Character Club

[Paladin Dave]

Manfred was quite ready to clock Marcus for his opening remark, but the mention of never being used again woke him up to just how unsucky it was to be him, to be blunt. "Yeah... Yes, I suppose you are right." the Paladin said grimly as he pulled out a chair for Marcus and sat down. "I may have to age twenty years and play a father... but hey, better than nothing." Then Manfred's eyes lit up at a realization. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Marcus and asked, "Say... didn't Maldirk kill you before you came here? Like, really killed you? Dead? For good?"

((Aye, thanks. This IS fun!))

 

[Woman of Faith]

Then Manfred's eyes lit up at a realization. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Marcus and asked, "Say... didn't Maldirk kill you before you came here? Like, really killed you? Dead? For good?"

Marcus saw the holy knight thinking ruefully about something and he truly hoped he hadn't insulted the Paladin, he was tired of brawling. Then Manfred surprised him with strange questions. Raising his eyebrows as if to say Yes, so what?, Marcus answered the warrior, "Yes, Maldirk stabbed me in a most cowardly fashion, but it was nothing my player hadn't invited. She was leaving CF and had no more cause for playing me anymore. So yes, I am dead, to any active game thread anyway."

He got up from the table and went behind the bar to grab the best brandy and two glasses. Bringing it back over, Marcus poured a generous portion into one snifter and offered it to Manfred before pouring one for himself. He sat down again, "I am just grateful to Shadowseldil for starting this thread, where I may relax, read and even..." he touched his nose lightly, "...engage in combat every now and then." Marcus smiled at the last and was about to take a sip of the fine spirit he held, but stopped suddenly to ask of Manfred, "Why do you ask?"

 

[Paladin Dave]

Manfred did not even accept the brandy. He did not notice it. From the time Marcus answered his question to the time he returned, Manfred sat in his chair and stared into space, his eyes wide with hope and a grin growing on his face. After an awkward, and a bit rude, moment of silence, Manfred leapt up from his chair, cheering and pumping his arms in the air.

"SATHRIAAAA!!! I can see Sathria again! Son of his mother, where is Dave when you need him?!" Manfred cheered, then demanded as he looked around frantically.

Dave limped in, sore from his campout with the Dagorhir group the night before and all day today, grumbling under his breath.

Well duh, Manfred. I thought of it in the first place! "Oh... yeah..." Manfred smacked himself on the forehead as he realized that I must have been waiting for him to catch up. Yes, yes, I'll write to Star_Splitter soon, don't worry.

Manfred gave another cheer as Dave limped out, wincing as my blisters chaffed in my shoe.

"You hear that?!" Manfred crowed. "Sathria LIIIIIIVES!"

 

[Woman of Faith]

As Manfred celebrated joyfully, Marcus rolled his eyes and mumbled, "Spare me the drama of the lovelorn." Then, unbidden, his thoughts strayed to Asha... his one true love. She would never be his for his stubborn pride had cost him her love, that and the fact that he was dead. Suddenly in a sour mood, Marcus left the taproom without a word to anyone and headed for the stable, he needed to ride. Or, find Collin and take out his misery on the man's bald head.

 

[Woman of Faith]

Marcus found a huge piebald, tall and strong enough to handle his bulk, and saddled the animal himself. The task helped him get his mind off his sudden misery. Soon he was riding the great beast out of the stable, ducking his head as he passed through the door. Marcus had the horse jump a nearby fence then let him have his head as they ran farther into the open pasture. He heard a familiar roaring and looked to his right to see Collin racing by on that mysterious metal beast of his. It was a good thing Marcus' horse was well trained, else the animal may have been spooked by the noise of Collin's contraption. Moments later, the Floridian disappeared over a rise and the noise soon died off as well. Marcus turned right and headed to a stream he'd seen the last time he'd been riding, spurring the horse into a gallop to eat up the miles. When he arrived he dismounted and let the horse drink its fill, it had earned a nice rest after that run. Marcus lay down in the grass and watched the leaves dancing in the breeze. If one had to be banished from active play in the game threads one could do worse than the Character Club, thought the big nobleman.

 

[Woman of Faith]

Marcus woke from a lovely dream in which he and Asha were picnicing at this very spot, they were in the blush of their love and had not yet fought about class roles and their differing views of women's roles. The beheamoth of an aristocrat heaved a great sigh and rose from his prone position on the ground. Well-trained, the piebald had not strayed from the area and was now grazing in tall grass nearby. Marcus whistled and the horse trotted over to him. Quickly the tall man mounted the great beast and soon he was loping off toward the Character Club stables, though at a more relaxed pace than earlier. An hour later Marcus strode into the stables and handed the reins to a boy.

Entering the taproom once again, Marcus saw that Manfred was gone. He must be playing the father now, thought the lonely knight. Good for him, he thought as he sighed once more, Would that I could join some thread somewhere to be near Asha again. Marcus knew it was folly to think that way, but he couldn't help it at the moment.

 

[Paladin Dave]

"Oh stop that." A voice scolded in a strong English accent, from just behind Marcus. Surely, the massive knight got quite a shock when he turned around to find a Lich standing there, dressed in darkened steel chainmail, breast plate, and gauntlets. A chainmail fauld extended down to his knees, where two tall leather boots could be seen covering the undead man's bony legs and feet. The chainmail made him look a bit less scrawny, especially in the legs, but the regality of his armor, his fine black cape, and elaborate crown helm made of bone and steel surely distracted from his thin frame as well.

"Oh heavens, some lout killed you because your author hadn't the time to play you! You just come right back here and all your pretty bodily fluids and flesh are right back on your frame again." the Lich carried on, condescension, but even moreso, irritation clear in his voice. "Life is so awful, eh? Try STAYING dead, son. Oh, I can hear the violins playing for you, its so tragic! You were left in the cold by your lady, and all you have to do is sit out here and mope! OH ,what a said song those violins... wait..." Then the Lich paused and part of his eye-socket warped slightly, as if he were raising an eyebrow. "Do you hear.... oh." The Lich was about to ask if Marcus really heard a violin playing, but then the man realized that he had started playing his own violin at the mention of proverbial ones playing sadly for Marcus. Immediately, the skeletal man stopped playing and stuck his bow and violin behind his back. Had he facial muscles and skin, the Lich would have been grinning sheepishly. Veins and arteries would have been even better, because then he could blush!

"Right then..." he said sheepishly, glancing at the ground. He looked back up to Marcus and timidly introduced himself. "Lord Gildenstern Redcross Hadriel Theradine, at your service, by the way. No need to worry; while your former lady battles those who are, like me, undead, I am not quite like my malevolent... erm... brethren, I suppose one might call them. You see, Dave only used me once; and I was assisting some good characters, albeit, some were rather brash, and quite the anti-heroes. That one vampiress who habitually fell asleep on my head was quite vexatious, but I digress. One minor Arena Battle is probably all the action I'm going to see for a long while, so I thought it best to ride my little camel over" Gildenstern pointed to a skeletal camel that was trying and failing to drink water from the nearby stream. " and introduce myself. Then I found you moping, much to my chagrin. I, erm, meant not to ignore your pain... tragic, really... but I felt like pointing out how nice life is while you can still live it. ... Am I making sense, good sir?"

 

[Woman of Faith]

Marcus was just about to settle into a good mope session when a sibbilant voice from behind him invaded his melancholy thoughts. As he turned to invite the owner of this voice to leave him alone the menacing words forming in Marcus mouth evaporated like a blacksmith's sweat dripping on a hot iron. Before him stood one of the unholy and dreaded undead! Marcus reached for his sword only to find the scabbard empty, Jace has Tiphereth, bloody great. He was about to grow quite concerned for his own wellbeing, but then the beast began to speak in a most insulting fashion!

Rather than attack him bodily, the death knight was giving Marcus quite a tongue lashing. No small feat for a decaying creature such as was he. The more the thing spoke the more irritated Marcus became and if he hadn't just recovered from the brawl with Sir Manfred he might have issued a challenge to this undead wretch for belittling his grief.

When the deceased gentleman finished his speech Marcus answered calmly and rationally, no small feat for one who's temper was flaring as hotly as was his at the moment. Looking the death knight in his eye sockets Marcus let him know what he thought of his opinions, "It seems, good sir, that you have had much longer to become accustomed to your state than have I and yet you don't seem any more comfortable with it than I am with mine. In addition, you yourself admit that you are at least seeing some action in a... did you call it Arena? Regardless, life in the Character Club can be fine, at least for a while. I was made to be a warrior, a nobleman, born to serve my God and my king. Now I am relegated to a life of leisure, a cursed existence for one such as I. I thank you for your interest in my welfare and your efforts to cheer me, but I would thank you more to leave me to my sulking until it too wears itself out."

 

[Firefall]

Ashorsilvaanoth, a Great Silver Dragon, alighted down upon a mist shrouded outcropping that overlooked the Character Club. Ash snorted disdainfully at such flimsy human architecture, reckoning he could incinerate it by merely coughing. The massive twenty-one metre Dragon settled down to lounge on the mountain spur, his languid stretching making his metallic scales ripple and flash in the sunlight. His eyes never left the tavern however, their brilliant silver hues shining through the mist.

It had been years since Ash had left the company of friends in the Life Long Liberty Quest, showing false its self-claimed title in his case. He had only joined up with the others on the journey because the mission was chiefly concerned with Dragons and their fate in the world of Christia. Now it seemed that everything was back to normal though the Silver Dragon hadn't had the chance to fight any Reds or Blacks and hadn't freed any of his own kin. What was there left to do?

Visit a Character Club? Ash ground his razor sharp teeth together in frustration, but was resigned to the fact anyway. At least their food stores might assuage some of the immense hunger he had been feeling these days; there just were not any choice flocks of goats or sheep around these parts.

Still grumbling, Ash began a startling transformation. His whole body seemed to diminish and soften at the same time. Huge taloned paws morphed into humanoid hands and feet. His magnificant wings and heavy tail folded and shrunk into his back. The gleaming white horns curving back from his head shrunk and seemed to disappear into jagged cropped silver hair. Likewise, his serpentine head narrowed down into an equally angular face whilst still retaining his piercing metallic eyes. Loose fitting shiny grey garments replaced his massive scales and soon there stood Ash the Silver Dragon in all the glory of his humanoid form.

Ash leapt deftly off the ridge, and was soon striding confidently over toward the Character Club.

 

[Woman of Faith]

Gildenstern pointed to a skeletal camel that was trying and failing to drink water from the nearby stream. " and introduce myself. Then I found you moping, much to my chagrin. I, erm, meant not to ignore your pain... tragic, really... but I felt like pointing out how nice life is while you can still live it. ... Am I making sense, good sir?"

I was made to be a warrior, a nobleman, born to serve my God and my king. Now I am relegated to a life of leisure, a cursed existence for one such as I. I thank you for your interest in my welfare and your efforts to cheer me, but I would thank you more to leave me to my sulking until it too wears itself out."

It appeared the lich really knew how to follow through on a request, no matter how rudely delivered. Marcus felt badly for having treated anyone the way Marcus had treated Gildenstern. The tall nobleman walked behind the bar and found the tavern keeper's hiding spot. Pulling out a bottle of the "good stuff", Marcus then walked over to the lich, "Lord Gildenstern Redcross Hadriel Theradine, please allow me to apologize for my remarks and behavior. I am Lord Sir Marcus Neiman Athenuel, former General in the Lumlorian Royal Army. He placed two snifters on the table and inquired of the noble lich, "Will you accept my apology and drink a glass of this fine brandy in friendship?"

 

[Paladin Dave]

"Pish." Gildenstern replied, still sounding just the least bit agitated. "Good man, your tone and words are of no offense to me. You needn't apologize for that, but the gesture is appreciated." The Lich leaned a bony, gauntlet-encased hand on the table and diverted his weight onto it, testing it slightly to make sure it wouldn't tip over.

"I confronted you, good sir, because of your attitude; more specifically, your perspective. Bear with me, M'Lord, and know that I am full aware of the sufferings of this tragic turn of events, and also that I HAVE had a good... murrr.... Oh, it must be over 70 years now! So hard to keep count! But I digress. My point is that I know your sufferings all too well.

Let me ask you a question, Sir Athenuel. Forgive me, I shall only be a minute longer." he interrupted himself. "Can you still breathe? Of course you can; but who likes BREATHING anyway? In utmost seriousness I ask this of you, but I am FAR more serious in asking this. Can you sleep? Can you eat? Are you able to dream? Can you feel a knife's sting? Or a woman's touch? .... Are you able to have a drink?"

With that, and in a fashion embarrassingly similar to that of the late Captain Barbossa from a certain film, Gildenstern took the brandy, tilted his skull back, and opened up his jaw, pouring the liquid down. The brandy spilled out, glugging past the neck of the bottle and spattering down against Gildenstern's bare trachea. He only poured for a few seconds, but the brandy puddle on the floor beneath his boots and chainmail fauld sufficiently proved his point.

"I mean not to offend, for your gesture was in utmost good nature, I can see quite clearly." Gildenstern apologized as he set the remnants of the brandy back down. "I am not offended by your insensitivity to my lack of muscular tissue in my mouth, or an esophagus or tongue, or bowels. Nope, not in the slightest. I'm not really offended by ANYTHING that you've said or done, m'boy. All I'm trying to say is this... I sulked for a good 10 or 20 years, driving myself completely insane as I dealt with the inhibitions of undeath. And when I'd finally gotten used to the weekly chore of cleaning cobwebs from my ribcage and pelvic bone, I still spent my days locked away in a crypt, playing the violin for days at a time, reading for weeks without end, and exhausting every library they had in the "Shadowlands" I dwelt in, far beneath Christia, and my homeland of Peria. I was unable to serve, just as you... but even you are still able to enjoy LIFE!" his tone went from lecturing to pleading as he spoke the last sentence, moving closer to Marcus and actually putting a hand on the man's shoulder to get his focus.

"You are very much alive, Lord Marcus. You may have been banished to this place until Woman of Faith FINALLY decides to give in and resurrect you as a Death Knight... but you are still ALIVE! You may not have as much to do with this, but you can still do SOMETHING with it! Enjoy yourself, Lord Marcus. Don't spend your whole life mourning and sulking... because Death is much, MUCH longer than life... and Death will not hear our pleas. It does not care for our hardships. Christ said he is God of the Living.... not the dead. I won't be able to enjoy a new body until The Resurrection... enjoy yours now, lest anything similar to my fate falls upon you. Live, Marcus. Leave dying at heart to those whose hearts have already rotted away."

Then the Lich nervously glanced at the table and backed away, then scooted his unfinished brandy next to Marcus'. "Oh, and do have the brandy. I have a feeling you're going to need it, old boy..."

 

[Woman of Faith]

"You are very much alive, Lord Marcus. You may have been banished to this place until Woman of Faith FINALLY decides to give in and resurrect you as a Death Knight... but you are still ALIVE! You may not have as much to do with this, but you can still do SOMETHING with it! Enjoy yourself, Lord Marcus. Don't spend your whole life mourning and sulking... because Death is much, MUCH longer than life... and Death will not hear our pleas. It does not care for our hardships. Christ said he is God of the Living.... not the dead. I won't be able to enjoy a new body until The Resurrection... enjoy yours now, lest anything similar to my fate falls upon you. Live, Marcus. Leave dying at heart to those whose hearts have already rotted away."

Then the Lich nervously glanced at the table and backed away, then scooted his unfinished brandy next to Marcus'. "Oh, and do have the brandy. I have a feeling you're going to need it, old boy..."

Marcus tried to hide his disgust at the display the cultured lich made in downing the fine brandy, only to have it wind it's way down his obviously decomposed body to puddle on the floor. Marcus did try to hide his disgust, but he feared he probably failed. After Gildenstern was finished with his dramatic illustration of the less than finer points of undeath Marcus took his advice. He quickly downed both snifters of brandy, then something the lich had said stuck out in his mind and he went after the undead noble, "Sir, what did you mean about my becoming a Death Knight? I have not heard of such from my player and you do not seem happy with your condition. Are you suggesting I should seek to become like you?"

 

[Paladin Dave]

"No, not at all." Gildenstern replied as he pulled out a chair for Marcus, and then sat down in his own. He didn't mean to be rude, but it seemed so much easier to speak while sitting; even if he didn't tire. "However, MY author is a tad obsessive about the Undead, and has made the suggestion to your author that your corpse be risen from the dead, and turned against your brother and your bonnie lass. If you are familiar with Sir Gottenkrieger and his lovely daughter, you will see that Sir David is QUITE sadistic with us, from time to time."

 

[Woman of Faith]

"Quite," agreed Marcus as he retrieved another bottle of brandy from behind the bar. Sitting down again he said, "Tis rather a pity you cannot enjoy this." Marcus poured a glass and lifted the snifter to his nose to appreciate the aroma of the fine spirit. He touched his fully healed nose for a moment then smiled, "I am most familiar with Sir Gottenkrieger, though I have never had the pleasure of meeting his daughter." Marcus shook his head in wry humor as he thought of Manfred raising a daughter, he wondered what kind of woman she'd grow to become. One thing was certain, she'd never let anyone keep her from speaking her mind. A woman who spoke her mind, now that was his Asha all over. At this thought, Marcus paused as he was about to take a sip of the fine brandy, "My author never mentioned anything to me about resurrecting as a Death Knight, but she knows I would be wholly opposed to becoming someone else's evil servant eternally." After finally swallowing the beverage, Marcus continued, "I would never allow myself to be used in a plot meant to harm other good servants of our Lord, much less so if my loved ones are involved."

 

[Paladin Dave]

Gildenstern scoffed at what Marcus said about becoming a Death Knight. The poor man really had no idea, did he? It was not his fault... everyone felt that way about a lot of things. Gildenstern doubted that thieves would aspire for the occupation as children; not until desperate hunger drove them over the edge, atleast. Surely, few of the people in prisons had envisioned themselves comitting the crimes they had earlier in life; even as early as the day before the act. But it happened. And what Marcus didn't know was that becoming a Necromancer's servant just happened, like everything else.

"Well, voluntarily, you wouldn't. But Sir Cornelius has never really been one to let the wishes of the bodies or spirits he uses get in the way of making them useful to him. The Necromancer that resurrected me did so when I was already dead! I did not choose it; it simply happened. I understand what you are saying, completely, but I just hope you know that once a Necromancer... or Author... decides you are to be their undead servant... well, there's really no saying no."

"Ah... On to a more pleasant subject." he sighed, coming out of his rant. "Do tell me about Sir Gottenkrieger, please! I passed him on the way in here, and I know a bit from my Author, but I am curious to know how the two of you know eachother."

 

[Woman of Faith]

Marcus was quite disturbed by what Gildenstern said, "Good sir, you have changed the subject and I do not mean to be rude. I will happily tell you what I know of Sir Manfred, however, you have said something which disturbs me greatly. I pray you, answer this question first and I will tell of my first meeting with the great Paladin." Marcus swallowed another gulp of brandy before pressing on with his question, "Mean you to say that if some evil, demented mana-wielder chooses to rob my grave he or she might bring me back to the land of the living as his or her evil slave?" The thought was too much for Marcus and he prayed his author had some say in the matter.

 

[Paladin Dave]

Gildenstern's eye sockets warped into an eye-frown, part of the magic that had been bestowed upon him by his Necromancer; actually a decent fellow, by Gildenstern's word. He was able to make facial expressions to some extent, and was more of a companion to the wizard than a servant... but his death meant Gildenstern was alone in a world that belonged to the living. He was truly the only Necromancer Gildenstern ever really liked. But that was beside the point...

"I am afraid that is exactly what I am saying." Gildenstern said gravely(Groan... sorry about that). "Your author is your best friend if you want protection against Necromancy. Your soul cannot be taken from the afterlife, but you can be halted on the way there. Your body and its old mind would rise from the dead and serve whoever robbed your grave... but to what extent depends solely on the Necromancer. If Sir Cornelius, a villain that the Gottenkriegers will be facing, were to visit your tomb... I fear your body would be brought back stronger than before; untiring, though with significantly less beef on your bones, I'll say. Your mind might very well remember your life, even if it took some time... and it would be in constant suffering at being unable to stop itself from rotting, or from serving Cornelius. It would be unable to end its own suffering, unable to sleep, dream, laugh, love... and it couldn't even cry for the sake of its own misery. Undeath is a terrible thing, my friend. And souls endure even greater torture under that Cornelius fiend. But according to my rather sadistic author, yours will not allow such a thing upon your... I believe her adjective of choice was "gorgeous"? Your gorgeous body." Gildenstern's eye sockets warped again, matching the perpetual grin of his skull. "Come now, then. The bright side to this, if one can call it that, is that all Necromancers die eventually, and they live in a land filled with good Christians, Clerics, and Holy Warriors. The undead servants will not last so long, most likely, and the Liches that rose them will fall too one day. Then they will be free to return to their afterlife, and sweet oblivion. They will have relief, and since it IS Christia, it will be more than relief; it will be a reward! So please, my new friend, do not despair. You will not be turned, I am confident, and you now owe me a description of your experiences with Sir Gottenkrieger."

Gildenstern crossed his bony legs and placed his boots up on the table, reaching down to his satchel and producing a violin, bow, and rosign(sp?). "I can play while we continue, if you like. Do you mind?"

 

[Woman of Faith]

Marcus took a moment to absorb all Gildenstern had said then heaved a great sigh of relief his author would not allow such a horrible fate to befall him. The big nobleman looked at the unexpectedly sophisticated and refined lich and replied, "'Rosun up your bow and play on, my reanimated friend. Violin music goes well with stories of Sir Manfred Gottenkrieger." Marcus paused to grin wryly at his own acerbic comment then he took a sip of brandy before he began, "It was quite a first meeting for two men such as Sir Manfred and I, and I mean that not in a good way. The threat of war was in the air over Laurelda, the tension between Ember and Lumloria could be cut with a dull short sword. I had been racing to the capital city, having been called there by King Roltal himself, but was stopping at my father's estate in Akhonne to seek rest and assistance. I was not aware my father had guests in the house, my squire and I went immediately to my rooms on the topmost floor of the house. I had just cleaned the dust of my travels off my body and had barely dressed when I heard a raucous commotion below. Naturally, being a Knight of the Realm, I took up my sword and immediately went to investigate.

Upon arriving at the second floor I saw a young woman hiding behind a tapestry, peeking out at two people near a bedchamber door. The man appeared to be a knight, but he was acting most peculiarly, yelling at the door and using obscenties. The woman was rather calm and even seemed bemused at whatever was going on. I decided to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with these strangers in my father's home. "Hold!" I yelled at them while brandishing my sword. They were strangers after all, "What do ye here, yelling at someone beyond a door? I hope ye have good reason to disturb the peace of my father's home!" Unbeknownst to me an assassin had gained entry into the room and Sir Manfred was trying to give chase. Why he didn't stop to ask a servant to get a key is beyond me, but I suppose a man in love will do reckless things from time to time. Why do our wits leave us whenever a beautiful woman enters our lives? Ah, that's neither here nor there. To continue, Sir Manfred appeared remorseful and immediately apologized. He explained the situation and I then ordered the servants to block off all exits. Almost at the same time my father arrived with the his steward, who had the keys. I took these and while motioning for the others to keep silent I made my way to the door. Silently, I motioned to Sir Manfred that he should run into the room as soon as the door was open. I then placed the key into the lock and withdrew my sword. It was my intention to follow Sir Manfred into the room and help him capture the rapscallion. When all was in readiness I unlocked the door and swung it open.

Screaming like a madman, Manfred charged in and I quickly found out he was a Paladin as he fired a blast of holy light from his hand. I found out later it was an attempt to blind the assassin. Unfortunately the man had jumped from the second story window in a desperate escape. My beloved Asha and her friend Leighla were below and while Asha immediately gave chase Leighla vowed to protect the young woman, I believe her name was Sathria. I have since found out that the young maid has passed away. When the assassin escaped Sir Manfred looked as if he could chew horseshoes and spit nails, however, he did quite a commendable job of holding his temper. He did mention he would kill the man if he ever found him. I could've reassured the Paladin that the man would never escape since Asha was on his trail. My Asha can track a fish in water, just tell her what the salmon looks like and she'll tell you where he was spawned. Mmmm, I digress. It appeared Manfred was angry with me for some reason, probably because he thought the delay in opening the door allowed the assassin to get away, but as I had told him, doors built of Golden Oak are not easily brought down and Asha was on the man's trail. He was going nowhere. Manfred then accused me of that very thing, thinking he was close to breaking that door down and I'd stopped him from capturing the assassin while threatening to chop off his head. Bah! Like I said, however, the man's love had been threatened so I shrugged off Sir Manfred's exaggerations and invited him to join me downstairs at dinner where we drank a goblet in friendship.

The only other contact I've had with the man has been here, in the Character Club. I find Sir Manfred to be stalwart, if stubborn and honorable, if a bit overzealous. I would be honored to count him as a friend and I hope he thinks of me as such, I don't thins he does though. He seems to bear an unreasonable resentment toward me, or my family, that I simply cannot fathom. I do not know of a single thing I have done to offend the man. I hope he counts me a friend after our last meeting. Although a friend stuck in the Character Club can do little for one who is able to live on in the game threads. Worry not, I do not enter into another fit of melancholy. I merely point out the grim fact. I suppose you are right in saying that it is better to live on here, in an enjoyable if boring atmosphere, than to be cursed to undeath. At the last Marcus drank another gulp of the fine brandy he'd been nursing as he told the story of his and Sir Manfred's first meeting.

 

[52Cards]

((Would I be allowed to join? I don't wish to simply barge in.))

 

[Paladin Dave]

Actually, I think thats the idea. Any characters without a place are welcome here.