The F Word At the Football

Yes, it was time to watch the cowboys in action once again.  Last home game of the season, and sitting 5th on the ladder, I gathered The Wife and jumped in the car, to see the boys play at home.

And what a game.  The home side took the game by 8 points in a grinding battle.

I had a great time, and kept Cadbury Corner alive as when I arrived, the cheering section was sorely depleted.  The 2 guys I usually cheer myself to a sore throat with weren't there.  So, it a was up to me.  And you know, I believe my cheering made a difference.  When I started, the entire bay picked up the call.  And it was on.  What a blast.

But I am left to wonder.  

Some kids near me, in their enthusiasm to see an away team's line break come to a quick end, yell things like "Kill him," or "put him down," so be it.  That's part of the fun, part of supporting the home team.  There's nothing wrong with that.  And if you happen to barrack for the other side, well, you're in hostile territory, get used to it.  But make a complaint?  Why go to the game.  You have that same right to cheer your team, and in the same manner.  I'll respect it.  I won't like it, but I'll respect it.  If you're that easily offended by it, don't go hostile home ground.  Sit in your stadium, surrounded by the people who cheer for your team.

There's also a big thing about the use of the word fuck at the game.  Not just in cheering, but in conversation, they don't want it because "football is a family event."  This fucking word comes up all the time, not just at the footy, but in shops, movies, restaurants, music and even TV.  What the fuck is the fucking problem with saying the word fuck?

You can't protect your kids from it.  They'll hear it when you're not around and will be using it themselves before the fucking age of seven.  You can't protect em.  They'll fucking hear it whether you want them to or not.

So why even try to fucking regulate it?

Is speech in this country no longer free?  I should be able to fucking the say the word whenever the fuck I want.  If you don't want to sit near 15,000 people, all saying whatever it is they're saying as is their right, then stay the fuck at home.  Put on Foxtel, and watch it on TV.  But you'll soon work out that the players say it on the field and the coaches say it in their boxes.  You can read it on their lips.  I highly doubt they are bothering to moderate their language by saying "freak."

The fucking word is part of the game.  Its part of the emotions, the thrill, and especially the disappointments. 

If you don't like the fucking word, maybe it's time you followed a different fucking sport.  Harden the fuck up, and get over it.

They should be fucking grateful it's only that word they hear.  They could instead could be listening to the tuba section of the Sydney Orchestra and smelling the local sewage treatment plant if I decide to eat 2 bowls of chilli before coming to the game.

That'll fuck em.

Eddard's Diary 6

When we reached the inn, Tia went back to her room to get ready for her shift.  I went back to Thoram.  

When I got inside, Thoram wasn't alone.  Aside from the plates surrounding him (the stacked empties numbered more than a dozen), the amount of food had seemed not to change, and he had a fresh pitcher of ale.  He was joined by Azzarak, Garrus, and another figure.  The quality of his equipment rivalled Garrus'.  He was built more like me, Thin, yet strong looking, and intelligence shone from his eyes.

Thoram smiled when he saw me, but it was Garrus who spoke first,"Eddard, I'd like you meet Logan.  He's a strategist that my father was kind enough to loan to me indefinitely."

"Well met, Sir Logan," I said, taking him for knight for his manner was impeccable was he stood to greet me," I am glad to have you with us."

"Well met, indeed, Eddard, but I am no knight.  I am a priest of the Red Knight."  The Red Knight was the right hand to Tempus, the strategist to the Fury of the God of War.  It was then I saw his Holy Symbol.  I was a little embarrassed. 

I nodded as I took my seat.

Logan began,"Before we begin on our mission, I thought we should put together a list of skills of the Party members." He consulted some notes.  "Thoram is a fighter, and handy with an axe.  Garrus is a knight, trained in the use of sword and shield."  When I nodded, he asked me,"and you?"

"I am a good fighter, trained in shortblades, and I am a fair shot with the bow.  I have most of the usual paladin abilities, including that mysterious hesitation by those who have given themselves to evil, giving me a slight advantage in combat.  But I do not heal, nor will I be able to invoke Mystra's name against undead.  I am an inquisitor, a paladin trained for combat against rogue mages."  I kept my voice down as I said the last, for while knowledge of my order was uncommon, those that needed to know knew, and I didn't want them to know I was here.

He nodded, making notes.

Suddenly from dark corner of the room, there was a crashing sound of a stone mug smashing to pieces and noise of wood being dragged across the flagstone floor.  Ulf struggled to his feet, looking confused and a little under the weather.  "Mornin'.. oh shit..."  He somehow stumbled to a cleaning bucket, toppling a couple of chairs in process.  The sound of retching followed.

When he finally stood, colour had returned to his face, but his voice was like gravel.  "Barkeep! Hair of the Dog! Ha, Ha, Ha!"  The last 'ha' was more of croak.  He sat down at our table, smelling like someone pissed up the brew he consumed last night, maybe it was him.  "Garrus, who's your friend?"

"He's a priest of the Red Knight." Garrus said.  I don't know if he was slightly repulsed by Ulf's display, or amused.  I hadn't learnt to read him yet.  "He'll be travelling with us."

"Cool.  Hey Eddard," He said looking around,"You remember that pair of tits last night?  I can't remember who she is.  So much of last night is an alcohol haze,  maybe it was her," he said, sizing up a barmaid,"No couldn't be, they look too small."

"Ulf," I said.

"Eh?" His hair of the dog arrived.  He gulped it, made a face, shook, saying,"Ahh, that's more like it."  And indeed, he did look better.

"This man wants to know your skills."  I said and ordered more watered wine.

"I drink.  I fight. I wench," He roared with laughter.  His hair was long, in the Northern Style, a barbarian through and through.  His massive chest shoved the air out his lungs with each laugh. He wore a longsword, and a spear and daggers galore.  He also had a bow.  I noticed Logan didn't miss any of it.

"Excellent," he said, smiling," but we may be light with missile fire."

Azzarak came in through the main doors.

"A glorious morning, Tempus has smiled on us," he said, sitting down.

"Good morning, Azzarak." I said, and turned to Logan," He is a priest of Tempus.  And an excellent fighter."  I had figured that much out after last night.  My drink had arrived, and I took a sip.

Logan took it all down. "Is that everyone?"

I nodded. 

"Hmmm.  We'll need a scout before we can do this.  I'll be back later, I need to see who is available."

All business.  I guess that's Logan.

It was after lunch before he returned.  I think its fair to say that the only time I saw Thoram without a plate in front of him was when he went to the bathroom.  Ulf spent the time sizing barmaid's bosums.  He didn't recognise them, however even when she served him his lunch.

Eddard's Diary 5

I awoke to brilliant sunshine streaming in my window.  My first good night's sleep in a week.  The suite was on Rygor, so I ordered breakfast and took it in my room.  Eggs, bacon, fresh bread and watered wine.  I was pleased with myself and the world.  I lost a fight last night, true.  I also probably made an enemy.  But, in the end, I prevented a crime, more serious than murder in my opinion, from occurring.  And that meant much to me.

Lighthearted I went down to the taproom.  At the bottom of the stairs,  I looked at the remains of the previous night's revelry.  Bodies and vomit lay strewn all over the floor.  The inn's staff was already hard at work, shooing the revellers out, or waking for breakfast and hair of the dog.

In a clean corner, I saw Thoram already seated.  Ulf and Azzarak were no where in sight.  Thoram was almost invisible behind mountains food, and neatly stacked to one side, empty plates.  Last night's late feast had no visible impact on his appetite.

"Eddard, Good morning.  Tia was looking for you," he said amiably, full of good spirits.  I supposed his capacity for drink outweighed the possibility of a hangover.  Or maybe it was simply legendary Dwarven constitution.

"Tia?" I didn't know the name.

"The woman you saved from that barbarian last night.

Oooh, that Tia. "Where is she now?"

"She had to go out."

I looked around.  There was no sign of Ulf or Garrus.  I turned back to Thoram.  "I think I'll go look for her," I said rising.

"If the others show up, I'll let them know," said the dwarf.

After inquiring with the innkeeper, I learnt that Tia was at a morning service of thanks at a nearby Temple devoted to Chauntea.  It was only a few minutes walk from the Inn, and was a major temple in the area.  I decided to go for walk.

I arrived at the temple.  The scent of a rich earthy garden filled my nostrils even before the temple grounds came into sight.  The service, led by the priests dressed in the plain brown robes of Chauntea, were leading the worshippers.  Planting, gardening, weeding, and praising their Goddess.

I was familiar with the religion, but I am a servant of Mystra, and so decided not to interrupt.  I watched the service with some interest, and waited for its conclusion about an hour later.

As the service wound down, I looked for Tia, and approached her.  In daylight, and up close, I could see very clearly the beauty that shone from within her.  Before I could engage her in conversation, I was intercepted by a priest.

"An offering for the Goddess?" he asked holding a seed and a small garden shovel.

I honoured the Deity into whose temple I strode.  I planted the seed, with sombre reverence.  When I finished, I said," My name is Eddard, of Mystra.  I have actually come to speak with Tia, a member of your flock."

He smiled at me, and let me pass.  I caught up with her.

"Hey Tia.  I heard you were looking for me."  Her beauty had not faded up close, but instead became more enchanting.  She is tall, brown haired but with shining green eyes.  She wasn't slim but she also wasn't fat.  The extra weight only enhanced her curves.  It was then I realised she wasn't alone.  She had a daughter with her.

"You didn't have to come all the way out here," She said," I just wanted to thank you.  For last night."

"You don't have to thank me," I said.

"But I want to.  I want to let you know that for the duration of your stay, the staff at the inn will be making special meals for you and your friend."

I wouldn't have called Azzarak my friend, I thought, I only sided with him last night,  Still, I hoped as I got know him better he might become one.  Though I knew it would take a bit to overcome his appearance.

"I got my ass kicked last night, and but for the timely intervention of Stormhammer, I would've died, and you..well.."

"You took that risk for me." she said.  There was a look in her eyes that I didn't recognise that day.  "Please accept."

"I would be honoured."  What else could I do but accept?

The wagon that the worshippers used to go to and from the temple had started to leave.  She made as if to get on it. 

"Let's walk back together." I said.

Making small talk, we walked back to the Troll and Maiden together. Tia, her daughter, and I, though I confess I barely noticed the daughter.

Eddard's Diary 4

Author's Note:  You know, this is going to take quite some time to write out.  I'm only on the second game in the writings- if that- not that I'm complaining mind.  I am learning heaps about Eddard as I write this, the whys and motives of his actions.  I am actually surprised at myself.  I am a player in the game. not the DM- so the shit that the DM throws at me I have to deal with as best I can.  I also have no prior knowledge of what that shit might be until it appears in the game.  The reactions of my character will be explained in these writings,  Using those explanations I hope to be able to play the character more realistically.  I hope to eventually catch up to the game progression, but I can't see that happening.  What you are reading is actually as I recall the games of several weeks ago.  My apologies to the DM if things aren't "quite right."  I will be writing in the first person.  Everything will be from Eddard's point of view.  What he doesn't see, won't be written about.  And now, I've delayed the this installment long enough...

"Sir Garrus!" Said the dwarf again,"The deputy myor of Halfbrook told me you were going to help.  I want to know how you intend get my stuff back."

"Your stuff?" Sir Garrus, asked.

"My name is Thoram, I am an armour merchant, and I was in Halfbrook when it was raided.  I was assured, before staying in the village that my gear was safe.  Needless to say, it wasn't.  They assured me they did everything possible during the raid.  What I saw was the two militiamen hiding while the goblins ran rampant.  I am offering a reward."

"Ahhh, Thoram, I..."

"I need it, I was entrusted with its sale.  Weapons and armour..."

"Thoram, you mean to tell me that Dwarven weapons and armour have been taken by the bandits?"

I sank in my chair a little at the news.  That was bad.  Dwarven gear was good quality.

"I am assembling a crew to do just that," said the nobleman," but its not going to be easy."

I looked at the dwarf.  For all his size, he looked strong.  I interrupted,"Actually, the best way to get your stuff back is to get it yourself."

The conversation stopped.  Everyone at the table was looking at me. 

"Besides," I continued," you'll need to identify your stolen goods. Why not come with us?"

The conversation went back and forth for bit, but somehow he agreed.

I think I impressed Garrus.  "That makes four," he said.

"I can get another," I said rising. 

I went to Ulf's table.  I thought him a capable fighter.  He was drunk, but he had a barmaid in his lap, a breast in his mouth, and a hand on the other.

"Ulf," I said.  "Ulf, I have proposition."

The breast popped out of his mouth," Oh hey, Eddard."

"We've got some fightin' to do!"

"Fighting?" It almost looked like some sobriety returned to him. "What's it pay?"

"An equal share if the loot and the dwarf," I made a vague gesture to our table," had offerred a reward if we can get his goods."

He checked his purse.  It looked light to me. "When do we leave?"

"I don't know." I replied.  "You in?"

He looked mournfully at his purse." See you tomorrow."

I took that as a yes. "I'll leave you to a most impressve pair."  I smiled as I returned to the table.  "Five," I said sitting down.

"Six actually," said Garrus," I have.. a friend that will be coming."

The dwarf, during my fairly short conversation with Ulf, had already obtained several plates of food and was busy eating them.  I ordered another drink, my final for the night.  Mulled wine.  I never drank much, preferring a clear head and fast reflexes, but I had been drinking more than usual.

Young Redhand told me his story.  The second son, he wasn't goig to inherit, and tired of house sitting while his father and brother rode off to war, getting the glory, decided to do something about it.  He made a deal with his father.  He would forego any claim on the estate to be able to make his own way.  His father agreed.  He would go, and make no further claim.  I did notice that Garrus' equipment was of excellent quality.  I also expected him to have a pouch full of gold, or maybe platinum.

I went up to the suite.  It's opulance was impressive.  And it was fully staffed.  I did one final thing before bed. I had a hot bath.  First one in 7 days.  By Mystra, it felt good to be clean.

Eddard's Diary pt. 3

"HOLD! Your life depends on his!"  I couldn't see him, but I heard the voice of the Black sword wielder.

The dagger stopped a hair's breadth from the throat of the half-orc.  The fighting fury behind the eyes of the mercenary went out like oil lamps in the storm.  But the raw hatred that fueled it never left.

"You've won.  Leave it at that!  Take your men," the contempt in his voice was unmistakable,"and go!  NOW!"

The Mercenary, struggling to maintain any dignity, did as ordered.

I blacked out, unconscious.

I came to under the healing hands of priest of Tempus, going by the Holy Symbol visible on the man's armour.

"Please join me at my table." It was more like a command than a request, but the big warrior was smiling, and friendly.  I took him up on his offer.  The half orc was already seated, somewhat in awe of the man.  "I am Rygor Stormhammer."

The half-orc said, "I am Azzarak."  And then they turned to me.

"I am Eddard, of Mystra," I said, a little overwhelmed by the sheer force of the man's personality.

He laughed, "By Tempus, I never would have believed the two of you to have such fight, and you nearly took him down!  A great fight to top off a great victory!"  He heaved a great big jingling bag of coin onto the table."  Barkeep!  Drinks for all, until the bag is empty!  Spoils of war!"

Cheering erupted in the inn as the bar was overwhelmed by people ordering drinks.

"That man has spoiled many a good night.  And no one stood up to him.  But you two!  Tempus!  I offer you the use of my suite for night."

I wasn't proud.  I was footsore and fight weary.  It sounded great.  I accepted immediately. 

The half-orc politely declined, claiming it would interfere with his morning rituals.  I shrugged.  I wasn't comfortable around half-orcs anyway.  Though his motive for getting involved was noble, I had to consider who he was versus what he did.  His refusal suited me.

"Drink my friends, drink!"

He showed Azzarak his blade, by request.  "This is Stormhammer, a holy Relic of Tempus.  I took it in battle from its last holder, killing him in combat.  I used the blade to great effect in many combats, but I did get it identified, and took it to a temple.  They told me it was mine, and to keep it."

The half orc studied the blade, in more awe than before.  "May I handle it?"

At Rygor's nod, he lifted the blade, ugly features obviously radiating something resembling ecstasy.

The Squire returned, with the son of Baron Redhand.

"Sir Garrus," roared Stormhammer.

I turned to see a well muscled man, in shining plate mail make his way over to the table.  I stood up to greet him formally, but he was intercepted.  "Sir Garrus,"  said a thin man.

"Deputy Mayor," He replied, stopping a feet from the table.  Even over the noise of the celebration of victory, I was close enough to hear the conversation.

The deputy mayor said,"Are you ready to help us as you promised?"

"I will help, and in fact, my next meeting is to discuss, in part, just that.  Rest assured, sir, I will assist the village,  A Redhand keeps his word.  I will speak to you further, tomorrow."

The deputy mayor, perhaps because he needed Redhand, opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind mid breath and instead nodded and let Sir Garrus through.  I shook hands with the nobleman before he took his seat.  Stormhammer made introductions around the table.

Garrus got right down to business.  "What is it that you hope to find at the fort?"

I told him why I was sent to the area, about the suspicions of the Temple.  I wanted to keep a low profile for the moment, but being that he was a noble from the immediate area, I also felt obligated because of my position, to be honest.

Throughout my abbreviated explanation, he nodded, or asked the occasional question.  When I was done, he said, "I can help you.  But I need you to help me."  He was matter-of-fact in tone.

I was a bit surprised, "How so?"

"There is a village about a day and a half from here, it's called Halfbrook.  A gang of humanoid bandits have taken to raiding the village and its surrounds.  The area has been looted, valuables taken. Livestock and people have gone missing.  They need help, but village is, apparently, outside claimed land of any nobility and because of that, they won't help.  Neither my father no the Baron to whom my family thinks the village belongs will assist as both warrior pools have been depleted because of the war, with men stationed elsewhere.  The village militia is completely inadequate to the defence of the town, let alone mount any kind concentrated effort to purge the bandits."

"A noble conflict!" bellowed the half-orc,"To save the innocent and engage in just combat.  Here is Honour!  This will add to the Glory of Tempus, I will help you."

I wouldn't have phrased it quite that way, but I did agree, more or less, with the half-orc.  Still, I had been ordered on a mission.  I had to make sure I could carry it through.

"I help you.  You help me, agreed."  I said.

"But we will need more people," said Garrus musing.

Just then, and if on cue, a Dwarf approached.  He was 4 foot tall and nearly 6 foot wide, made his way to the table.