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Post by Gravius on Oct 9, 2004 16:38:13 GMT -5
Fine. Be that way. I was only stating the obvious...
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Post by Wallace MacBix on Oct 9, 2004 18:07:26 GMT -5
why do you people wish to command wallace, i'd much rather be returned and than restored, sigh* why can i see me being anchorned spirited just so you guys can command me and not letting wallace do anything about it.
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Post by Atrus Rand on Oct 9, 2004 22:17:00 GMT -5
Dude, If I had the choice I'd restore you as soon as possible. It's not fun to be running around as a spirit for the weekend. Also, TRY AND AVOID BEING SPIRIT. It helps, I did it. Remember the Nexus Weekend? There were more chances for Atrus to get kicked but he didn't die ONCE. ;D
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Post by guest on Oct 11, 2004 11:42:39 GMT -5
[Edit- Uncalled for and rude.]
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Post by Damia on Oct 12, 2004 12:24:41 GMT -5
yeah, who ever rescued me did it just in time...i was on bleeding 59 as a zombie...i would have been *pissed* if i had gone into spirit form friday nite...but i was bandaged ans saved so i was happy ^_^
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Brian K
-Scholar-
I'll show you crazy!
Posts: 64
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Post by Brian K on Oct 13, 2004 12:03:39 GMT -5
I fear spirit form with such a passion. It's just really one of those things I don't want to have happen to me, especially since I'll end up being turned into something under someone's command and probably failing my spiritquest >_>
Yeah, if I ever get raised as a zombie or some such, do me a favor and anchor spirit me before I go running off into battle. Monsters have no qualms about using fatal lore on an undead tradesman.
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Post by Wallace MacBix on Oct 13, 2004 15:46:46 GMT -5
being a spirit isn't too bad. only problem is you can't learn anything. also if you fail your spirit quest and need to wait a year, you can just go with a summoned form that doesn't give you spirit quest (only muse, laborer, and acylastic give you spirit quest %). theres tons of others, golem and simcurilion (yourself only with all actions expended, and a golem has patches of skin and a simcurilion is a robot) ummm acrhons are nice, i believe there are wraiths and shadows too, but i'm not too sure there. and than theres all the spirit things you could be, spiritwisp, spirit guiest, ect. so if you fail your spirit quest all is not lost, and also i'm not saying you should purposly fail it, cause you still can't learn anything for a year or anything, but anytime if your spirit those options are open to you and you don't need to role till you get 99%. and for my first role i had a 96% chance and i roled a 6, all luck but still the odds usually are in your favor.
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Post by Gravius on Oct 13, 2004 18:03:51 GMT -5
Wraiths and Shadows are formed from corpses, not spirits. They're a different type of undead, not spirit based. ;D
And this is why I have no qualms with using anchor spirit. Spiritform isn't that bad, is it? I'll even give you an oration ritual when I get it.
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Post by Wallace MacBix on Nov 4, 2004 23:37:10 GMT -5
YAY! YAY! YAY! i've finally finished writing down part of my back story. he it is....*eye twitches*...its longer than 10,000 charcters so here's part 1......
History of the MacBix Clan (from the words of Wallace)
It all began with my great-grandfather, Bix. He was an Apprentice Warrior who tried his best to meet the standards of a Highlander Warrior. Going through his apprenticeship was hard, as most are. Eventually me forefather prevailed and passed, now because of the war over the Highlands with the Holts, he and his fellow friends and warriors began on a quest to help rid the Highlands of the Holts where ever they could. They gathered many Highlanders from all around that wanted the Holts off of our land. They met in secret and slowly trained and spared and prepared to do battle with them.
Than the first battle came, Bix and many of his friends charged into battle fiercely and fought against a Holt army. The first battle Bix had been in since his apprenticeship, he almost died many times. Luckily both sides we’re basically matched. But the Holt commander came after Bix and was about to cleave him in two when a falcon came down from the sky and started attacking his face and eyes. Bix than killed the Holt commander and won the battle for the Highlands. Bix made the wild falcon that saved his life that day his pet. He named his Claymore after the bird thus forever calling it Falcon and engraved the Falcon symbol onto his shield. Bix began his great career that day and be came a stronger and better Warrior everyday. Everyday he led his friends and kin against the Holts forever trying to drive them from our lands.
Bix met a woman in his trails and they formed a family and had a son, Wallace. He grew up arcane and wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and adopted the name MacBix (Son of Bix). He also trained very hard to try to equal his father. He was a great Warrior, but he could not rise to the statue of his father. Bix passed down the Falcon and the Falcon shield to help his son in combat for he wished his son to be watched over by its power. Wallace as he continued to grow made his own kin and also strengthened the ties that his father had made with other Highlanders. And as time passed, he too had a wife and a son and named him Angus, my father.
Angus would not accept the clan name of MacBix because he never truly respected his mother and father and despised the Holish rule. “If you and grandfather were such mighty warriors than why are the Highlands not free,” he would say.
And Wallace would reply, “Everything comes with time my son. Being a warrior isn’t just about brute strength, it is about the knowledge that one posses and how to use it, that is stronger than any shield and sharper than any blade. Knowing when to use force and when not to is the sign of a true warrior. My father and I were never cowards for confronting the Holts the way we have; fighting for a cause you believe in that is true courage.”<br> Angus did become a warrior, but still never believed in the MacBix clan name, and could not stand the war with the Holts so he left home shortly after completing his apprenticeship. He adventured in the wild by himself seeing people for what they were and how his father’s words did make sense to him. He couldn’t just use force to get where he wanted to.
Sometime after he had made this realization for his own, but still not convinced enough to go back home. He ran into a Cleric being attacked by a few Holts. He ran in to save her, not thinking twice, knowing that it was the thing to do. Together they fended off the Holts, but a strange thing happened though during the battle. My father had succeeded in beating them and was about to kill one of them, but the young Cleric stopped him. And she told him it was wrong to kill, no matter who it was. My father stunned by her beauty and her kind words for Holts who just tried to kill her, bandaged them, and let them crawl off. And when she asked the brave warrior’s name, my father replied, “Angus MacBix,” finally accepting the clan name for his own. Together they went back to Wallace and Wallace was proud of his son. My father and my mother were married within the year.
Because of my mother, my father, Angus, moved to the wilderness of the Highlands to raise a family and even though he was a Warrior he denounced killing himself now, well most killing. He did still occasionally go on a raid or join a strike force against the Holts, but eventually they had a son, and he stopped them almost completely. My father now seeing the light from what his forefathers had said, named me after my grandfather, starter of the MacBix clan: Wallace.
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Post by Wallace MacBix on Nov 4, 2004 23:37:37 GMT -5
Part 2
At four I began weapon training with a little dagger, and when I got older a short sword. Together my parents taught me the values of life and also how to protect it, my father taught me how to fight and survive in the wilderness. My mother trying to make me as smart as she was able, she always said that having a good education would help make me a better fighter. She helped taught me the basics of mathematics, chemistry, and enigmas, as well as anything else she knew that would help me later in life.
When I turned seven I had a strange occurrence, one I still remember to this day. My mother asked me a question, “What trade do you want to be when you grow up Wallace?”
My natural response, “A Warrior mommy. So I can be big and strong like daddy.” She laughed at my answer and than made me promise her something, and she had long ago instilled the value of a promise. She made me promise her that I would not learn Fatal Blow because taking life was wrong and a horrid thing. Life is too valuable just to take away with a quick stroke. At my age protesting is what I had, but she did give me a fair term though; she told me that when I became a master I would have enough experience to decide if something should die or not. Thus I shall keep my promise and not learn Fatal Blow until I am a master.
My father though in later days thought me the single way around this, he told me that using bandages was fine because it took more time, and thus more thought. You must actively think about what you are doing when you use a bandage to kill something. He also taught me that in the higher ranks Warriors had such power to kill things with a single strike, but this was fine as well because it was very tiresome for them to perform and couldn’t be easily done over and over again, thus teaching me that fatal lore itself required much thought of when to use and how to use efficiently.
Life proceeded in normal Highlander fashion as I continued to learn things about as many things as my inquisitive mind could see, if only my memory was as good. But one day, when I was nine, our life was interrupted. A raiding friend of my father’s came running in. A Holtish vanguard was approaching because they found out where the MacBix clan was stationed. It seems his friends were still bringing our banner into battle, and the Holts finally wanted to take revenge; the opportunity of my father being all alone was too good a chance to pass up. My father told his friend to run and to take my mother with him; my mother steadfastly refused and wanted to die by his side.
My father sent his friend off running to town to tell them what was going on, all the while I sensed danger and understood what was going to happen and went to grab my short sword. As my mother and father got ready themselves I asked where I should stand for the fight, they both looked at each other than at me; in their haste they forgot about me and realized that I would die with them. My father overpowered me and put me into our hidden cellar and than put our cabinet over the iron bound door. Stuck there was nothing I could do but listen to what they said. “Stay there and be quiet Wallace, everything is going to be alright, we just don’t want you getting hurt. You’ll be safe inside.” I listened to him and locked the door from the inside and waited, very impatiently and than I heard a marching procession.
Than it all went quiet and I heard a war cry from my father, something that put shivers down my spine. But a Cleric and Warrior did not stand a chance verses an army. The sounds of battle raged on for a long time, longer than I could ever remember, and all of a sudden I smelt smoke, and soon after the sounds of battle stopped. If it were not for the stone cellar and the iron door I would have perished in the fire that took my house. It took me three days to muster enough strength open the ash-covered door.
The first thing I saw when I searched about the house were two charred skeletons embracing each other among the debris. I was alone but I couldn’t let it get to me, after the shock settled and I buried the two bodies next to my house I remembered what my father told me to do in case something ever happened and than ran to the nearest town. I ran into the tavern and I answer all their bewildered stares by tell them who I am. “I’m Wallace MacBix son of Angus MacBix.”
All the people in the bar get up as if I spoke magical words and the old barkeep asked, “Wait…you’re the great grandson of Bix?” I answered and they take me into the back and asked me to tell them what happened. “Why was the son of Angus MacBix all alone, where was he, what happened, how did I escape?” All of them were shocked at what happened, and on the spot I become a Warrior’s Apprentice, but it was easy for them because my parents had already taught me most of my Apprentice lore, so instead they taught me how to fight and to use fighting lore. I learned how to use a shield and became strong enough to swing a Sword 3 and Sword 4, which was strange for I never learned how to specifically use a Claymore, but they said that my father had wrote a letter years before on how to train me when I was ready to become a Tradesmen. He wanted me to become a full-fledged warrior and not take short cuts when they were offered.
A year later when I became a compete and competent Recruit they handed me the Falcon Claymore and the Falcon Shield, which had been in the tavern since my father retired. The last thing they told me that it was my parents’ wishes that I traveled to Evermore, but being headstrong with all my new lore and still wanting to see if I could track down their killers I wished to adventure and test my luck in the wild.
And thus I met the people who now I call brother and fellow FWAP member, but this is where the tale of the MacBix clan comes to an end and where the tale of Wallace begins….
PS. yes i don't have a life, thus the reason i was able to finally type this up several months after coming up with it.
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Post by Gravius on Dec 5, 2004 23:36:38 GMT -5
My question is how can the tale of a clan end when the bloodline still exists? Wouldn't it be a furthering of the tale of the clan in question?
Well, other than that, it seems rather... long and thought out. When I get the chance, I'll read it through and probably have to make a synopsis of the thing to make it a bit more accessible.
This is because this will be a part of the FWAP history and whoever wants to read the history will have to read that. I don't want a whole chapter devoted to what you wrote with proofreading. So if you don't mind, send that whole thing through a word processor and mail it on over to me. Maybe it will be left intact, maybe not. With your spelling, I doubt it, but there still is the possibility. So could you save me a lot of work and do that for me?
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Post by Wallace MacBix on Dec 6, 2004 0:59:54 GMT -5
well as for the first thing i am the last of my clan, sure Wallace is only 17 but still, kin is all that i have left. and most of that kin is all of you. also i'm sure if i wanted to i could remember tales of my forefathers’ excellence, but it is unnecessary and the clan history is shortest as is. and i have yet to even start writing the beginning of my tale in the wild of the Highlands and meeting all of you and than us forming FWAP.
and i wrote it in Word so as long as its a word its spelt right, now i don't know if it's the right word, but the word is spelt right none the less. i'll e-mail you a copy.
Edit: also i meant the "tale of the MacBix clan ends and the tale of Wallace begins" as symbolic as i could make it seem as a tale of my personal journey and my own growth that will go into the history of my clan someday.
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Post by Wallace MacBix on Mar 10, 2005 23:56:35 GMT -5
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Post by Atrus Rand on Mar 10, 2005 23:57:37 GMT -5
Effects: Immunity to head fumbles
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Post by Wallace MacBix on Mar 11, 2005 0:12:44 GMT -5
lol it also looks kickass and the wings symbolize both my clan of the Falcon and my religon, the Morrigan (the Raven being one of its symbols). plus for armor IV, and V imunity to cursh skull, waylay, slice eyes, mabye decapiate (if it covers my neck too), as long as i have a point of armor. but still i don't even care about that, it just looks so amazing i want it now to wear. omg...i just noticed. it you look real close right between the eyes it even kinda has the FWAP background of a 4 pointed star. just that the bottom one is a bit longer. he is it from the front www.create.co.nz/reelcollectibles/r_images/lotr_helms/95005_image01.jpgit is the helm of a citidel guard from LOTR.
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