Archived from groups: alt.games.diablo (More info?)
The character is appropriately named to honor everybody's favorite
Matriarch, Taenarian. Hey wait a minute! Then how come he's not named
TaenarianShythed? Well the simple explanation is that that name would
be 16 characters long and we're only allowed 15 characters. But the
simple explanation never suffices. One must be made aware of the
history of the character that is DeadHeadShythed. And said history
follows.
Back in the early 70s the character that is now DeadHeadShythed was not
known as DeadHeadShythed. What was his name? Well we'll just call him
what everyone else at that time called him, "Mort" which is short
for the name given to him by his parents, that being Mortimer.
Mort was a typical troubled youth of that day and age, just finishing
up high school and looking to the future but not knowing what to expect
there. Mort liked music and listened to the more mundane music of the
era - Led Zeppelin, Steppenwolf, The Who, Yes, and several others. He
was really into Black Sabbath the most. Mort lived on the east coast.
He heard rumors of people having gone to California and finding their
real self there and this became the mystical question for him at that
time. "Where can I find myself"? He would often sit and get stoned
on cheap Mexican weed and ponder the other universal questions "What
am I doing here? Is this all there is? What is the answer? What is the
question? Is there life after death?"
Anyway the search for truth hit Mort and one day he just up and grabbed
a duffle bag, filled it with clothes and headed out to the interstate
and held out his thumb and a piece of cardboard with the word
"California" written in large black magic marker letters. Mort
began his quest. He did not know if he would find what he was questing
for. He just knew that this was the start of his quest.
Three and a half days later, Mort was standing on interstate 5 in Los
Angeles. He was not sure what he was going do now that he was where he
was, but he had the first of many visions. This first vision told him
"Follow the weed". He put out his thumb and the very next vehicle,
a Volkswagon van stopped to pick him up. A cannibus aroma stronger than
any he had previously encountered this lifetime greeted him as the side
door slid open and a few hipped out folk greeted him. The little signs
he saw attached to the inner walls, "Peace", "Make Love Not
War", "If this van's rockin' don't bother knockin;" and
several other well known trites of the time gave him the idea that he
was in good company.
A beautiful long haired girl offered him a hit. "This is some real
good Gold. Here have some". "Gold?" he questioned. "Yeah, from
Acapulco". He gave it a shot and let out several hearty coughs of the
pungent smoke. "You're not from around here are ya?" the girl
asked with a smile.
Needless to say Mort went with the vision. He rode in that van all the
way up the coast on El Camino Real to Isle Vista, just a few miles
north of Santa Barbara. "Wow, is that a college" he asked when he
saw the University of California at Santa Barbara several hundred yards
away. His new friends smiled and the girls let out a little giggle.
The next day Mort had another vision. This vision said to him "This
is where it's at". So Mort shacked up with the new friends he had
made. Isle Vista was a nice quaint commune. He decided he was going to
need a job. Another vision came to him. "Close your eyes and pick a
job". So he opened the newspaper to the Help Wanted section of the
classified ads, closed his eyes and placed his finger on the newspaper.
His finger landed on a job opening. "Mortician Wanted - Will
Train". Mort applied for the job and of course he got it. So Mort was
now a mortician and his journey continued.
He worked by day and partied by night. The scene was highly enjoyable.
One night he found some Black Sabbath music on the radio and was
digging it while partying with his fellow mates. Somebody turned the
station off and told him he shouldn't be listening to that. A debate
followed about the quality of that sound and if it truly was music.
One of his living mates pulled out a couple of albums. "Here, we're
going to get good and stoned and turn you on to some real music."
They pulled out their big bong and popped one of the two records on the
turntable and cranked up the volume.
Mort looked at the two album covers as he puffed from the bong and felt
the magic weed's chemicals course through his veins.
"Hmm", he thought "The Grateful Dead"
"This one's their Vintage Dead album. Next we'll listen to
Historic Dead. We got some more in the other room we'll get when
these are finished"
Mort had another vision. "This band is the band. You will find your
answers with them."
(End of part 1)
The character is appropriately named to honor everybody's favorite
Matriarch, Taenarian. Hey wait a minute! Then how come he's not named
TaenarianShythed? Well the simple explanation is that that name would
be 16 characters long and we're only allowed 15 characters. But the
simple explanation never suffices. One must be made aware of the
history of the character that is DeadHeadShythed. And said history
follows.
Back in the early 70s the character that is now DeadHeadShythed was not
known as DeadHeadShythed. What was his name? Well we'll just call him
what everyone else at that time called him, "Mort" which is short
for the name given to him by his parents, that being Mortimer.
Mort was a typical troubled youth of that day and age, just finishing
up high school and looking to the future but not knowing what to expect
there. Mort liked music and listened to the more mundane music of the
era - Led Zeppelin, Steppenwolf, The Who, Yes, and several others. He
was really into Black Sabbath the most. Mort lived on the east coast.
He heard rumors of people having gone to California and finding their
real self there and this became the mystical question for him at that
time. "Where can I find myself"? He would often sit and get stoned
on cheap Mexican weed and ponder the other universal questions "What
am I doing here? Is this all there is? What is the answer? What is the
question? Is there life after death?"
Anyway the search for truth hit Mort and one day he just up and grabbed
a duffle bag, filled it with clothes and headed out to the interstate
and held out his thumb and a piece of cardboard with the word
"California" written in large black magic marker letters. Mort
began his quest. He did not know if he would find what he was questing
for. He just knew that this was the start of his quest.
Three and a half days later, Mort was standing on interstate 5 in Los
Angeles. He was not sure what he was going do now that he was where he
was, but he had the first of many visions. This first vision told him
"Follow the weed". He put out his thumb and the very next vehicle,
a Volkswagon van stopped to pick him up. A cannibus aroma stronger than
any he had previously encountered this lifetime greeted him as the side
door slid open and a few hipped out folk greeted him. The little signs
he saw attached to the inner walls, "Peace", "Make Love Not
War", "If this van's rockin' don't bother knockin;" and
several other well known trites of the time gave him the idea that he
was in good company.
A beautiful long haired girl offered him a hit. "This is some real
good Gold. Here have some". "Gold?" he questioned. "Yeah, from
Acapulco". He gave it a shot and let out several hearty coughs of the
pungent smoke. "You're not from around here are ya?" the girl
asked with a smile.
Needless to say Mort went with the vision. He rode in that van all the
way up the coast on El Camino Real to Isle Vista, just a few miles
north of Santa Barbara. "Wow, is that a college" he asked when he
saw the University of California at Santa Barbara several hundred yards
away. His new friends smiled and the girls let out a little giggle.
The next day Mort had another vision. This vision said to him "This
is where it's at". So Mort shacked up with the new friends he had
made. Isle Vista was a nice quaint commune. He decided he was going to
need a job. Another vision came to him. "Close your eyes and pick a
job". So he opened the newspaper to the Help Wanted section of the
classified ads, closed his eyes and placed his finger on the newspaper.
His finger landed on a job opening. "Mortician Wanted - Will
Train". Mort applied for the job and of course he got it. So Mort was
now a mortician and his journey continued.
He worked by day and partied by night. The scene was highly enjoyable.
One night he found some Black Sabbath music on the radio and was
digging it while partying with his fellow mates. Somebody turned the
station off and told him he shouldn't be listening to that. A debate
followed about the quality of that sound and if it truly was music.
One of his living mates pulled out a couple of albums. "Here, we're
going to get good and stoned and turn you on to some real music."
They pulled out their big bong and popped one of the two records on the
turntable and cranked up the volume.
Mort looked at the two album covers as he puffed from the bong and felt
the magic weed's chemicals course through his veins.
"Hmm", he thought "The Grateful Dead"
"This one's their Vintage Dead album. Next we'll listen to
Historic Dead. We got some more in the other room we'll get when
these are finished"
Mort had another vision. "This band is the band. You will find your
answers with them."
(End of part 1)
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