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Fargo's Blog

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Onward to the best bits... and don't spare the horses!


Fargo

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Due to overwhelming popular demand, (thank you Callumf), I am now able return to my tale after an overlong absence. At the time of writing the introductory section of this blog, I had quite a firm idea of what would be my "best bits", a disparate collection of role-playing highlights, with a few low-lights thrown in for added colour. Upon reflection I have decided to give a, perhaps non too brief, summary of the life of my character and how both he, and I, developed through immersion in the world of Ultima Online.

I ask forgiveness in advance for any inaccuracy in names mentioned and for the probable mistakes in chronology.

 

In the beginning there was Haven, and Haven was my home. To be precise, it was Haven on the Europa shard, the shard being selected at random and though I have no wish to disparage any other, I feel blessed to have happened upon this one in particular.

 

For it was here that I began my story, here where I met the "Bench Sitters", a somewhat derogatory title for those who would gather in the central square of Haven, upon the benches they would sit most evenings, spinning yarns, telling tales of daring-do, recounting the lore and the history of the lands and those who peopled them. These characters appeared to me as the very embodiment of knowledge and I would listen with rapt attention for hours.

They would also hold forth on matters of great import occurring throughout the world and so I gained a rudimentary insight into the activities and histories of Role-Players on Europa.

 

I will return to those benches later, but this seems the most apt point at which to acknowledge my immense gratitude to a gentleman who, quite unwittingly, had the greatest impact upon the development of my character... of Fargo's character.

Padraig was a fellow who wandered about Haven in a hooded robe, assisting newcomers and any who required help. He had offered me much advice on strengths, skills and the like, also forging weapons and pieces of armour for me, as I grew, so to speak. One evening he ran his learned eye over my statistics and suggested that I might well like to try wearing plate, as an afterthought, he enquired as to whether I had any preference regarding the metal to be used. To which I replied, half jokingly as I had no expectations; "Do you have anything in black?"

When I first donned the suit of shadow-iron plate mail which Padraig had forged for me, I knew in some deep, ufathomable way, that I would wear nothing else. Indeed, I could not consider any other form of clothing, the suit was Fargo.

Over time I would adapt it subtly with the addition of a cloak and later a Sash of Might (of which I will tell more in due course), but my look and therefore an extraordinary large part of my character was formed that evening with an offhand question from a most generous individual.

 

Thank you Padraig.

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