Wheel of Time MUD

Forgive the bump, but this is easily the best thread I’ve ever read on any incarnation of the WOTMUD forums. Everyone needs a chance to read this.

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, and Age long past, a wind rose among the Fingers of the Dragon. The wind was not the beginning, there are neither Beginnings nor endings to the turning of The Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

The wind blew across the channels that formed the delta of the River Erinin as it approached the Aryth Ocean. It blew past a road on which merchant trains traveled and past the giant fortress that was the Stone of Tear. It blew through the Maule and onto a square that hosted the Tairen Bazaar. There, it tugged at the color shifting cloak of warders, the white cloaks of the Children and the rugged cloak of an angry ranger. It whirled around the black attire of a shady figure and... left a little reward for each and every one of them.

[quote="Vaen"]who appeared to perpetually skip leg day[/quote]

https://youtu.be/BS-oRydlnCE

Shimu pulled his matted cloak close as he slipped along the weathered rooftops. A group of adolescent boys waving white towels, which smelled strongly of urine, shouted derogatory slurs at some schoolgirls across the street. Two ugly teenagers in rainbow colored capes stood in front of the girls, puffing up their scrawny chests. The girls seemed more concerned with the balding man in the alley who was muttering while rubbing himself against a bush.

Shimu watched quizzically as a man with yellow eyes scampered down the road on all fours, nose firmly pressed against the butt of a stray dog covered in fleas. The master Ko'bal shook his head and dropped into the alley behind the bush-lover, he [url=https://media.giphy.com/media/xT9DPATDFcOjRWf56M/giphy.gif]cackled[/url] as he drew his blade.

Lurking warily towards the source of obnoxious laughter and bickering among a group of assorted men within the city, a finely-dressed man in dull jewelry rubs his hands together, awaiting a cutpurse opportunity. Though, he suddenly fell frozen on contemplation as to who would be the most beneficial target to rob of their riches, which prove to be an unclear choice between a raggedy patchwork-cloaked old man with holes in his boots who looks as if he would disintegrate into a pile of ash at any minute, a troglodyte-looking man with a gigantic pimpled nose donning gray drab, and two scrawny women dressed in shifting cloaks with nothing better to do than chastise two seemingly innocent Children at play, with white towels swung around their necks.

"None of these scrubs would have anything worthwhile for the picking.", Berlyn mutters to himself as he [url=https://media.giphy.com/media/jUwpNzg9IcyrK/giphy.gif]slowly steps away[/url].

As the ominous voice from the puny armed and puny legged color-shifting cloak-wearing human who resembled a mistake more than a victory dwarfed the conversation settled, the preacher whose fingers toyed with a crimson crook peered at the author.

With a nudge and a shuffle the gaggle of Children pointed and laughed at the new Gaidin. Something about the sonic quality of the world felt somewhere between an insult and the 90s and they reveled and chortled at the expense of the man with three faces who seemed to have words, but could not speak.

It seemed like a pleasant afternoon, until guards started yelling about Davor, Vilac, and a fervent desire to keep the peace.

:lol: :lol: :lol:

This thread is gold. Y'all should post more [url=http://wotmod.org/viewforum.php?f=79]here[/url]

Marshall approached the stall, skinny arms swinging awkwardly. He tried to lift the steel warhammer, veins protruding along his sickly arm, seemingly made of skin and bone. Sighing he decided he would simply buy the sketches he originally came for, those depicting young men wrestling in glee.

The ancient man was uncomfortable. Too many people, too much noise, too many smells. It was overwhelming and his discomfort was condign for his awful decision travel this far south in the first place. He was much more suited for the walls of Fal Dara, which were more reminiscent of his home in Rhamdashar, quite literally ancient memory at this point. He had a job to do down here - to heal, or, as a last resort, put down, an unfortunately deranged soul. But as focused as he was on his task of finding a healing decoction made from roots only found in this part of the world, he could not help but notice the spots of lecherous depravity that were too often found in this market.

He steered clear of the Whitecloak children from the get-go -- who knew what foolishness they believed about men and women like him? -- he did not need to be heckled by pre-pubescent children playing at adults. But he certainly noticed when the disproportionate Warder, who appeared to perpetually skip leg day, strode towards them with an idiotic grin on his face. However, the most unsettling exchange was the one between the Warder and the odd-looking old man wearing drab gray with the exception of a ragged crimson cloak that had seen better days. Until the Warder's appearance, the gray-clad old man had been watching the children, subconsciously stroking a rusty, yet elaborately constructed dagger-hilt depicting a lion's head. The blade was missing.

[i]They are mine[/i], the leering old man's eyes seemed to say.[i] I saw them first. You don't interfere with another man's prize.[/i] His lasciviously arched eyebrows appeared to emphasize skepticism at breaking some kind of established code between perverts. The Warder appeared confused, but turned on his heels, and strode away, probably to do some bicep curls.

The ancient man had seen a lot over the course of his never-ending fight against the Shadow, but this exchange and its implications were deeply unsettling and made the ancient man [url=https://media.giphy.com/media/LvtKS6f1WatQ4/giphy-downsized-large.gif]shiver in discomfort[/url]. He sighed and moved along. He was down here to cure a different sickness of the mind.

Might I enquire as to what this steel warhammer is? A new combo weapon? A rare? A device by which Gaidin entice young children for cuddles?