as time slowly slipped by. Eventually Grigori awoke as well, adding his rustling to the thundering silence. With the morning doing its best to escape them, Renkor finally allowed himself to rise, leaving behind the warmth and comfort of the loam bed that he had constructed during the flagging daylight the night previous. The air was surprisingly pleasant, it was hot, but the humidity hadn't yet set in. If he didn't hit the road soon the water would become so thick in the air that it would begin dripping from everything, one of the reasons he would soon learn to hate the jungle for. He greeted Grigori by roughly kneading the scales at the base of his neck, where the harness passed over. His ministrations were received by the odd barking chirp that the wyvern made when communicating happiness. Once he had given the beast some much needed attention he set about checking the various straps and clips that riddled the harness. He didn't want to have anything fail on him mid-air when it really mattered, so better to check it now and make sure nothing was worn or torn. When he finished, Grigori let him harness the packs on, and then swung himself up onto his back and clipped in. Much like the first day they arrived, they shot through the tree canopy and headed off in an easterly direction. This process repeated itself for several days, a blurred cycle of sleeping and flying that was interspersed with the excitement of finding something new. The flora and fauna here were similar to back in his home dimension, not identical, but close enough that it was easy to recognize some things, the flora especially. The fauna had taken a weird turn when he and Grigori had run into a pack of incredibly large antelope like creatures, they towered over them and had rushed the two with an apparent predatory attitude. Not wanting to stay and risk a fight they obviously couldn't win, they slipped away into the sky where nothing had yet challenged their dominance. On the seventh day, when the sun was at its zenith, a new geographical feature appeared on the horizon. A mountain range, stretching from horizon to horizon, and reaching tens of thousands of feet into the sky. The peaks, the last few thousand feet, were covered in storm clouds that crackled with lighting. Interest flickered to life within him, the jungle was far too warm for him, and much too oppressive. But, perhaps a mountain was more suited? With a goal in sight his mood improved and they drove through the sky like a falcon diving for a pigeon.
  5. Homesteading Old School

    The gentle rippling of Grigori's leathery wings straining against the wind had a calming effect. The tree canopy below him rushed by, the wind whipping across his face, tugging at any loose clothing and straps. There was something extremely freeing about flying through the sky on a drake, a sense that there was nothing in the world to worry about. He had only been in this plane for a few minutes, and he could already feel himself shedding the weight of his past life; Like a snake shedding his skin. As a final pang of regret slipped past, thoughts of the recent years flashing before his minds eye, he turned Grigori gently with his knees, and headed east. The powerful drake rapidly flapped his wings, forcing his way up through the air, gaining altitude. As they finally reached the point where the air began to thin he relaxed, and they began a slow descent whilst surveying the land better. He wasn't surprised there was nothing but tree's as far as the eye could see. He had no idea how far across the land the forest extended, and he honestly had no idea how far he would want to travel. His only desire was to be as far away from the general populace as possible. They glided across the land, the only marking of their presence the gentle rustle of their passage through the air, and the dark shadow cast across the tree canopy below. Grigori was rather ruffled, he got the sense that the drake didn't like the lack of hot thermals that could take them up into the highest part of the atmosphere. The canopy was too even, they could stay in the air easily, but there was no way to gain any altitude without struggling their way up. As the miles passed his muscles began to cramp up and ache, saddle weariness was a serious threat when any absent fidgeting could result in a plummet several hundred feet to the ground. He persevered until the sun was two hands from the horizon, at which point he urged Grigori towards the ground below. The drake found a suitable opening in the canopy and tucked his wings, dropping out of the sky like an arrow loosed from a bow. Renkor's stomach flipped up into his throat as they fell, a feeling he always found discomforting, more so than rushing towards the ground at high speeds, or the height. Branches, leaves and vines whipped past them as they approached the ground, Grigori flaring his wings wide just before impact. Renkor could feel the strain in the sail like wings as they caught their weight on the air and dropped them gently, but abruptly to the ground. They had come to rest in a small clearing, no wider than a single story home, there was plenty of undergrowth around, and a cursory glance revealed a plethora of fruits and plants that were probably edible. This land was truly abundant in resources. He detached the safety cable from Grigori and slid from the saddle, groaning as his muscles stretched. Grigori started to wander, sniffing at this thing and that, his snuffling audible as Renkor performed a few basic stretches to loosen himself up. After completing his stretches, he walked to the edge of the 'clearing' which was really just an area devoid of trees, and pulled an orange like fruit from a vine. The outer layer of skin was tough, not overly like an orange was, more like a pear. He pulled a small blade from a sheath in the strap of his bag and sliced neatly through the skin, deftly halving the fruit in a single slice. Whereas the outside of the fruit was a pale orange color, the interior of the flesh was extremely dark, almost black in color. He sniffed it, and there was a distinctly pungent odor, not moldy or rotting, but not citrus-y. With no better way of discerning if it was dangerous, he bit into the flesh, tearing it away with his teeth and chewing on it lightly should there be any hard seeds hidden inside. The flavor was surprising, nutty like almonds, but with a lighter almost sweet hint of something in there. A warning bark from Grigori brought him from his reverie of the fruit, he almost felt embarrassed, when was the last time he had gotten so caught up in the joy of something so simple as fresh fruit? He turned, tightening his grip on the knife, spotting Grigori and trying to see what the drake had alerted on. The brush rustled, but he couldn't see anything through the thick growth. He peered closer, exploring the area with his eyes while trying to stay as still as possible in case there was a predator stalking them through the bushes. It was with a start that he realized the brush was not moving in the way he had assumed. The brush was attached to something that was moving. An enormous creature was traveling parallel to the clearing, just outside of it but within sight range. It's body was green and covered in a thick moss like plant, it walked on four short, powerful legs, and had an elongated snout with a set of carnivores teeth. With a thick bramble of thorny plant growing from its snout, the creature resembled closely a rhinoceros. It was larger than Grigori, and must have weighed a ton judging by the stockiness of its build. If the thing hadn't been moving, he doubted he would have seen it. He watched it as it continued on it's path, moving deeper into the jungle and away from them. He would sleep light tonight.
  6. OOC: Marsh of Horrors

    @Wanderlost@1ionFang In other news, I managed to get a hold of Phaedara briefly and she is dead. I'd say check back in another two months and we will see if she can be resurrected with a Wish.
  7. OOC: Marsh of Horrors

    The internet. ... ... ... But in seriousness I can only speculate as to what you are asking. The fastest way for me to answer all of those questions is as follows: This is the OOC chat for a "closed" thread, not a watercooler advert. Sorry!
  8. OOC: Marsh of Horrors

    Alive, present, possibly less sane then I was four weeks ago. You?
  9. Oh hey, you live in WA? Western or Eastern side?

    1. Grimshar


      Western, King County. Gonna come murder me in my home?

    2. Ataraxy



    3. Grimshar


      What, you've never found out that someone you met on the internet actually lived near you? Or just Valucre in particular?

  10. Homesteading Old School

    Renkor gasped as he abruptly came to existence in the land known as Taen, portal travel had never been kind to him. It happened every time he traveled through a portal, inter or intra dimensional. Something akin to the sickness he experienced when traveling via ship at sea. He cringed as a burst of saliva flooded his mouth, and the acrid taste of stomach bile seeped up from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could, willing himself not to vomit. Grigori, the lizard-like drake that he used as his mount and companion stumbled drunkenly beneath him, likely suffering the same negative effects of the sudden and instantaneous transportation. The weight of the saddlebags dragging the horse sized creature around as its center of gravity changed. All of the supplies that he needed to start fresh were in those packs, a substantial amount of weight all things considered. As the sickness abated enough for him to focus on his surroundings he was taken aback, the sheer abundance of life that resided in this jungle was shocking. The brush and ground cover plant life was tall enough that it prevented him from seeing past it, the trees towered above him, reaching hundreds of feet high. A myriad of animals scurried, ran, jumped, crawled, and otherwise sneaked past him as he stood there startled. Coming from the Cold South of Genesaris for this new land was as big of a 'Culture Shock' as you could expect to get. He felt a very real, and very sickening jolt of claustrophobia. Living on the open planes of a tundra his entire life hadn't conditioned him to live in a jungle, he was used to buildings and tight spaces, a hazard of his previous trade, but living in such a close proximity environment like this was the exact opposite of everything he had ever known. With an irrational fear rushing through his veins, he pulled back on the saddle in which he rode, indicating to Grigori that the drake should take flight. The beast screeched in agreement, at least he thought that's what it meant, and reared up on his back legs, readying its powerful wings for flight. It hopped twice before staying in the air, large canvas like wings beating the air into a flurry. Plants and grass flattened beneath the gale like force of Grigori's wings, the beast considered the tree canopy for a moment, trying to discern any visible opening that he could exploit to reach the open air. Seeing none, he decided to just bull his way through, something Renkor didn't realize until they were darting upwards like an arrow launched from a bow. The great wings of the drake tucked against his body to prevent snagging and tearing, and they crashed through the tree cover like a drunkard trying to fight his way through a bramble patch. They tumbled for a moment, finally above the tree canopy, before Grigori finally manage to get the wind under his wings, and then they were off. As they glided above the jungle Renkor craned his head this way and that, taking in the layout of the land as best he could. Unfortunately he couldn't see much of anything except for trees, what he assumed was an extension of the jungle he had first found himself in. If this world's sun and land setup was anything like where he had come from, the city (if you could call it a city) that sprawled out before him was to the northeast. He was certain that he wouldn't want to take up residence in the already well established town, half of the reason he had chosen Taen was because it had been depicted as a new frontier. After the events that had just transpired in Valjer City, he figured he needed to spend a few years (or decades) mucking about in a place where he had no ties. But, which direction to go?
  11. Why Taen?

    Could one say... start a solo thread to establish an area of residence? Perhaps a small section of jungle? I need a nice secluded place where some much needed solitude can be had and the deep jungles of Taen sound like just the place, and perhaps I could find a way to benefit Taen and Lunaris?
  12. Emerald Eyes

    Veritas trailed the other two into the building, his body no longer being in its prime taking a toll on his physical capabilities. It was a surreal experience as he hobbled up the small set of stairs into the raised floor building, once upon a time he would have been able to make the long trek and not have any issues performing in a situation like this. Now his body betrayed him, sharp aches and pains that threatened to make him flinch and lose his confidence. The door slammed shut behind him with an audible bang, the sound of the final nail being driven into the coffin. He leaned against the wall out of the way for a moment, panting as he tried to catch his breath, the sudden action having taken the wind out of him. He watched numbly as Gendon and Sakari rushed about barricading the doors and windows, preparing themselves for an onslaught or a siege. He set himself to the task, aiding them however little he could. "I'm afraid that in a fight I wont be much help. The most I can do is a little magic, nothing serious or deadly though. I have my dagger with me, though it's more ceremonial than an actual fighting weapon. I'm not sure what they are, I only got a brief look and that was enough to let me know they weren't friendly. Nothing friendly coordinates a trap like that. Perhaps the men were caught totally unawares somehow? That's the only thing that would make sense to me, otherwise I agree there would be signs of a defense and struggle." His mind lingered on the small purple flower that they had been inspecting when all of this started, something about it seemed important. Was it the presence of the flower? He had never seen one like it before, nor had he noticed its presence anywhere else. He was disturbed by the amount of pollen that it produced, the effects of which he could already feel in the back of his throat. Allergies were a seasonal issue for many people, himself included. With as much pollen as it distributed he imagined they would soon be covered in an orange layer and sneezing brain-matter out. He refused to linger on the subject though, if there was something he knew about this flower it would come back to him after his subconscious processed it. The creatures, whatever they were, had apparently reached the shuffling sounds leaking in through the walls. He wasn't sure why the logging camp had decided to bring glass panes with them, they were heavy and broke easily, but he supposed he wasn't in a place to question them. The fact that they hadn't immediately started attacking the walls and doors meant they were at least somewhat intelligent. An animal eager to catch their prey might be more easily frustrated into attacking the walls and doors more readily. The quiet was eerie, the only noise breaking the quiet an odd sound like leaves rustling in the wind. As the other two prepared themselves for the coming onslaught he cast about the room, trying to find anything that could be useful. The pickings were slim, Sakari had already pilfered the cooking oil, and all that was left was rotting food and dishware. There was an assortment of knives that looked particularly sharp, but he doubted they would be of any use against the creatures that plagued them now. He wasn't left with much more time to ponder, as the sounds of rustling increased at the front door. The noise was odd, like being in the middle of a forest during a wind storm, but centralized to one location, the effect left him feeling slightly disoriented. Then the pounding started, like a group of percussionists all beating their drums in coordination, a cascading waterfall of noise and shuddering impacts on the front door and the table barricading it. The door began to splinter under the hammer blows of the creatures, small slivers of wood spraying from the increasingly large crack in the center of the door. With a start he realized that he could physically see the creatures on the other side of the door as it fell away, the only thing left blocking their entrance the table made of solid rough-hewed oak. They were incredibly humanoid up close, all the right limbs with all the right proportions. The same purple flower with thistles sprouted from the chest cavity of the creature, vines and leaves sprouting from the base of the plant to cover the creature with a thick layer of bush and bramble. The skin was mottled, a grayish black that looked like decaying flesh, hollow eye sockets, and many sported a limping gait. Despite the obvious physical deformities that plagued the creatures, the one in the lead exhibited its considerable strength by single handedly pushing the table. It had taken the three of them to move the table to the door, having been chosen for the job because of its weight and size. Once they cleared the table they would engage in a melee, what would likely finish as a brutal and bloody battle that lasted only moments. He tightened his grip on the ceremonial dagger he carried with him, planting his feet in a firm stance. If today was his day to die, he would do it with a fight to the bitter end.
  13. OOC: Marsh of Horrors

    I'm just trying to say that I'm down for whatever.
  14. OOC: Marsh of Horrors

    I'm still willing to make the effort. Just might get delayed a few times. Nothing to long though, couple days at most.
  15. OOC: Marsh of Horrors

    Okay. I know the feeling well. I'm lying low as well, I was the lucky recipient of a ford f250 right in the ass at 40mph while I was at a dead stop in traffic on my way to work. Can't say I've got a whole lot of time to do valucre while dealing with insurance and shit.