Thursday, January 6, 2011


What a bastard. The fool split himself four ways, and his fish is no trout. His use of electricity and deception led to a disembodied experience - my fortieth. Time for another drink. Fezzik!

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Carousers Continued

Its been a very long time since I've checkin with the world, but a lot has happened. Protax and Mretaria have left the company. However, the Carousers continue to spread drunken revelry across the world and through the planes.

Two Amberite and one minotaur brutes have joined the ranks. Dismembering limbs all night and carousing in Lost Lamb Tavern for breakfast.

Onward the Drunken Revelry!!

Saturday, April 18, 2009

the Carousers

We started a new adventuring company recently. The Carousers. In addition to heavy drinking my hope is to spend our time exploring the transformed world we have found ourselves in and eventually bringing Yathryn to its knees. I look forward to the day the drow have to run and hide from cave to cave for survival! At the moment I am not powerful enough on my own. Our company, however, makes short work of them. A monstrous shoggoth will do that for any group. Thank Eris he is on our side.

Protax is almost diety like in both size and power and while he insists that he can transform into a centaur, among other things, I have yet to see him as anything other than a shoggoth. He has special growths that cause him to go super berserk, which is interesting.

Mretaria has also joined our little company and it wouldn't be much of a company without (him/her/it - I think he suffers from some identity confusion). Life is always interesting with an ELF. Before our company was put together we often joined together to destroy the drow and other denizens of lost souls that needed some killing. He/She/It on occasion embarked on killing me as well... ELF are like that I guess. Of course, he lost a limb or two (I don't go down without a fight), but again, I currently lack the power to adequately defend myself from his chaotic ways.

Malacast, a quessae red mage, has joined our company. I don't know him well and am not sure if he will enjoy our drunken revellry, but we welcome him. I look forward to getting to know him better as fire tends to scare me a bit.

I wish Fezzik could join our company and come drow bashing with us. That guy is a bruiser and just a lot of fun to have around. But, getting him out of the discordia courtyard takes quite a bit of work. As fun as he is to party with he is a bit of a home body.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Mad Martigan - Malaclypse

I should have known. This latest party Fezzik and I crashed was truly strange. I started the night drinking stolen Bloody Martins from Jhan (not my favorite place) and some punk dumped Fezzik and I into a rift. Desert in the middle of the day (lots and lots of sun) is not nearly as much fun as some make it out to be. We staggered our way back to Discordia and on the way to the tavern Fezzik jovially pushed me into Dara and then I floated into the Altar. The impact was slight but I felt a strong tugging sensation and was sucked into somewhere else.

The surroundings were odd, but seemed very familiar, as if I were home for the first time. I was introduced to two very strange fellows; Hagbard (who is very quiet) and Malaclypse (who doesn't stop talking). Malaclypse continued to spew strange ass quotes and things I could barely comprehend in my drunken state. As I reflect it is likely I wouldn't have understood half of them had I been sober six days. His association to the chaos god Eris became plain and as I explored with him the purpose of Eris and her chosen I became enthralled. I had found my place in the world. If I was to serve, as I was born to, at the least I could spend my energy taking apart that which my races masters had put together.

It wasn't that easy of course. My association with Fezzik caused some heart burn. But my spluttering prayers were heard and Eris intereceded with Malaclypse on my behalf. A POEE Brute was born.

Am I happy? Not really. Being a Brute gives me strength. Being a Discordian gives me purpose. But when I sober I having continuing thoughts of hatred for those who created and enslaved my kind... and come to think of it I don't really like those of my kind all that much.... generally cringing self loathing weak creatures who difuse into oblivion because they can't handle being free. Our Shadowmyrk brethren may have it right... take the war to the Drow and keep a sense of purpose... and avoid the pull of deaths call. Ah hell.... I need a drink.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Mad Martigan - Beginnings

Your first sentient thoughts in this world are typically about loving parents, siblings, family, friends. Rarely do these first thoughts revolve around your prescribed place in the world, if your anything other than a nyloc. My Place: I was created to be a slave to our drow masters. Not me personally, of course. Many of us broke the yoke of servitude before I was born. But knowing my entire race was created for the sole purpose of cringing and fetching for those pathetic spider worshippers is a hard one to grow up to.

I imagine many of our race have found the truth hard to live with and have slipped into the peaceful quiet of oblivion. Long story short, many of my brethren don't live long. My oblivion comes in the form of the bottle. Yes, I drink. To extreme excess. But once, during a roaringly good party in the discordian temple I happened upon Fezzik, who bought me several rounds of some toxic mix that I had a hard time metabolizing. As we bought each other drinks that wild evening (I think there was even a rabbit with a hat, and a rat riding a bat) I quickly found my world view confused with his verbose prose and seemingly chaotic meanderings.

Then the bastard punched me. Not being very solid at the time I crumpled and lay a shaowy heap on the floor, leaching blood and alcohol onto an already grimy floor. I passed out.

I awoke feeling really dumb for letting that hulking bastard sucker punch me like that. I also felt strangely powerful. A strength and vitality infused me that I had never felt before. As you might imagine, for a race that fears the sun, this felt good. I came to believe I could rip doors off their very hinges. As I went to the door of the tavern to try that very thing that hulking brute Fezzik stepped out and said, "That door you are spying is not worth the trying. If you make that attempt you won't be exempt from the pain you'll be feeling from the lack of your training. Come with me and you'll be ripping out trees." Not one of his better rhymes, but he made his point.

So started my training as one of Fezziks Brute Squad. As a teacher he is great. We drink, he teaches, we drink some more. I fit right in with his crowd. They don't even seem to mind that I am different, most of them seem to think I am just some figment of their alcholic stupor.