Sir Fedlund Overby
01-04-07, 06:04 PM
~The Basics~
Name: Sir Fedlund Overby of the Heath, Warden of the Mead, Baron of the Burrow and occasional Pilferer of Umbilleferae
Race: Noble Hare
Age: 3- Noble Hares grow very quickly
Height: 6 feet from toe to head, 7 foot 2 counting ears
Weight: 172 lbs.
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Grey with white belly
Gender: Male
Weapons:
5 Light weight, steel headed lances in quiver
2 steel bladed hand axes
Equipment:
Forest green suede leather tunic
Belt with bronze carrot belt buckle
Floppy leather hat
Leather bound book titled “A Noble Way”
Circlet in ornate box
Cittern in leather case
Basic travel accessories in a leather rucksack
- Leather canteen
- Leather thread and needle
- Flint and steel
Skills:
Lances: Can throw with accuracy to ranges of 25-30 yards
Hand axes: Above average skill with twin axes, although more than skilled he is simply very quick
Physical abilities: Fedlund is a hare, his speed, quickness and leaping ability are better than any non-magical humans. Can increase speed and quickness by dropping to all fours, like a hare would normally travel.
Cittern: Most people would not find Fedlund’s cittern playing obnoxious or horrible, but he is obviously no virtuoso.
~The Introduction~
Darkness. Absolute darkness. Then a slight gleam, high in the sky. For a moment it remains but a twinkle before exploding into a glaring spotlight, shining down on one of the stranger creatures to have stepped foot in the Realm of Greeting to be questioned by the All Powerful Allower of New Things. The light dulls slightly from the initial explosion, then the examination begins.
All Powerful Allower of New Things (who happens to have a very booming dramatic voice that echoes off unseen surfaces): Greetings!!!! State your name.
The creature up for examination straightens, standing tall to properly project the statement of his grand name.
“My name is Sir Fedlund Overby of the Heath, Warden of the Mead, Baron of the Burrow and occasional Pilferer of Umbilleferae.”
APANT: Very welll….so I can call you Fred.
For a moment Fedlund is confused by the question, the thought of abbreviating his name an offense he had not previously encountered.
Fred: Well…my name, good sir, is Sir Fedlund Overby of the Heath, Ward…
APANT: Yes yes yes…very well Fred. I have it written down. Do those titles have any real value to them??
F: Errm…well…they are somewhat…how would I say it…self bestowed. But, I did fulfill the duties that accompany them with great diligence.
APANT: Hrmph…well…if you fulfilled the duties, I’ll let you keep them. Next question. What are you??
With the formal introductions out of the way, Fedlund relaxes a bit, letting his shoulders slump and assuming a more casual attitude.
F: Why…are you blind or simply daft? I am a Noble Hare.
APANT: My previous records indicate that the standard rabbit….
At the word “rabbit,” Fedlund tightens over his entire body, visibly disturbed by the mention of the world. However, the All Powerful Allower of New Things doesn’t miss a beat.
APANT: …should be a very small creature, weighing under 30 lbs at the absolute most and standing no more than 2 feet tall, and that is an abnormally large rabbit. So…you can’t be a rabbit.
Fedlund takes a moment to breathe deeply, composing himself before speaking, the grandiose delivery returning.
F: You are absolutely right. I am not a…ugh…
There is a slight shudder as Fedlund works to spit out the word.
F: …a rabbit. I do not associate with such creatures. And I am most certainly not, and shall never be called, a BUNNY.
During the last phrase, Fedlund seems to have lost his composure, but he brushes down his fur and continues.
F: I am a Noble Hare. A hare, because that is what I am, and Noble because, as you can see, I am exceptionally large and much more intelligent than my four legged, ground dwelling cousins. And if ever some two-bit, daisy nosed, hole haunting, overstuffed RABBIT comes in here and tries to claim to be a hare, I request that you either decimate him on the spot or simply inform me so that I may deal most severely with him and straighten out his little identity crisis.
APANT: Very well, very well. A commendable display of indignation. Gender please.
Fedlund starts at the question, surprised it was even asked.
F: Why…I’m a fella…can’t you tell?? I haven’t got lovey dovey dewy eyes now, do I?? How could you even ask such a thing. Nitwit….
APANT: Everyone gets asked the same questions.
The voice drones on, as much as a grandly booming voice can drone, clearly unimpressed.
APANT: Height and weight please.
F: From claws to cranium I am six feet tall. Counting my ears, and it would be a shame to not include such grand appendages, I am seven feet, two inches tall. I weigh precisely 172 lbs.
APANT: Color of hair and eyes.
F: Oh come now, certainly you can tell that by looking…
APANT: Pretend I’m color blind. Humor me so you can leave.
F: Very well. My hair is a glorious slate, except for my stomach which is the perfect pearl of a Noble Hare. My eyes gleam like sapphires.
APANT: So you’re gray, have a white belly, and blue eyes, right?
F: I knew you weren’t colorblind.
APANT: Right…anyway. Now I get to do a bit of something for you. I will read to you a visual description of yourself using the standardized terms from the “New Creatures in Althanas” guidebook.
General description: Tall, gangly
Distinguishing characteristics: Large feet, powerful hind legs, large ears.
Overall appearance: Humanoid rabbit….
I imagine you will be objecting to that term?
F: It appears you have an excellent imagination, capable of grasping my subtle disdain for the word.
APANT: Very well…I’ll put in a new entry that…humanoid HARE (http://www.bircham-arts.co.uk/artists/sculpture/james/standing-hare.jpg ). Happy?
F: Well…your description could go for a bit of…elaboration, but the part about powerful hind legs was nice. No further objections.
APANT: Alright…almost done. Personality. I’ll just insert the transcript of this meeting, anyone who really cares should be able to figure it out.
F: Now what is that supposed to mean? You know, for an All Powerful Allower of New Things, you could sure you some new manners.
APANT: Deal with it, you at least might get to leave someday. Last piece of personal information. Where did you come from?
F: Well, like all Noble Hares, I was born in a proper burrow to some Common Hares, those are the ones that most people are used to that run around on all four legs. You see, we are a strange race. We do not procreate as other races. Yes, a noble hair is one-and-done every time. However, any Common Hare can, for a reason we are not quite certain of yet, give birth to a Noble Hare. Obviously it is not long before a Noble will realize that they don’t quite fit in in the burrow.
When I decided that I no longer belonged in the burrow, a strange thing happened. During the night, while I slept, a parcel appeared. There were some other things, but a book inside was the most interesting. “A Noble Way” It was written TO me, the first line read “Fedlund Overby, you are a most Noble of creatures…” I could read it the first time I opened it and it told me everything about what it means to be a Noble Hare, as well as some practical tips on living away from mom and dad. It answered most of my questions, but also left some important ones hanging about unanswered. Things like…where are the other Noble Hares? I have yet to meet anyone else and I am beginning to wonder if I am really just a big joke.
I moved out from my parents, and built a house nearby, feeding them and protecting the down and living in relative peace. Granted, on occasion I would have to fight off a dog…err…a bear…or two or three at a time. You know…petty things like that. That is how I EARNED my titles.
But one morning in winter I woke up and my parents and litter fellows were gone. Not dead…there were no signs of violence. Just…gone. You see, the Commons don’t understand like a Noble does. They probably thought it was getting cold and they needed to find a warmer place to stay. I had a place for them inside, with a fire and everything they would ever need. But….well…they didn’t understand. That is a Nobles lot in life. Loneliness…
For a moment, ever so brief, the bravado and cheekiness of Fedlund broke down in sadness. But he quickly reasserted himself.
F: I tried to track them, naturally, but Commons move quicker than even I can keep up and I lost their scent. But I knew that might happen, I had prepared. “A Noble Way” warned that Commons would do such things from time to time. It hurt…its still hurts…but I understand that it was nothing against me.
After that, there was no reason to stay in the meadow. I packed my bags, sold the house to a very surprised farmer down the road for 100 GP, and started walking. I spent awhile on the road, I have been to several small villages and picked up some skills along the way. Not really sure what I am doing though, just sort of wandering. Then somehow…I ended up here. I don’t really remember that part very well though.
APANT: Uh..yes..I brought you here. You must be approved. Don’t worry, it happens to everyone eventually at some important crossroads in their life.
F: Oh…very well then. Continue.
APANT: Alright, next question. What kind of equipment did you bring with you.
The light in the darkness expands slightly to expose a pile of equipment lying next to Fedlund.
F: Ah…grand. My things…so nice of you to return them. Now I can stop standing around naked. First, my tunic.
Fedlund extracts from the pile a pile of forest green suede leather, fumbles for a moment to find the arm holes, the pulls it over his head. The tunic has three heavy toggles of a dark wood to hold together the slit that reaches Fedlund’s sternum. Baggy and slightly long, the short sleeved shirt reaches to Fedlund’s knees. The height is quickly shortened to mid thigh with the addition of a simple black leather belt. The orange carrot buckle stands out prominently on the dark background.
From the large pocket of the tunic, Fedlund pulls a floppy hat (http://www.hippieshop.com/mas_assets/thumb/3001.jpg) with two large holes cut for his ears. With a little bit of finangling and grunting, he manages to poke both ears through the two holes at the same time, letting the hat settle on his head. The hat matches the green suede of his tunic, but is without ornamentation. He strikes a heroic pose, as if to ask “What do you think?” APANT answers.
APANT: That’s nice. Very garish. Next.
F: Thank you. Now, my toys.
By toys refers to his weapons. A bundle of lances pokes from the pile. Fedlund reaches for the first, untying the leather straps that hold them together. He rummages through the pile for a moment before extracting a case of sorts for each of the lances. The quiver consists of a three inch circle of wood with five holes forming a circle around it. A ten inch shaft protrudes from the center of the circle, capped by another circular piece of oak. Five slots match the five holes, each slot with a leather strap hanging loose from one side. Fedlund begins describing the lances as he slides each into the case, closing the leather strap. Small magnets hold the straps in place, enough to prevent accidental dislodgement, but weak enough that the lances can be remove quickly.
F: These, my funny voice in the sky, are first rate, traditional Noble Hare lances. “A Noble Way” tells exactly how to make them and the five steel heads were with the book. I actually found a woodworker nearby who would do business with a hare and traded him some exceptional vegetables for the shafts.
Each one measures precisely three feet in length and three quarters of an inch in diameter. The yew shaft transfers cleanly into the steel head, which forms the last eight inches of the lances length. There are no flanges, spikes, or other such nonsense on a Noble Hare lance, it is smooth from butt to tip.
As he speaks, Fedlund slides each of the five lances into the quiver, making sure each sharp tip is contained in its receptacle at the base of the quiver, leaving two feet of the shaft protruding from the second rigging.
Fedlund takes a moment to examine his work, adjusting the lances in the quiver before slinging it onto his back. A thick sash of light brown leather holds the quiver securely in place, the shafts of the lances visible over Fedlund’s right shoulder.
F: Yes, the Noble lance is a fine weapon. Best suited for throwing, not quite as accurate or possessing the range of a longbow, but capable of greater damage. Also, in a pinch you can use it to fend at close range, though that is not advised. The shafts are lightweight, not really meant for melee combat.
For a moment, Fedlund appears to simply marvel at the grandeur of such weaponry.
APANT: Next…
F: Oh..right…very well then, on we go.
Fedlund next retrieves two hand axes (http://us.st11.yimg.com/us.st.yimg.com/I/greatsword_1930_12806763) from the pile. He only looks at these for a moment before sliding one into each side of his belt. Clearly they do not have the traditional significance of the lances.
F: Single headed, steel on an oak shaft, five inches under two feet, nice and quick. If any buggers manage to get close enough to me I can fall back on these.
APANT: Alright, I want a BRIEF description. Just what can you do with those weapons.
F: Well, this one time there was a wolf…no…a PACK of wolves that snuck up on the hill. I barely had tim..
APANT: BRIEF!!!
F: Oh…err…right. Lets see, the lances. I actually practiced with them quite a bit. I got pretty good at hitting the stump of the old tree across from my house. It was probably a good 75 to 80 feet away. But, it didn’t do much to try to avoid my throws, so I’m not too sure how I would fare against a more agile opponent.
Now, the axes, there really have been a few times I had to use them. Vagabonds in the night and the occasional wild beast. Even some thieves since I have been on the road. I’m pretty quick, being a hare and all, and managed to fight them off. I guess that makes me right decent with the twin hand axes. I even managed to make a bit of a name for myself, if I am to be allowed the liberty of bragging, fighting some town champions in non-lethal combat. Apparently humans find it quite entertaining to see a hare and a human duke it out. I managed to hold my own for the most part.
Oh…and if we are to talk about fighting, I suppose I should tell you of my “natural weapons.” Like most creatures, I have claws. However, these are proper hare claws, not the gallishly huge things you see growing from a bear or something. Though I would hate to demean myself so, I suppose I could inflict a healthy scratch upon a foe if called upon to do so.
And, as you noted, I do have powerful hind legs. Useful for kicking and such. They are also the source of my exceptional speed and jumping ability. You know, like you would expect from a hare. Although I never could keep up with my Common brothers. There is a price you pay for being so big. My more humanoid form isn’t quite as well constructed for speed as their low to the ground form. I can improve by dropping to all four legs, but even then I am not as quick as they are. Generally, however, I am the fastest of the bi-peds you will meet who do not have some devilish incantation upon them. Is that enough.
APANT: Quite satisfactory. On to the next item.
F: Lets see…what else do I have in here…
Fedlund again sifts through the pile that, strangely, despite having had several items removed, is larger than it started.
F: Now wait just a blarney stoned minute. This stuff isn’t all mine…your playing tricks on me.
Fedlund points an accusing finger in the direction of the source of the light, wagging it slightly for emphasis.
APANT: Ah ha ha ha…yes…although you were quite amusing, rummaging around like that. Here…I’ll just leave your things behind.
The pile very quickly diminishes as items fly off into the dark, leaving behind a leather case and a simple rucksack. Fedlund reaches immediately for the case and pulls out a cittern.
F: Ahhh…there she is. This is Elencia (http://www.earlymusic.i12.com/assets/images/misc_pic/CITTER~B.gif ). Ah well…she is nothing really, just a cittern, but I am quite fond of her and can play well enough to entertain a crowd…at least, after they have had a few drinks they don’t seem to mind me.
Fedlund returns Elencia to the padded case and adds it to his back. He picks up the rucksack and peers inside.
F: Must I describe each and every item to you? It is just basic supplies…some bread, a leather canteen with water, some leather thread and a needle in case I tear my shirt, flint and steel for fire starting…there is really only two items of interest. Ah…here we are.
Fedlund pulls from the sack a worn leather bag. He first removes a book, not overly large, from the bag. A leather cover bears the gold stamped title in a flowing, hare script. “A Noble Way” He holds the book up to the light. APANT, being all powerful, can read the hare script, but to most beings it would be nothing but loops and scribbles. Fedlund then carefully extracts a thin, ornate box from the sack and opens it, turning it away from his body so the light shone directly on it. Inside, on a purple satin cushion, is an ornate circlet.
F: This was the other thing that was lying there that morning. The book says it is a sign of my true nobility. I don’t really understand that part, seems that somewhere there is…or might be…a place were I really am a baron or lord or something like that. Certainly no-one else cares that much about it. Don’t worry, I shant run about proclaiming myself king or anything.
Fedlund takes a moment to gaze on his crown before closing the box. It truly is beautiful. The animalistic influence is obvious. Vegetables hanging from vines form the circular base. A single, surprisingly majestic carrot, is the centerpiece. All the vegetation is properly colored, but the interior is unmarked, revealing fine silver to be the metal.
The box slides back into the bag along with the book. Both are returned to the sack. Before swinging it over his left shoulder, Fedlund removes the lances and cittern, returning them in the order that ensures that the lances remain on top and most easily accessible.
F: There we go…that is me. Any more rude and probing questions before I get out of here?
APANT: Fortunately for both of us, no. I am finished. You may leave.
F: Thank you.
Fedlund begins to step beyond the circle of light and back into reality. He gets one foot into the darkness before he pauses, turning back to the light. He returns to the circle and looks back up into the light, for Noble Hares truly are noble creatures.
F: You know, you are a bumbling berry snitch in the sky, stealing me away like you did, but maybe we didn’t give each other quite the chance we each deserve. You seem like a decent enough fellow. My name is Fred, how do you do?
Fedlund extends a paw of greeting toward the light, uncertain of if this is the proper way to greet an all powerful being, but the best he can do.
The light flickers for a moment before a gigantic white hand, easily the size of Fedlund, reaches down from the sky. It envelopes the now miniscule paw, but somehow manages to shake it as if a close friend of relatively similar physical proportions.
APANT: And I, alas, am the All Powerful Allower of New Things. You’ll do alright kid, maybe I’ll see you again someday.
The hand retreats to the sky. As Fedlund turns and leaves the light, his voice reaching back from the darkness.
F: I could go for that, old chap…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fedlund blinks his eyes, trying to clear the strange spots dancing before them. The clopping of horses on the road to Radasanth has awakened him from…a dream?
Name: Sir Fedlund Overby of the Heath, Warden of the Mead, Baron of the Burrow and occasional Pilferer of Umbilleferae
Race: Noble Hare
Age: 3- Noble Hares grow very quickly
Height: 6 feet from toe to head, 7 foot 2 counting ears
Weight: 172 lbs.
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Grey with white belly
Gender: Male
Weapons:
5 Light weight, steel headed lances in quiver
2 steel bladed hand axes
Equipment:
Forest green suede leather tunic
Belt with bronze carrot belt buckle
Floppy leather hat
Leather bound book titled “A Noble Way”
Circlet in ornate box
Cittern in leather case
Basic travel accessories in a leather rucksack
- Leather canteen
- Leather thread and needle
- Flint and steel
Skills:
Lances: Can throw with accuracy to ranges of 25-30 yards
Hand axes: Above average skill with twin axes, although more than skilled he is simply very quick
Physical abilities: Fedlund is a hare, his speed, quickness and leaping ability are better than any non-magical humans. Can increase speed and quickness by dropping to all fours, like a hare would normally travel.
Cittern: Most people would not find Fedlund’s cittern playing obnoxious or horrible, but he is obviously no virtuoso.
~The Introduction~
Darkness. Absolute darkness. Then a slight gleam, high in the sky. For a moment it remains but a twinkle before exploding into a glaring spotlight, shining down on one of the stranger creatures to have stepped foot in the Realm of Greeting to be questioned by the All Powerful Allower of New Things. The light dulls slightly from the initial explosion, then the examination begins.
All Powerful Allower of New Things (who happens to have a very booming dramatic voice that echoes off unseen surfaces): Greetings!!!! State your name.
The creature up for examination straightens, standing tall to properly project the statement of his grand name.
“My name is Sir Fedlund Overby of the Heath, Warden of the Mead, Baron of the Burrow and occasional Pilferer of Umbilleferae.”
APANT: Very welll….so I can call you Fred.
For a moment Fedlund is confused by the question, the thought of abbreviating his name an offense he had not previously encountered.
Fred: Well…my name, good sir, is Sir Fedlund Overby of the Heath, Ward…
APANT: Yes yes yes…very well Fred. I have it written down. Do those titles have any real value to them??
F: Errm…well…they are somewhat…how would I say it…self bestowed. But, I did fulfill the duties that accompany them with great diligence.
APANT: Hrmph…well…if you fulfilled the duties, I’ll let you keep them. Next question. What are you??
With the formal introductions out of the way, Fedlund relaxes a bit, letting his shoulders slump and assuming a more casual attitude.
F: Why…are you blind or simply daft? I am a Noble Hare.
APANT: My previous records indicate that the standard rabbit….
At the word “rabbit,” Fedlund tightens over his entire body, visibly disturbed by the mention of the world. However, the All Powerful Allower of New Things doesn’t miss a beat.
APANT: …should be a very small creature, weighing under 30 lbs at the absolute most and standing no more than 2 feet tall, and that is an abnormally large rabbit. So…you can’t be a rabbit.
Fedlund takes a moment to breathe deeply, composing himself before speaking, the grandiose delivery returning.
F: You are absolutely right. I am not a…ugh…
There is a slight shudder as Fedlund works to spit out the word.
F: …a rabbit. I do not associate with such creatures. And I am most certainly not, and shall never be called, a BUNNY.
During the last phrase, Fedlund seems to have lost his composure, but he brushes down his fur and continues.
F: I am a Noble Hare. A hare, because that is what I am, and Noble because, as you can see, I am exceptionally large and much more intelligent than my four legged, ground dwelling cousins. And if ever some two-bit, daisy nosed, hole haunting, overstuffed RABBIT comes in here and tries to claim to be a hare, I request that you either decimate him on the spot or simply inform me so that I may deal most severely with him and straighten out his little identity crisis.
APANT: Very well, very well. A commendable display of indignation. Gender please.
Fedlund starts at the question, surprised it was even asked.
F: Why…I’m a fella…can’t you tell?? I haven’t got lovey dovey dewy eyes now, do I?? How could you even ask such a thing. Nitwit….
APANT: Everyone gets asked the same questions.
The voice drones on, as much as a grandly booming voice can drone, clearly unimpressed.
APANT: Height and weight please.
F: From claws to cranium I am six feet tall. Counting my ears, and it would be a shame to not include such grand appendages, I am seven feet, two inches tall. I weigh precisely 172 lbs.
APANT: Color of hair and eyes.
F: Oh come now, certainly you can tell that by looking…
APANT: Pretend I’m color blind. Humor me so you can leave.
F: Very well. My hair is a glorious slate, except for my stomach which is the perfect pearl of a Noble Hare. My eyes gleam like sapphires.
APANT: So you’re gray, have a white belly, and blue eyes, right?
F: I knew you weren’t colorblind.
APANT: Right…anyway. Now I get to do a bit of something for you. I will read to you a visual description of yourself using the standardized terms from the “New Creatures in Althanas” guidebook.
General description: Tall, gangly
Distinguishing characteristics: Large feet, powerful hind legs, large ears.
Overall appearance: Humanoid rabbit….
I imagine you will be objecting to that term?
F: It appears you have an excellent imagination, capable of grasping my subtle disdain for the word.
APANT: Very well…I’ll put in a new entry that…humanoid HARE (http://www.bircham-arts.co.uk/artists/sculpture/james/standing-hare.jpg ). Happy?
F: Well…your description could go for a bit of…elaboration, but the part about powerful hind legs was nice. No further objections.
APANT: Alright…almost done. Personality. I’ll just insert the transcript of this meeting, anyone who really cares should be able to figure it out.
F: Now what is that supposed to mean? You know, for an All Powerful Allower of New Things, you could sure you some new manners.
APANT: Deal with it, you at least might get to leave someday. Last piece of personal information. Where did you come from?
F: Well, like all Noble Hares, I was born in a proper burrow to some Common Hares, those are the ones that most people are used to that run around on all four legs. You see, we are a strange race. We do not procreate as other races. Yes, a noble hair is one-and-done every time. However, any Common Hare can, for a reason we are not quite certain of yet, give birth to a Noble Hare. Obviously it is not long before a Noble will realize that they don’t quite fit in in the burrow.
When I decided that I no longer belonged in the burrow, a strange thing happened. During the night, while I slept, a parcel appeared. There were some other things, but a book inside was the most interesting. “A Noble Way” It was written TO me, the first line read “Fedlund Overby, you are a most Noble of creatures…” I could read it the first time I opened it and it told me everything about what it means to be a Noble Hare, as well as some practical tips on living away from mom and dad. It answered most of my questions, but also left some important ones hanging about unanswered. Things like…where are the other Noble Hares? I have yet to meet anyone else and I am beginning to wonder if I am really just a big joke.
I moved out from my parents, and built a house nearby, feeding them and protecting the down and living in relative peace. Granted, on occasion I would have to fight off a dog…err…a bear…or two or three at a time. You know…petty things like that. That is how I EARNED my titles.
But one morning in winter I woke up and my parents and litter fellows were gone. Not dead…there were no signs of violence. Just…gone. You see, the Commons don’t understand like a Noble does. They probably thought it was getting cold and they needed to find a warmer place to stay. I had a place for them inside, with a fire and everything they would ever need. But….well…they didn’t understand. That is a Nobles lot in life. Loneliness…
For a moment, ever so brief, the bravado and cheekiness of Fedlund broke down in sadness. But he quickly reasserted himself.
F: I tried to track them, naturally, but Commons move quicker than even I can keep up and I lost their scent. But I knew that might happen, I had prepared. “A Noble Way” warned that Commons would do such things from time to time. It hurt…its still hurts…but I understand that it was nothing against me.
After that, there was no reason to stay in the meadow. I packed my bags, sold the house to a very surprised farmer down the road for 100 GP, and started walking. I spent awhile on the road, I have been to several small villages and picked up some skills along the way. Not really sure what I am doing though, just sort of wandering. Then somehow…I ended up here. I don’t really remember that part very well though.
APANT: Uh..yes..I brought you here. You must be approved. Don’t worry, it happens to everyone eventually at some important crossroads in their life.
F: Oh…very well then. Continue.
APANT: Alright, next question. What kind of equipment did you bring with you.
The light in the darkness expands slightly to expose a pile of equipment lying next to Fedlund.
F: Ah…grand. My things…so nice of you to return them. Now I can stop standing around naked. First, my tunic.
Fedlund extracts from the pile a pile of forest green suede leather, fumbles for a moment to find the arm holes, the pulls it over his head. The tunic has three heavy toggles of a dark wood to hold together the slit that reaches Fedlund’s sternum. Baggy and slightly long, the short sleeved shirt reaches to Fedlund’s knees. The height is quickly shortened to mid thigh with the addition of a simple black leather belt. The orange carrot buckle stands out prominently on the dark background.
From the large pocket of the tunic, Fedlund pulls a floppy hat (http://www.hippieshop.com/mas_assets/thumb/3001.jpg) with two large holes cut for his ears. With a little bit of finangling and grunting, he manages to poke both ears through the two holes at the same time, letting the hat settle on his head. The hat matches the green suede of his tunic, but is without ornamentation. He strikes a heroic pose, as if to ask “What do you think?” APANT answers.
APANT: That’s nice. Very garish. Next.
F: Thank you. Now, my toys.
By toys refers to his weapons. A bundle of lances pokes from the pile. Fedlund reaches for the first, untying the leather straps that hold them together. He rummages through the pile for a moment before extracting a case of sorts for each of the lances. The quiver consists of a three inch circle of wood with five holes forming a circle around it. A ten inch shaft protrudes from the center of the circle, capped by another circular piece of oak. Five slots match the five holes, each slot with a leather strap hanging loose from one side. Fedlund begins describing the lances as he slides each into the case, closing the leather strap. Small magnets hold the straps in place, enough to prevent accidental dislodgement, but weak enough that the lances can be remove quickly.
F: These, my funny voice in the sky, are first rate, traditional Noble Hare lances. “A Noble Way” tells exactly how to make them and the five steel heads were with the book. I actually found a woodworker nearby who would do business with a hare and traded him some exceptional vegetables for the shafts.
Each one measures precisely three feet in length and three quarters of an inch in diameter. The yew shaft transfers cleanly into the steel head, which forms the last eight inches of the lances length. There are no flanges, spikes, or other such nonsense on a Noble Hare lance, it is smooth from butt to tip.
As he speaks, Fedlund slides each of the five lances into the quiver, making sure each sharp tip is contained in its receptacle at the base of the quiver, leaving two feet of the shaft protruding from the second rigging.
Fedlund takes a moment to examine his work, adjusting the lances in the quiver before slinging it onto his back. A thick sash of light brown leather holds the quiver securely in place, the shafts of the lances visible over Fedlund’s right shoulder.
F: Yes, the Noble lance is a fine weapon. Best suited for throwing, not quite as accurate or possessing the range of a longbow, but capable of greater damage. Also, in a pinch you can use it to fend at close range, though that is not advised. The shafts are lightweight, not really meant for melee combat.
For a moment, Fedlund appears to simply marvel at the grandeur of such weaponry.
APANT: Next…
F: Oh..right…very well then, on we go.
Fedlund next retrieves two hand axes (http://us.st11.yimg.com/us.st.yimg.com/I/greatsword_1930_12806763) from the pile. He only looks at these for a moment before sliding one into each side of his belt. Clearly they do not have the traditional significance of the lances.
F: Single headed, steel on an oak shaft, five inches under two feet, nice and quick. If any buggers manage to get close enough to me I can fall back on these.
APANT: Alright, I want a BRIEF description. Just what can you do with those weapons.
F: Well, this one time there was a wolf…no…a PACK of wolves that snuck up on the hill. I barely had tim..
APANT: BRIEF!!!
F: Oh…err…right. Lets see, the lances. I actually practiced with them quite a bit. I got pretty good at hitting the stump of the old tree across from my house. It was probably a good 75 to 80 feet away. But, it didn’t do much to try to avoid my throws, so I’m not too sure how I would fare against a more agile opponent.
Now, the axes, there really have been a few times I had to use them. Vagabonds in the night and the occasional wild beast. Even some thieves since I have been on the road. I’m pretty quick, being a hare and all, and managed to fight them off. I guess that makes me right decent with the twin hand axes. I even managed to make a bit of a name for myself, if I am to be allowed the liberty of bragging, fighting some town champions in non-lethal combat. Apparently humans find it quite entertaining to see a hare and a human duke it out. I managed to hold my own for the most part.
Oh…and if we are to talk about fighting, I suppose I should tell you of my “natural weapons.” Like most creatures, I have claws. However, these are proper hare claws, not the gallishly huge things you see growing from a bear or something. Though I would hate to demean myself so, I suppose I could inflict a healthy scratch upon a foe if called upon to do so.
And, as you noted, I do have powerful hind legs. Useful for kicking and such. They are also the source of my exceptional speed and jumping ability. You know, like you would expect from a hare. Although I never could keep up with my Common brothers. There is a price you pay for being so big. My more humanoid form isn’t quite as well constructed for speed as their low to the ground form. I can improve by dropping to all four legs, but even then I am not as quick as they are. Generally, however, I am the fastest of the bi-peds you will meet who do not have some devilish incantation upon them. Is that enough.
APANT: Quite satisfactory. On to the next item.
F: Lets see…what else do I have in here…
Fedlund again sifts through the pile that, strangely, despite having had several items removed, is larger than it started.
F: Now wait just a blarney stoned minute. This stuff isn’t all mine…your playing tricks on me.
Fedlund points an accusing finger in the direction of the source of the light, wagging it slightly for emphasis.
APANT: Ah ha ha ha…yes…although you were quite amusing, rummaging around like that. Here…I’ll just leave your things behind.
The pile very quickly diminishes as items fly off into the dark, leaving behind a leather case and a simple rucksack. Fedlund reaches immediately for the case and pulls out a cittern.
F: Ahhh…there she is. This is Elencia (http://www.earlymusic.i12.com/assets/images/misc_pic/CITTER~B.gif ). Ah well…she is nothing really, just a cittern, but I am quite fond of her and can play well enough to entertain a crowd…at least, after they have had a few drinks they don’t seem to mind me.
Fedlund returns Elencia to the padded case and adds it to his back. He picks up the rucksack and peers inside.
F: Must I describe each and every item to you? It is just basic supplies…some bread, a leather canteen with water, some leather thread and a needle in case I tear my shirt, flint and steel for fire starting…there is really only two items of interest. Ah…here we are.
Fedlund pulls from the sack a worn leather bag. He first removes a book, not overly large, from the bag. A leather cover bears the gold stamped title in a flowing, hare script. “A Noble Way” He holds the book up to the light. APANT, being all powerful, can read the hare script, but to most beings it would be nothing but loops and scribbles. Fedlund then carefully extracts a thin, ornate box from the sack and opens it, turning it away from his body so the light shone directly on it. Inside, on a purple satin cushion, is an ornate circlet.
F: This was the other thing that was lying there that morning. The book says it is a sign of my true nobility. I don’t really understand that part, seems that somewhere there is…or might be…a place were I really am a baron or lord or something like that. Certainly no-one else cares that much about it. Don’t worry, I shant run about proclaiming myself king or anything.
Fedlund takes a moment to gaze on his crown before closing the box. It truly is beautiful. The animalistic influence is obvious. Vegetables hanging from vines form the circular base. A single, surprisingly majestic carrot, is the centerpiece. All the vegetation is properly colored, but the interior is unmarked, revealing fine silver to be the metal.
The box slides back into the bag along with the book. Both are returned to the sack. Before swinging it over his left shoulder, Fedlund removes the lances and cittern, returning them in the order that ensures that the lances remain on top and most easily accessible.
F: There we go…that is me. Any more rude and probing questions before I get out of here?
APANT: Fortunately for both of us, no. I am finished. You may leave.
F: Thank you.
Fedlund begins to step beyond the circle of light and back into reality. He gets one foot into the darkness before he pauses, turning back to the light. He returns to the circle and looks back up into the light, for Noble Hares truly are noble creatures.
F: You know, you are a bumbling berry snitch in the sky, stealing me away like you did, but maybe we didn’t give each other quite the chance we each deserve. You seem like a decent enough fellow. My name is Fred, how do you do?
Fedlund extends a paw of greeting toward the light, uncertain of if this is the proper way to greet an all powerful being, but the best he can do.
The light flickers for a moment before a gigantic white hand, easily the size of Fedlund, reaches down from the sky. It envelopes the now miniscule paw, but somehow manages to shake it as if a close friend of relatively similar physical proportions.
APANT: And I, alas, am the All Powerful Allower of New Things. You’ll do alright kid, maybe I’ll see you again someday.
The hand retreats to the sky. As Fedlund turns and leaves the light, his voice reaching back from the darkness.
F: I could go for that, old chap…
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Fedlund blinks his eyes, trying to clear the strange spots dancing before them. The clopping of horses on the road to Radasanth has awakened him from…a dream?