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Rudy

Life is a party, so have fun. But don't forget, it's my party, just look at this hat.

Moonbeam/Moonshine

His coat like wine, white.

Mane like mead for breakfast,flowing.

Horn like the malt in my Liquor, single. 

Hooves like my tea, hard.

Wisdom like my silver flask, bottomless.

Magic like the best brandy, strong.

Moonbeam, Moonshine.

The Tale of Rudalfus

Have I ever told my self just how sexy my cursive is? Like gods damn man look at that “S” its enough to make an artisan calligrapher weep in jealous rage. Just once more, gods damn. O.k back onto my train of thought here. My adventures! Let me tell you, me, im gonna record every second of my adventures so that when we are old and and we cant hold our liquor and no one trusts me that I was the living bad ass I am today. This chronicle will put them in there place. So HA! Take that theoretical future people, ya jerks!

Well it all started when I got bored, as almost all things start. I can prattle on about the food I packed and if it was salted or fresh, the flasks I filled and if they were a cheap or fine vintage, the roads I walked and if they were paved or game trail, but lets be honest, who gives a shit? What every one wants to know is when I was briefly employed in nautical collections and wealth redistribution. That's right, you don't don't have to reread that, mother, fucking, pirates, BAM!

It all started in this small fishing village on the south coast. If I could remember the name I would try and badly butcher the spelling of its name but I blacked out hitching a ride with these rather trusting merchants, chatting, drinking, and travelling. I woke up on the beach, a little to sober for my liking and my coin pouch a little more full of tactical sand then money than I would like as well. So there I lay, alone, my shoes a little wet, the smell of salted fish doing it damnedest to pull my last meal up the wrong way. I was broke, lost and alone. It was at that brief moment a terror washed over my being, that primal fear that primordial Halflings have struggled with from the dawn of time. I might have to get a real job. Yeah that's right, let that hang over you for a moment, me Rudalfus working a nine to five, tilling a field, milling some grain, mending horse shoes, good honest hard work. The kind of work that makes you value every copper, that gives you a respect for what you have. Talk about some mind melting horror right? Just as I was on the edge of tears with that horror flooding my soul, the darkness cashing in around me. A sound a kin to that of the song of angels rang out over the beach. The high soprano c of two quarter filled snub nosed bottles thrust together in merriment banished the darkness in my soul and had me on my feet. Before any one could say “what the hell is wrong with that damp Halfling” I was on the docks making friends!

Making friends with sailors is super easy, one of them was doing a jig while his friend hauled away on his accordion. All it took was for me to shove him over and use this carefully prepared ice breaker;

“You call that a fucking jig, watch this shit bitch”

I hit them with my third best jig, I was far too sober for the second best one. While I danced, my little wet boots tearing that dock the fuck up, I sang the famous Halfling diddy “Hey Everyone Look At Me (How Could You Not Love Me)”.Before I knew it I had a group of ten clapping, stomping and singing the hook. That song never fails.

That's the Story of how I almost got a real job, but met the crew of the Ginger Mermaid. Next time ill write all about my first time at Sea!  

"The Rock of Baccalieu"

The last thing you would think about when you think of high seas adventures is hard work. "Hoist the main sail!" may be fun to say but my gods! is it a pain in the ass to do.

On board the Ginger Mermaid with my new friends, the gentle roll of the sea stopped rolling my stomach after about 6 weeks. The boys on board would all laugh each time I threw up, said I lost my liquids like the scuppers, or I did the old cook great complements with the sea making me sicker then his food. However, what they would always say to get me back on my feet was true, sea legs gives you a sailors gut, and a sailor can drink man, beast or god under the table. After our two fist month at sea we had raided a total of 4 ships, and between you and I, I was a little disappointed. You would creep up on the mark our low 2 deck sloop cut through their wake like a scald cat, the merchantmen's ships on the other hand were like every rich merchant I have ever met, fat, slow and laid heavy with gold. Let me tell you the first 4 ships were nothing like the the raids on ships in the novels the old man would read me. No grand duel of captains on the main deck, no swinging from ship to ship. There was a lot of showmanship and a lot more cowardice. We would dress up like actors, daggers in our teeth, so much steel strapped to your belt it would haul my pants low, we would give the old cook an eye patch to cover his pink eye. None of merchants wanted a fight, neither did the boys on the Ginger Mermaid, the trick to it was looking like we wanted a fight. The Captain of the Ginger Mermaid was the best of us all at the show. Captain Strumford would strut the victim ship brandishing his rapier at anyone who would look him in the eye and bellow with his boot on a mans throat that he would send the ship and every soul aboard burning into the icy grip of the sea and send his boys to consul the sailors widows. 

The captain would always tell us, while we gathered around some taverns table our pockets heavy with our share and a girl on our laps eager to take it from us, that if we murdered and skuddled our way across the shorelines and kicked up such a bad stink on the merchant lines it would only be a matter of time before we pissed of the navies. That would have the Ginger Mermaids wake filled with bounty hunters and zealous soldiers. We would spend our time runnin and no one would make a penny. Some of the boys had families, wives, sons, fathers and mothers back on shore and them being dead or running wasn't doing them any good. 


It wasn't until almost a year on the Mermaid that I got my first taste of some 'rowdy buggers' as the old cook would say. We hadn't made a penny in months, the boys were none to happy, but we were too busy with a hell of a Nor Easter for any one to grumble. The winds and snow from the north east were strong enough to to put the lee rail a foot under and split the main boom neigh in two. We were hard at the tiller as we struggled with the sheets trying our best to drag them in an foot or two. As we groaned with the effort we heard the look out hollar, and there dead ahead though a snow squall loomed the ship "The Rock of Baccalieu". The Rock was a hell of a ship, two low decks bristling with 10 ponders, by the gods she was no fishing vessel. We came up on her like a ghost from the storm and before any one could reason with Strumford we were throwing lines from the Ginger Mermaid mooring her to the The Rock of Baccalieu and like the mooring lines we tied their fates in the storm.  

The deck on the Rock Pitched with the swell shoving the smaller Ginger Mermaid with her. We had done this many times but this time felt different the storm felt ominous. with daggers in our teeth we screamed, hooted and hollard as we boarded the Rock of Baccalieu. Its not that we had never encountered resistance, that we had never had to fight for our plunder but this is different these were not Merchant marines protecting gold and spices that they would never see a penny from. What drew steel and swarmed the deck around us were hardened soldiers, guarding more then spice, gold and silks, they were guarding their home lands water ways. I scrambled my way between legs, my dagger firmly in both hands as I ran or fended off any solider that thought he could best a small guy like me. The deck was a carnal house, we fought for our lives, a fight we chose and one we chose poorly, as friends I had come to cherish died the sleet built up on their cooling bodies. The moment I knew all was lost was when I saw the body of Strumford, I never saw the fight, I would like to think the old fart died in a grand duel an even back and forth that he gave as good as he got. All I saw was a man in an emblazoned breastplate his medals of rank chiming off his armour in the wind. He was young, handsome save for the deep scar that creeped from his eye to his temple. He wiped the old Captains blood from his rapier as he began to direct his men. At this point it all stopped being fun and its started getting scary. The big folk barely gave me a glance as I creeped over to the body of my friend Stumford. The old Captain died as he lived, smiling, the charisma that oozed from the old man dimmed as the sleet began to build on him. I patted his chilling body on the shoulder as I pulled his rapier from his fingers, he was my friend. It was at that moment chaos broke out. The boys left on the Mermaid knew it was all going to hell and with cracks that broke the whipping of the wind they began to cut the mooring in an attempt to escape. The few of us left on the deck of the Rock began to fall back, trying to leap back onto the now loose Mermaid. I watched helplessly as the cook slipped on the rail as he jumped, falling into the cold grip of the black waters. I was one of the lucky ones, of the twenty five of us that bored, seven of us made it back on board.

The run from the Rock was easier then any of us expected with only sixteen of us left in the crew, but unlike the Rock the Mermaid was made for running. As quickly as we emerged to attack from the storm we slunk away back into it out tail between our legs. Lucky for all of us that Sir Greenwood got me to sit still long enough to learn to read. I was the only one left who could, who could read Strumfords charts. We ran day and night hoping the storm gave us enough of a berth to find safe harbor. The fun had ended on bored the Ginger Mermaid, fear squeezed the heart of every man aboard. Hard conversations were had as we figured what we could do. It was 3 days after the death of the Captain, we were out of food and run ragged from running a ship with a quarter hands. We knew our only option was cowardice, we would split what was left and skuddle the old Mermaid. My reward for all this was the Captains sword and my coin purse filled. The golden hilt of the captains rapier had etched in it the name of every Captain of the Mermaid, just like Strumford the sea was their graves but this was their marker. The hand guard was a golden mermaid her body arched from cross guard to pommel her arms out stretched to grasp the large pearl on the pommel. From the rowboats we watched the Mermaid sink till there was no saving her, I cried, they tried to reassure me that it was the only way, that we would be hunted as long as the Mermaid rode the waves, I missed Strumford. We rowed for a whole day to the Port City of Vantyrel, I carved the Captains name into my sword where it belonged as we went. We parted ways on the docks some boys running home to there families seeking passage back. I had no where to go, that dread feeling began to creep over me again, that is until I saw a tavern and heard the sound of clanking bottles.  

Journal Edit

Of Songs and Friends Edit

What a great day, you know the kind of day you end in a bar singing with your best friend in the whole world. Today we met this awesome human girl named Sonya. I knew she we cool the second I listened to her sing. It was the same song I would sing on the Ginger Mermaid when I was missing home and Dalhia.


Well, it’s not the hours of watch-on-watch

And it’s not the work that I mind so much

Or the long cold miles from my lover’s touch

Though for sure she’s far away

No stranger, I, to the touch of steel

Or the honest fear any Halfling can feel

But I long for dust under my heels

And a pocket full of pay

So I’ll take it from day to day


The pack-ice ’round us cracks and groans

The old Mermaid, she creaks and moans

The icy fog is in my bones

And the ache won’t go away

Outside I bet it’s warm and fair

I could have her fingers in my hair

But it’s long, cold miles to her out there

So I guess I’ll have to stay

And just take it from day to day


We’re as far North as I want to come

But Strumfords's got us under his thumb

And I signed up for the whole damned run

I can’t get off half way

But when I get back onto the shore

I’m going South where it stays warm

And there’ll be someone on my arm

To help me spend my pay

So I’ll take it from day to day


So anyway, my new friend Sonya took us down into this AMAZING dwarf hold the lights and the buildings were all so nice. The guys didn't seem to like Sonya, I guess they get nervous around pretty girls, who knows? Other then them being rude it was a good time, we fought a huge crab statue. I my self would rather have a dog to protect my stuff rather then a rock crab but hey who am I to judge. After we smashed the crab and survived some wacky ass dwarf trap we made it into this huge Vault with what Sonya was looking for inside. Sonya was after this super crown that can fight elf magic, we found a part of it on top of this HUUUGGEEEEEE anvil (Im glad I didn't have to take this one back to the smith!) Sonya said she would stay and read all the stuff on the anvil even when I tried to talk her into drinks (better luck next time I guess). So I poked the crown bit we found in my pocket and left(She said it would be safe with me, with these bandits around I agreed). Out side the vault what do i find, lo and behold the Elves all napping! Oh well must be an Elf thing like tea time. Crazy day, crazy day. Oh well it ended with songs, drinks and time with friends...wait..Where did the Elves all go?  

What a week. Edit

I have to get this off my chest, other then writing it down I don,t feel like there is any one I can tell. HOLY FUCK WHAT A WEEK!!! Ok where do I start? Easy, first thing this week we went to visit Mr. and Mrs. Boffins, whom in my youth would have their house keeper drive me off with a broom when I would go visit Monty. NOT THIS TIME BITCH! After I dropped my title on them I could have shit in their potted plants and they would still be impressed.  I was smooth, I was charming and most of all I was impeccably dressed. After that the rest of the day was pretty hum drum, killed 5 men, stopped an evil plot, saved the kingdom. BUT! that's not where the excitement ends, first new BAR, that's right its been 2 months of drinking in my room or on the road or you know, where ever I felt like. Now however I can drink with impunity and with out judgment cause i'm doing it a a bar. Again though not the most exciting thing. I did it, I think Dahlia loves me. I'm a gentleman and she a lady so ill spare the details, but I was involved so you know it was hot. 

WHEW, ok that's better, damn. I'm awesome.        

Of Law and Honor Edit

ARRRGGGRRRRGGG. ELVES! I don't understand how people who live so long can be so eager to throw away their lives or their honor im not sure which. Ok I get it he stole from us, that fucking sucks. But I wasn't about to get into a situation were either all my friends were killed for 30 gold pieces or four of us ganged up and murdered a man on a road over 30 gold. But the elves pressed the matter again and again. Calling ME a coward, absurd. They are the cowards here. If they wanted the money back, fight the dragonborn restore your bruised honor. But don't look at me to do it for you. I have seen my mentor killed for falling into the trap of fighting for a cowards bruised ego. Bears argument of law smacked of bullshit, the Wyvern wastes are like the seas there is no law out here, no king, no court and to kill to enforce some made up punishment for theft out here is only looking for a way to justify murder. If he wanted to murder the dragonborn say so, but don't try and hide it under the guise of some greater good. Out here like on the sea you fight, kill and steal for survival and profit. We didn't need the gold to survive and with the world in the balance I though profits were not a major goal of this excursion. I made a risk assessment, know when to broad a weaker vessel, know when to run, but you know fuck me right? Know when to spit in the fops eye and know when to take the insult with a grin, but again, fuck me right? The Elves clearly know so much better. Douches.       

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