Dwu's Final Farewell

Bowing his head solemnly as a lone tear trickles down his cheek, our dwarven friend ascends the Stairway to Kalaza one last time...


    
Jypsie...

eesh Lass!

I've just been pointed to yer survey site! And I must say that some of the things that Dwu was given credit for were surely exagerated.

What's more .... <choking back a tear>.... some of them sure made it all feel worth while (Dwu's stories falling so close to Kree's? Bah! Milarky!).

Then again, Jubuls was oft mentioned. ;-)

Twas a nice try on behalf of the folks who sent me here to gander at yer surveys...but Dwu's got no more fight left in him. There's naught sadder than a "Fiter wit no Fite". Dwu's spirit would HAVE to be broken after the ordeal he's been through.

And what's worse, _I_ (Dwu's Muse) don't have any fight/spunk/smart-aleck-remarks left in me either. It's all been sucked out of me by the moronic-majority.

I'll be posting a URL to jabber my side of Dwu's last day sometime soon and I'll allow Dwu one more missive (If I can raise his spirits) posted on his beloved River's Rest Message Tree. After that it's "a walk in the sun" and "a long day's journey into night" for the Dwarf. Indeed, I shall miss him. And several, many, plenty of ye all, as well.

We (Dwarf and I) are both too tired to compete with both player AND GM snot-noses!

However, Yer sort WILL be sorely missed,

~ Dwu's Muse/NottaDwarf/Chris


      

Today is Leyan, 8th day of Charlatos, in the year 5100 of the Modern Era.

Translation: Wednesday, March 8, 2000

[River's Rest, Large Tree]

Several (perhaps five?) darkly cloaked and hooded shapes bustle past you. Odd, you remark to yourself, how they make no real noise excepting one, a hand and a half taller than the rest and quite a bit broader. It is this one individual upon which your sharp sences focus. It seems that where the others fade into and out of the shadows, thus making their true number difficult to count, this one is clumbsy by comparison. A sore thumb.

From the general height of the dark silent glimmer you've witnessed... You'd call all the group, a pack of Dwarves...but for that one, large enough to be named any else of a half-dozen races. It does, indeed, seem that one of their number hardly cared if his manner was known. While the smaller ones all seem bent on covering this oaf's tracks.

One (all?) of the four black shadows notices your gaze and tugs at the cloak of the larger, clumbsy "shadow" who glances in your direction, visibly shrugs and audibly grunts, sadly. The clumbsy one tacks a parchment upon one of the lower branches of the Haon tree and with a flurry of silent black cloaks....there is nothing left to see.

Hmmm. These were no ordinary travelers. Smug with your obvious "perception" you approached the tree and peer at the fresh Troll-skin scroll... upon it are words you feel compelled to learn as by rote:

Frens. Brudders. Ones dat has been loved.

Tis witta heavy hert dat dis foogative comes likka teef inna nite to post dis breef scroll.

Ifn ye kin nay cypher whom dis been penned by, den nay werry...der's naught fer ye to feer. (---ink splatter---)

Mine troubles issa mine own. Dw(--scratch marks--) Meself woulnt bring em heer to mine beloved Rest. Gived dat mine kinfolks kin nay stands one o' der own to be caged likka monkee..dey'ved sent certin skilled darkly clad fellers to , well, bust mineself outta mine perdickamint. (Fer ye lasses o' sqwemishness, pleez dunno fret, was naught need fer much blodshed attall...er so dese fellers tell me).

Tis assa "Free" Dwar(--more scratch marks--) Persin, o' a sorts, dat me leaves dis missive upon dis tree. Free, yet aint free. Mine chains tis th sea, mine breath tis o' th unnermountin caverns. Howe'er bein 'scaped frem doo justice...it seems dat mine chains anna breath shall be fere'er strong. Tho dey ne'er return heer'bouts.

Th sweet cares o' th Rest tis a ting o' mine past now. Anna to ye dat has born mine foul temperments thru thick anna thin...dis be wot yer left wit...hopes tis nuff:

Bah. Dem aint teers falling frem mine peepers...

Keenin's fer wemin anna fer weepers.

Fer dem dat has fited...

Anna dem dat has blited,

Your stories is kept.

Tho one lone Dwarf wept.

--(a quite familar rune)

...my last day in these lands can be found at:

Stairway to Kalaza

You'll doubtless note a similar theme in my decision to remove the dwarf costume and the parading of grand egos in this topic which some of you are trying to reign in at this time. Please remember that the magick of River's Rest was always that "they" ended up leaving town and "we" stayed.

This is my last post. I go now to perform the fatal <cluck>...uh er <click>...

I will surely miss some of you. Certainly all the "we".

Take care,

--NottaDwarf

May your journey take you to the end of the rainbow, my friend.

You're in our Hearts,  Always.

~ Jyps

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