Looking for a loving home; sheds a ton (open)

[Marrik Remalgan]

Timestamp: Brightening 3 in the second Cycle in Cyraxtum, Era XIV in the Age of the Darkening

Another cold morning... as if there were some sort of deity out to smite him for not being the best, not being the brightest, and not being all that interesting besides, there was cold. And holes in the walls. Oft times, when holes in a building are mentioned, the imagination might drift toward a crack in between slats, or maybe some crumbling mortar around some bricks. If only it were so easy, so nice, so utterly grand to have such problems as those that could be fixed with a few handfuls of freezing mud and a self-roast of fingers by a small, meager fire accompanied by a paltry handful of pieces of dried lamb. Well, they said lamb, but Marrik was currently under the impression that the animal that had given such meat as the meager rations he had was of an age normally associated with antiquities, the Dark Alliance, even the Ancient Aelyrians themselves. But that's slightly off topic.

The holes previously discussed bordered not so much on the dainty little drafts that the high-and-mighty sometimes complained about, but more on the idea that if you took a giant, killed him, and then dropped him on a 100 square-foot shed you'd have a smaller hole than these. Walls? Those were for pansies. A roof? Who has the money for a roof? Protection? Oh yeah, a rusty old dagger picked up off the side of the road was excellent protection. Or it would be if it had the ability to fight nature herself, but one is usually not as fortunate as this. No, the fight was fairly one sided; Mother Nature laid the proverbial pipe into Marrik, and he not-so-silently threw curses at her as she came and left on the howls of the wind.

And this morning, he'd found another special present from the bitch that is chance; originally white, the bird guano was now turning a crusty brown as it cooled and dried on his rag of a blanket. Eyes following the slow, steady crawl of the moisture that had been contained therein, Marrik reached over toward the fire-pit to grab a piece of charred wood with which to scrape off the offending excretion.

"Aaah! Damnit!" Apparently the fire wasn't quite finished. First time in the cycle he'd been here that such was the case, and as he pulled his singed palm in toward his face to lick the wound, it accidentally picked up a pat of the feces on the blanket. Now, there came the dilemma; lick the wound clean, but ingest poo in the process, or let it sit for a little while until he could clean it, risking an infection. Grimacing and scrunching his face, this hard-done-by dorin reached out with his tongue... and removed the guano.

Hey, this isn't so bad, he thought. Then he threw up.


Today was bound to be another fantasmagorical day, he could already tell.

OOC: First post, hope it's okay. No timestamp, as it's 2:30 in the morning, I need to sleep, and I honestly don't know what the months are in the season this year. Because the Kalendryan system is nuts. Well, that and I haven't posted anything here in quite some time.

OOC2: Any PCs or mods wanna jump in, feel free. Actually, please do. It's the only way I'll actually get into playing.