Fresh vigor flowed through Yada's veins returning lost stamina to his tired body, and repairing wounds that hampered it. He finally took appropriate note of his surroundings, new found strength giving way to curiosity.
The old human that had just healed him was very skilled, to have executed such a thorough rejuvination with such little preparation. However the mans skil was a triviality, more importantly he had saved Yada's life. Yada's honor demanded that he repay the man.
Yada also noticed that the man had come with another younger human. On second thought the 'human' smelt strongly of the ocean, his skin had a distinct shimmer of scales. Perhaps he was a member of the more human like clans of the Naga.
First, he had to thank his saviour. Unfortunately he was not well versed in human customs. So he made do with the Meena way of saying thanks.
With one hand crossed over his heart and the other over his back, he dipped his head in a graceful bow at the two men.
"Thank you, my kind saviors. I am called Yada and I come from the deep reaches. It is truely a gratuitous day to meet men of you're skill at my time of peril. Though I do not know of what prophecy you speak, I would repay this debt forthwith as honor demands if opportunity presents" he said, mustering all his knowledge of courtly speech. He ofcourse flashed his most chraming smile at the same time, it almost always worked...
Then with a chuckle "Lest I forget, what my I call you, kind saviors"
Deidre wasn't that much impresssed with the wares that the man called Tragar had at his disposal. Surely, the man looked skilled well wahtever it was by Baylbo standards. A few grey hair of wisdom on his head and a body made from a literal blazened bronze. The man had enough muscles to put knights of the Northern Qin territories to shame. But all he had was a dainty breastplate that he sold them for an obnoxious 4 gold for what its worth. A pair of boots for her and Ziku, a pair of gloves for Fay and Ziku, a reinforced leather breeches for Fay and a we crappy swords.
While she picked a heavier bastard sword to be the primary damage dealer of the group. Ziku picked a fancy scimtar, all the swing of a bastard sword and show of Falchion but the quality didn't look impressive. Fay though, was wiser in her choice of spending money and got herself a longsword. Her idea being to keep the distance between her enemies and herself. She wasn't as robust as her partners so she needed to remain cautious.
Meanwhile, Geraint was looking on calmly at the trio sorting their gear out. His choice had been simple. Damage first, safety second. He picked the heaviest blade that Tragar had for the amount of money he had left unfortunately. A Falchion carried by the local bandits that was seized in a raid. It was heavier than a normal longsword and it also doubled up as a good semi-shield. A solid of lump of iron than can bring a lot of pain.
As he then asked for a chest armor, Tragar showed him a leather armor, crafted from buffalo skin and reinforced in padding, it wasn't heavy as steel armor but offered good protection, most of all it was cheap enough to be in the budget. He gingerly put that before another man entered the shop.
Tragar wondered how his luck had changed, though he didn't have any high price stock available, these young adventurers were polishing off even the crde instruments he had to make to scrape by. He wished them fortune and gave them a blessing from the spirit he worshipped. The Spirit of Labor and Undying Fire, Ulna.
The new guy didn't look completely human but with all the guys ambling around, he didn't care if Silkrin was helped by a Human or an Ork. He wanted to see the good in everyone.
Thargan was never the one who fancied gear, especially since he knew that dying wasn't that much a threat if he wasn't foolish. As he waked into the shop he saw a large crowd of potential partners, people who could get his personal reckoning on track. He went up to the aged smith and looked at his wares. The old guy was nearly out of every piece of protective gear, so Thargan did what he knew best. Buy the most sturdiest looking handaxes he could see and a pair of breeches. If he was to repay the kindness of this town, he needed to go do some bug-squashing. The townfolk had pleaded him for that in the tavern and on the road. Time to get payback underway.
---
Gorodir stood at the edge of the south gate looking towards the vast grassland as far as his eyes carried. Behind him stood his pupils and two others that had seemed to have a similar task.
"Come, children. I shall make this a contest. By the dusk of the third Day. I want ten trophies off the bodies of whatever is plaguing these lands. You shall only be allowed to come near the gate and eat food once a day. You are on your own for the rest of the time. Good luck." he boomed as he patted Deidre and Fay.
"Stay strong and proud and vanquish your foes till nothing but a dead husk remains." he continued, indulging in his favorite past time of rambling on.
"As a parting gift, I'll look over all your weapons."
[OOC]
Spoiler
Okay guys, pick your poison from the list provided in the Info. Just make sure the group of enemies is larger than your group.
@Muninn and Blue: Sorry for the crappy intro. Hopefully, I can improve it later.
@All: Due to Gorodir's honing of your weapon. All Weapon do a bonus +3 Damage. Also, you have Ulna's Blessing as a passive giving you an increased chance of finding better quality gear, should you look for it.
Have fun!!
Blue's Axes each do 5 damage which boosted to a total of 16 after Gorodir's repair.
Through the vast entity that is the Internet, we now find ourselves in an unfamiliar place. A place of new faces, new personalities, and new adventurers alike. This place is the new home of our motley crew, and it is called Batoto. Here, as we meander through bustling streets and cobblestone draped markets, we find the first new person we will meet this day. Diabolical Rhapsody. What is so curious and is immediately the most noticeable thing about this shy soul is his height. Towering over eight feet high and sporting a two-handed mace that weighs more than some men, one would expect this scraggly bearded giant to be a savage barbarian. Yet those who dare try to scratch the surface a touch soon find a kind soul who so earnestly aims to please. Accompanying the vodka that he drinks and sings softly to is a pen quill made of the finest eagle's feather. His tools of imagination and creation, the studious giant fervently writes his passages for us all to see.
He didn't take the roads because of shit like this.
But the fat bastard that was his client had wanted to take the road. No. He demanded to take the road. For what godforsaken reason, Thargan had no clue, but the duo took the road to Silkrin in the early morning.
The bandits attacked by midday.
If he cut the merchant’s tendons and kicked him to the dirt in front of the bandits as a blubbery offering, Thargan might have gotten away. But the Assaulters condemnation of double crosses still haunted him even after a decade of scrapping by without them. Well, even if that hadn’t been the case, the sight of the chainmail-clad leader, on top a stallion with a giant sword strapped on his back and longbow in hand killed the notion of an escape dead in its tracks.
Even if Thargan wasn't shot in the back the man could easily ride him down.
So … no helping it.
It should have gone smoothly. Hell, Thargan had unslung his crossbow from his shoulder and had been halfway to tossing it to the ground when he heard the call:
“It’s him! The Assaulter!”
Oh shit.
Thargan dived to the side of the road, where the underbrush lay thick. The merchant never stood a chance. He just stared, terrified, confused and pissing his britches, as a hail of a dozen arrows sweep through the void of where Thargan once stood and riddled into his body.
The ork burst out of the bush with a scream, hacking towards the body of one archer with his fine steel axe. One with engraved designs and swirls snaking up its shaft. Fancy, but hardy, which is all that he really gave a damn about when it came to weapons. The archer dodged and Thargan raised his second axe up when he felt a savage slice through his back. “Fucker!” Thargan screamed. He whirled around and swung. A swordsman. A swordsman with a damn shield, who got it up right in time for Thargan to chip some paint off it. The ork sneered, fangs jutting from his jaw, spittle flying into the man’s face, and then he struck. Once. Twice. Three times. Each time was a thump that pushed the swordsman back. Each time a scream that billowed out into the open road, “Die! Die! Die!”
An arrow stabbed through his knee.
Thargan staggered, which is just what the swordsman wanted. The bandit reared his hand up, blade to the air. Thargan sprung, one axe wedging into the arm. While the man screamed out an agonized howl, one that made Thargan scowl in displeasure, the other axe slammed into the man’s shield, pushing the him back and way. Thargan barely had time to jump back and get some distance, when he heard the whiz and then felt the pain – coursing through his arm.
Another damn arrow.
His world flared up, coated in a thick, blood red. Red. Then it froze.
It had come: the Blue.
It crept in at the edges as always. As the world froze in mid motion it came in, flooding away the Red, burying it under layer after layer of ice, like the ocean in the far north. Thargan felt in his gut a lingering, pulsating pain – a soft hum that shook through his body. Then the hum vanished, all sounds vanished. The stomps of hooves, the clang of metal, the yells from the bandits – all the noise just leaked away under the Blue.
Thargan stood up.
Thargan stood up and Thargan smiled.
He felt his throat work and realized he was laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed, but he laughed and he smiled and he dashed – running towards the earlier swordsman. His axe came crashing down. Where before he had only bit into the man’s arm, now he severed it, the man mouthing a noise once the hit struck. Then Thargan pivoted his second axe flashing out to burrow deep into the swordsman’s neck. The man fell and Thargan’s smile widened as the blood splashed onto his face.
Then the chainmailed leader came out of nowhere and sliced open Thargan’s stomach with the huge sword.
With wood paneling behind his back Thargan pushed away the pane of white and sat up. He had been laid on top of a horse drawn cart – though no horse was present at the moment. There wasn't a damn person anywhere, actually. A stretch of wood encompassed him on all sides, only the quiet noses of birds settling down to sleep or the chirps of crickets in the grasses could be heard. But Thargan knew that would only be for the moment. The bandits had captured him, he knew. Or rather, they planned to bring his “dead body” to the Firebloods. The moment he heard the name, “Assaulter”, Thargan knew that they were after the bounty on his head.
How unlucky for them that their proof of death was just going to walk away.
Thargan jumped out of the kart and discovered his next hurdle.
He was naked.
The bandits had taken his pouch of gold, his rations, his backpack and bedroll, his axes, his armor and even his very clothes.
Well … that was just … well shit.
The sound of crunching leaves made Thargan take cover behind the cart. One of the bandits he had spotted earlier, a youth who had likely just had his nameday party, walked into the clearing, buttoning up his pants. The boy didn’t have much on him, Thargan could tell, just his clothes, a pouch on his belt, and a chipped and rusted iron sword. But when the kid saw that the cart lay empty, the sheet sprawled on the forest floor, he unsheathed his blade and ran towards it.
Then Thargan struck.
He snapped out from behind the cart, one hand snaking up to the boy’s neck and the other grabbing the wrist of his swordarm, pressing them both down so the boy was thrust into the wood.
“How … how are you still alive?” The kid choked out.
“I do that. Now hand over your clothes and weapon and you won’t be hurt, brat.”
“Like I believe that! You enjoy killing! You’ll beat me to death."
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Back in the fight –”
“That was a battle fury. All orks have them.”
“Like hell they –”
Thargan squeezed the kid’s neck and wrist. He did not drop the blade. “Last chance,” he said.
The kid responded by jerking his swordhand up, breaking the grip. Thargan ducked out of the way as the sword swiped overhead, before hitting the steel wheel of the cart.
Then the blade shattered.
The kid barely had time to stare at the broken hilt when Thargan’s hand knifed him in the neck. Thargan caught the boy’s unconscious before he could smack against the ground.
Thargan moved by root memory. Actions he has done dozens of times, but never with a living body before. He stripped the boy of his clothes, coin (the pouch only had a handful of gold, silver and copper in it – totaling to ten gold) and then held up the shattered sword to the moonlight. Thargan examined it a bit, turned it this way and that, before dropping it to the ground and kicking it under the cart. After that, he just wiggled into the pants and shirt, lifted the boy up into the cart, and covered his body with the white sheet.
It would take an hour or so for the rest of the bandit camp to check on the new recruit on body guarding duty, but by that time Thargan would already be gone.
The small town stood before him. A walled city, like most in the Fatala grasslands, but an unguarded one. There were not many patrolling the walls, just another brat standing guard by the gate. The gate had already been risen for a different group entering into the village, and he just strolled right in – glaring at the boy as if to dare him to argue. The boy glared back, almost scoffing at the ork before turning to the group. Huh. Cheeky brat. Thargan’s first order of business – the bar. If he hadn’t been robbed blind, he’d see to it that he ended up piss drunk and bellowing throughout the room, but he didn’t have enough coin to be wasteful. No, he had another purpose entirely for going in.
His mark sat in the corner of the tavern. Not clouded in shadow like they were about to make some sort of assassination contract, but merely a part, separate, from the milling crowds within the establishment. The crowd that darted glances in his direction as Thargan crossed the tavern, spun a chair around at the table his contact was at, and collapsed onto it, arms hanging off the back.
“What’s with these hillbillies? Never seen an ork before?”
“Yes.”
Thargan’s mercenary contact was an elderly man, decked in steel armor, and had a warhammer propped against the table leg. He also had an insignia engraved in the left corner of the armor, over the heart, the sign of the Fatalan Contractual Registrar or FCR – the organization that categorized and registered all major mercenary companies within the grasslands. The guild set up their system like this: a contractor would come with a specific assignment and the Registrar would give them the list of companies that could fulfill their needs within a set price range. Individual freelance mercs being the cheapest with expansive companies ranging from the hundred to thousand range.
“What happened to Gredric Ishdale?”
“That’s what the fatass’ name was?”
“Yes. I take it that the assignment failed?”
“Yeah, it fucking failed. We were ambushed on the road. The bandits killed whatever-his-name right off the bat and left me without a coin ta my name. If I hadn’t blindsided one of them I would be walking through the gates au natural.”
“Thanks for the imagery. I hope you do know this will go on record and effect your ranking.”
“Yeah. I know. Just give me a damn job.”
The man seemed surprised at this. “You’re telling me that no villagers told you on the road here?”
"I don't take the road. Sides, I doubt they woulda been in a talkitive mood if they saw me."
“Alright. Point taken. Here’s the short of it: the warriors of the village are gone. They’ve gone over to Yushan to help the war-effort. Since then the wildlife has encroached onto the village’s farmland and are plaguing the fields.”
“And how the hell am I supposed to do anything about that on my own?”
“You’re in luck. Other strangers have heard the call and are here to help as well. They’ll be meeting Gorodir at the gates in an hour or so.”
“Gorodir as in Gorodir Bouldermane?”
“The same.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Thargan had heard of the dwarf legend. How could he not, since in Tyger the common theory is that he’d been orphaned during the Second Ork-Manus war, and the soldiers who had killed his parents couldn’t bring themselves to off a babe so they dropped him at the chapel’s doorstep instead. But outside of the fact that the war happened, he didn’t really care about the man himself. It’s not like he held any special affinity for his own race, so Thargan didn’t really give a damn that the dwarf likely slaughtered a shit-ton of Orks during the war.
“I guess I’ll see about getting geared before I go out – it’s not like I can do much with my bare hands.”
Thargan slammed open the door and stomped in with a scowl on his face. A scowl that only deepened by the mass of humans messed into the place.
He had barely taken a few steps out of the tavern when he felt the gazes on him. The whole fucking town was in a state of high alert because they were being overrun by vermin, but they just had to gawk at the ork. Gawk and, a few brave, stupid souls, glare, disgust scrunching up their noses. Thargan glared back. He glared and glared until he reached the door of the local weapon and armor shop and just marched in.
He ignored all the humans and instead approached the counter. The man behind the counter, a muscular bronze man with gray mingled into his hair, seemed different than most ego ridden shitbags Thargan’s met, who just assumed because they had size and brawn they could go toe to toe with him. When Thargan approached the wall and tore off two axes he didn’t immediately reach for his sword and question whether or not he intended to buy them. Instead, he finished some sort of incantation he’d been in the middle of saying – some blessing that seemed vaguely familiar (a fact which Thargan shoved far away from his conscious mind) and just watched as Thargan slammed the handaxes down on the counter.
“Price.”
“6 gold, three a piece.”
Like that Thargan felt his ire flame back to life. It was a swindle. It was a damn swindle! Like stealing the last few bits of gold he had on him. He opened his mouth, words buzzing to the surface of his mind, Thargan's contorting into a ricket of anger, then, slowly, died off. Thargan slammed the handaxes into his belt, grabbed a pair of breeches as an afterthought with a price tag of two gold, pulled out two gold from the pouch, chucked the rest of it over at the man, then stormed out of the store.
Thargan made his way back to the tavern, but instead of going inside, instead he found a secluded area in the back, away from prying eyes within the building or on the streets of Silkrin proper. Then Thargan tore off the pants, the cloth – already stretched a bit tight – tore away with a single tug. He slipped on the breeches a moment later, and found that he had eyed them right – they were his size. There was no helping the tunic, however, the too small cloth clung to his chest and abs, highlighting their outline but at least covering up the crisscrossing spirals of scars that marred his body. Thargan was already an ork within a small Manus village (something he was uncomfortably familiar with) at least he did not give them the satisfaction of being able to gap at Caldrich’s handiwork.
Once the tunic was secured, the belt strapped on with the tunic in place, and the two gold tucked away in a front pocket Thargan made his way to the gate where Gorodir waited.
Sure enough, some people alredy waited by the gates. Two men, two women. Two noblewomen, their bodyguard and a aspiring merc from the look of it. Gorodir stood in front of them all, staring out into the grasslands. He seemed to nod to himself when he realized that they were all here. He turned around to face them and spoke with a voice that reverberated.
“Come, children.”
Thargan scowled, a look that marred his face and made the fangs in his jaw jut out. Children? Just how old is this –
He stopped himself.
Even in his head, Thargan didn't dare disrespect the legend before him.
But the man’s next words made the scowl transform into a smirk.
A contest. Perfect. He didn’t have to work with any of these kids. They would be going into the fields, killing the creatures, fulfilling the request of the villagers, without ever being forced to form a mockery of comradery. By the time the dwarf was finished, the smirk had settled down into a thin line as he handed over the axes for honing. Thargan didn't really care if he came out in first in this pissing contest, but he sure as hell would finish the damn job this time.
Once she had the shop-keeps attention, she inspected what he had to offer. Honestly, she wasn't impressed in the least. Maybe it was fine for the baylbo but she wasn't sure it would hold up against wave upon wave of monsters let alone over-sized rats. Not to mention the price he was charging them. 4 Gold coins for something of this lowly quality? You've got to be kidding me... Normally she'd have something to say, but it's not like they have much of a choice, it was a test after all, so they'll just have to make do. Along with a dainty looking breastplate and a pair of boots, she bought the heavier bastard sword he had or at least one of them. Given with Fay's small stature and Ziku's style, it would be up to her to be the heavy hitter and in-turn take the most punishment. Someone had to do it. And with attention on her, it would help out the others a good deal and let them do their thing.
As they were finishing up their business in the shop, the keeper gave upon them the blessing of Ulna for their protection on their journey. With that done, they made their way out of the store and headed towards the gates to meet back up with Gorodir. As they stood behind their master, a large figure and foul stench came towards them. An Ork... The hell was an Ork doing in a Baylbo, let alone a manus village? Internally, she wasn't pleased at the sight of the beast, especially given his kinds history with hers. Externally, however, her expression remained calm and displayed that nothing was wrong as she stood in front of fay, As if shielding her from the beast. After all her sister went through all those years ago, she still hasn't fully gotten over it. While she knows that there might be Orks that aren't exactly like the majority of their race, she just can't bring herself to like being in the presence of one.
It didn't take long until Gorodir layed out the details of their little 'contest'. Only approach the gate and eat once a day, huh? No mercy as usual. "Heh, Only 10?" she grinned at Gorodir, accepting the terms of his 'contest' with no hesitation. As they made to leave, Gorodir stopped them and offered to look over and improve their weapons. No complaints on her end, if anyone could improve upon these pieces of crap, it was their master. He is one of, if not thee, best at doing it, so it was an easy decision for her. Once done, she bid her master farewell.
"Ready to head out?" She asked Ziku and Fay, while eying the others.
OOC:
Spoiler
Not sure if this post will do or if you want me to do more to move on with things, if its not enough let me know and I'll add to it.
Traits:
Hunger for Dominance: +10% Xp gain.
Multi-talented: Can Master two combat classes instead of one.
Knightcraft (Passive): +1 to mounted combat/Knight. +1 Discipline
Strength
Leadership/Charisma
Level: 1
Class: (Locked Until Level 10)
Stats: (12 base points)
Toughness: 2
Endurance: 3
Power: 4
Intellect: 3
Skills:
Swordsmanship: +5
Dexterity: +4
The Domhnall Network: +3 - Being the child of Merchant and being brought up as one, Dee has managed to learn a lot of the ins and outs of the trade and made a number of contacts over the years. By exploiting this, she's able to bring in a number of information that others aren't privvy to.
While we fade away from the bustling market where our benevolent giant resides, we spend what seems to be endless hours winding through the unfamiliar cobblestone streets. Slithering through the labyrinth of darkened streets and narrow passages until in this expansive city, we reach a place where the light rarely touches. There, beneath a fickle and flickering lamp, sitting upon her throne that marks her the queen of the underworld with a cunning and seductive smile is none other than I-Am-X. Calmly observing us with a yellowed iris beset upon harrowing black, her fanged grin only grows wider as her fingertip guides the rod that stirs a tall, thin glass of suspicious looking Red Wine. Here in the Dark, we exist temporarily in her Kingdom. A place where the unsavory sorts can find sanctuary, a black market, and often the tools of death, subtlety, and subterfuge.
Sliding her sultry fingertip upon the spine of a book, the tome seems almost alive as it shudders and props open to a blank, but weathered page. Dipping a sharpened fountain pen in ink, she takes her mark upon the leathery parchment after a sip of her Bloodied delicacy. Not a moment later for us, the innocent-minded folks living upon the streets above, she describes to us her next devilish machination.
Tragar looked carefully at the young tinkerer in front of him, she had this confident air about her that many of the lost ones that came to him didn't. Even though, she didn't give a clear accent to his request she made it sound like a deal. A deal tragar was happy to oblige, his forge had seen much better days and though he didn't like swindling what little travellers came through this remote village, he did it for his family's sake. The world was cruel this way, you can't eat gold but with enough gold you can make sure that you never go hungry. It was a weird irony.
"Child!" he said,
" I don't have any good quality gear on hand, this village has been in disrepair too long but I have a decent breastplate and arm guards. Also, this sword served me well in the grasslands when I was young. Though it no longer has that keen edge, it is powerful enough to aid you in your task. Get me the leather from five shrews and two spadetails. Perhaps, I can give this a final try before letting the forge run cold. You'll find them in the farmlands. Be warned, do no try and take on a group. Please, I want you alive and don't want a murder of a young promising lass on my name." the old man said to the wiry Qing.
The gear was nothing special but still cost a lot, Wisp wondered if this was the Baylbo hospitality, what were they like when they swindle you. Felling the weight of the sword in her hands she left the old man to his business and walked towards the fields.
She didn't had the faintest idea but the young guard was always on hand for directions. She just retraced her way to him and went from there to here first adventure.
--
Out in the field a group of three shrews munched on a wheat field, having ransacked much of the field and gathered a stockpile for themselves. They were cute to look at but incredibly ferocious pluss their size would certainly be a problem. Whether Wisp would engage them or wait for someone else to arrive on the scene was upto her. Anyways it seemed that the quest would be pretty easy provided she survived to tell it.
[ooc]
Spoiler
Okay, sorry for the delay, man. Here you go. The group in front of you contains one Lvl 2 Shrew and two lvl 1s. They are a bobcat sized rodents with vicious front teeth.
The attack for Lvl 1s is 7 and for Lvl2 is the same. But their health and Exp vary. Fight wisely. You can also wait or write as if to join X's large party that is about to beging hunt in the fields. Currently, you are ahead of them in timeline by half an hour. Factor that in and have fun!
If you have the time:
Spoiler
Through the vast entity that is the Internet, we now find ourselves in an unfamiliar place. A place of new faces, new personalities, and new adventurers alike. This place is the new home of our motley crew, and it is called Batoto. Here, as we meander through bustling streets and cobblestone draped markets, we find the first new person we will meet this day. Diabolical Rhapsody. What is so curious and is immediately the most noticeable thing about this shy soul is his height. Towering over eight feet high and sporting a two-handed mace that weighs more than some men, one would expect this scraggly bearded giant to be a savage barbarian. Yet those who dare try to scratch the surface a touch soon find a kind soul who so earnestly aims to please. Accompanying the vodka that he drinks and sings softly to is a pen quill made of the finest eagle's feather. His tools of imagination and creation, the studious giant fervently writes his passages for us all to see.
Wisp knew that her gear had cost more than what it should have been, yet she sated her irritation by believing that in growing small businesses there would be better results for the entire community. Eventually, those barren dirt streets might become street-vendor infested avenues leading to a grand bazaar.
The fields were quite ordinary, yet the simple appearance of this region was deceptive as fearsome beasts claimed this land as their own. The quest that the Blacksmith had tasked to Wisp was one she did not possess much prior experience with. Hunting and skinning? She preferred smuggling, deceiving, and tinkering with the equipment of her crew to improve it as their resources grew. Those were good times, brighter times. Now, she was alone in the hot fields tracking down a few dangerous wild animals to make a living for herself.
Approaching the group head on would be too much of a risk. The Qing tinkerer looked about at her surroundings, identifying bits of material she could work with. She thought to herself, Perhaps I can make a lure and a trap to help me in devolving this cluster?
OOC
Spoiler
Level: -1-
Class: N/A
Inventory:
Iron Breastplate (Normal) Weight: 15, Durability: 45/45, Armor: 12
\\ The Gathering of the Wolves - Silkrin Village Encampments \\ Faye Aurelius Lightfel
Even though she was not raised as a merchant, having lived in the house of one for ten years had taught even Faye a little about item appraisal. Just from the look of it, she could tell that the armor sold at the smithy were made for quantity than quality. The leather was not cured properly, probably thanks to a certain amount of material saving and a number of jumped process to speed up production. The metal used for the iron ware was of low quality, and was not heated enough, resulting in crude, sometimes even lumpy finish in addition of not having optimum hardness and durability.
And don't get it the wrong way. All was fine with that. With the town rapidly closing in on an inevitable clash with outside power, everybody needed protection for himself. At a time like this, providing as much equipment in as short time as possible was the correct answer to the needs of the mass. But seeing at the state the best longsword the blacksmith could offer to Faye for her five pieces of gold.. She could not help but feel sad. A sword is said to be a blacksmith's heart and soul. To see a sword so obviously under-made was quite a sad experience, moreso because the person in question is one who lived the way of swords.
Still, the length of the sword is perfect for Faye, and it still had quite a scything power, so Faye could not complain much about it. It was a hard time. Maybe even the blacksmith himself was not satisfied by his work. He obviously could do better than that, after all, given the proper amount of time and material to work with.
Having finished sizing her sword, Faye sheathed it and paid the smith in full for his service. It was then that she felt a rather obnoxious air gathering on the door to her back. The oppressive aura, undeniable stench of a beast, and the larger than average frame; there was no mistaking it. The person on the door was most definitely an Orc.
Faye instinctively reached for the hilt of her new sword, and there was no telling what she would have done had Deirdre not stood between her and the Orc, as if shielding her from the sight of the hideous beast. Even then, it took quite some time for her labored breathing and dilated pupil to return to normal.
Faye was silent the entire way back to the rendezvous with Gorodir Bouldermane. Her eyes were fixated on the ground. In fact, if she were a dog, she would undoubtedly wore floppy ears in this state of mind. It seemed that her past had much a greater effect that she had thought it would be. If anything, she believed that she should be grateful that the Orc was not, in fact, a hostile one. She would have died if that were the case.
"Ready to head out?" Deirdre's voice broke Faye's trance-like state.
"Well, yes." she replied in a somewhat flat tone, as if her mind was not entirely there yet. "Though, I believe this challenge is not as easy as it sounds. Ten vermins each might not sound much, but that means we will each need to defeat three to four of these plagues per day. Given the amount of time we'd need to locate them, I'd say we'll only have two fights per day. That's one to two rats per fight per person." she continued in an unchanging flat tone.
"Given that the rats in question are known to take down domesticated bulls.. I'm sorry, I was going off on my own, wasn't I?" she finally said as light began returning to her eyes. After slapping both her cheeks to restore her spirit (a move that Faye soon regret, that. It hurts!), Faye proposed her plan of action to Deirdre. In her usual tone, this time.
"There's no use speculating the unknown at the moment. Let's try hunting an equal number of rats at a time for now? Me and Ziku should be able to use our speed to round up some rats. Does six vs five sounds good to you?" she asked.. Well, her sister, mainly. She was not yet at the age to understand how politic works, and how bad it is to blatantly show favour to a party over others. She'll learn that some other time.
OOC Info:
Spoiler
Current Location: Silkrin
Level: 1 Class: -
Traits:
+ Knight's Apprentice (Passive): Starts with 5 less stat points, but gains an additional point every 10 levels.
+ One With the Sword (Active): Gains a bonus on both accuracy and evasion when fighting with sword or dagger. {increases fatigue buildup while active}
+ Knightcraft: +1 to Mounted Combat / Knight. +1 to Discipline.
+ Hunger for Dominance: +10% XP gain.
+ Multi-talented: Can master two combat classes instead of one.
Ziku spent every last bit of his gold in the overpriced armory, dropping the 10 gold on a pair of boots, a pair of breeches, and a scimitar that's quality was of the low-middling variety. Though somewhat disappointed at the cost for quality, Ziku was sure it would do for the slaying of rats and vermin without too much difficulty. Ziku yawned as he exited the shop and drummed his fingers on the hilt of his new blade. Meeting up at the south gate, Ziku warily took notice of the presence of an Ork. There was also another Manus of Arturi origin, but concern over the presence of the Ork almost caused Ziku to miss him entirely. After giving the two other soon-to-be exterminaters a nod in greeting, Ziku glanced at the expressions on his comrade's faces to gauge how they were taking the appearance of their new acquaintance. Deirdre was unshaken, and stood as confident as ever. Ziku almost didn't notice the subtletly in her positioning herself slightly between Fay and the Ork. As for Fay... well, she didn't seem to take it in quite the same stride as Deirdre. She flinched and reached for her new blade, her breathing turned ragged, and Ziku questioned whether he would have to step in and try to stop her before she made a huge mistake, but when Fay noticed that Deirdre had moved between her and the Ork she calmed down. Ziku admired how well the two sisters knew each other, with Deirdre knowing how Fay would react to the situation and acting to pre-empt any incident that could've come from Fay's traumatic past. So, their task turned out to be a contest of some kind. If he was honest to himself, Ziku wasn't particularly interested in the competition. Regardless, the vermin in the region needed to be cut down and if Gorodir felt that a contest was the proper motivation to do so, then Ziku couldn't complain.
"Ready to head out?" Deirdre asked, to the entire group.
Ziku gave a slight shrug as if to say "as ready as I'm going to be", and Fay, still shaken by the Ork, ran through some strategy, however her strategic discussion was very much one-sided and kind of left the Ork and the Manus out of the running for possible leaders. She was young, and she looked up to Deirdre so it was only a given she'd look to her as the leader. Ziku himself had no inclination towards leadership, and would rather someone else take the reins. Not wanting to voice any opinions on how the thing should be run, as Ziku was very aware that the other two might pair together or even strike out on their own.
OOC:
Spoiler
Eyyyyy I posted!
Traits:
Hunger for Dominance: 10% XP gain.
Multi-talented: Can master two combat classes instead of one.
It's Kung-Fu Fighting!: +1 Melee combat/+1 Evasion rolls out of combat
Defiance: Gains a stat bonus the more enemies he faces
Let's Get Dangerous: The closer he gets to death, the higher his chance of parrying increases (I'm thinking this one should be gated by times a day/week he can do it, unless the GM thinks it's fine without one)
Geraint warily inspected his new equipment as he trailed the trio of seemingly highborn girls and a Qing. The sword and leather he acquired did not hold up to the chain and blade he lost on the road, and he paid an arm and a leg for low quality merchandise. At least Tragar blessed them, Geraint thought. It was a kind gesture after bleeding their pockets dry. Geraint jingled his remaining 3 gold in his hand before depositing it into his coin purse at his waist, a solemn remembrance of the coin lost and forfeited up til now. Arriving with the group and orc in tow it became apparently clear to Geraint that he had stepping into a volatile situation unknowingly. The two Arturi girls and Qing were on guard around the orc, and weren't particularly shy about it. Geraint was well aware of the hostility between the Manus and Orcs, but did not feel the need to be on guard as the orc in question was admitted to the village and friendly. Or at least not hostile, which was really the same considering the circumstances in Geraint's mind. Geraint stood silently as Dwarf named Gorodir Bouldermane issued to them their challenge. Geraint had no idea who he was, but seeing that everyone listened to the him with reverence Geraint followed suit. It was beginning to become more and more clear to Geraint that his bumpkin sensibilities were going to be more of a burden than he anticipated. Gorodir gave them the task of ten dead varmints each, a task that would seem easy were he not already aware of how large the rats grew in these parts.
Gorodir was even nice enough to once over their weapons, giving Geraint his falchion back with a slightly sharper blade. The elder Arturi girl asked everyone if they were ready, and Geraint simply nodded. He didn't quite know her name and didn't want to stumble over speaking to her because of that. The younger Arturi girl began laying out a strategy for hunting down the pests, and it became abundantly that Geraint and the orc were afterthoughts at best. The two Arturi girls and the Qing named "Ziku" seemed to have already formed a click, so to speak, and Geraint was unsure of his success in the matter. Geraint felt that he would not guaranteed his fair share within the group with the three of them being so close, and decided that fortune favored the bold. Geraint turned to the orc, and with little confidence but much bravado asked the towering figure to work together. "Name's Geraint!" he said, very sure of his name as he turned to the orc. "The three of them don't seem to think much of us", or at least think much of Geraint as their suspicion of the orc was apparent, but Geraint decided not to bring that up. "Why don't we work together? Less people in the hunting party means more spoils to go around." Sure, this would mean that they were competing with the trio directly, but it also simplified the dividing spoils. Besides, the orc looked capable.
Spoiler
Traits:
Hunger for Dominance: +10% Xp gain.
Multi-talented: Can Master two combat classes instead of one.
Knightcraft: +1 to mounted combat/Knight. +1 Discipline (Passive)
Doppelsöldner: +1 Heavy Blade, +1 Parry. (Passive)
Blade Barrier: At the cost of increased fatigue, Geraint's ability to parry and blade block attacks is increased. (Active)
Thargan just scowled at the whole fucking scene unfolding in front of him. He didn't really expect anything else, but still he didn't assume they were about to lunge at him with a bad case of feral rabies. But the older girl seemed to think he would, given the way she protectively stood in front of the young noblewoman. Speaking of her, Thargan noticed that her hand reached for her hilt as well, but ... the motion lacked resolve. She was ... shit ... she was afraid. The only thing worse than a Manus disgusted by his presence was one that was terrified of him. Like hell, there's reasons to be terrified of me but wait until you see what I can do first.
Once Gorodir was done, the elder Arturi asked her trio if they were ready, but at the same time eyed Thargan and the countryhick. The boy nodded but Thargan just looked to the side and sighed. She wasn't asking us, fool. But the thought lacked any heat it would normally have. He was just tired of this. Tired of all this shit. He wanted to go out into the field and start killing things. Loudly.
While the younger Arturi seemed to banter on about the vermin (...she's truly unnerved by me, isn't she? No. Not me. Orks.) Thargan was stirred out of his thoughts by the most surprising event of the day.
"Name's Geraint!"
Thargan just stared. Stared at the Manus who approached amicably. Why? The question reverberated in Thargan's head, but then silenced when the boy had finished.
A beat of silence followed. It stretched to the point where Geraint would have been worried that the ork was rejecting him through the icy quiet, but then. Then he laughed. Thargan laughed like he hadn't in years, a noise that bubbled up from his gut and out his throat. When the laugh died down his face relaxed into a smirk - the closest thing he had to a smile. "You're an odd one, you know that ... Geraint, was it? You could have still tried your luck teaming up with those three," Thargan said, nodding his head over to the duo of noblewomen and their Qing companion. "But if you've made your choice, so be it." He jerked his thumb back to point at his chest. "Thargan."
The name would have struck a cord to most of them there. Even if they didn't know about the local legend around Tyger, they would surely recognize that it was a Manus name. Ork names tended to either have long syllables and odd accents, such as Bo'gra'za or are short and guttural like Grom or Gnash. Thargan would let them make of that as they wished.
"That's true." She laughed playfully at Faye's comment. She knew it wasn't going to be easy but she was having fun and was looking forward to Gorodir's latest challenge. Given that it was him that loaded all of this onto them, it was simple to understand they weren't going to have an easy time. He takes his 'training' quite seriously, after all. With that, she let Faye continue as she shared her thoughts regarding the hunt to Deirdre. The longer she went on about her plan, the more she got into it and in-turn shown more life in her eyes, which relaxed Deirdre quite a bit. While she hasn't been able to shake the trauma of that event, she has made significant progress over the years. She has no doubt that one day, she'll be able to conquer her fear and become much stronger. How strong, however, is up to her and the decisions she'll make.
"No, No." she waved off Faye's apology. "You're doing well, Do continue." Deirdre smiled as she reassured Faye. As she continued with her 'plan', Faye's tone was returning to normal and seems to have fully recovered. Which was good because they'd need Faye at full force for them to pull this task off. It was simple and straight-forward and more or less what she had in mind herself. "It's more or less what I had in mind, so it works. Let's go with it. In certain cases, simple is best. Though," she trailed off as her eyes wandered to the other two, the Ork and the other Manus, who were engaging in conversation. "It seems that they might have other plans." she continued as she kept her voice down so only Faye and Ziku could hear. While she wasn't leaving them out intentionally, she just seems more comfortable with Ziku and Faye. While she personally detests Orks, if it means accomplishing the greater good, she has no qualms working with one. However, For Faye's sake, she rather the Ork not be within close proximity to them.
With a sigh, "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm sure they can handle themselves and will do their part whether they go along with what we say or not. Either way, It aids in what we were tasked to do and getting rid of what plagues this village is what we came here to do. So if they decide to split off, then it can't be helped." Ziku remained quiet throughtout the exchange but given his reactions, she can tell that he's ready to go and willing to go along with it all. Well, that's all that matters really. Once the Ork and the other Manus seemed to be done with their conversation, she nodded in their direction, looked at Faye and Ziku and headed out of the gate. When they were out of the gates, she headed towards the grasslands.
OOC:
Spoiler
Wasn't sure where exactly to go or where our battlefield will begin, so I just went along with the ooc and said grasslands. If there's any issue or mistake or something i need to change, please let me know.
Traits:
Hunger for Dominance: +10% Xp gain.
Multi-talented: Can Master two combat classes instead of one.
Knightcraft (Passive): +1 to mounted combat/Knight. +1 Discipline
Strength
Leadership/Charisma
Level: 1
Class: (Locked Until Level 10)
Stats: (12 base points)
Toughness: 2
Endurance: 3
Power: 4
Intellect: 3
Skills:
Swordsmanship: +5
Dexterity: +4
The Domhnall Network: +3 - Being the child of Merchant and being brought up as one, Dee has managed to learn a lot of the ins and outs of the trade and made a number of contacts over the years. By exploiting this, she's able to bring in a number of information that others aren't privvy to.
While we fade away from the bustling market where our benevolent giant resides, we spend what seems to be endless hours winding through the unfamiliar cobblestone streets. Slithering through the labyrinth of darkened streets and narrow passages until in this expansive city, we reach a place where the light rarely touches. There, beneath a fickle and flickering lamp, sitting upon her throne that marks her the queen of the underworld with a cunning and seductive smile is none other than I-Am-X. Calmly observing us with a yellowed iris beset upon harrowing black, her fanged grin only grows wider as her fingertip guides the rod that stirs a tall, thin glass of suspicious looking Red Wine. Here in the Dark, we exist temporarily in her Kingdom. A place where the unsavory sorts can find sanctuary, a black market, and often the tools of death, subtlety, and subterfuge.
Sliding her sultry fingertip upon the spine of a book, the tome seems almost alive as it shudders and props open to a blank, but weathered page. Dipping a sharpened fountain pen in ink, she takes her mark upon the leathery parchment after a sip of her Bloodied delicacy. Not a moment later for us, the innocent-minded folks living upon the streets above, she describes to us her next devilish machination.
Wisp, with her finished trap, headed back towards her targets. They had displaced, but she was still able to follow them to a near-by location. The first trap was set near a shady pocket of space, where low trees and light brush fused alongside a stony patch of dry land. Wisp managed to pluck some of the wheat that these animals fed on earlier and placed it inside of the trap. This all took the better part of half an hour, due to all the material gathering and scouting. The could feel some perspiration begin to affect her body, yet the breeze was cool and the sun was not so punishing. She moved back away from the trap, hiding behind a large stone that had overgrowth all around its circuit.
Following his "sense for trouble", as his mother called it, Korgan plunged headlong into the sparsely lit mines of Ruehill.
The recent disturbance sent many miners running, leaving their torches scattered across the floor or sitting extinguished in their stands -- a result of the sudden rush of air caused by the panicked dwarves as they fled.
The horror inducing sight that now greeted Korgan was one which many adventures told themselves as they sat around the safety of their camp fires, trying to out-scare their companions.
The tunnels were dark and smelled poorly, stink with sweat, piss and shite. Every now and then one could hear the whispers of some dark entity, promising sweet death to any who lingered too long in this forbidden place.
Inhaling deeply, Korgan breathed in the claustrophobia, tension and panic that was still thick in the air and exhaled excitement as his heart raced like that of a school boy with a crush. This to him was love. This unnatural state of being, was life.
Fear and doubt was his bread and butter, and the trouble he was about to find aroused him like few things could. And it would be glorious, he could tell.
A few steps further in the "wrong" direction and Korgan's sharp ears picked out a distant, screeching sound coming from a ways away. Licking his lips as a mad grin infested his face, Korgan practically flew the rest of the distance as he waded through the mix of orange light and inky shadows to find his prey.
By this point he had almost forgotten his vow to return Brytva's pet to her, alive and well, so focused was he on the potential slaughter to come. But once he had rounded the bend and was in view of the massive tinfangs and the tiny puppy, it came back to him, as well as a memory he had thought long forgotten.
The beasts were fearsome, of that there was no doubt as they stood nearly twice Korgan's own size, but watching them toy with the pet made them seem very small and low in Korgan's eyes.
They could have easily... Or not so easily, if they'd first need to fight over who would get the honour of eating the animal. Still, it would have been a quick and easy thing to do, to eat the puppy, but these beasts had chosen to play with it first, to play with their food as they say. To built it's fear and deepen the trauma, as if it would help season the meat and make it taste all the more sweeter to them.
They even laughed in their own tinfang way, as the puppy scrambled away from their claws but found no where to fun to, just more teeth and claws.
The sight of it filled Korgan with rage as hot tears ran freely down his face and into beard. Immediately he recalled how his cousin had stood up for him once, when they were little. The local coward hadn't been dwarf enough to beat Korgan's cousin in a fair fight, so he'd decided to exact his revenge by picking on little Korgan instead.
Korgan fought back of course, but it was like a child fighting a man. And in the end, all he could do was keep his tears inside pain swallowed his senses. It was the last thing his father had told him before he died, "they may see you bleed but never let them see you cry".
When Korgan's cousin finally showed up much later, after it was all over, he tried to take Korgan home to his mother but Korgan made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere until he'd had satisfaction -- that they wouldn't see his tears until he saw theirs first.
Understanding what he meant, the two set off alone to find those responsible.
They were outnumbered at least five-to-one but Korgan's cousin set him down and told him to watch and listen. He did. And when he heard his cousin's words, Korgan cried hot, salty tears of justice.
"You always did like picking on people smaller than you," his cousin had said. "Well, I'm smaller, why don't you try picking on me!"
Korgan's father had been right -- and wrong. You could let them see you cry, if it was the last thing they ever saw.
Korgan learned that day what "justice" was, what it meant to fight not just to fight but to fight for others. For those who couldn't fight for themselves. For the little puppies out there who didn't understand why they had to suffer, when all they wanted to do was be happy.
Korgan cried. He had been that puppy once, a long time ago. No more puppies were going to suffer today.
With Zharr'Grund, Korgan's flaming hammer, in his right hand and Val'Zwain, his enchanted axe, in his left, Korgan leapt into the middle of the fray as he ran up to the first tinfang and swung his hammer between it's legs. They may have heard or even smelled Korgan coming, but his righteous fury could not be stopped once ignited and whatever passed as the creature's balls was now a paste on his hammer.
Not slowing down, Korgan aimed his axe for the second tinfang's large, sausage-like toes and severed them from the beast before it could jump away. With the space he had now created, Korgan swept the puppy up and tucked it safely behind the bear-face shield Korgan wore around his middle.
"Blasted demons," Korgan spat. "COME FIGHT ME!"
Gear and Stats
Spoiler
Traits:
- Celebrated Legacy: All weapons crafted by Dwarves are a grade better than their counterparts.
- Hammer and Axe: +1 to Warrior/+2 to Paladin
- Drunken Monk Step: +1 to damage when under the influence of ale. +1 Toughness.
- "KKOORRGGAANN SSTTOONNEEFFIISSTT!!!!": An epic shout that reinvigorates Korgan and all nearby allies.
- "Coward!": A powerful shout that propels Korgan through the air and onto the back of whichever enemy was trying to run away from their fight.
- Dwarven Boxing: Korgan deals more damage for every enemy, over three, surrounding him.
Level: 10
Class: Warrior
Inventory:
- Zharr'Grund: Zharr'Grund is a Ego weapon and scales with Korgan's level, gaining stats every 10 levels. Damage 13, Flame Damage +3, Durability 60/65, Weight 19.
- Val'Zwein: Val'Zwein is a Fine weapon. Damage 15, Durability 45/80, Weight 13.
“It's all about Power."
"Grabbing it. Keeping it. Using It."
"Power is our currency, our DNA... Our God.”
"We control the World."
"We provide the blueprint. And we give the Instructions."
Neyteri was more or a less a fierce vixen, with a body hardened through work in the fields and skin a deep brown. Her red mane sparkled on her body like freshly erupted volcano and as a humorous dark elf took seat at her she was all too kind to serve him his choice of poison. Liquor had a way of bringing out the lost tales and long boasts, men and women alike reveled in the slight haze that settled on their minds as they tried to review their actions through a lens of heroism and valor.
A similar scene had unfolded among the few men that sat not far from the elf, recounting their golden days for the umpteenth time. Baylbos like most of the populace in the tavern and forgotten in this dusty village. They may have been strong men once but those big arms had nothing but fat now and the broken teeth crackled as the night came. Easily scared by beasts and cold winds alike they were just a mere shadow of themselves. Neyteri gave them a disapproving look as the elf before her asked for a challenge to sate his hunger.
This one was certainly different, the others who had occasionally stopped at Silkrin had always seem hermit like powerful and calm yet this one was equal measure boisterous and troublesome. "Ah wager dat if ye can get me ten skins of spadetails that roam the farmlands here, I can brew you a brandy you won't forget as long as ye live!" Neyteri said in her thick accent, chewing up half of the words with her massive maw.
Spoiler
A solo quest for you Joker. If you can get Neyteri 10 Spadetails she'll give you free brandy and a prize. Take the quest at your own risk. It starts in Farmlands, you can team up with Shmuser or others or go in solo. Your choice. Spadetails are Lvl 5 Snakes. With a decent poison.
If you take the quest, you'll also have 10 empty vials in your inventory. Enjoy.
Shamu was a bit surprised by the elaborate and weird way the Matsya greeted but he smiled at the little kid anyway. Well atleast it looked like a kid, you never knew with the Seafolk, they always looked younger.
"I'm called Shamu Spiritcaller and I'm the chief of a tiny village on this eastern edge of the continent. You certainly look really far away from home. Any reasons for such a voyage?" he inquired the Matsya as he started walking back to the village.
"The time for repayment would come soon, there is a problem that someone of your kind would be highly suited to deal with but I would first like you to regain your health and strength rather than risk your life for us."
Spoiler
Sorry! Joddy small update. Push him more, he'll drop a good quest for your efforts. Have fun!
Deirdre had sensed the situation that might develop if the Ork decided to hang around longer. There was no telling what Fay might do in a fight or flight situation and as the elder sister she felt it was her responsibility to look after the one she has came to call as her little sister. They may be facing unknown dangers in unforeseen circumstances and it was best that they work in a team they are comfortable with.
Thargan snorted at the suggestion offered by the noble, he was game for a solo hunt but Geraint looked like he would be good company. He looked like a man who swung first and asked later. His kind of guy. So the duo went about their own way in the fields. Walking towards the eastern edge towards the low hills that dotted the horizon. Thargan's senses told him that the game here would be more juicy and he wasn't wrong. As they stumbled upon pack of snapping shrews. The four of them didn't look like much of a challenge, he looked at Geraint and smiled. Perhaps the games had begun!
Deirdre's little posse went westward towards the twisting river. The fields were heavily infested but still held their shape. Maize and Wheat fields had braved the onslaught of the rodents that were plaguing this village. The three walked through a dustroad towards the farmlands and came upon a farm. Its fences were broken at a few places, signifying that whatever was raiding this piece of land was certainly enjoying his stay. As they rounded a small granary hut they saw a swarm in front of them. Eight of the healthiest, swarthiest looking shrews they'll lay their eyes on, feasted on a patch of maize. Their razor sharp teeth working at the fiber in tandem.
Whether it was a fight they'll have was Deirdre's call.
Spoiler
Okay! I have made little subgroups. Munnin and Blue are Team 1. You got a good roll and hence Lvl 2 Snapping shrews are yours to hunt.
X, Fay and Orc are Team 2. Your roll was slightly bad but still you can make good on this opportunity. Certainly more to kill. Yours are 5 Lvl 2s and 3 Lvl 3s.
Important Info:
Snapping Shrew [Lvl 1-6]: A rodent endemic to the eastern plains. Said to grow to about 2ft. Some sightings in the wild have been of 4ft behemoths. Razor Sharp teeth and claws. Extremely territorial and fearless. Travels in a pack.
Damage: 8-11
Health: 30-165.
Lvl 2 shrews have 45 Health. Lvl 3s have 60. All have 8 damage.
Through the vast entity that is the Internet, we now find ourselves in an unfamiliar place. A place of new faces, new personalities, and new adventurers alike. This place is the new home of our motley crew, and it is called Batoto. Here, as we meander through bustling streets and cobblestone draped markets, we find the first new person we will meet this day. Diabolical Rhapsody. What is so curious and is immediately the most noticeable thing about this shy soul is his height. Towering over eight feet high and sporting a two-handed mace that weighs more than some men, one would expect this scraggly bearded giant to be a savage barbarian. Yet those who dare try to scratch the surface a touch soon find a kind soul who so earnestly aims to please. Accompanying the vodka that he drinks and sings softly to is a pen quill made of the finest eagle's feather. His tools of imagination and creation, the studious giant fervently writes his passages for us all to see.
\\ The Gathering of the Wolves - Silkrin Village Outskirts
\\ Faye Aurelius Lightfel
"Wait, Thargan? That doesn't sound like an Orc's name.." Faye thought to herself as she overheard the Orc declaring its name to the other fighter that happened to also be on their team. Though, since the duo seemed to be wanting to operate separately from Faye, Ziku, and Deirdre's team, she did not pursue the matter further and instead focused her effort into making preparations for the oncoming hunt.
Well, she said preparations, but it was mostly information gathering about the enemy. 'Know your enemy, and know yourself. Then, you shall see no defeat in a thousand battles,' was Faye's favourite Lady Morgana's quote as a warrior and as a merchant. She strongly believes that knowledge is power, and that belief will be put to the test on this very day. Her team, who did not neglect the task of identifying their enemies; versus the other team of muscle heads who proudly venture into the wilderness with nothing but their trained body. Faye seemed to be curious to see who will be more successful in their endeavour.
Sadly, she could not collect enough data from the villagers. She could only make out that these vermins were known to be 2 feet long and in some cases, could grow into the humongous size of 4-5 feet long. They too are armed with sharp teeth rodents are infamous of. As far as she know, cases of human fatality were rare, indicating that despite their size and natural weaponry, they were not too keen on having humans on their meal. It could be because humans are too bony for their taste, or their long years of being culled by men of Baylbos whenever they tread onto the Manus' land (prior to the chaos brought by the impending war, that is) had taught them to fear the bipedal mammals twice to thrice their usual size.
A short walk later, Deirdre's little posse arrived on a small granary by the riverside. There, they found a group of eight snapping shrews. Their size was, well, close to half of Faye's height. Quite intimidating for a girl who had little to no actual combat experience, really. Which brought Faye to a question: do they fight, or do they leave the place to find a smaller group of oversized rodents?
Truth be told, she was more leaning on fleeing, if only for a little. After all, they knew very little of the vermin. Were they pack animals or were they individualistic? If they were pack animals, then fighting eight of them with just the three of them would be suicidal. Getting swarmed by eight sets of well-coordinated razor-sharp teeth would not end up with just a simple scratch or two.
Then again, they had the advantage of surprise on their side. The eight rodents were busy munching on cobs, and a well-placed attack could potentially cripple two or three of the shrews. With a little luck, that could shock some of the smaller rodents into fleeing, leaving only the biggest and the bravest to face the group of three Manus. Three or four shrews seemed a lot more manageable than a full group of eight. And of course, should they succeed, they will have precious info on the shrew's actual combat prowess and behavior, which will help them a lot for future hunts.
In the end, whether they fight or take a flight, would be up to Deirdre's decision. She's the team leader, and Faye would follow her lead without question. Throwing a quick glance at Ziku, she realized that the boy too, had placed his trust on the elder Dohmnall's leadership. As such, she redirected her gaze at her sister and asked the all-important question.
"Your order, leader?"
OOC Info:
Spoiler
Current Location: Silkrin Level: 1 Class: -
Traits:
+ Knight's Apprentice (Passive): Starts with 5 less stat points, but gains an additional point every 10 levels.
+ One With the Sword (Active): Gains a bonus on both accuracy and evasion when fighting with sword or dagger. {increases fatigue buildup while active}
+ Knightcraft: +1 to Mounted Combat / Knight. +1 to Discipline.
+ Hunger for Dominance: +10% XP gain.
+ Multi-talented: Can master two combat classes instead of one.
They continued on westward towards the river, which seemed to be the place to check out since they were rat hunting. Surprisingly, the wheat and maize fields managed to survive the infestation, if only barely. Following tracks she noticed alongside the riverbed, they found a dust road and followed it until they came upon a farm. The fence was broken in a few places but not completely destroyed. Given the looks of it, it seems that the likely hood that they were still here was high. After all, with all the feed here, you'd better believe they'll be enjoying themselves, right?
When they rounded a small granary hut, there they were. 8 of them and they seemed to be in top condition, as rodents go anyways. It might be a lot of them, but they had a mission and Deirdre wasn't one to run away from such odds. But then again, She was the leader after all. And being such meant she controlled the fate of those under her. One bad decision could cost them their lives. As Faye asked for her orders, she took a deep breath and turned towards her. "We'll fight, the same plan as before. Given their numbers, we can't afford to spread our forces to thin. In short, we'll focus on 1-2 of them at a time. I'll draw their attention and get them to focus their attacks on me. While I tie them up and wear them down, you two use your speed and finish them off. Make your attacks count. Their numbers may be great but if we stick to our plan, we have a chance. Wait for your moment to jump in. Ready? Good, I'll draw their attention."
She was the leader after all, as thus she needed to take the greater risks for the sake of her troops lives. Making her move, she crept closer to the rodents and threw a clump of rocks and dirt at the ones closest to her. Drawing their attention, she charged in with her sword and slashed at the closest rodent.
OOC:
Spoiler
Current Location: Outside Silkren, Farmlands.
Traits:
Hunger for Dominance: +10% Xp gain.
Multi-talented: Can Master two combat classes instead of one.
Knightcraft (Passive): +1 to mounted combat/Knight. +1 Discipline
Strength
Leadership/Charisma
Level: 1
Class: (Locked Until Level 10)
Stats: (12 base points)
Toughness: 2
Endurance: 3
Power: 4
Intellect: 3
Skills:
Swordsmanship: +5
Dexterity: +4
The Domhnall Network: +3 - Being the child of Merchant and being brought up as one, Dee has managed to learn a lot of the ins and outs of the trade and made a number of contacts over the years. By exploiting this, she's able to bring in a number of information that others aren't privvy to.
While we fade away from the bustling market where our benevolent giant resides, we spend what seems to be endless hours winding through the unfamiliar cobblestone streets. Slithering through the labyrinth of darkened streets and narrow passages until in this expansive city, we reach a place where the light rarely touches. There, beneath a fickle and flickering lamp, sitting upon her throne that marks her the queen of the underworld with a cunning and seductive smile is none other than I-Am-X. Calmly observing us with a yellowed iris beset upon harrowing black, her fanged grin only grows wider as her fingertip guides the rod that stirs a tall, thin glass of suspicious looking Red Wine. Here in the Dark, we exist temporarily in her Kingdom. A place where the unsavory sorts can find sanctuary, a black market, and often the tools of death, subtlety, and subterfuge.
Sliding her sultry fingertip upon the spine of a book, the tome seems almost alive as it shudders and props open to a blank, but weathered page. Dipping a sharpened fountain pen in ink, she takes her mark upon the leathery parchment after a sip of her Bloodied delicacy. Not a moment later for us, the innocent-minded folks living upon the streets above, she describes to us her next devilish machination.
Geraint and Thargan left Silkrin village slated east, following Thargan's hunch that their prey awaited them. Geraint was happy to have an experienced companion, especially one who welcomed him. Geraint thought about the name "Thargan" and how it sounded like a Manus name. Truth be told, Geraint wasn't even sure if there was a real difference between Orc and Manus naming conventions, but he still felt like "Thargan" was a distinctly not-Orc name. Geraint pondered as they stalked towards the hill on the eastern edge, and decided that he wouldn't ask, not wanting to to sound as ignorant as he is. At worst, he would have to hold off until they killed some critters together.
And just like that, some critters for killing appeared. Geraint spotted four shrews a charging's distance away. "Good", Geraint thought, "An even split between us, and just enough to get our platelets wet for more hereafter". Geraint nearly charged before catching himself and taking a lower stance. Sliding his right hand over the pommel of his falchion on his back and onto the grip he spoke in a low voice, "Lets get a little closer before charging, they might just run away if we try from here." Geraint was by no means sneaky, but he figured that he could close a portion of the distance before he would alert them. If it looked like they noticed, Geraint would just charge at full speed. Geraint circled around right in his lowered stance, attempting to use the little shrubbery there was as cover. Geraint realized that his chances of getting very close were slim to none. In one motion Geraint waved to Thargan and slipped his left hand onto the grip of his falchion, then charged at full speed. Geraint whipped his blade from it's sheathe over his shoulder downwards at an angle, hoping to cleave at least one of the vexing vermin through and through.
Spoiler
Traits:
Hunger for Dominance: +10% Xp gain.
Multi-talented: Can Master two combat classes instead of one.
Knightcraft: +1 to mounted combat/Knight. +1 Discipline (Passive)
Doppelsöldner: +1 Heavy Blade, +1 Parry. (Passive)
Blade Barrier: At the cost of increased fatigue, Geraint's ability to parry and blade block attacks is increased. (Active)
The team of three rounded a small granary and spotted eight of some rather large Shrews. Their coats' sheen and size suggested that they were of the more healthy variety. The pack hadn't noticed the Noblewomen and their escort, and continued munching on a nearby patch of maize. Though the number caught him off guard, Ziku was prepared when their leader led the charge. Though Ziku and Fay were faster than Deirdre, they paced themselves so that Deirdre would engage the pack first, ideally drawing their attention to her as the first target to appear. While that was the plan from the beginning, Ziku absolutely didn't expect the engagement to begin so smoothly. Deirdre caught their attention with a clump of rocks, and then followed up with a charging slash that cleaved straight through the first Shrew's skull with ease. The ferocity and strength of the blow nearly completely took Ziku off guard as he almost stood with his jaw agape, but he didn't let his surprise last longer than a few moments.
Following up the engagement, Ziku put on a last burst of speed running along the right flank of the group as he drew his scimitar. The rasping sound of the blade leaving it's scabbard sent a chill down his spine and he involuntarily grinned. When the distance was just right, Ziku leapt towards the next closest over-sized rat, his blade seeking to take a bite out of the rat's neck.
OOC:
Spoiler
Eyyyyy I posted! (and fixed my equipment now)
Traits:
Hunger for Dominance: 10% XP gain.
Multi-talented: Can master two combat classes instead of one.
It's Kung-Fu Fighting!: +1 Melee combat/+1 Evasion rolls out of combat
Defiance: Gains a stat bonus the more enemies he faces
Let's Get Dangerous: The closer he gets to death, the higher his chance of parrying increases (I'm thinking this one should be gated by times a day/week he can do it, unless the GM thinks it's fine without one)
The attack began in earnest. The plan was simple, the bigger and sturdier Domnhall would draw the damage from the oversized Rodents and hope that the young 'uns next to her will whittle down the enemy fat enough to avoid any casualties. The plan was simple and straightforward, one that didn't require any advance strategy or thinking. It was a leader's quality to give simple orders since speed of execution can make all the difference between life and death on a battlefield and this regardless of its nature or size was still a battlefield. Fay had decided to follow her sister's lead while Ziku was more excited about the challenge the rodents will pose.
As Deirdre threw some stones to disturb their snack time the shrews got alerted of the intruders. The weak women and children had run at their site so this was a surprise for the largely fearless shrews. Finally, opponents had emerged to challenge their supremacy.Deirdre's deathbringer struck first and clean, splitting the shrew nearest to her charge in two. The honed edge of the heavy sword cutting cleanly through flesh and sinew. Such was the intensity of the strike that a puddle of mangled remains was left from where the shrew was at. The cut was clean but the aftershock was impressive, it made the other one charging at her to hesitate for a moment and Deirdre didn't need an invitation to attack. Her sword whistled through the wind cutting a strand of maize along with most of the chest of the Shrew that was standing upright. It wasn't as impressive as the first blow but still enough to incapacitate the vermin and send it reeling backwards.
The rodents were at a disadvantage in the early exchange and they were already taking casualties. Ziku sought to increase their misery but slipped in his eagerness and his blow wasn't as clean as he would have liked. Cutting of the ear of the rodent he had attacked. unbridled fury was seen in its pudgy eyes. It leapt towards the Qing boy, hoping to mangle him bits but its fangs found barely any flesh as the agile boy escaped with just a scratch. The fight had begun in full, all that was needed was for Fay to shed her nerves and join in on the slaughter.
OOC
Spoiler
X's second roll was a -1 so she did 33 damage. That shrew is dazed by the hit and will invite a free hit from any of the speedsters. Ziku would invite bonus damage should he pursue that shrew. All the major party is concentrating on Deirdre compounding to 40 damage of which 20 was mitigated by the armor. Durability of both falls by one. Ziku takes 0 damage (8 mitigated by the armor), armor durability falls by 1.
Fay gets two attacks this turn on separate enemies.
Respective party health
Deirdre: 40/60
Ziku: 120/120
Fay: 30/30
GM warning:Time to rethink your tanking strategies. You may not survive this encounter if you are foolish.
Note: Orc both your armors have +1 due to polishing by Gorodir.
Edited by RP Fiend, 03 June 2015 - 03:44 AM.
If you have the time:
Spoiler
Through the vast entity that is the Internet, we now find ourselves in an unfamiliar place. A place of new faces, new personalities, and new adventurers alike. This place is the new home of our motley crew, and it is called Batoto. Here, as we meander through bustling streets and cobblestone draped markets, we find the first new person we will meet this day. Diabolical Rhapsody. What is so curious and is immediately the most noticeable thing about this shy soul is his height. Towering over eight feet high and sporting a two-handed mace that weighs more than some men, one would expect this scraggly bearded giant to be a savage barbarian. Yet those who dare try to scratch the surface a touch soon find a kind soul who so earnestly aims to please. Accompanying the vodka that he drinks and sings softly to is a pen quill made of the finest eagle's feather. His tools of imagination and creation, the studious giant fervently writes his passages for us all to see.
Iron Sword (Normal) Weight: 10, Damage: 10, Durability: 50/50
3 Health potions (+50 each)
3 Gold
Stats + Skills:
Toughness: 3
Endurance: 2
Power: 3
Intellect: 4
__________
Resistance: +5
Crafting: +4
Combat Harmony: +3
Wisp gripped the handle of her sword tightly and jumped out from her hiding place. She ran towards the creature, intending to strike first and strike quickly. Another shrew was near-by, expressing its fear and anger at her by preparing a posture skin to that of a predator about to strike. It tried to make itself look taller than it already was, hissing at the woman as she closed the distance between the shrew who was injured by the trap and herself.
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