Conn Dhuine
A Catharsis
I'm out of Patience, I'm out of Time and I'm out of Hope. My civilian life in Liscannor seems but a far dream to me now. I can barely recall my fathers stories, my mothers corrections or my little brothers stench. I only remember the cold, the fear, and the violence. The Occupiers weekly visits, ripping my bedsheets and beating my father. I remember the last time I saw my father, heading out one evening to "convene with the laddies". The Occupiers raided the local Gunport compound that night. My fathers head hung by the city gate for weeks. I was 7 years old. That me and my mates would create the next chapter of Gunports in Liscannor was not really a surprise. At first we did only small things, such as burning down the local Unifier barracks, but with time we grew, both in size and confidence. I remember the day that we eradicated the so called "fleet" of the Osnarians in one night. The flames were the most beautiful thing I'd seen, giving hope of freedom. The lash only hit us harder, of course. A couple of years ago, the Central Cell quieted down. It was not the first time, and we continued on with smaller local operations. Probably just laying low due to our numbers, we believed. When they came back, the operations were bolder, the risks higher and the promised results immense. We followed the guidance, and pulled off some good actions. So good in fact, that the Osnary shits woke up and promptly almost wiped us out. Luckily for us, we are roaches. The rumor started spreading in civilian society that we were compromised and doomed. While it led to reduced recruitment, I took the claim with calmness, certain that could not be the fact. Stupid. If my civil life and childhood is a blur, I remember what happened 2 months ago very clearly. The day of the act I was working as usual, fitting new horseshoes to the mare intended for sale at the market the coming day. When the work was done, I ate my soup, kissed my wife and my wee boy goodbye and left for the hideout under Niall's bar. We were barely halfway through the planning for the bombing of the Unifier compound, when the Central Cell contacted us and ordered us to strike immediately. We should have understood that something was wrong, but blind trust had won us many successes before, so we headed out with our bomber in tow. The ambush was sudden, and from nowhere we were surrounded by what must have been all the Unifiers in Liscannor and probably some from Inishmoor as well. We fought bravely, my men blowing at least twelve unifiers to another plane of existence and me hewing down a healthy number, but there were more coming. We dispersed, everyone hiding in their planned hiding spot. Mine was in the old stable outside my grandfathers old woodshop. The contingency plan was to exfiltrate to the Yelanids, to regroup and recover and return when the Unifiers had cooled down a bit. Seeing as we are a rather loosely connected group, every person was to exfiltrate by their own, and we would only see each other well at the location. I left on a trading ship, having made friends with the captain a few months back. I never said farewell to Eoin or Keira, but Keira is familiar with the risks of my beliefs and is well aquainted with the risks. I will be back in her arms, no matter the costs, or the time needed. And I will not let Eoin grow up with a father dead to the occupiers, or for that matter even knowing what an occupier is. The ambush happened 2 months ago. I arrived here 1 month ago. No-one else is here. No one in this land has heard of anyone else arriving, and the worry is starting to set in. It is never good to stay too long in one place, and my accent has already made an impact. I saw the first Osnary shit two days ago. Luckily, I do not believe that they know my face, but they will know my accent. My sword and armor is safely stowed in my room, but I can not stay here much longer. I might have to tag along with another ship, making a round before returning here and hopefully finding my companions here at last, or I will have to start from scratch again, creating a cell based upon foreign nationals with no sense of how it is to live under an oppressor. What could go wrong? Signed, Conn Dhuine
Kilbarrian on involuntary adventures
View Character Profile
System
Dungeons & Dragons
Class
Fighter
Subclass
Commander
Dungeons & Dragons
Class
Fighter
Subclass
Commander
Species
Year of Birth
3673
31 Years old
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Green
Hair
Red
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Pale
Height
5'10''
Weight
175 lbs
CHAMPION
*The writing is visibly crooked and all over the place*
FECK YES. Dragon slayer EXTRAORDINAIRE and CHAMPION of the arena!!! What the feck is NOT possible for a man such as myself! Two dragons? DEAD. SLICED with me pa's old sword. Local CHAMPION with armor made of medals from former fighters? WON. NEVER DOUBTED.
Everyone is all worked up about our feat with the dragon. Understandable. Fucking legends are what we are! The Franconian still doubts my exploits against the Osnarians so much that I just WISH that a band of them were here now! I would slaughter them all with a sword in one hand and a pint in the other!
OUR DAY WILL COME OSNARIAN SHITES
*a very slobbery symbol of the Gunports is painted at the end of the page, with the ink trailing off to the edge where it seems the quill was dropped.*
A letter
To Eoin
Hullo laddie! This is daid.
I don't know when you'll get this letter, but I hope you and your mum is well. She's probably the one reading you this letter, hug her for me, will ya son?
Daid had to go on a little adventure. A woman came to me in Nialls bar and needed my help with an important mission in another land that only your pa could do! Duty is important, just like I've taught you, and this was urgent so I had to go!
You're not gunna believe what I've done these last few days. I've gone on a large ship! I've met some more minotaurs, you know the large big cowmen I pointed out to you once in town? One of them owns the ship, can you imagine? And yer daid is stronger then them so they thought it good to have me on the ship to help.
This ship is a a big team, out to help people. We've helped an entire coast! The coast had a big problem with a biiig evil thing. Can you imagine what it was? A dragon! A real dragon!
The King of this land wanted your daid and his friends help with saving the poor people of the coast from the big bad dragon, and off yer pa went with his friends, on camels nonetheless! We rode over lots of sand, sand as far the eye can see in fact! But then we could see a tower in the middle of all the sand, the dragon's lair!
Your daid and one of his friends tried to talk to the dragon, just like I taught you. Always talk to the bad things first. The dragon was too evil though, and all of a sudden the dragon attacked pa and his friends.
Your old man and his friends are quite the fighters though, you know. We won over both the evil dragon and the evil dragons helper. We saved the poor people of the coast! So now you can tell all your friends that your pa is not just the strongest man in Kilbarrow, but he is also the dragonslayer! And you, Eoin, you are the son of the dragonslayer. My treasure, and my pride.
Don't worry, I made sure to save some of dragon for a little trophy for you. Your mom probably won't like it but when I'm home we'll put it up together you and I. Our secret, right?
I will be back before you know it, alright curadh? Just have to save this land some more. Hope your mom hugs you lots from me. I miss you both.
Love, daid.
Keira, I know this must be hard for both you and Eoin, and I know this wasn't how things were supposed to be. Something happened, I don't know what or how, but there was an ambush. I'm in the Yelanids. I've found a good crew, and I'm safe. Disregarding the dragon but that was an one-time happening, promise.
Darling I need you to be very, very careful. I promise to return to you, but you must also promise to be there when I do. You and Eoin are what keeps me going. Keep me in your prayers, as you are in mine.
Is leatsa mo chroí, go deo.
Kisses and hugs,
Your very own fecking idiot
The Burning fields of Carraconneely
Right. The feck am I even supposed to say.
We came back to that bleeding warm town after hunting the pirate ship that turned out to be some form of dragonloving masochists, me expecting to be showered in gold and be on my merry way and staying put in Harasan for a bit, but alas. We went to the aloof lord to get our reward, and instead the complete goon had taken his head out his arse and realized that there was a problem that was enormous. Of course the absolute idjit rightously declared the enormous destruction of villages and farmland to be "terrible" and a thing to be "fixed". Instead of, well I don't know, taking responsibility, the fancy lord, once again, decided to rely on complete fecking strangers to bring down this dragon of his.
Now, this was a conflict between two Conns, right? We've on one hand got a large shit of a dragon capable of almost blowing up a big fecking ship to splinters without breaking a sweat, sure to kill us all, with a larger risk of death than of success. Minus Craic. No good idea. I should just leave with the refugees and hang out somewhere until the egomaniac dragon cools down and starts sleeping or some shit like that. And if not that - some type of discussion might maybe be possible to make the dragon perhaps stop being a shite and share the land. Who am I kidding - but it may be worth a shot.
On the other side, the burning villages and fleeing townsfolk awoke something in me. In the fleeing people i saw the women of Luaín, Ballinkeeran, Clunmorris. I saw the burning fields of Carraconneely, the ruined homes of Fedamore Cross. This dragon was just another fecking oppressor, feeling free to wreak havoc over the people weaker than itself. Not on my fecking watch, not as long as my name is Conn Dhuíne, and not as long as my blood burns with the rage of my father and the rightousness of my mother.
That dragon will see its last days. And if not it, then me.
Of course I can't walk around just throwing my name out. Got meself a cover. I'm the glorious Bob, son of Bob. Still Kilbarrian though, if my hair did not betray that already. The franconian did a better disguise, frightenly good as well.
We headed out with an ordinary bunch of rag-tag adventurers, not unlike the groups i saw passing through the tavern. Some orcs, some dwarves, you name it. Felt like home. Talked some shit with the orcs. Craic. Outside of these, we also had two peculiar lads. One very eccentric man with peculiar habits, the man that brought this team together that is, and then a man that can not decide his own age so he switches each night. Cumbersome.
The dragon is not joking around. He appearently has a son that he sent out to warn us. No humor at all, he murdered one of the dwarves for a small joke I made. Tyrants. In the morn we arrive at the tower, a real test of mettle awaits.
Note in passing: Holy shite the Franconian is questioning. And if not questioning, then doubting. And if not doubting, then lecturing. At least she knows how to run her mouth, that could be good sometime, I guess?
Dance of Dragons
Oh do I have a story or not.
As I stated earlier in my last catairsis, the absence of my countrymen from the spring of peace had to lead to some alternative solutions. Minus Craic.
Enlisted on a big fecking ship that came into harbor because they seemed the safest option - sailors, not pirates, big ship, decent captain.
Of course we headed straight for a pirate ship of some type that had been terrorising the lands in the north of the Alliance. Now I'm no stranger to the law of the elders and the root of Kilbarrian prosperity, and the age-old slogan of our old half-official naval forces still ring true - "the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must".
Seeing as this is evidently a wealthy land one could argue that there should exist a militia - or some form of security forces able to handle pirates. A navy? Some larger state power than relying on a rag-tag bunch of sailors to handle your problem while the civil population is suffering. The pirates should not have been the strong part in this.
But luckily for the civil population and unluckily for the pirates - there's always a bigger fish, and the strong becomes the weak. This "mermaid" which I have enlisted upon is a big fish.
The ship is filled with good lads, battlehardened and tough. Hard to believe they are not pirates - the loot that could be had by this crew would be immense. The moral compass of the captain however , is admirable and strong.
Regarding the mentioned lack of action by the state parties in this situation - we had a meeting with some type of lord that allowed us to just waltz into his chambers, where he begged for help, aiding us remarkably in which way to go and search for information. Admirable and a complete fecking goonery. All that show and fancy castleing, and the lord just sends the problems down the ladder to people not even employed by the state. Idjit. Still, we went after the pirates.
Did i mention that this fecking mermaid ship actually goes under water? UNDER. WATER. What in the everliving moment is that? A ship going under water is supposed to sink, alas we did not. Soon Crows will moo and Osnarians will grow a brain. Completely mental. Off we went to find the trademark storm of the pirates - and found it we did. Fucked a couple of pirates up properly, but these pirates were appearently a pretty front for the real oppressor in the scenario - a large blue monster of a dragon. Gives me reason to believe that I should houl me whisht about that dragon I saw back home as a lad, it was probably at best a large seagull.
The dragon casually blew the mermaid and three crewmen to kingdoms come, and the captain called for retreat. I lopped off some heads, and then the resident prince of the ship turned into a dragon himself and proceeded to sink the pirate ship, after having gotten a proper amount of attention by the larger blue dragon. We fecked off under the waves away from the big fecker, removed the sails of the pirate ship and started to head back to the town of the lord that sent us out, because feck that shit, I am not up for going dragon hunting when all I bargained for was a respite from Osnarians nosing around the spring.
Regarding the characters of the ship - I find it most important to note on the two most eccentric. We have one person claiming herself to be Frankonian, and seeing as every other Frankonian in the spring has had the same accent and behaviour I see no reason to disbelieve her. She does seem somewhat less of a Pox than the next character, the prince.
Nobles are of course all the same. This noble, although both him and the Frankonian denying it, has the same characteristics of any other noble believing themselves to be ordinary functioning beings - megalomania, denseness and complete lack of tact and understanding of normal peoples worries.
It'll be an interesting trip to say the least.
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