PaxLair Player Town Fiction - interactive

I love interactive fiction. It is where someone starts a bit of a story, then anyone adds to it with another post. Then other people adapt to what is said and it all continues. So there are many unpredictable twists and turns and ends of to be a fun group effort in fiction. Yet, if no one adds to the story with more posts, then an author can just write more chapters and share them; but where's the fun in that! This thread is designed to just have fun about what a player town called PaxLair might be like in SotA. Please read on...

There's a bit of interest among various players in SotA about why player-towns would develop and how they would grow. A stretch goal is to enable player-towns to exist and the developers are working hard on such ideas.

Anyway, PaxLair as a player-town, statehood, alliance, and community has existed in UO since January 19, 1998. We are still there today and will be for a long time. In SotA, there are many ideas for more PaxLair beginnings and all are welcome to participate of course.

With the introduction of a layout for potential player-town lots on the outskirts of Braemar in Release 3, I replied to a posting on these forums in the Release 3 feedback area. I wrote a bit of a story. I will cross-post that story below so it can live and grow as a work of fiction in here in the FireLotus Tavern.

 

"Hail, how are you?," shouted the weary wanderer on the outskirts of Braemar. He followed a dirt path to a wooded area with a small house.

The farmer stopped tilling his soil and looked up. "Well met stranger! You look in need of an ale! Come on over and rest a bit. My wife is our brewmaster here. She's inside and will bring out some pints for us." The farmer shouted into the house, "Helen! We have a visitor, bring your finest!"

With ales in hand, the three sat at a roughly made wooden table. They talked of travels and hardships. The wanderer looked around the small farm noticing worn tools and broken crates. He stroked his beard and said thoughtfully, "You know, I'm a bit skilled in smithing and carpentry. You could use some new equipment here. I have a bit of money in the Owl's Head bank. Would you mind if I cleared a bit of land next to yours and set up a shop? Maybe others wandering by would also need equipment. This is a bit of a crossroads and I could make a little money too."

"Absolutely good man," Helen exclaimed. "We need all sorts of things here, but it's too far to Owl's Head or Kingsport to get them. There's a nice little piece of land over there next to the little stream."

The wanderer thanked them and left. He returned a day later and started clearing land and built a sturdy shop.

In the days that followed ...

The farmer and wife sold their ale to other people passing by getting a little gold to buy new tools from the crafter next door. The crafter had plenty of wood and found ore in nearby rocky hills to supply his trade. All was good.

A few weeks later...

"Bandits! Run Helen!" the farmer said as he prepared to fend off three evil looking highwaymen coming up the path. The farmer stepped onto the path with a simple worn hoe for his defense. The crafter next door saw what was happening and readied his hot pokers from the forge.

The bandits approached and were not frightened; hardly a challenge they thought. They stabbed the crafter in the arm, while the other two pushed the farmer over a fence.

Suddenly, a horse carrying a rider dressed in leather armour erupted from the trees. The rider readied his heavy crossbow with two bolts and fired at the bandits. Two bandits dropped instantly to the ground, bolts in their chests. The rider dismounted and cut the third bandit down with one swing of his short sword. After wiping blood from the blade, the ranger helped the farmer and crafter to their feet. Helen came running out of the house to see what was happening.

"Thank you, sir, for coming to our aid," the farmer said rubbing his sore back. "Bandits attack us every few days and steal our goods. We have no protection here."

The ranger listened and thought for a moment. "I've been tracking bandits in this area for a few months. I have some friends that travel with me too, but we all live in Kingsport. We live for fending off bandits in the woods. It is a good occupation. But we are weary of the Kingsport life and wish to be closer to the bandits' hideouts. This crossroads seems a mighty fine place for us to build our training camp and a supply barn. I see some land over there near the crossroads ideal for us. We can keep an eye on those passing by and we can equip ourselves from the smithy and buy food and drink from the farmer after a good hunt. What do you think?"

The crafter shouted out, "It's a great idea! I can help you clear the land too as I need more logs."

Helen walked up to the ranger and put her hand on his arm lightly, "If you did this, brought your friends to live here, we would be eternally in your debt. We must keep the bandits at bay. You would have free ale at my farm house any time. I might even make it into a pub with more tables and a room addition if the crafter can help me."

The crafter nodded with a smile.

The farmer with a bit of a tear in his eye stepped up to the ranger. "Sir, we would be very grateful if you and your friends built a home and ranger station here."

The farmer, Helen the brewmaster, the crafter, and the ranger looked at each other, and around the area... thinking upon what this forest and meadow could become. The ranger scratched his chin and asked, "More will come to live here I think. What shall we call this place?"

The other three looked at each other and said in unison, "PaxLair. It means 'Peace Place'. We will live here in peace and will keep the peace at these crossroads." The ranger nodded in agreement. "It is a good, strong, and meaningful name. I agree!" he said.

And thus PaxLair was born!

A few days later, along came two young women who appeared to be the best of friends -- joking and laughing. One was running around looking at all the mushrooms in the woods. The other was reading a worn book with some sort of wand in her hand. Behind them, an old man with a fishing pole followed muttering something about not enough fish and bait was too expensive.

The journey continues...

Below is an image of a PaxLair ship entering Kingsport ... (this is one of the banners we use on our PaxLair Times news blog service ... drawn by our famous artist and reporter Ashlynn [Pax] - Balance scales on the sail are a symbol of PaxLair balancing between good and evil, order and chaos, etc.)



Thanks,
Winfield

 

The old man with the fishing pole followed behind the two young ladies. He looked left and right for some decent fish bait. Even some simple worms would make his venture into these woods worth it.

He stopped at a rock and turned it over. Some worms wiggled and quickly buried themselves back into the ground. The old man dug into the earth and pulled out 3 or 4 nice night-crawlers. He smiled. Just as he shoved the worms into his pouch, one of the young ladies shouted out to him.

"Winfield! Would you hurry up!" the lady yelled. "We will be at the crossroads in a moment. Come along quickly!"

 

A petite form, with hood drawn up, walked in the early morning hours among the wisps near the graveyard. A lady's pale hand came out from the folds of the cloak and laid a lily upon the top of one grave, and paused there. She looked up when someone yelled, and saw a man just as he stood up near one of the large, dark boulders in the area. Once he moved on to join some ladies, she ran her fingers over the gravestone, and went to the place he had been.

The soil had been freshly disturbed, but Fireangel did not see the purpose. She puzzled a moment, and glanced up at the three, but they moved on, and so did she. There were some boulders large enough nearby that they nearly formed a cave. The lady stood in the indentation, and looked at the cracks and rock formation, which seemed that it could fall away and open, but it had not availed a secret yet, if ever it had one.

Laughter chimed from the nearby tavern. She thought she recognized a bit of it, and walked across the grassy field toward the village. The flowers brought her joy as they bowed and swayed, and then she saw the Watchers creeping and she frowned. What mischief these unnatural things brought, she did not yet know, but they offended her. The lady passed them, and smiled, seeing some familiar faces in the path outside the tavern.

 

Winfield always hated to be rushed. If he was digging for worms for his fish bait, there was no 'hurry' in that. You just got what was there and then moved on. But the ladies were impatient to get to the crossroads for some reason. He hurried as best his old limbs could manage.

He set off after the two young ladies, then stopped a moment. He sensed someone behind him. He's not just an old man, but an old wizard -- very powerful in his day. He knew when someone was on his trail or even thought about him. He could even tell fortunes to others.

Looking back, he saw no one. Looking forward he saw a brightly lit house, a farmer's house with crops outside. The ladies were nearing the crossroads.

 

Having recently returned from a nearby monastery, Gunga Din was very much in need of some refreshments. The monks had been very demanding with their rules, particularly about the number of wives he could have, and Gunga could not handle the stress.

Hopefully, he will be able to drown his sorrow in a few pints at this tavern in Kingsport.

 

The road from Owl's Head had been rather uneventful for Se'an Silverfoot, he was looking forward to getting to the village of Braemar. It had been 2 days since the Ranger scout had told him of the Captain's decision to open a Rangers station in this village. After the long years of battles at Hilt, perhaps this was the place.

PaxLair...Peace Place, thought Se'an, it may be the place I've yearned for a place to forget the horrors of Hilt.

Rounding the bend he saw the lights of a humble home. Outside stood 2 woman engaged in conversation, whilst an Old Man with a large walking stick hurried along to them via the Kingsport Road. The edge of his great vision saw a petite hooded form passing thru the trees towards the crossroad.

Perhaps I'll stop for an ale and supper. I can inquire how close I am at finding this Peace Place...PaxLair, he thought

 

Dusk was upon them as Winfield tried to walk quickly up the road, using his fishing pole as a walking stick. The small pebble in his shoe was causing a bit of a blister to his left heel. He limped a bit, but pressed on. He reached the crossroad and saw his two friends chatting up a storm with each other. He heard a horse behind him and Winfield stopped. He turned around slowly hoping a bandit was not preparing to run him through. Oh, it's not a bandit, he thought, thank goodness. The rider stopped and dismounted.

"Greetings my good man," the rider said. "I am sorry to startle you."

The two women at the crossroads stopped talking and looked on, warily.

"Well, I am rarely startled sir, just a bit slow to realize what's happening sometimes. I am old, but don't let that get you thinking you can outsmart me," Winfield said and shook his fishing pole in the air. He looked carefully at the rider's face. "I do not know you, and I usually know most people in these parts. I am Winfield, an old man and fisherman. Who are you?"

The rider looked at Winfield and the ladies, then back to Winfield. A slight smile came across the rider's face. "I am Se'an Silverfoot, Master Winfield." Se'an looked Winfield straight in the eye. Winfield's eyes narrowed as he again attempted to recognize the rider.

"Master, you called me Master. It has been a long time since someone has called me that," Winfield replied slowly. "My days of wizardry are well behind me now. I'm just a fisherman." Winfield sat down on a log on the side of the road and took off his shoe, shaking out the annoying pebble. He rubbed his tender heel and grimaced slightly.

 

The lady enjoyed a bit of food and an ale at the tavern. She preferred wine, but they were temporarily out. It was early evening yet, and the sun's warmth still held.

Fireangel laughed heartily when her friend Redrik bumped into Abela, and spilled his drink. The woman worked there in the tiny tavern, but she could not seem to stop pacing, even when the place was not crowded. The lady assumed Abela had many things on her mind. She went to look out the tavern door to see the shattered moon rise.

There sat a new friend near the road, shaking out his boot. She waved. "Winfield, have you done any readings lately?"

 

Enjoying his pint of ale, Gunga started hearing mumblins about a PaxLair. What is this PaxLair, he thought to himself. His curiosity got the better of him and he focused his attention on listening to conversations throughout the tavern in hopes of learning more....

 

Se'an chuckled to himself as the Old Man sat, he then glanced at the two women, who had started to the entrance of the home. A small figure yelled a question to the Old Man. It had been a good 20 winters since he had last seen them all.

Yes Master Winfield we have met before, last was many winters ago at Luigi's , Sean noticed Winfield stop his movements and look up. Shall we join the woman for ale and food by the warmth of the fire? We have much to catch up on.

Se'an extended his hand down to Winfield and wasn't surprised to see him grab his pole and deftly stand.

 

The lady turned to look at Redrik, who stood at the bar to get his drink refilled. "Would you mind ordering two more ales for a couple of gentlemen who are about to join us? I'll gladly pay their part."

"I can do that," Redrik said. "There's no need for me to take your coin, Fireangel. Who are the men?"

"Thank you. One is Winfield. He did a reading over me the other day at Fire Lotus' Tavern. The other I have seen, but do not know."

She turned back to the two men outside, and curtseyed, being mindful of courtesies. "We've got your ales ordered, good Sirs. Winfield, do you remember me? You told me some deep things in one of your readings a few days ago." She smiled at Winfield.

Fireangel locked her blue eyes with the other man on the horse. "I have seen you, Sir, but we've not properly met. Salutations, I am Fireangel. Winfield seems a good man to me. You keep good company. Wellmet."

 

Winfield looked to the farm house that also served as a tavern and saw a lady at the doorway -- waving. "Winfield, have you done any readings lately?" she said.

Recognizing her, Winfield waved back. "Only a few," he said with a smile.

Winfield stood up with little effort and grabbed Se'an's arm near the elbow. "Luigi's," Winfield said in almost a whisper. "Luigi's." He scratched his nose slightly and looked at the small farm house. "I remember Luigi's. Great bread, great ale, great friends. It also burned down taking away our gathering place in that meadow long ago. I remember it well.

"And now I remember you too Se'an Silverfoot. I remember your keen eyesight and even temperament. I also remember how few game or foe could escape your arrows. It is good to see you Se'an. Yes, we have a lot to catch up on, and an ale and food sounds wonderful." Winfield slapped Se'an on the shoulder lightly while they turned to see Fireangel approach.

"We've got your ales ordered, good Sirs. Winfield, do you remember me? You told me some deep things in one of your readings a few days ago." She smiled at Winfield.

"I do indeed Fireangel. It is a pleasure to see you again," Winfield said with a smile. "Thank you for readying our ales, that is wonderful! And I hope your fortune that I read, however mysterious it is, helps you in some way." Fireangel nodded and turned her head to look at Se'an.

 

Handing the reigns of his horse to the farmer and whispering some quick instructions, Se'an turned back toward Winfield. "I have seen you, Sir, but we've not properly met. Salutations, I am Fireangel. Winfield seems a good man to me. You keep good company. Wellmet.". Meeting her penetrating blue eyes, Se'an deftly bowed, Well met indeed FireAngel! And thank you for the ale, it is most welcome and needed!

Se'an kept his eyes on the petite woman, feeling a sense of hidden powers and secrets. Yes m'Lady Winfield is indeed a good man and more than what he likes folks to believe. Winfield gave him a sideways glance while sipping at his ale.

Watching the two woman settle in at a long table, Se'an said, Let us join Winfield's companions and further our introductions and stories while we share bread. I'm also curious to see how well the two women remember me. They were still very young last I saw them.

 

Winfield sat at the table. Helen, the farmer's wife who is also the brewmaster, came up to him. She had a frown on her face. She leaned over and sniffed near his shoulder. Her face wrinkled.

"Sir, good evening. I am Helen, the brewmaster here. If you don't mind me saying so, you smell like dead fish and earth worms," Helen said trying not to breath. "May I hang up your cloak for you? In fact, I am doing a bit of laundry in the back right now. The clothes are soaking. Your cloak would be washed and dried in about 2 hours if you can afford the time."

Winfield looked at Helen with a stern frown on his face, his forehead wrinkled. Helen's eyes widened as she felt a bit nervous at the old man's sudden stare. Winfield stood up and she stepped back slightly. Everyone stopped talking in the room and looked at what was happening. The farmer, Helen's husband, walked behind the counter slowly and put his hand on a knife. Winfield reached inside his cloak and unclasped a pouch from his belt. The farmer gripped the knife, but did not raise it yet. Winfield leaned close to Helen's ear. The farmer was on edge, ready to strike with the knife if Winfield made any sudden move.

"Madam," Winfield whispered, "you may indeed wash my cloak and I will gladly pay for the service. And I will take this smelly fish bait pouch outside where it belongs." He looked at his friends and winked. "I thank you for your kind suggestion, madam. I hope I have not offended you." Winfield then stepped back, removed his cloak, and handed it to Helen.

Helen took the cloak and breathed a sigh of relief. Her husband did too. Winfield smiled a big grin and tossed the farmer a coin. "I mean no harm. I've just been travelling for a long while and I forgot my manners. Please forgive me."

And Winfield learned something about the farmer and his wife. They were straightforward and courageous -- good qualities for folk out in the countryside. They passed his simple test.

 

The lady watched the scenario with Winfield. She exchanged glances with Se'an Silverfoot, and weighed his name on him. It was a name that pleased her since she'd heard Winfield pronounce it. No danger was ever discerned for the farmer or his wife, for she'd seen and heard enough from Winfield already to trust him. Fireangel turned and winked reassuringly at Redrik, who seemed to need it.

 

Finally abandoning a miserable life at sea, Bichael Dunwoody hitched up his pack, flipped his garden rake into a walking staff and headed inland. He wanted to never smell the sea again. The one gift he'd gotten from his parents was a highly sensitive nose. It was this nose that would guarantee he'd have few reminders of his life left behind.

After days of walking and nights huddled under whatever suitable bush he could find, Bichael entered a clearing where sat a small village. He held his nose aloft and sniffed, closed his eyes and sniffed again, long and studied.

"This'll do. Now where would be the best place for a farm," he said, stroking the few adolescent hairs he called a beard. He imagined the ladies swarming around his fruit stand. The prettiest of them jostled forward and "Burble gurgle", his stomach woke him from his reverie. He reached into his pouch, knowing it was for naught, and felt his two coins, greasy from the last of his salt cod.

Bicheal's nose served him again as he sniffed for food. "That smells like tavern fare to me. Wonder if'n I can swap some work for grub. I'd hate to spend this coin on somthin' that won't get me more coin."

And with that he let his nose lead the way.

 

Looking over to the Northern part of the town there was a valiant steed standing as if on guard, just past the mighty beast was a warrior of some type apparently mending to the wounded, and the sick! The poor children were running around and laughing as the "Hospitlar" lifted them up and swung them around in circles, for such a stern looking man he was full of compassion, which you could tell from first sight. He neither asked for money or favor to heal the wounded and sick, he just followed his heart as he always did. One of the woman folk asked him if he would be staying here in Paxlair with them. The "Hospitlar" replied "No Milady, for i belong on the road protecting the weak and healing the sick and injured, i was simply on one of my "Warsworn" missions and took a different route than i normally do, and ended up passing through this fine town. Thank the gods i happened by here this day to heal these people and maybe bring a little joy to the children's heart! But i must be off for now but know, that now i have this wonderful town marked upon my cloth map, i will return frequently to see how everyone is doing!" with that, the Hospitlar pulled himself up on his mighty mount and rode off down the road and past the woods, leaving a trail of dust. ....As he was riding he couldn't get it out of his mind, somewhat of a Deja Vu that town was, maybe from another time and place long ago. He would return again.

 

Se'an's light brown hair had streaks of white and grey though out, it was tied back, loosely as was the style of his people. He was about 4 cubits in height and looked to weigh 14 stone. His face was weathered, with what appeared to be an easy smile. Scars similar to the talons of a homunculus could be seen at the base of his neck when his falling hair didn't cover them. What could be seen of his forearms were covered with rune markings, his hands deeply calloused. His leathers were dyed a dark green while his cloak shimmered of greens and browns. His bow was very long with rune marks covering the wood. At his side were a short sword complemented on the other side by an ornate curved knife.
It was when you looked into his emerald colored eyes that made one pause. There was a deep sense of loss and horror behind them, they seemed to look deep inside you, weighing, measuring and they missed nothing.

Winfield's exchange with Helen made him laugh inwardly, the Old Man hadn't lost his touch at all, Old Man indeed. Helen returned a few minutes later.

Helen, might we impose on you to fill our table with enough food and ale to satisfy all of us? And may I be so bold as to say, as a BrewMaster you'd find work at the highest courts in the land!
Helen nodded quickly and with a smile left to find what she could. The sounds of childrens laughter came thru the window.

Se'an turned his attention back to FireAngel and Winfiled. The other two woman had followed Helen out of the room, to do whatever it tis that woman do when they leave in pairs. Se'an was almost sure that would be young , not so young anymore, Ashlynn and possibly Winmere. He could see it in their faces, they had yet to acknowledge the others, yet he would put them to the test later.

So m'Lady what brings your travels out this road?
Winfield what brings you so far?
I myself came looking for a place called PaxLair. It means peace place in the old tongue. To my surprise I encounter years old friends on the road. Seems strange.

 

Se'an, Winfield and Fireangel sat at the table while Helen went into the kitchen to get their dinners.

"Winfield what brings you so far?" Se'an asked. "I myself came looking for a place called PaxLair. It means peace place in the old tongue. To my surprise I encounter years old friends on the road. Seems strange."

Winfield smiled at Se'an. "It is good to see you again Se'an. It has been a long time." Winfield took a sip of his ale and continued.

"Aslynn, Winmere, and I came from Old Britannia on a ship into Kingsport a few weeks ago. That voyage was an adventure unto itself, I dare say. Yet I can tell that another time."

He leaned forward becoming a bit animated as he spoke. "We heard of New Britannia and wanted to see it for ourselves. 'Lo and behold, we ended up here after spending a few days in Kingsport and Owl's Head. And we heard this place is called PaxLair! Who would have thought there could be another PaxLair, yet here we are!"

Winfield looked around the warm and brightly lit farm house and grinned. "And I imagine the fishing is great in these nearby streams. I can't wait to get a good early morning start. Then I want to see in daylight what PaxLair looks like here."