T'Ba
pimphat.jpg
Name: T’Ba Class: Bard (thief) Age: 43 Handed: Right
Race: Gnome Birthplace: Monarch of the Mines Eye: Blue Weight 30 lbs.
Gender: Male Birth Date: Th’Ar 11th, 5727 Hair: Brown Height: 3’3”

WelcometomypageIamgladtoseeyouthissitegivesmeanopportunitytotellmystorytoyouallandletyougettoknowmebetterandle
tmeexpoundonalloftheeventsthatleduptomycurrentstateandthebizarrecreaturesthatIhavecomeacrossIshouldstartatthebegi
nninginthedwarvencitywhereIwasbornmyyearslearningwiththetonguedancersguildincludinglearningatspirewallandthenmoveo
nthroughallofmytravelsthroughoutthecrescentlandsfromoneendtotheotherasaminstrelandwithcaravansandmytimeintelluraan
dsailingontheseawhichwasnotfunItellyouandmytimeintheplainsandthenfinishwithhowIendedsofarawaytothewest…

Hmm, perhaps this might be of interest to non-gnomes as well, so I’ll slow down…

I, Talhari’bahrmel Moringtramelbragelringtabarmy, was born on Th’Ar 11th, 5727, to a fairly well-to-do gnomish family in the great dwarven city Monarch of the Mines. From a very early age my parents could tell I had an aptitude for music. I was constantly humming, and playing the drums helped me when I was in school and was picked on by the other gnomes for having such a short name.

At the age of eight, my parents presented me to the Tongue Dancer’s Guild, which accepted me eagerly. I took to music like a fish to water, those were very good years. When I became a journeyman at age eighteen, they shipped me to Spirewall to help the guild unearth the stories there. I could only take two years of listening to dusty old professors mumbling in Miruish before I became a minstrel to see the world in 5748.

I traveled many years from one end of the Crescent Lands to the other, the sacrosanctity of minstrels keeping me fairly safe, even in Ar'Ethmet. I enjoyed spreading the news, singing for my meals, soaking in the different cultures. I traveled for some time with a Southlander caravan master named Ar'A'tona'ta "Sun Across Water" and picked up some of his language.

The Guild was very good to me in these years, helping me out when I needed it. Giving me somewhere to sleep, bailing me out of jail, that kind of thing. So when they were looking for journeymen to help out in Tellura in 5761, I was happy to go. I was a minor nobody working with the Guild leadership on improving diplomatic relations with the Mage Guild there. I did well there, despite not being a Mage Bard, and made many friends. The Mage guild even taught me a few spells, albeit ones they thought more suitable for an entertainer than a mage. Also while there the Bardic Council recognized my contributions by making me a Master at the youthful age of 38.

A couple of years later I joined up with a caravan heading northwest to the Dirth Woods. To avoid the fighting associated with Ar'Ethmet occupation of Serranthro-M'lethet (this was in ’67), we traveled by sea. The sailors said it was a smooth and easy trip, but I was miserable and sick the whole time. I recovered when back on land, and we made it to the Dirth Woods without major incident. I spent over a year there, before an unfortunate misunderstanding involving some nocturnal activities I undertook necessitated my hasty exit.

I wandered west into the plains where I encountered a lone Corman shepherd with his herd of horacs. Despite him being mute, we hit it off well; I was more than willing to fill in his silences. We were traveling together for only a couple of weeks when his herd was attacked by a roc. As I was defending a horac, the roc flew off carrying both the beast and me! I clung for dear life as the roc flew west to its nest and I hid as it feasted on the horac and went to sleep.

I sang the Everlast WyrdeSong when it awoke and climbed on for what I hoped was the return trip east, but instead it flew further west. I discovered a roc with a full stomach and somewhere to go won’t stop for anything. We flew literally for days; I had to renew my ‘Song at least once as I couldn’t risk falling. At some point the ground disappeared underneath us and all I saw was sky and clouds. Of course that was when my body rejected a recast of Everlast and I passed out and fell to almost certain doom.

I awoke in excruciating pain and deep in murky water. I swum up to the hole my body had made when it broke through the bog into the swamp water below. I dragged myself to dry land and sang a healing Wyrdesong until I passed out. I don’t know how long it was before I woke up again and healed myself some more. I searched my immediate area until I found my pack and was pleased to find my hat was still attached.

In a chipper mood, and now wearing my hat, I wandered the swamp to see what I would come across. I had no idea that what would occur after I found the others would make my trip seem banal…


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