Kezzek
10-19-99, 01:26 PM
I was perusing the (depressing) vaults of the Retirement Wing and stumbled upon this gem. Take a few moments to read it. It's a beauty.
Posted by Annwyl (8/29/99): (note the date)
The Retirement of Annwyl Anklestabber-Northoak
Annwyl trudged wearily into the bank in North Freeport. She opened her bags and deposited a few coins into her modest bank account and dumped a couple of trinkets in the backpacks lying there.
She checked her fourth backpack to see her most prized possession.. a Bone Razor, given to her by those in her guild. She smiled slightly thinking of the dear people who had protected her and helped her for so long. Annwyl's eyes twinkled as she went to pick it up... but it fumbled in her hands.
Again she cursed. Why had Bristlebane abandoned her so? All of her rogue brethren could equip this weapon, but not her, it did not seem to fit into her tiny gnome hands. Tears of anger and frustration welled in her eyes. It was just one more frustration in a life filled with many. She was weaker than anyone she knew, she died quickly when anything became angry at her, she constantly needed help, she could not kill a single thing without serious help from others around her. She tried to remember the last time she killed anything worthwhile totally on her own.. all that came to her was a blurred memory of a large skeleton in Befallen. What was she then.. 17th circle?
She looked down at her armor.. and it was all beautiful and fine. She had always stayed outfitted in the best of the times. The bright red was briliant in the flicker of the torches on the wall...but she wished for black armor, so she could better sneak in the shadows. The red made her stand out so badly.. and although she had practiced sneak and hide constantly, she was at the top of her skill level, she knew.. yet the skills seemed to fail her so much. Recently she'd learned to be invisble while moving, yet even that did not protect her as well as a spellcaster illusion spell. It was embarassing. Her equipment was incredible, yet when she was pounded on in battle she was hurt so much more badly than any of her non-spellcasting friends.
And it wasn't only that, but it seemed no matter what she did in battle, she WOULD get pounded on... especially when she would sink her dagger deep into her enemies back. "but..." she thought "even when I miss..." And how could she miss so much? She more was agile and dexterous than anyone she knew, and certainly much more so than the creatures she faught. Even so, in battle she would feel herself lining up her dagger with the small of her enemy's back, then at the right time jumping up and spinning her dagger into her fist, and at the second she thought she'd feel impact... nothing but air.. or sometimes just a scratch! How could this happen so much? Not only that but even when she somehow missed, the monster could sense this and would turn on her, just as if she had torn a large hole in its back. How did it know? Even with her gnomish intellect, she just didn't understand.
She heard a voice beside her and it snapped her out of her trancelike thoughts. It was her good cleric friend, Senelar, a High Elf. She smiled up at him and began to make small talk with him as she continued to rummage through her things.. oh look.. her morter and pistal... not even used once yet. Sighing, she walked over to a bin of trash and threw it in. She had spoken to many of her rogueish friends about THAT skill. The gods had finally seen fit, after YEARS of service, to bring the ability to make and apply poison to their weapons into the world, and from all accounts it was mostly a waste of time. Her friends worked long and hard to gather the ingredients, to make the vials needed, to create the poisons, sometimes they finally made them and would try to apply them.. and failed. "How can we fail? How can we possibly FAIL to dip our daggers in liquid?" she wondered. When that worked, most of the time she was told her poison would be resisted, or would "lose concentration?" when it went off? Or, she would be chased away and the breeze would wear the poison off while she moevd from one area to another. "What is the point? What is the good in that?" she wondered, as tears sprang to her eyes again.
While chatting with Senelar her mind quickly ran through the other things she should be able to do well and couldn't. Where were the locks she could pick in this world? Hidden treasure in chests, looming doors only she could open? Where were the traps in this world? The others in her parties could always keep her alive and protect her with their special skills.. she brought no worth to her parties in these ways that she was suppposed to. All she could do was stand behind a creature and bury her daggers in it, praying it didn't notice her. That was it. That was all she could do. She was supposed to be able to instill fear in creatures, make them flee in terror. That was a joke. Try as hard as she might, she'd only actually done it a very few times.. and ALL of those times the creature had broguht back hordes of friends, or her party had attracted them while fleeing after the creature. Not once had she instilled doubt in anything when she and her paty needed to escape.
"At least I can amuse my friends by jumping off of things at great heights!" she thought, cheerily. Just then the thought came to her that her skill would never be mastered and she could still fail.
With her low tolerance for taking hits, even a couple of "amusing" jumps had turned deadly.
"Oh, but money! I can collect money!" She looked into her bank account.. 374 platinum pieces. She had given so much to Kinien.. she never had much herself. She thought about how much copper and silver she had been forced to destroy.. probably thousands by now.. for every platinum piece she took, she probably destroyed three or four times that amount in silver and copper. And even if she did have vast riches, what would that buy? She had all of the equipment she needed.. and nothing she needed to survive cost much.. all she could think to buy was poison off of other rogues who had more time to do such things as she.
Annwyl stood for a moment and looked at herself. There was only one thing she did have, she had wonderful friends who loved her and looked after her. And she had a guild who....
Then suddenly she remembered. It was like Lady Vox herself had taken her great tail and with all her force slammed it against the tiny gnome's body, so painful and hard-hitting was the memory.
Annwyl had had a secret. A very special secret, a happy secret. She had told very few people this secret, and she had only told them before she knew how secret this information was. She had made those she had told take a vow not to let others know her secret. She thought she was able to trust those she told. All but one was able to.
Her HUSBAND, Kinien, was the one who betrayed her, and her secret. At first he just told one or two people. Annwyl talked to those he told and asked them not to tell. They had promised. Annwyl was nervous about so many knowing already, but Kinien again promised not to tell anyone else.
And then a week ago she had been adventuring with her friend Dragourn, killing the kobolds of Solusek when he told her that he knew her secret.
"How did you know?" she asked, in shock that even a distant friend and guildmate would know this.
"Kinien told us. He told the whole guild."
Annwyl once again collapsed as she remembered this, she doubled over in pain as the memory and feeling of absolute betrayal flooded over her. He'd said it was an accident, that he meant to whisper it to someone, but instead had shouted it for all in the guild to hear. It didn't matter, he had promised to stop telling people. She wrenched off her wedding ring and threw it across the small room in the back of the bank. Senelar was at her side as the tears began flooding down her face. She cried for a long, long time, because of what the guild's knowledge of the secret meant.
Through all of her frustrations, through all of her deaths, through disappointment after disappointment there was just one thing that kept her going these last few months: the Knights of Eternal Good. The comradarie and trust that was built in the guild, the knowledge that they would help her achieve her goals.
And now she could be in the guild no longer.
She wrenched herself out of Senelar's comforting hug and ran outside to the back of the bank, where the contents of her stomach came up. Her agony was so great she could do no more but pass out behind the building. She vaguely heard Senelar calling out for her as she lost her grip on the world.
She awoke sometime later in a bed in the Jade Inn. Mills, a well known cleric and good friend of Annwyl's since her childhood, and Senelar stood over her, looking concerned. She swallowed some loose soup as Senelar tried to hand her her wedding band.
"I don't want it." Annwyl said weakly. "Put it in my bank account. While I was sleeping a vision came to me of what I must do with my life."
Mills and Senelar listened intently as she explained. "In a short time a man will come, and I will be giving him all my posessions. Yes, all. From there I will travel back to my home in Ak'anon and sleep. I will not.. cease to exist, but I will sleep for a long time, perhaps forever. If I do re-awaken I will be totally without posession except for the few things I can not rid myself of, my journeyman boots and guise of the deciever mask. I will have to rebuild myself in order to survive and perhaps gain my 50th circle."
"Annwyl, you are so close, forty-third circle..." Senelar objected.
"It matters not to me. My life has been mostly disappointments through all my hard work. I love you both, and my other friends in KEG, and other guilds.. the people I have grown up with.. I will be near, I will be visiting, but in a very different form as this one. Oh how I wished to slay a dragon! Oh how I wished to face Cazic Thule! But alas, these things are not my destiny now. If perhaps the gods see fit to give me, and my fellow rogues, the tools we need to become the persons we should be I will consider coming back.. but until that day I will rest."
Mills and Senelar nodded then left to let her sleep. As promised, a short time later a man came and was given all of Annwyl's posessions. Everything she had and was able to let go of was given to him. Immediately after she boarded the boat to Faydwer and rode it to Butcherblock mountains. Eagerly she ran through the forests of Faydark. She took time to tour her beloved lands of Steamfont mountians.. it had been more years than she could count since she had been here.
Tears stramed down her face as she greeted Watchman Mylz, her childhood mentor. With joy finally in her heart again she entered her home of Ak'anon. She ran through her home and greeted all those she knew. With the help of Senelar's magic she finally made Ak'Anon her home again. Hugging him and waving goodbye she snuck through the cleric's guild down into the basement where her guildmaster awaited.
She spent hours there, telling the young gnome rogues, and her guildmaster, of her adventures, her friends, the wonders of the world of Norrath. It was early in the morning when she slipped back into a hidden door in the guild, perhps one she alone knew of. She curled up on the small cot she had grown up sleeping in and with a peaceful smile on her face drifted off to sleep, perhaps never to awaken again.
-=Annwyl Anklestabber=-
43rd level Gnome Rogue
Knights of Eternal Good
The Rathe
Posted by Annwyl (8/29/99): (note the date)
The Retirement of Annwyl Anklestabber-Northoak
Annwyl trudged wearily into the bank in North Freeport. She opened her bags and deposited a few coins into her modest bank account and dumped a couple of trinkets in the backpacks lying there.
She checked her fourth backpack to see her most prized possession.. a Bone Razor, given to her by those in her guild. She smiled slightly thinking of the dear people who had protected her and helped her for so long. Annwyl's eyes twinkled as she went to pick it up... but it fumbled in her hands.
Again she cursed. Why had Bristlebane abandoned her so? All of her rogue brethren could equip this weapon, but not her, it did not seem to fit into her tiny gnome hands. Tears of anger and frustration welled in her eyes. It was just one more frustration in a life filled with many. She was weaker than anyone she knew, she died quickly when anything became angry at her, she constantly needed help, she could not kill a single thing without serious help from others around her. She tried to remember the last time she killed anything worthwhile totally on her own.. all that came to her was a blurred memory of a large skeleton in Befallen. What was she then.. 17th circle?
She looked down at her armor.. and it was all beautiful and fine. She had always stayed outfitted in the best of the times. The bright red was briliant in the flicker of the torches on the wall...but she wished for black armor, so she could better sneak in the shadows. The red made her stand out so badly.. and although she had practiced sneak and hide constantly, she was at the top of her skill level, she knew.. yet the skills seemed to fail her so much. Recently she'd learned to be invisble while moving, yet even that did not protect her as well as a spellcaster illusion spell. It was embarassing. Her equipment was incredible, yet when she was pounded on in battle she was hurt so much more badly than any of her non-spellcasting friends.
And it wasn't only that, but it seemed no matter what she did in battle, she WOULD get pounded on... especially when she would sink her dagger deep into her enemies back. "but..." she thought "even when I miss..." And how could she miss so much? She more was agile and dexterous than anyone she knew, and certainly much more so than the creatures she faught. Even so, in battle she would feel herself lining up her dagger with the small of her enemy's back, then at the right time jumping up and spinning her dagger into her fist, and at the second she thought she'd feel impact... nothing but air.. or sometimes just a scratch! How could this happen so much? Not only that but even when she somehow missed, the monster could sense this and would turn on her, just as if she had torn a large hole in its back. How did it know? Even with her gnomish intellect, she just didn't understand.
She heard a voice beside her and it snapped her out of her trancelike thoughts. It was her good cleric friend, Senelar, a High Elf. She smiled up at him and began to make small talk with him as she continued to rummage through her things.. oh look.. her morter and pistal... not even used once yet. Sighing, she walked over to a bin of trash and threw it in. She had spoken to many of her rogueish friends about THAT skill. The gods had finally seen fit, after YEARS of service, to bring the ability to make and apply poison to their weapons into the world, and from all accounts it was mostly a waste of time. Her friends worked long and hard to gather the ingredients, to make the vials needed, to create the poisons, sometimes they finally made them and would try to apply them.. and failed. "How can we fail? How can we possibly FAIL to dip our daggers in liquid?" she wondered. When that worked, most of the time she was told her poison would be resisted, or would "lose concentration?" when it went off? Or, she would be chased away and the breeze would wear the poison off while she moevd from one area to another. "What is the point? What is the good in that?" she wondered, as tears sprang to her eyes again.
While chatting with Senelar her mind quickly ran through the other things she should be able to do well and couldn't. Where were the locks she could pick in this world? Hidden treasure in chests, looming doors only she could open? Where were the traps in this world? The others in her parties could always keep her alive and protect her with their special skills.. she brought no worth to her parties in these ways that she was suppposed to. All she could do was stand behind a creature and bury her daggers in it, praying it didn't notice her. That was it. That was all she could do. She was supposed to be able to instill fear in creatures, make them flee in terror. That was a joke. Try as hard as she might, she'd only actually done it a very few times.. and ALL of those times the creature had broguht back hordes of friends, or her party had attracted them while fleeing after the creature. Not once had she instilled doubt in anything when she and her paty needed to escape.
"At least I can amuse my friends by jumping off of things at great heights!" she thought, cheerily. Just then the thought came to her that her skill would never be mastered and she could still fail.
With her low tolerance for taking hits, even a couple of "amusing" jumps had turned deadly.
"Oh, but money! I can collect money!" She looked into her bank account.. 374 platinum pieces. She had given so much to Kinien.. she never had much herself. She thought about how much copper and silver she had been forced to destroy.. probably thousands by now.. for every platinum piece she took, she probably destroyed three or four times that amount in silver and copper. And even if she did have vast riches, what would that buy? She had all of the equipment she needed.. and nothing she needed to survive cost much.. all she could think to buy was poison off of other rogues who had more time to do such things as she.
Annwyl stood for a moment and looked at herself. There was only one thing she did have, she had wonderful friends who loved her and looked after her. And she had a guild who....
Then suddenly she remembered. It was like Lady Vox herself had taken her great tail and with all her force slammed it against the tiny gnome's body, so painful and hard-hitting was the memory.
Annwyl had had a secret. A very special secret, a happy secret. She had told very few people this secret, and she had only told them before she knew how secret this information was. She had made those she had told take a vow not to let others know her secret. She thought she was able to trust those she told. All but one was able to.
Her HUSBAND, Kinien, was the one who betrayed her, and her secret. At first he just told one or two people. Annwyl talked to those he told and asked them not to tell. They had promised. Annwyl was nervous about so many knowing already, but Kinien again promised not to tell anyone else.
And then a week ago she had been adventuring with her friend Dragourn, killing the kobolds of Solusek when he told her that he knew her secret.
"How did you know?" she asked, in shock that even a distant friend and guildmate would know this.
"Kinien told us. He told the whole guild."
Annwyl once again collapsed as she remembered this, she doubled over in pain as the memory and feeling of absolute betrayal flooded over her. He'd said it was an accident, that he meant to whisper it to someone, but instead had shouted it for all in the guild to hear. It didn't matter, he had promised to stop telling people. She wrenched off her wedding ring and threw it across the small room in the back of the bank. Senelar was at her side as the tears began flooding down her face. She cried for a long, long time, because of what the guild's knowledge of the secret meant.
Through all of her frustrations, through all of her deaths, through disappointment after disappointment there was just one thing that kept her going these last few months: the Knights of Eternal Good. The comradarie and trust that was built in the guild, the knowledge that they would help her achieve her goals.
And now she could be in the guild no longer.
She wrenched herself out of Senelar's comforting hug and ran outside to the back of the bank, where the contents of her stomach came up. Her agony was so great she could do no more but pass out behind the building. She vaguely heard Senelar calling out for her as she lost her grip on the world.
She awoke sometime later in a bed in the Jade Inn. Mills, a well known cleric and good friend of Annwyl's since her childhood, and Senelar stood over her, looking concerned. She swallowed some loose soup as Senelar tried to hand her her wedding band.
"I don't want it." Annwyl said weakly. "Put it in my bank account. While I was sleeping a vision came to me of what I must do with my life."
Mills and Senelar listened intently as she explained. "In a short time a man will come, and I will be giving him all my posessions. Yes, all. From there I will travel back to my home in Ak'anon and sleep. I will not.. cease to exist, but I will sleep for a long time, perhaps forever. If I do re-awaken I will be totally without posession except for the few things I can not rid myself of, my journeyman boots and guise of the deciever mask. I will have to rebuild myself in order to survive and perhaps gain my 50th circle."
"Annwyl, you are so close, forty-third circle..." Senelar objected.
"It matters not to me. My life has been mostly disappointments through all my hard work. I love you both, and my other friends in KEG, and other guilds.. the people I have grown up with.. I will be near, I will be visiting, but in a very different form as this one. Oh how I wished to slay a dragon! Oh how I wished to face Cazic Thule! But alas, these things are not my destiny now. If perhaps the gods see fit to give me, and my fellow rogues, the tools we need to become the persons we should be I will consider coming back.. but until that day I will rest."
Mills and Senelar nodded then left to let her sleep. As promised, a short time later a man came and was given all of Annwyl's posessions. Everything she had and was able to let go of was given to him. Immediately after she boarded the boat to Faydwer and rode it to Butcherblock mountains. Eagerly she ran through the forests of Faydark. She took time to tour her beloved lands of Steamfont mountians.. it had been more years than she could count since she had been here.
Tears stramed down her face as she greeted Watchman Mylz, her childhood mentor. With joy finally in her heart again she entered her home of Ak'anon. She ran through her home and greeted all those she knew. With the help of Senelar's magic she finally made Ak'Anon her home again. Hugging him and waving goodbye she snuck through the cleric's guild down into the basement where her guildmaster awaited.
She spent hours there, telling the young gnome rogues, and her guildmaster, of her adventures, her friends, the wonders of the world of Norrath. It was early in the morning when she slipped back into a hidden door in the guild, perhps one she alone knew of. She curled up on the small cot she had grown up sleeping in and with a peaceful smile on her face drifted off to sleep, perhaps never to awaken again.
-=Annwyl Anklestabber=-
43rd level Gnome Rogue
Knights of Eternal Good
The Rathe