The Training Hall
[b]. ._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
1 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
2 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
3 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
4 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
5 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
6 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
7 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
8 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
. .a b c d e f g h i j k l m n[/b]
Black lines represent walls. (There are doors, facing into the hall, for a handful of small rooms along the "upper" wall of the hall. I just haven't indicated them on the map.)
Orange lines represent the hall's entrance doors, both thick oak.
The two sets of red squares each contain a balance beam set to a height of 3 ft (roughly waist height for humans and elves).
The ceiling of this place is 15 ft high. Hanging rings have been embedded in the squares from e4 to m4 and e5 to m5, while a series of thick wooden pegs create handholds all the way up the walls in m4 and m5. A rope hangs within 3 ft of the floor at the intersection between e4, e5, f4, and f5.
You stand within the training hall. Aside from the two balance beams and a pile of ropes and mats in the far right corner, the main room feels almost empty. The floorboards have more spring to them than you'd come to expect of such things; after a brief examination, you can see that they're even designed to be removable in places.
1 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
2 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
3 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
4 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
5 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
6 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
7 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
8 |_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|_|
. .a b c d e f g h i j k l m n[/b]
Black lines represent walls. (There are doors, facing into the hall, for a handful of small rooms along the "upper" wall of the hall. I just haven't indicated them on the map.)
Orange lines represent the hall's entrance doors, both thick oak.
The two sets of red squares each contain a balance beam set to a height of 3 ft (roughly waist height for humans and elves).
The ceiling of this place is 15 ft high. Hanging rings have been embedded in the squares from e4 to m4 and e5 to m5, while a series of thick wooden pegs create handholds all the way up the walls in m4 and m5. A rope hangs within 3 ft of the floor at the intersection between e4, e5, f4, and f5.
You stand within the training hall. Aside from the two balance beams and a pile of ropes and mats in the far right corner, the main room feels almost empty. The floorboards have more spring to them than you'd come to expect of such things; after a brief examination, you can see that they're even designed to be removable in places.
The door leading from the apartments quietly creaks open -- the hinge being in some slight need of oil -- and the head cook looks up to see a new arrival step through the threshold, walking towards the kitchen. "What'll it be?" he asks.
"Whatever happens to be on the fire," is the quick response, given in a somewhat deep and resonating, but friendly tone, "and a pint of the darkest brew on tap, as well." The chef nods once, curtly, and gets about his work -- pouring a mug of dark ale before moving off to the kitchen. The newcomer moves to a table, seating himself, and pulls from a pocket a large, leather-bound book, openning it so that his warm, dark eyes can peruse the contents while his weathered right hand brings the mug of dark brown to his mouth.
A few minutes later, the cook sets a tray down on the table, motioning to his patron that his meal is ready. "Thank you," says the older man, smiling, and moving the book to a position that will allow him a more savory view of his supper, while still permitting him the occasional glance towards his text. His final act before tucking in is to draw a quill and inkjar from a pocket, setting them beside the book. Turning to his meal, he finds a pleasant surprise: "Pork and beans... hmm... a traditional frontier dinner, if ever there was one!" With a rumbling chuckle, he happily dives into his meal with a vigor hardly produced by a day in the library.
Pausing midway through, he sighs quietly to himself... "A hearty meal, a warm brew, and a new project -- what more could a self-respecting scholar desire?" With a broad smile, he continues his meal.
"What'll it be for you my friend?" The head cook asks as Zade steps up to order for himself.
"Some wine, meat, cheese, and bread will suffice my good sir." Zade smiles after he orders, always acting nice to people who cook the meat, due to his few bad experiences with people cooking his meals.
He enters into the common room and sits down at the table next to the only other person in a room who seems to be some type of scholar. Zade carefully examines him from head to toe, a reaction that he always does from his years of training. He decides that he is no threat and goes back to waiting for his food, keeping one hand on one of his hidden daggers.
When his food comes, Zade thanks the waitress and begins to eat his simple, but nevertheless good meal, and enjoys the peace and quiet of the room after a good journey to begin a new life.
"Excuse me, barkeep. Would it be possible to have an attendant escort my belongings to the quarters I have been assigned? I have had a long tiring coach ride from Ennorath and wish to relax, thank you."
Before the large gruff looking man can answer from behind the bar, the young man adds.
"Oh forgive me! Yes, I am Satyre. I would appreciate it if you would keep quiet about my presence. Admirers, though flattering, can be exasperating... I think I would like a drink, Sir. Yes, a glass of wine should be sufficent, preferably elven leaf if you have any."
Satyre turns away from bartender, resting his back against the bar he looks about the room. The old man gives him a quizical look, after pouring him a glass of red liquid from an unmarked bottle he waddles back into the kitchen.
.oO(Oh how wonderfully awful. This place reeks of possible adventure. Very exciting! I suppose I should mingle with the commoners. They could prove to be useful tools in the future.)
Grabbing his glass, he walks over to the dark-clothed halfing sitting at one of the many tables.
"Hello there, friend. I am Satyre, no doubt my fame precedes me. I'm very new to the city, and the Guild. You seem like a person that is well in the know, and I was hoping that someone of your obvious talents could fill me in on the happenings of this grand Garic's City."
Satyre attempts to give the halfling a friendly and sincere smile, stretching out his hand in greeting.
"Nice to meet you Satyre, I'm sorry I haven't heard of you before, but I'm not around from here. Truth be told I just came to this city. I haven't been here much longer then you have. I just sat down to get some dinner, you can have some if you like"
Zade points to the bread, meat, and cheese that are on the table, offering Satyre any that he may like.
"So as you may guess, I can't answer your question really. I'm just here waiting for my orders from the guild. I'm curious, how is it that someone of your... taste... comes to a town like this and becomes a part of this guild?"
Zade says 'taste' while eying Satyre's clothing up and down, obviously not liking the finer clothing he has on. Zade never understood why some people went out of the way to dress better then the others. To him a simple set of clothings to keep you dry and warm is all you'll ever need.
Satyre pauses for a moment, realizing that he is probably confusing the poor little halfling.
"...right, So I am here for experience. What brings an able adventurer like yourself to the Silver Swords? No doubt you have seen your share of battles, yes... I can see it in your eyes. You are a true warrior; many have fell to the swiftness of your blade, I'm sure."
He finally sits down, glancing briefly at his luggage by the door. Wiping the smirk from his face, he looks back to the young halfling and smiles hoping that he has softened the lad's apprehensive glare. Taking a quick sip of his wine in one hand, he grabs a small piece of bread with the other.
"I don't believe I caught your name either?"
"I see, so indeed it seems that once you have a grand knowledge of everything in the world and the heavens and hells, then you say you will become the strongest? Well I tend to have a different opinion on that, but I'd rather not get into technicalities now after a long journey."
Zade smiles and takes a sip of his wine before further indulgence.
"I'm sorry, my name is Zade Deftfingers, and you are indeed correct my friend, I am a worry of sorts, though my technique is more steath then bashing an opponents brain out. I tend to try to out think my enemy, and when i know enough to predict his every move, then I know he truely has lost, no matter how strong or tough he may be."
"So now that we have introduced both of ourselves, any idea what we should do know? Perhaps there is somewhere we are supposed to go to inquire about a mission?"
"Ah, Zade Deftfingers, a very apt name I am sure. We seem to be more on the same page than you think, my friend. Information is key in winning any battle; that was the core of my training at the Ursor Academy."
He watches to see if the halfling recognizes the name.
"As for our mission I do not have a clue. I was given leave to find my quarters and relax for the night... my guess Is that we willll need to report to the training hall in the morning. I had planned on visiting those facilities regardless, and it is most definitely a way to show initiative, no?"
Satyre stands up and strolls over to his belongings that have yet to be moved. He picks up an exquisite lute made of dark woods, mother-of-pearl inlays shimmering in the lights of the common room.
"Perhaps a tune to pass the time, young Zade? I am classically trained in most all of the epics... I also know quite a few of the common folk songs found along the countryside. A request perhaps?"
Making his way back to the table, he slides the leather strap of his instrument over his shoulder. A friendly grin on his face he nods slightly, greeting others as they make their way into the common room. The old cook gives Satyre another quizzical look, and then shaking his head he drops two plates in front of a pair of off-duty guards at the bar.
*He smiles at his friend and then gives him a curious glance when he pulls out his lute.
"Hmm... well we have a lot of time to spare, and I'm not good with this type of stuff, i am more knowledgeable in.... well lets just say other areas. However, please feel free to play a favorite of yours perhaps?"
*Zade watches as Satyre prepares to sing a song, and wonders if he has ever heard of it before.
Satyre's expression changes slightly, glancing down at his fingers upon the neck of his instrument. He looks up at the small crowd as he begins to strum, his smile down but to a slight smirk now. He peers into the different ones standing around him, his tone much more serious... He sings.
Over rivers and seas
cross valleys and heaths,
to the edge of the world and back
our journey did lead.
Mother up in the sky
let the ravens fly,
to soar aside our ship of oak as
wild oceans we ride.
In the prow I stand
hungry for dry land.
A homeward hammerheart.
Northwind embrace me
as I face the horizon.
Carry me safe ashore
as you did my brethren of yore.
Through the days and nights
through triumphant fights,
we have roamed these far away lands with
no peace in sight.
Ordemet, Mother of old
let me taste your cold.
Sooth my weary head with visions
that your nature holds.
We're sailing dark waters
come raven come and be our guide.
We're sons of the north star
so blow wind blow, onwards we will ride.
Satyre slips the lute from his shoulder and bows deeply, his ever present grin back in it's rightful place. It had been a while since his last performance, and he was glad to be in the limelight once again.
"What did you think, master Zade? I believe I know a few halfling songs, if that would be more to your liking?"
"Indeed they have taught you well friend, you have a talent for this art and i wish you much luck in the future. I have a feeling one day you will be singing epic tales that everyone in the world would want to hear.
*Zade bows his head with the compliment, a sign of respect from his family.
"Some halfling songs ye say? Well we have time my friend, so why not hear a few?"
*Zade waits patiently, nibbling on his little meal and occasionaly sipping his wine, only with his left hand however, for he usually never takes his hand away from his dagger hilt.
Satyre brings his lute back upon his shoulder once more and starts to strum with a faster merry rhythm. He lets out a couple of yells, stomping his foot on the ground to the beat.
A prudent thief should never drink so much that he becomes bold.
Because a thief who boasts and brags will rarely live to grow old.
For silence is a thief's best bet and if he breaks this etiquette.
Undoubtedly what he will get...will be more trouble than gold.
Consider Zhele a thief from Greel, who drank at the Swan and Grouse.
He made himself quite popular by buying rounds for the house.
One night in drunken revelry, he made a bet with prideful glee,
But later on he would agree...he never should've been soused.
A thief's best friends are luck and speed, alertness, cunning and stealth.
And ale can cause these all to flee and cheat a thief of his wealth.
But add to this a drunken dare to steal a lock of the Empress' hair,
Then even a fool should be aware...this may be bad for your health.
He continues the song for a good while, dancing a slight jig in between the verses. His feet moving quickly and lightly on the wooden common room floor. When he finishes the song he bows again like before, and soon begins another song. So goes the rest of the night for Satyre, he sings and dances and plays until the candles melt almost completly out.
Dreams of heroics, monsters, childhood fears and cloudy doubt all appear to the sleeping recruits. Soon, all they know is metal on metal, resonating in their dreams and ending them abruptly.
The four of them are awakened by a large clanging noise accompanied by a ladle full of ice cold water and gruff voice.
“Wakey wakey my little soft bellied crumpets! Time to see what yer all made of. The Name is Captain Kralg, and I’ll be administering your training for the next few days to see if you possess anything close to what it will take to fend off the hordes of mutated demons that overrun us every night!”
Before them stands a dwarf, clad in all metal clanging a hammer on an iron rod. He even bangs it right beside the big human a few times to get the large man up. The dwarf is a bit smaller and not as round like most, but wiry. He looks tough mean, and as though he will likely not put up with anything short of total sub ordinance. Accompanying him is a very soft looking human with little hair on his head, fat jowls, and a overall sloppy appearance.. The man get’s much pleasure giving out the icy water, and displays his happiness with a bean-toothed grin and a chuckle.
“All you need is whatever it takes to keep you decent. I wouldn’t wear my nice chivies if I were you.” The Captain says with a glance at the half elf.
“Report to the training hall in.. one minute!”
He stamps out of the room, sliding the hammer in a loop on his hip, and using the iron rod as a walking stick to support what looks to be a rather sever limp.
*Where he is quickly awoke by the noise of the dwarf captain. He keeps his eyes close and quite calmly reaches towards one of his daggers. When he finds out that this is his instructor, he gets out of bed, and quickly puts on his clothes and armor, and conceals all of his daggers. Then he grabs his bow and heads to the training room as quickly as possible.
*Zade gets there and slightly bows his head to the captain then waits around for the others to get there. He quickly focus' his mind on his task at hand, but also manages to give a quick nod to Satyre when he enters.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
He listens as he's given his orders. Though he is not at all happy with his accommodations or with the manner of his waking... he thinks it better not to protest. At least now he will get a chance to show off his skills.
[i].oO(No doubt they will realize their mistake when they see me in action. This is no way to treat someone of my stature.)
Grabbing his bag he looks for a private spot in which to don his armor. Finding a suitable place he changes into his studded leather. Leaving all but his weapons and material for spell casting. Satyre walks out the door, Longbow firmly in hand. He sings as he makes his way, warming up his voice for the day. When he enters the training hall he catches a slight nod from his new friend, Zade. Satyre marches to his place next to the quiet halfling and gives the gimpy captain a mock salute...[/i]
"SATYRE THE MAGNIFICANT SOFT BELLIED CRUMPET REPORTING FOR DUTY, SIR!!"
OoC
Diplomacy +8 :D
The other two are in their boots, tunics and breeches, no weapons, armor, or anything else.
“Well, glad you could join us. Need anything else?”
Captain Kralg limps over to the two late arrivals and scowls. He looks between them, nodding his head.
“I’m going to have trouble out of you two aren’t I? Well.. Since I was unclear with my instructions, I must apologize. I see you’ve worn armor, brought weapons, and displayed plenty of disrespect, or flat out idiocy.”
The dwarf limps off to the center of the room and points at the other two men.
“You two take heed of this.” he then looks back to the two fully armed and operational heroes, aka Zade and Satyre.
“You two want to use your weapons, fair enough. Both of you, give me all you’ve got, right away. Use any magic on me, and I will stop teaching you and cripple you instead. Fair enough? Now, give me your best shots.”
He is completely serious, and readies his hammer in one hand, and his iron stave in the other.
OOC
Initiative:
Xade
Satyre
Captain Kralg
Post when you are ready.
Initiative:
Xade
Satyre
Captain Kralg
Post when you are ready.
"You are not what I expected when told the training hall was equipped with practice dummies... I will admit you fit the description, at least. HA!"
Satyre let's his hand slip down to the quiver of arrows at his hip while he speaks. Grabbing one of the finely crafted elven arrows, he nocks it back and soon he lets it free. Flying towards it's new home... "Captain Kralg's Sensibility".
OoC
Ranged attack with Longbow, +3 1d8 20/x3 100'
*Zade smile as he quickly pulls out a dagger from his sleve, he starts to move towards the opposite direction of Satyre, hoping to flank the captain, and as he does so he throws one of his daggers at the captain.
OoC
Full move to the opposite of Satyre to flank and ranged attack with dagger: Ranged dagger +5 (1d3+1/19-20, 10 ft increment, piercing) or +6 (1d3+2) within 30 ft
He steps over to Satyre and swings a hearty blow with his hammer. He misses the halfelf, but Satyre can see that the attack could have easily been a lethal one if he had connected.
"You'll be eatin that insolence soon boyo!"
"No thank you, Sir. I am watching my weight."
Satyre strafes away from the Captain, in the opposite direction as the dagger tossing halfling. Being sure not to lead the dwarf out of Zade's reach. He nocks another arrow, a familiar twang, and the missile is soon in flight.
OoC
Movement away, trying to preserve the flank. Spot +1 just in case. Same attack as before. Longbow, +3 1d8 20/x3 100'
OoC
Continue to move to flank the captain, or if I am already in position to do so, stay with the flank. I believe i get a sneak attack if I am flanking, but I don't remember the rules off the top of my head right now. Anyways, same attack as before with or without movement.
Ranged dagger +5 (1d3+1/19-20, 10 ft increment, piercing) or +6 (1d3+2) within 30 ft
Sneak attack if applicable: +1d6
Ranged dagger +5 (1d3+1/19-20, 10 ft increment, piercing) or +6 (1d3+2) within 30 ft
Sneak attack if applicable: +1d6
Satyre's arrow is rushed and dwarf dodges the shot as he darts towards Zade. Laying his shoulder into the halfling the dwarf pounds the small fellow to the ground and across the floor knocking him out cold. He turns to the halfelf.
"Maybe you should give up... I didn't even use a weapon on him!"
This time, Satyre grabs two arrows, resting them firmly in place. Confidently, he pulls back the string and soon lets them fly.
OoC
Satyre does NOT have manyshot
The Captain grins and swiftly jerks his left arm forward sending his club at Satyre and striking him in the nose with a loud crack! Everyone winces and the half elf staggers and his nose gives off a red liquid.
"That's enough boy. I'm ending this now before you hurt some one.
Get that one up!" he says to his assisstant pointing at Zade who is soon awake and alright, but a bit woozy.
"Anyone else with the comments?" The dwarf scowls giving them each a dark look in turn.
"...but I am so pretty..."
He soon faints at the sight of his own blood, falling like a sack of overconfident potatoes.
*As soon as Zade's subconsious begins to unwind he is brought back to reality, he looks around quickly and realizes what happened. Disgusted with himself for losing so quickly he gets up and staggers over to where Satyre is standing holding his obviously broken nose. He stands there a bit groggy wondering what the captain will say next.
.oO(So much for first impressions....)
The two humans prove to be good at it, at least better than Zade and Satyre, but then again, they didn't go a couple rounds with the dwarf.
The larger of the two humans calls himself 'Greeg the Fist' a name his is obviously rather proud of. None of the recruits like sparring with him because he tends to get carried away and use all his strength to deliver blows. Kralg laughs but does not approve.
The other one is a bit quicker and nowhere near as strong as Greeg. He is quiet, follow orders, and never smiles, not even when he sent the big man tumbling down to the floor with a thud. His name is Margul but volunteers no more information.
"Well Greeg, if you are ready? I am done with my warm up."
The huge man's tactics are of no surprise, using his quarterstaff as a sort of large club, he swings in grand arcs towards Satyre. The bard gracefully sidesteps each attack, letting loose with several quick oaken jabs... followed by vocal jabs. Unfortunately slow and steady wins the race, and Satyre soon finds a good length of wood across his chest. Knocking the wind out of him, he lands flat on his back.
His next opponent is the small quiet Margul. Where the obvious difference before was size, this match's defining factor was style. Though Satyre gave the man his friendliest greeting (best he could given his last match), Margul said nothing... nothing audible that is, his fighting spoke volumes. This match was much quicker than the last. The lithe warrior wasted no time. Setting one end of the staff on the mat, he vaults into the air while sliding the staff in his hands. Satyre has little time to react, he blocks one end of the weapon coming towards him. Margul pivots the quarterstaff in his hand immediately after being blocked and sends a swift blow to the Half-Elf's head with the other end. Satyre reacquaints himself with the training hall floor.
Having some time between matches, the once proud bard crawls over to the wall of the room. He watches on as Zade finishes up his session with Greeg.
.oO(Ok, I think I am a little over my head here. I would better prove myself if I did not land on the mat so many times. The whole purpose of me being here is to learn. So settle down, Ego, and watch. The big man did not attack as much but his blows were much more sure. The quiet one, he used my deflection as a boon...)
After sufficient time has lapsed, Satyre makes his way to the mat. He swings the quarterstaff around a bit to stretch after his small rest. Taking a deep breath he smiles at Zade.
"Well, this has definitely been a learning experience. Mighty warriors as we may be, there is always something to be gained by observing, no?"
Satyre then says in a quieter voice...
"I suspect the Dwarf was cheating with magic though, if you ask me."
Grabbing the staff in both hands, the Half-Elf takes a defensive stance. His friendly smile dying down to a smirk.
"Let us begin, friend."
*After that match Zade grabs a towel and wipes the sweat of his face and brow. He walks over to Satyre with a smile on his face and greets his friend with a nice bow. As he gets up with his staff in the hand and challenges him to a duel, Zade just smile and nods his head, not caring to exchange words when he beings to fight. He takes out the daggers that he retrieved after his fight with the dwarf and begins the fight with Satyre.
.oO(This should be fun!)
OoC
Is this going to be a real fight? Or are we just going to roleplay this one out? If it is my initiative is +4
"Egad, Zade! I was hoping for a sparring match as per the Dwarf's instructions. Was it something I said? Honestly, when I told Greeg that our enemies should watch their shins with you around... I said so in jest."
.oO(This little guy is serious business.)
OoC
We can just roleplay this out ourselves. Just in case: Initiative +3, Total Defense +4 = AC 20, Diplomacy +8
"Relax my friend you said nothing at all, and these blades are totally harmless and dull. I promise you that you will not be hurt. However if you'd rather me get some training daggers then I will for you."
*Zade shows Satyre the blades to show him they are indeed dull and leaves the question in the air for Satyre to decide before they begin to spare.
.oO(It seems strange that he would keep his blades that dull. Though I guess he has not had a chance to sharpen them... Either way, I have the advantage of reach. Even if he does throw them, he has a limited supply.)
"Very well then, let us begin."
Satyre steps back, holding the quarterstaff firmly with both hands. Keeping one end pointed towards the halfling he maintains a defensive posture. Readying himself for whatever attack Zade might throw at him, he begins to circle around his opponent.
.oO(He has the longer reach, as usual with most of my opponents, but let's see how his reach is when he is back against a wall.)
*Zade carefully begins to move towards Satyre hoping that he will continue to move backwards with his circle. He shows no sign of attack or defense, just slowly moving towards Satyre, he gives no sign of what he intends to do in any expression on his face or in his eyes, he is totally motionless. He just continues to slowly move forward, trying to see if Satyre will break of or attack. His muscles tense as he moves, ready to act if need be depending on the reaction from Satyre.
"I learned that move from the Sultan of Sibovion himself during my time in the desert. The Cobra's Bite he called it."
"Well you must pay your respects to the Sultan, for it was indeed a bold move if I must say so myself."
*Zade smiles for a moment, showing some emotion in the battle before he goes back to his expressionless face.
"You two better get to fighting. If you keep up this dance, then I'll be forced to give you orders of hard labor the rest of the week."
[color=Indigo].oO(He seems to be trying to guide me, but where to?)
"Thank you, Zade. Perhaps you would enjoy another bold move?!"[/color]
The Half-elf stops suddenly, bolting towards his opponent. Swinging the staff in a low arc, he attempts to bring the length of it across Zade's chest.
.oO(Well Satyre, lets give that old dwarf a show, hopefully you won't realize what I'm doing, and I shall win, but never the less, a draw will suit me as well. Here comes the fun part.)
"At least you can not reach my face."
.oO(Yes I cannot hit your face, but that does not always matter in a fight)
"Well be glad for that my friend, for I would not want to break your nose yet again."
*Zade offers his friend a brief smile with the jest, as he continues to move forward, forcing Satyre to chose where to go, and then to cut the time of that thought even more, Zade lashes out, this time using both of his daggers in an uppercut move, testing to see how well Satyre's defense really is.
Zade's next attack is far too quick for Satyre to block with his staff. Using his keen intellect, he steps into the attack, setting one end of the pole on the training hall floor. Vaulting himself into the air, he tumbles a couple feet away from the halfling, landing in a crouched position.
.oO(I need to think this one through... there is no way I will be able to dodge him forever. He has the reflexes of a cat.)
[color=blue]"I can tell that you don't like to keep things simple my friend... well that's good, cause I'd rather have a much longer match then a simple one. Now let's get to the fun stuff."[/i]
*Zade still tries to keep moving Satyre closer and closer to one of the walls so he can pin him down to keep him from moving, however he decides to speed up the process even faster now. He quickly steps up to where Satyre lands and with fast reflexes he quickly pumps his arms into motion sending attacking with both of his daggers, one from the left and one from the right, a tricky move to block since he aims for both of your kidneys'. He hopes that Satyre will be able to keep up since he is just starting to have some fun.
"BY THE MOTHER'S NAME!!"
Satyre flops onto the floor grabbing his side.
"Truce! Truce!"
"Well done my lads.. Now, fret not, no more combat today. I don't want to beat all the worth out of you. Coem with me, I have another task."
He walks outside, and shows the two to a pile of large cut stones. They look like old blocks that were part of a wall. Most of them are stuck together and even still have morter on them.
"Clean these up, there are the hammers. Make a neat pile of stones here, and discard the rubble down there, in that drainage ditch. Supper is at sundown."
With that he leaves the four to work on this most important task.
.oO(Some noble you are... bested thrice by mere commoners. If Grandfather were here... well, I am not sure what he would think. When he told me that he had arranged for me to join this Silver Sword Guild, I had assumed it would be in a higher office. Not as some common foot soldier. Alas, I will have to make due; even if it is beneath me.)
He listens closely as Captain Kralg dispenses the next assignment, the pain at Satyre's side finally subsiding. He shakes his head when the dwarf points to the pile of rocks, but decides not to protest.
.oO(Speaking has not done me any good so far, and it would only serve to aggravate my situation. Best to keep quiet and take something away from this experience.)
The young Half-elf rolls up his sleeves as he strolls over to the hammers. Lifting the heavy tool with some effort, he begins to set it to the rubble near by. He doesn't speak to any of the other trainees, and avoids eye contact; having had enough embarrassment for one day. After some time passes, the rythmic beat of the hammers gets to Satyre... he begins to hum a tune to himself. Turning the hard work into something more positive, the bard finally opens his mouth. Singing in a low and fairly quiet voice... over the noise of steel on stone it's barely noticeable. Only the moving of his lips.
"You fought well my friend, if you would like I could give you some pointers, and maybe you could teach me some tricks that I'm sure you know"
*He gives his friend a wink as he walks out to where the captain gives his next assignment. Zade smirks as he somehow knew that his day was not over yet. He sighs and takes off his shirt and armor to reveal his somewhat muscley chest and begins working, lifting one of the smaller hammers to fit his stature. As he beings to pound away he is lost in his own thoughts, beginning to think where this will lead him, and if his revenge will ever be fufilled.
"Long ago and far away
Deep within the Mountain
There was born a kindly dwarf
The one known as Kralg, the Captain
He grew up to be very Sweet
A gentle soul was he
Fresh flowers he put in his beard
as he pranced around in glee
How we love Captain Kralg
tum ta ree ta roo
Oh we do love Captain Kralg
tum ta ree ta roo
Bright smiles and words of honey
His presence brightens the day
A hammer of kindness right on the nose
has always been his way
A boot to the belly, fist in the eye
Tough love to show that he cares
We're taking it in, learning it well
Soon it will be our turn to share
How we love Captain Kralg
tum ta ree ta roo
Oh we do love Captain Kralg
tum ta ree ta roo"
After finishing the last chorus, Satyre stops hammering and lets out a grand laugh. Which is cut short by a pain in his side.
"Oh, that Captain is really something, no?"
Setting down his hammer, he begins to shovel the small bits of rubble into a wheeled barrel. As per the dwarf's instructions. While he waits for a response from his comrades.
"Another splendid song my friend, and yes he is quite a character. I have a feeling our training will be quite an interesting time. Well let us get done with the task at hand and get some sleep."
*Zade continues to hammer the rocks while Satyre sweeps up the pebbles to put them into the wheelbarrow.
"Well lads, looks like it is time for some well earned supper. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day, and we will do something a little more worthy of our talents. Last man to the mess hall gets a kiss from the Captain's hammer."
The bard chuckles to himself as he makes his way back to the quarters. After cleaning up, Satyre dons his casual clothing and strolls down to the common room for dinner. He scans the large room for Captain Kralg, hoping to have a word with him.
.oO(Well at least I have a hot meal after a longs days work.)
"Good evening to you, Sir. If I might have a word with you?"
Not waiting for an answer, he calls for the waitress and has a seat across from the captain.
"I do believe we got off on the wrong foot. You see, I believe there has been some misunderstanding in my assignment to this foot soldier training program of yours."
Satyre looks around, and says in a much quieter tone while leaning forward.
"I had not wanted to make it widely known, but... my grandfather is Lord Tyrnea'yth of Ennorath. I thought it might be awkward if my fellows knew I was a noble, but I guess my silence caused this confusion. As such, if you could just check my papers, I'd like to start officer training as soon as possible."
He sits back in his chair as the barmaid approaches, giving her his best smile he orders a bowl of soup and a glass of the wine he had the day before.
"You know, there was a group, twenty or so, that arrived a couple of days ago. They were much like you, all from the bestfamilies in their land. They were sent into the pass, and so far haven't been seen ner heard from again."
He takes a large gulp from his flagon and sets it down lightly.
"I didn't get my hands on them. Oh no, they had to be sent off at once with no training." he shrugs and continues
"Not my problem. Now, you and these others are here. I'll do what I can with you, but let me be clear. Until you do something that proves your worth on the field of battle, and up till now you haven't, you will do as I say, when I say it."
He turns his attention back to his plate and begins eating as if he were very hungry. He jerks his fork over his shoulder.
"Right, well... um... so are you saying that this is the only available training? I have attended the best training facilities in Ennorath, I know several languages, the intricacies of diplomatic exchange... Breaking rocks and sparring with commoners is a little below me."
The young half-elf places his hands on his hips, deciding it is time to be firm with the dwarf. He's feeling lost and confused, also slightly frustrated with his current situation.
"I will not stand for this!"
Says the dwarf with a low voice and rather reserved look at the half elf.
The big man, Greeg, is shoving something that had bones in his mouth. His large shouldered frame is hunched over a plate, and he eats as if he racing to beat the clock before it is taken away. His nasaul breathing is not enough to sustain his needs and with a mouth full of flesh, time and again he opens it and breaths deep. His clothes are quite common, a fur cloak that is old, boots that worn, and his appearance is overall rather feral.
"A large man stuffing his face in a most uncouth manner. It would be more efficient and most definitely more bearable for those around him if he ate at a slower more civilized pace. Yet, it can not be held against him; he obviously does not know any better."
Satisfied with his answer, Satyre crosses his arms and gives Kralg a confident look.
"What is your point?"
"That's what he's doing. Tell me, when you look at him, what do you see?"
.oO(I'll have to remember to ask him what happened between the two of them when he is done speaking to him.)
Satyre takes a deep breath.
"Now, if you have no further asinine questions, I will take my leave."
He does a mock salute similar to his gesture earlier in the day and begins to walk off...
"You'd better get your mind right boyo. When the time comes, this silly self righteous dance yer doing will get people killed, and I'll personally see that you are held responsable for it. You aren't the only one that's 'noble' around here, so stop acting like a spoiled child." he growls adding cold hard eye contact.
He releases his grip so that it no longer causes pain but still holds him tight.
"Now, if nothing pressing comes up, I will think up an exercise for you merry little girls to go on tomorrow. I'll even put you in charge of them. But, you think long and hard about my question, and unless you want to spend the next season chipping stones, come up with a real answer."
He lets go with a sling of Satyre's arm, and goes back to his meal.
"Good evening, Zade. Mind if I sit here?"
Turning slightly he calls out to the barmaid.
"Make that a bottle of wine, Deary... and the bowl of soup, of course."
Turning back to his friend, he sits himself down and lets his hands collapse on the table. Relieved to be around someone much more sane than the Captain.
"I am having a bad day, my friend. This is not what I was expecting to find, nor is it at all what I am accustomed to..."
"Heh, well you're the type of person who has grown up wealthy and doesn't really know how to earn respect around here, you were given it to you at birth. But don't worry my friend, i'll help you around here, just don't expect everything to be given to you right away. You have to earn the respect of the old dwarf. Now what exactly did you to talk about, if you don't mind me asking?"
*Zade watches his friend closely judging his reaction to his words and waiting to see if he'll tell him.
The barmaid drops off a bowl of soup and the bottle of wine with a couple of glasses.
"Ah thank you, my dear. Truly, you were sent from the Mother herself."
Satyre turns back to Zade, silently offering him some wine after he pours himself a glass.
"I did manage to get some information though. It seems we might have some sort of task, upcoming. Also, the Captain (who seems to be slowly coming to his senses) has seen fit to put me in charge of the assignment. Now, I am not entirely sure of what this task will be. Though if we could discuss some of our strengths and weaknesses, we might be better equipped to deal with whatever it is that old Kralgy comes up with.
The half-elf gently picks up a spoon and sets it to the soup. Drawing some of the hot liquid to his lips, he blows softly before consuming the much deserved spoonful.
*After Zade's description he sits back in his chair and waits to see what Satyre will say about this.
Satyre brings his hand up to his chin, stroking his goatee thoughtfully...
"Yes, you and I are fairly skilled with throwing daggers and the bow, respectively; I propose that we allow Greeg to engage whatever enemy we encounter. With our weapons we could keep additional enemies at bay, or assist our Ox-sized friend. All the while, our quiet friend will be speeding to flank our enemies from behind... Of course this will not work in every situation, but it is as decent of a basic plan as any."
The young bard's mood brightens now as he's had a chance to play "captain".
*Zade finishes eating his meal, and takes a few sips of his drink every now and then, he seems in a totally relaxed state, when on reality his body is tense and ready to strike, his hand close to one of his many daggers.
"Right, well as I have seen first hand. You are fairly capable in close quarters. Now that I think of it, our assignment might not even include combat so our conjecture is fairly pointless. Oh well, enough of strategy. Let's enjoy our leisure time."
He sets to work on his soup, with all the talk of tactics he'd nearly forgotten it.
*Zade watches Satyre to see if he will give out more of his background, he decides that perhaps he should have given more of his first to warm his friend up.
"My grandfather is Lord Tyrnea'lyth of Ennorath. The head of one of House Tyrnea'lyth, an old and powerful elven house. He has raised me for as long as I can remember. My father, Eol Tyrnea'lyth died when I was very young, you see. Despite my mixed heritage, my grandfather saw that I got the best education that Ennorath had to offer. Swordplay, magic, history, music... the very essence of what it means to be Elf."
He lets out a big sigh, leaning back in the chair again.
"I am not sure why I am here. I arrived at my home one evening to find my grandfather waiting for me. He said he had arranged for me to join the Royal Order of the Silver Swords... as part of diplomatic exchange between the Kingdoms of Reise and Ennorath. I have my own theories though. I never got along very well with my peers, I am fairly certain that I was sent away at the bidding of the other elven houses. With all the magnificence of the elves, they can be pretty boring."
Satyre lets out a short chuckle, his mood suddenly brightening.
"I guess they just could not handle me. Oh, I guess now that I am being honest, my real name is Saoneldi Tyrnea'lyth. You can still call me Satyre if you'd like, it is my performance name. I had hoped to make a name for myself as a musician and poet, eventually."
The bard holds his hand out, as if meeting Zade for the first time all over again.
"So what is your story, friend?"
"Well my friend, I am sorry to say, but mine is much more of a tragic one then your's and far less interesting."
*Zade looks down at his drink, his mood darkens a bit, and when he talks it looks as though it is a bit difficult to speak about this, but none the less the store unfolds, slowly but surely.
"I grew up in a normal halfling town, the only problem as i soon found out that it was the perfect spot for raids and war from orcs, we held our own for some, and lost some others, but we always managed to rebuild and keep the community going. Until the last raid, they came in many numbers, to big for us to defend and killed many. My family and i tried to flee, and my father died protecting my family."
*Zade sighs after he's done mentioning that, yet he takes a sip of his drink and continues on with the story.
"We went to a nearby town, not a halfling one, but a bigger town filled with different races, and what we thought had a much better defence. I grew up in a warrior's guild until my adulthood, where i became quite skilled with the dagger. Yet, war came again, it started with raids every now and then, but it continued to grow until one night the same big army attacked our new home and with the same result as the last attack. This time however, i lost the rest of my family to the raid. Now that i was old enough, i vowed to avenge my family by finding this tribe of orcs and killing them. So I began to travel from town to town, until I heard of the Silver Swords Guild, and then I set out at once to join them, and that is what led me to here..."
[elven]'He that studies revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well.'[/elven]
"It means that if you cling to your revenge it will only prolong the pain. We have more in common than you think, my halfling friend. I too loss my parents to a most heinous crime... In my younger years I sought out the man who was responsible..."
Satyre's face becomes much more solemn, he takes a deep breath.
"I will let you figure that out on your own though, I only advise that you live your life for other reasons than vengeance. It will not ease the pain."
He pours himself another glass full of wine, taking a long drink of the red liquid as though it were the waters of life.
"Could have sworn," he mutters to himself, "the the food was better down in the brig."
He stirs the grits around with his tack, mulling over what happens next.
.oO(Back to the field perhaps, the dieing field. Has it really been a year sense I left the walls.)
Attempting to add flavor, he covers the grits with pepper and then pours in a very small amount of wine. It fails to even moisten the hardtack that's now in the grits.
"Well one things certain, they can take away my liqour, my freedom, and my life. They'll never be able to touch this."
There is a light muttering of arcane words as Prestidigitation is cast.
Alone in a hall of other solders, with nothing but a bowl of grits, tack, and watered down wine.
Epherem, remains of a wizard, in his own little world at least, dined on lemon salmon and freedom.
"Satyre my friend, I have no deal with magic and their effects, however I hope that you do or at least have read about them. Take a look at our friend over there, does anything well seem odd to you?"
"You are correct on two accounts; I am, in fact, well versed in the ways of magic; and this ragged looking man is as well, at least to some degree. I suspect he performed some small magical trick. His dinner changed, correct? A fairly common spell... done mostly by apprentice spellcasters to impress their family and friends."
The half-elf returns to his wine, seemingly unimpressed by the gentleman in question. Mummuring something under his breath, he points towards Zade's plate of food. Spinning his finger around in a circle, as if he were stirring some invisible cup in the air, the plate begins to turn and lift off the table. He looks to his darkly clad friend, very pleased with himself.
"If the Captain would have allowed the use of magics, I am sure that battle would have ended differently."
"Yes indeed the battle would have been very interesting with the use of magic, maybe we should have a rematch you and i some day, with magic involved."
*Zade gives his friend a smirk and nods his friend in appreciation.
"I wonder if our 'mage' if that's what you can call him is going to be joining our group or not. I guess we shall have to wait, he shall definitely change our plans for any teamwork tasks we might have."
"Perhaps we should find out then, no? Stay here, Zade, and I will return shortly."
The young bard stands up, stretching slighty and dusting off his clothes. He begins to make his way to this mysterious newcomer. Years of elven learning in the ways of ettiquette and diplomacy now come into play.
"Good evening, sir. I am Satyre, no doubt you have heard my name before. I have performed in many lands, from the lively cities on the sands of Sibovion to the bustling coastal towns of Arcova. Now my adventures bring to this Royal Order of the Silver Swords, where I am currently the leader of a new company of men. You seem to be a fairly new recruit, and I saw your little trick a moment ago. I am looking for talented ones to join our group, if you would like to join my friend and I we could discuss this in more detail, yes?"
Satyre pauses a moment and then smiles.
"We have wine."
Epherem feigns interest at this comment.
"Gee, I wouldn't know where to find wine in a hall such as this, wouldn't I?"
Ephrem frowns distastefully at his Grits, noticing that the illusion of salmon is ruined by their unnatural reactions to his spoon.
"and you don't look like a leader of men, not with a jacket like that. It'll be ruined in weeks. From the looks of it, you should leading Nobody's in song,"
Ephrem lets out a barely audible giggle thinking of singing in Nobody's
"not solders out to battle.
Satyre, if you think the world needs a hero for women to fawn over, you're a few decades too late."
Epherem leans back as he takes a great gulp of his wine.
"This isn't a situation for adventurers, greater men then you and I have died out there, or worse. We're in biblical matters, end of days type stuff. Real wrath-of-the-gods, fire and brimstone. Rivers, seas boiling dry, years of darkness, dead rising from their graves, volcanoes, earthquakes, cats breeding with dogs, you understand?"
Epherem goes quiet.
"And we can't do really anything about it, we know nothing about what's going on out there, why it's happening, it just is, it's just bad."
Epherem tries to drink some more, but finds his wine unappealing.
"It's a better idea for you to keep that coat clean if you ask me, stick to the city, the taverns. Better to lead women to your bed, then men to their death."
"Ah, I see. There really is not a point, is there?"
The half-elf sits down at the man's table, his face becoming more serious and contemplative.
"Your words have thoroughly convinced me. I came here thinking that a wizard of some sort could be of aid to me, but I had no idea in what way. Your command over the cosmos has granted you vast amounts of insight into the state of our world. Allowing you to peer deeply into the souls of others and divine their true selves."
He rests his elbows on the table, laying his head in his hands.
"It is true... I am a fraud. I thought women and wine could make me forget the great tragedies that have happened, but alas the pain is still there..."
Suddenly, Satyre lifts his head up and looks right at the brooding mage.
"I have seen the light! We have no purpose here, there is absolutely nothing we can do here that is worthwhile. No point in sitting here sulking while making snap judgments about people that invite us politely into their group. We shall defeat their hope and optimism with our cowardly deaths!"
The young bard stands once again, his sarcasm fairly obvious now. He raises the back of his hand to his forehead and sighs mockingly.
Epherem smiles to himself.
"And don't try some of that new-age Psychiatry on me, if you're going to try and convince me of anything use an honest charm."
"Right. Whenever you figure out what your purpose for being in the Silver Swords is... Let me know."
Standing up, the half-elf walks back to his own table. Sitting once again, across from Zade.
"That was unsuccessful. The man is a bafoon and a coward. Probably works in the stables for all I know. How he learned magic, I have no idea."
*Zade smiles at his friend and offers to refill his wine cup.
"Thank you, friend. Yes, I suppose we shall have to wait and see what becomes of that one.
It has been an odd day and I agree, let us just relax while we can."
Sitting back in his chair, the half-elf chuckles a bit while swirling the wine in his cup. Content to spend the rest of the night with good food and a good friend. There will be time soon enough for more serious matters.
.oO(I need to remember to not drink so much for future references....)
*Zade puts his cup down and quickly scans the newcomer.
.oO(Ah a new halfling, this will be interesting indeed. I wonder if he will be joining our group also... hmmm...)
*As Zade's head stops spinning he continues to pay attention to the newcomer out of the corner of his eye, like he was trained to do so that one would not notice he was staring them down. He right hand slowly reaches towards his dagger as usual, but he gives no sign that he is going to bring it out. To everyone around him he is just resting his hand on his leg.
"Well my friend it seems that we have a new comer, and a halfling to boot, this will indeed be interesting."
"Ah yes, Interesting indeed, Zade. With both of you halflings we would almost have a whole member."
He chuckles to himself, finding his own joke to be quite amusing. He takes another sip from his seemingly bottomless cup of wine.
"Well my friend it seems that we shall drink ourselves asleep if we do not stop soon. Perhaps we should get some water to clear our minds? Or perhaps find something else to do before we retire for the night?"
Satyre stands up from his chair, his legs wobbling just a bit. He straightens himself up as best he can, and drops a couple coins on the table for the barmaid.
"A pleasure as always, Zade, Master of Daggers."
He bows in a slightly sloppy manner and makes his way to his quarters.
*Zade nods his head at Satyre, then orders some water to clear his head. He spends the next few moments watching the newcomer, then when his head is a bit more clear and his eyes begin to droop he decides to call it a night. He heads up to his room and quickly falls asleep in his bunk.
After the halfing sits himself, Epherem decides to move next to him.
"That kid's quite full of himself isn't he?"
Epherem says in a voice much softer then earlier.
Epherem gestures to the seat next to Arvindur
"Young and foolish, I doubt he's ever had to run for his life before.
Hopefully he'll grow up after seeing what it's like outside now, that or he'll get everyone he's traveling with killed."
"He'll just have live and learn, or he'll just not live at all. Thats the way the natural order works."
Epherem says as he sits next to the halfling,
"I'm just worried the kid has something to do with the mission they called me out of the Brig for, he seemed to be acting like he was getting ready for something."
Epherem looks arround for the nearist pitcher of wine.
"True, true, a team does need to work together to survive, even if they don't like each other."
After his first sip he remarks,
"You know, I've never seen a live dragon before. They have a reconstructed skeleton of one that was killed a good 20 years ago down at the hightower. Its fangs hafto be at least half as tall as you.
It would be life chaning to see one comming at you. You ever seen one?"
"Changed my life alright, started by killing nearly everyone I knew, and then melting my face off."
Epherem says downing another gulp of the cheap wine.
"I need to restock on liquor soon, this wine, it's hard to judge, and it doesn't leave you warm."
He frowns at it, then continues to drink some more.
"After having your home razed by a dragon, what made you think coming here was a good idea? You know, thing around here aren't exactly stable."
Epherem sips causally looking into space.
"If you can't feel the living dirt here, you've not been here long enough. There are things very much alive in this city, they don't look as nice as the trees of the forest, or as magestic as wild boar, but there's life here, it's all a mater of what your looking for.
If you ask me, from what I remember from school, the terrirtorial rights of Pumas seemed pretty innane too."
With that Epherem nods off, and slips upstairs.
Arvindur heads off to the stables to check on his dog, before turning in for the night.
Wait... he presses his palms into his face racking his brain. He begins to notice some strange things about his trip from the inn.
He was not wearing his armor.
His clothes were not covered in the blood from all of the battles he was in.
The waitress would have kicked him out if he walked in straight from getting back from the field in the state he would have been in.
The clothes he wore into the field are on the floor by his armor the stains from the fights are still on the garments. The armor is scratched here and there. A stick is poking out of a small piece of chainmail between the joints. He bends down and plucks it out. Gerin then begins to try and remember what happened out in the field.
There was the initial slide down into what had to have been another plane. The run in with the blobs. The fight with the demon lady. The trees with faces and the encounter with them. All the blows Gerin took from them should have left some good bruises. The tree they took as a prisoner. The fight with those flying insects. The shards in the bolder Gerin broke apart to retrive. The getting summoned part. The demons chess game. Then getting sent back. The hill the half orc women. And..... And what. What happened there???
Gerin looks down at his hands where blisters had to have formed from the hour of the bolder beating. The blisters have poped, dried, peeled off and there is only the ring of skin that is left when a blister has been torn off. Gerin then checks where he was hit by the trees and finds only the lightest of yellow tinges where a bruise used to be. They are a week to a week and a half old. Extreamly confused Gerin sits down on the bed. He would have never left his room in this state. His armor would have been cleaned and taken care of, his garments mended and cleaned, and his face shaven first thing on return. He was raised to take care of your equipment, your quarters, yourself, and your appearance.
Well can't sit here and dwell on it, things to be taken care of. Gerin starts with his armor, taking all the dirt off, making sure all the joints and good, no sticks or damaged links. He works on buffing out the scratches the best he can. He takes his blade out of its sheath on his side and finds that is has already been cleaned, the edge honed, and the blade oiled. Confused but resigned to the fact that something very strange happened he moves on to getting things where they belong. He goes through his pack pulls out the rations, the equipment, the water, and all the little silver pieces, and the shards from the bolder. He looks at the shards and starts to wonder. He pokes at them a few times.
What are these things....
Gerin places them into a seperate bag so he can take them so someone who may have an idea.
"I'd say we never left, but my legs are so damn tired, I'd know it fer a lie."
On the doormat he scrapes dry mud from his boots and leaves a pile on the floor.
"Best deliver that letter 'fore we do anythin' else."
Finding a superior officer, Thorik explains the situation and nudges Malic to hand over the paper.
"Good job lads." says the man through his thick gray beard. "Get yourselves cleaned up. You look like hell."
He gives them both a slap on the shoulder and hurries away.
"What about some dinner in a bit? A hot meal'd do me right."
Need to get these shards looked at.
Gerin walks out of the room on a search for Yinobra.
She said she would be in the training area.
Gerin wanders through the guild on his way to the training room.
He finds her there.
"I'm slightly confused about something... It seems that I got back about ten days ago... but I don't remember anything from a point we were in the field to a few hours ago."
Gerin gives her a quick breifing on what happened out there a description of creatures they ran in and what they collected. He hands over the little bag of shards.
"These were what was in the boulder."
ooc(I'll leave this open for the DM. If you would like to go ahead and reply and we can do a little talking but only if you can.)
"Excuse me sir, my name is Dorian D'Grey and me and my friends are from the guildhall near the pass. We're been on leave here in the city for a few weeks and have received no orders so far. We're here to report for duty. Could you tell me who runs this guildhall"sa we can report in?"
.oO(After the attacks on my home, I can't trust any place, even for a place that is supposed to be attacking the evil in the world....)
"Excuse me sir, my name is Dorian D'Grey and me and my friends are from the guildhall near the pass. We're been on leave here in the city for a few weeks and have received no orders so far. We're here to report for duty. Could you tell me who runs this guildhall"sa we can report in?"
"Duty officer this week is Sir Dunstan. He'll be in his office, most likely."
The man gives you directions and adds: "Knock and enter, don't wait outside. He's not one for protocol, is Sir Dunstan."
"Rest? What's that?" he asks smiling to himself.
Finding a superior officer, Thorik explains the situation and nudges Malic to hand over the paper.
"Good job lads." says the man through his thick gray beard. "Get yourselves cleaned up. You look like hell."
He gives them both a slap on the shoulder and hurries away.
"What about some dinner in a bit? A hot meal'd do me right."
"Some food wouldn't be out of the question," Malic says as he walks alongside Thorik.
"These were what was in the boulder."
ooc(I'll leave this open for the DM. If you would like to go ahead and reply and we can do a little talking but only if you can.)
"Thank you, Gerin. These might prove useful, and I'm certain our mages will want to investigate them. I'll pass them along. They might call on you and the rest of your team if they have more questions, but for now you can consider your duty in the matter fullfilled."
Yinobra accepts the bag and tucks it away.
OoC
I have no idea if these shards are supposed to be special or what their purpose is, so I'll be leaving well enough alone for now. ;)
He walks through the door of his room, and shuts it back. He slowly makes his way across the floor.
.oO (Me legs're growin' roots!)
Taking off his leather, and travel stained clothes seems to take longer than usual. His eyes close as he falls back onto the bed. Laying still is a finery he seems to have forgotten. Before he drifts off to sleep he sits up again, and grabs his leather that lays in the floor.
.oO (Needs cleanin'.)
He grabs a rag and polish from a nearby drawer and rubs down his armor. When he is finished, he puts on a fresh set of clothes, and replaces his waist sheath with two hammers. He locks his goods in his chest and leaves the room, locking the door behind.
He makes his way to the mess hall and waits for Malic.
The half-elf pulls his heavy mail off and places it on top of his chest, placing his gauntlet ontop of it. Malic makes his way to the bowl of water and splashes it into his face.
After a set of push-ups he rises and dons a light tunic, and heads out stpping briefly to grab his spiked gauntlet and hang it from his belt.
As he reaches teh mess he sits next to Thorik and gives his comrade a slight nod, "guess we have to report to teh duty officer in the morning."
"Few days off'd be nice... too much to hope fer I bet."
He stands up from the table and looks the room over again.
"May as well fill some plates." he adds as he walks towards the kitchens.
Filling a plate with a chunk of cheese, a cold chunk of roast, and a handful of crackers, he fills a mug full of dark ale, and returns to the table. He takes a drink of his mug and sets it back on the table.
"Meant to pick up a few things in the city. Never got a chance to. I'll needta see if the quartermaster has anythin'. Trade in me funds at least."
Returning he seats himself and bites into a piece of bread, "what were you looking to buy?"
He takes another drink of ale.
"See if any potions are fer sale. Never hurts t'check."
Why was I in Garics? The guild is between it and the pass.
With that thought he drifts off to sleep. The next day he does some training, replenishes his equipment and goes through the day with little to mention.
The next evening he enters the mess hall, notice in hand, when Malic and Thorik are there. Dressed as plainly as normal in blue, with black knee high boots, He approches the table.
"May I join you Gentlemen? If I remember your names are Thorik and Malic?"
Gerin waits for a response and promptly introdices himself by his first name.
"My name is Gerin, and I am pleased to meet you."
"Sir Dunstan? Dorian D'Grey and company reporting for duty Sir"
"May I join you Gentlemen? If I remember your names are Thorik and Malic?"
Gerin waits for a response and promptly introdices himself by his first name.
"My name is Gerin, and I am pleased to meet you."
"Aye, that they be. Hate to admit, but I dont know yers..."
After Gerins name is offered, Thorik extends his hand to the man.
"Well met, Gerin. Ye'can sit if ya wish." he adds as he scoots his plate and mug over a little.
"Sir Dunstan? Dorian D'Grey and company reporting for duty Sir"
"D'Grey, hm? At ease, everyone, take a seat if you wish."
Sir Dunstan waves in the direction of a few chairs arrayed in front of his desk.
"Reporting for duty, hm? Anything to report as well?"
"Not entirly sure how to answer that....Feels like I have hade the memories for the past week leak out my ear. But other than that I'm well. It seems I will be deployed in the morning. I'm here to get a good meal. It may be a while before I get another. I'll be right back."
Gerin gets a hearty meal assembled, meat if it is availiable, breads, and whatever else he can find that will stick to his ribs. He returns and starts to eat.
"So what have the two of you been up to?"
.oO(Dorian was always better at talking politely and explaining things... I never really was to patient for those sort of things....)
Gerin pauses when asked how he is fairing.
"Not entirly sure how to answer that....Feels like I have hade the memories for the past week leak out my ear. But other than that I'm well. It seems I will be deployed in the morning. I'm here to get a good meal. It may be a while before I get another. I'll be right back."
Gerin gets a hearty meal assembled, meat if it is availiable, breads, and whatever else he can find that will stick to his ribs. He returns and starts to eat.
"So what have the two of you been up to?"
Thorik gives the man a strange look when he mentions 'memories leaking out of ears' but shakes his head and thinks it better not to pursue.
He finishes his remaining food, and the contents of his mug as well.
"Much'n more, Gerin. We've seen strange things, and stranger worlds in the Pass. Damn near lost our lives on more'n one occasion. But fer the last couple days, we've played messanger boys fer the guild."
He goes to take another drink of his ale, before realising it is empty.
"Do ye know where yer t'be deployed?"
Having delivered his report Dorian stands at ease, to much a soldier to take a chair in the presence of a senior officer
"Not much to report Sir, we've been requested for a private mission a few days ago but our employer never showed at the appointed spot. We did take out a member of the order of the dark flame though. Besides that we learned that there is talk in the city about some kind of disturbance in the outlands and a lot of petty crimes and assaults on the guards within the city, but I am sure that yo uare aware of those facts Sir"
"I see. The Dark Flame? Shadowy orders and their fancy names... I'd like a written report on them. Who they are, their presumable goals and a threat assessment - brief and to the point, hm? Something that can be presented for the consideration of our highest officers. In three days, hm? Any idea what happened to your employer, and what his stakes in this mission were?
Talk in the city is unfortunate, but probably unavoidable. People will notice things and they will talk. As long as it doesn't go beyond talking we can leave it be, hm? If not we'll have to issue a statement and confer with the city's authorities about alternative measures."
Sir Dunstan grunts noncommittally, but it's obvious the latter option is one he'd much prefer to avoid.
"More crime in the city, hm? A bad time for that, but I'm sure the watch will be up to the task. They have theirs, we have ours. Speaking of which, do you currently have a commission underway, or prospects for one?"
I have no clue as to why our empoyer never showed, the mission concerned the retrieval of a secret stolen from the high tower. As far as I know our employer was contracted by the tower to retrieve this. His name is Amras, we haven't heard from him since.
As for a mission, we've nothing on our hands right now."
"The order of the dark flame is an ancient group of fallen rangers. They work to promote the savage side of nature and believe that savagery is the only way to become one with nature, they serve the dark brother. I'll write up a more concise report if time permits."
"Good man. The presence of such groups of fanatics, given our current situation, is something we need to keep track of."
"I have no clue as to why our empoyer never showed, the mission concerned the retrieval of a secret stolen from the high tower. As far as I know our employer was contracted by the tower to retrieve this. His name is Amras, we haven't heard from him since."
"No news, hm? I'll have someone contact the mages, discretely. We have some good contacts with the Hightower, twould be better to verify they don't expect anything further from us at this point."
"As for a mission, we've nothing on our hands right now."
"You'll be expected to do your share of the patrolling then, hm. You'll find copies of the rotation schedule posted outside the door and in the mess hall - the one place we're sure everybody stops by. Don't forget to take care of any outstanding financial business with the Guild, we're always strapped for cash these days.
Anything else?"
OoC
Quick explanation, details to follow:
Following the appearance of the rifts, the city government approached the Silver Sword to take a permanent commission to deal with this possible threat: investigate, defend against and if necessary, eradicate. The Guild accepted this and reformed itself to a more military structure than before. Not with the rigid discipline and hierarchy of a real army, since that would probably take away the best qualities of the adventurers that are members, but a lot closer to that than the previous association of likeminded individuals. Personal initiative is still very much appreciated at all levels though, and less disciplined behaviour that would get a career soldier in trouble will likely not cause more than a few raised eyebrows. Individual members may of course be found all along this spectrum - some will be more inclined to embrace this, other may prefer to do what's expected to fit in and not much more. Ranks are swelling due to active recruitment as well.
This leaves it possible for the players to take care of their own entertainment in between adventures: the rotation schedule of every member, when not on an official mission, consists of a week of short patrols in the nearby area around Garic's, never further than a few hours outside the city gates, followed by a long patrol of one week, followed by a week off - during which you'll be expected (but not obliged) to train in whatever military discipline you find best suited (senior members may always have suggestions). I won't be tracking this schedule, whenever you want to do something on your own you can presume your current rotation suits that goal, leaving you free for some free-form roleplaying (or semi-freeform, if you want me to arbitrate something). Official missions obviously break the schedule.
I'll repeat this info in Noise, any questions you may have can be posted there as well.
Following the appearance of the rifts, the city government approached the Silver Sword to take a permanent commission to deal with this possible threat: investigate, defend against and if necessary, eradicate. The Guild accepted this and reformed itself to a more military structure than before. Not with the rigid discipline and hierarchy of a real army, since that would probably take away the best qualities of the adventurers that are members, but a lot closer to that than the previous association of likeminded individuals. Personal initiative is still very much appreciated at all levels though, and less disciplined behaviour that would get a career soldier in trouble will likely not cause more than a few raised eyebrows. Individual members may of course be found all along this spectrum - some will be more inclined to embrace this, other may prefer to do what's expected to fit in and not much more. Ranks are swelling due to active recruitment as well.
This leaves it possible for the players to take care of their own entertainment in between adventures: the rotation schedule of every member, when not on an official mission, consists of a week of short patrols in the nearby area around Garic's, never further than a few hours outside the city gates, followed by a long patrol of one week, followed by a week off - during which you'll be expected (but not obliged) to train in whatever military discipline you find best suited (senior members may always have suggestions). I won't be tracking this schedule, whenever you want to do something on your own you can presume your current rotation suits that goal, leaving you free for some free-form roleplaying (or semi-freeform, if you want me to arbitrate something). Official missions obviously break the schedule.
I'll repeat this info in Noise, any questions you may have can be posted there as well.
"No clue. I was simply asked to report first thing in the morning. And we had an interesting time in the pass as well. I just don't remember what happened after we got out of it."
"You can't remember?" Malic says with a hint of worry in his voice.
On you feet boys, we've taken up enough of Sir Dunstan's time"
When dismissed Dorian salutes and leaves the room, walking by the closest duty roster to see what his schedule is.
.oO(Hmmm... perhaps some time to myself making rounds is just what I need to relax and unwind....)
Noticing the worry Gerin nods at Malic.
"It worries me as well. But it does not seem that anything is wrong with me, other than a gap in my memory. Last I remember I was being dipomatic with three female half orcs, trying to get my companions mule back..."
The dwarf gives Gerin a nodge with his elbow, and laughs again.
"But doona worry yerself too much friend. That fire in yer pants'll cool off in a few days time. And keep tellin' yerself they was wood elves. That'll help too!"
Arvindur follows Dorian to the roster.
"Wonder where I'd be assigned..."
The roster shows either short patrols or a week off - your individual choice (no long patrol for now). You're about midweek now, at the end of the week there is a message waiting for all of you asking to report to the city watch.
OoC
Not quite how I'd prefer to handle things, but in the interest of keeping things going despite regular downtimes we'll just proceed. The above will give you some in-game time to put your affairs in order (money, equipment or anything else), if necessary, and we'll fast-forward when you give me the heads-up.
*Zade looks around to Dorian and Arvindur and waits to see what they think.
"Well this is what I needed some food and a little conversation. I am going to go to my quarters and get some sleep so that I can start early in the morning."
Gerin cleans up his area places the dishes so that they may be taken care of.
"Good night to the two of you, perhaps I will meet you again soon."
Gerin returns to his room double checks his equipment. Satisfied, he sleeps the night, and awakes a few hours before sun rise. He leaves and reports to the duty officer.
"Gerin reporting for duty Sir"
"Gerin reporting for duty Sir"
Not surprisingly, the duty officer turns out to still be sir Dunstan. He may not be one for formality, but he takes his responsabilities to the guild extremely seriously.
"Gerin, hm? Argonise, isn't it? Have a seat."
Sir Dunstan waves towards one of the chairs opposite his own.
"The Silver Sword has an assignment for you. You and two others, who I'm sure will be here shortly. I trust you've recovered from your last mission, hm? Handled yourself well, I heard. Same for the others. Glad to have you in our ranks, hm?"
"That's what it looks like to me, well I guess there is no use for waiting so let's head over to speak with the Watch."
*Zade looks around to Dorian and Arvindur and waits to see what they think.
Raises an eyebrow at the other halfling.
"Says the end of the week though, unless you want to poke around the city for hints and clues before checking in with them."
"G'night Gerin. Hope ya feel better'n the morn."
When the man has left the room he smiles again at Malic.
"Do'na think he much cared for me joke... oh well, I was sour fer a few days after me episode as well. HA!"
He stands and takes his plate and mug to the kitchen. He comes back with his cup refilled.
"Think I'll 'ave me a smoke outside. Join me if ya like, and if ya don't I'll be seein' ya on the morrow."
He raises his glass to the half elf and leaves to go outside.
Once outside he begins to walk the grounds. Passing a sentry here and there he offers quick greetings, but not wanting conversation he keeps on his way. The cloudless sky is filled with stars, and the moon is almost full. The dwarf's vision would be just as well were he in pitch black, but he is thankful for the simple beauty it provides.
As he walks he notices the smoke from the blacksmiths chimney, and hears the rythmic 'ting, ting, ting' of the smiths hammer on hot steel. Just past that is a small couryard with a sparse number of small trees. Finding a lone bench within, he sits and takes a long pull of his drink. After setting down his mug, he pulls out an old pipe and fills it full of his fine tobacco. He takes a long time smoking it, and enjoys the night.
When he finally finishes, he stores it away again, and finishes the contents of his mug. He stands, and starts back for his quarters. Noticing the smoke still rising from the chimney, he takes it upon himself to enter.
"Lo there." he calls towards the back. "Are ye in?"
A large man comes to the front, wiping sweat from his brow. His worn leather apron has a hammer and tongs hanging from it. The smith does not look happy.
"Whuda want at this hour?" he asks in a deep gruff voice.
"Sorry t'bother ya friend, but I needed somethin' answered. Do ye work with mithral any?"
Show
I'll let you answer this Panguar. Didnt want to assume there would be any mithral here, or if I'd need to go to Garics for something liek that. I'm looking for a mithral chain shirt. Blackened of course! :P
"I would prefer that the name Argonise was not used. I wish to be known simply as Gerin Sir. I don't want my family to be connected to me or anyone here to know who I was born of. But I am ready to leave as soon as needed."
" Looks like I'm on patrol till then. I better report for duty then"
Dorian grabs his gear and moves to his personal quarters, putting on some fresh clothes, stowing his money and the magic trinket in his trunk, keeping only a few coppers and slivers in a pouch on his belt. After making sure his axe and dagger are ready in his belt he counts his arrows, shoulders his bow and with spear and shield in hand the taal man leaves his room to report for duty. The sergeant in charge of the patrols looks more than a bit pleased at the prospect of having the tall figure in his squad. Within the hour tha patrol sets out
The next morning he secures his equipment, and heads off to meet with the duty officer. Malic nods to Gerin when he sees him and throws a salute to teh officer, "Reporting for duty sir."
Raises an eyebrow at the other halfling.
"Says the end of the week though, unless you want to poke around the city for hints and clues before checking in with them."
"True, I guess it's not of dire importance if they want us to report at the end of the week. Well I'm off to spend some time around the city and whatnot, I'm still not to familiar with all the in's and out's of this place, and I feel that I should get to know them a bit more. See you in a week."
*With that Zade bows to Arvindur and checking to see that he has all his stuff with him heads out of the guild complex and into the city.
"Sorry t'bother ya friend, but I needed somethin' answered. Do ye work with mithral any?"
"Some. Commission only, but mebbe we can set yer up. Wotcha lookin' fer?"
"I would prefer that the name Argonise was not used. I wish to be known simply as Gerin Sir. I don't want my family to be connected to me or anyone here to know who I was born of. But I am ready to leave as soon as needed."
Sir Dunstan nods.
"Whatever you prefer, Gerin. I make a point of learning the name of everyone in the ranks, hm, but a man's past is his own. Your record of service is what matters to us, and you've served with distinction so far, hm?
So. You can ride, I believe?"
"Reporting for duty sir."
Since Malic enters at this point, Sir Dunstan addresses him before Gerin can answer.
"Right. Jannistaire, hm? At ease, make yourself comfortable. You've met each other?"
"Some. Commission only, but mebbe we can set yer up. Wotcha lookin' fer?"
"Nothin' much. A shirt'a chain is all. Hadn't worked alotta Mithral, so I dont know if ye can, but I'd like it blackened. Dont matter if not."
"Right. Jannistaire, hm? At ease, make yourself comfortable. You've met each other?"
"Breifly sir," Malic responds, "I can't say I've had the pleasure of travelling with Gerin yet."
Malic enteres and Gerin stops his sentence. After he reports Gerin reaches across and shakes Malics hand.
"Good to see you again."
"And yes Sir, We met just last night. I actually spoke of my orders to report this morning."
"Nothin' much. A shirt'a chain is all. Hadn't worked alotta Mithral, so I dont know if ye can, but I'd like it blackened. Dont matter if not."
"Black'nin' 's no' a problem. Th' shirt, we'll 'ave ta see. Needs ta be fitted, tha' one. No' a lo' of call fer chain fer dwarfs. Least yer no' fat. Wait 'ere."
The smith looks Thorik up and down to to get a rough idea about the measurements of the armour, steps into a room off to the side and returns almost immediately with a not quite finished mithral shirt.
"Th' arms can be done by t'morrow. Let's put it on yer."
"Breifly sir," Malic responds, "I can't say I've had the pleasure of travelling with Gerin yet."
"And yes Sir, We met just last night. I actually spoke of my orders to report this morning."
"Very well. You'll have that pleasure soon then, hm? As I was asking, you can ride, Gerin? Same for you, Jannistaire? Your third companion is a dwarf so I expect he won't be one for horseback, but that won't be an issue."
"Black'nin' 's no' a problem. Th' shirt, we'll 'ave ta see. Needs ta be fitted, tha' one. No' a lo' of call fer chain fer dwarfs. Least yer no' fat. Wait 'ere."
The smith looks Thorik up and down to to get a rough idea about the measurements of the armour, steps into a room off to the side and returns almost immediately with a not quite finished mithral shirt.
"Th' arms can be done by t'morrow. Let's put it on yer."
" Jus what'm lookin' fer." he says with a grin as he takes the shirt.
He looks at the work before putting it over his head to test the fitting. It falls a little long, but his broad shoulders help matters. Thorik twists and turns to get a feel of the light weight metal.
"This's good werk. Lotsa' room fer movement." he raises his arms, and walks around another minute. "Can barely tell I'm wearin' anythin'."
He takes the chained shirt off, and hands it back to the man.
"How much?" Once told he continues. "If ye'cen get the arms done, an' take it up a length, I'll take it. I'll come by tomorrow'n pick it up."
Thorik says farewell and leaves. He is soon back to his room, and in bed.
He sleeps later than planned in the morning. When he does roll out of bed, he simply brushes the wrinkles from his clothes, grabs his hammer sheath, and leaves. He first checks the mess hall, and not really feeling hungry for one, decides to go get a workout instead. He makes it into the training hall, but realizes he is in top physical form as is, and has very little room for improvement.
"Oh hell!" he says to himself when he remembers he was suppose to be meeting with Sir Dunstan this morning. He quickly makes his way to Sir Dunstan's office, stopping only at a wash basin to throw some water on his face, and then enters.
"Sorry'm late sir. Been at mornin' exercises an' fergot wha'time it wus." he says wiping the water from his brow "Gotta stay'n top shape t'be efficent in the field, right?"
He grins at Malic and Gerin and gives them a nod of greeting.
"Very well. You'll have that pleasure soon then, hm? As I was asking, you can ride, Gerin? Same for you, Jannistaire? Your third companion is a dwarf so I expect he won't be one for horseback, but that won't be an issue."
Malic nods, "I am capable of riding yes."
Malic nods, "I am capable of riding yes."
"Good, good. You'll both get the opportunity to improve that skill."
"Sorry'm late sir. Been at mornin' exercises an' fergot wha'time it wus." he says wiping the water from his brow "Gotta stay'n top shape t'be efficent in the field, right?"
"Ah, there we have Whitestone, hm?"
Thorik's demeanor and late arrival may stretch Sir Dunstan's informality boundaries, but apparently doesn't cross them.
"Very well, then we can get down to business. You know the Silver Sword has undergone a number of changes since we received a new mandate from the city, hm? This includes bringing in a large number of new members - recruits, to be fair, not our usual approach, but good men and women nonetheless - and developing new tactics and solutions. One of these will be training cavalry units. We still don't know what kind of enemy we could be facing, but the added mobility and striking power of real cavalry could be an asset we can't afford to ignore, hm.
Cavalry means horses, and we don't have those. Not enough, leastwise, and certainly not ones bred and trained for combat. We contacted a former, retired Silver Sword who now trades horses for a living. He'll be acting on our behalf to provide the mounts we need. Here's where you come in: these horses will be purchased on a large trade fair a week's travel from here, see, and there will be a fair amount of coin involved, hm? You will serve as protection. Gerin and Malic, you'll help out with the horses on the way back from the fair as well. Thorik, you'll be on the wagon, close to the coin. Clear so far? Any questions?"
Thorik leans back in his chair.
"seems easy enough sir."
"I expect it should be.
The name of the trader is Gherben Crewe. You'll be leaving the day after tomorrow, but you should go and see him before that to make sure you're prepared. Officially he's retired, but you don't ever really stop being a Silver Sword, hm? We leave you a free hand in how you want to handle things, as usual, but when it comes to the deal and the mounts, Gherben's in charge.
Traveling to the fair will take five or six days, returning with the horses one or two more. Probably four or five days to handle the trading, so you should be back in about three weeks. Is there anything you want the guild to provide?"
Thorik thinks another moment.
"Other'n a map, I can'na think of else."
"True, I guess it's not of dire importance if they want us to report at the end of the week. Well I'm off to spend some time around the city and whatnot, I'm still not to familiar with all the in's and out's of this place, and I feel that I should get to know them a bit more. See you in a week."
*With that Zade bows to Arvindur and checking to see that he has all his stuff with him heads out of the guild complex and into the city.
"Alright, see you there, then."
Arvindur heads outside, before departing on Wolfkin.
"Could use'a sack full'a hammers. I'm down'ta three. But if it's too much'ta ask, I'cen get meself a few more." he says with a smile.
Thorik thinks another moment.
"Other'n a map, I can'na think of else."
"The quartermaster can probably help you out with the hammers. You can ask him about a map too, but I'm not sure if he'll have one to spare, hm? You shouldn't need one though, Gherben has made this trip so many times. And you'll be following the roads."
Malic shakes his head, "I have no questions sir."
"If there's nothing else, you're dismissed. Don't forget to go and see Gherben, hm?"
"Elco fetch a healer, Alric get Sir Dunstan..Justin, Bart wake the second gate shift. The rest of you back to the gate until the second shift shows up. If those Orcs mean business we're in for a hot night....."
Dorian kneels besides the Sergeant and begins to unfasten the mans armour
"Aye sir, will do!"
Thorik excuses himself from the office and waits for the others in the hallway.
"Good t'be werkin' with ya Gerin." he says offering his hand "An' dooncha worry, I will nay bring up them half orcs again." he adds with a grin.
"Malic, always a pleasure." he gives the half elf a nudge with his elbow.
"Should weh go an' see this Gherben fella now?"
"Seeing Gherben soon would probably be the best," the half-elf nods.
"Elco fetch a healer, Alric get Sir Dunstan..Justin, Bart wake the second gate shift. The rest of you back to the gate until the second shift shows up. If those Orcs mean business we're in for a hot night..."
Sir Dunstan appears as if magically summoned.
"D'Grey? Report please. Succinctly, hm?"
Gerrin takes his hand gladely though.
:ooc Sorry for my absense. The net has been iffy for a few days... server having issues...
"Let's waste no time, then." he says to Malic before he starts walking.
"Now we jus' gotta find 'em."
ooc
Moves to Elsewhere.
Sir Dunstan appears as if magically summoned.
"D'Grey? Report please. Succinctly, hm?"
Dorion continues to work on the sarge's armor while delivering his report
"pardon me for not getting up Sir, the sarge needs attention. The first day of our patrol was uneventfull, the second day as well until we closed the eastern border of the woods. We were attacked by some 10 Orcs. Because of the lack of wild life activity, mainly the lack of birds singing in the trees we were on the alert and we beat them back into the woods, killing four of them. some of us wanted to persue but the sarge held them back. Good thing too. Those ten were only the forerunners of a larger raiding party, presumably come down from the mountains. After beating the orcs back into the woods the sarge ordered back to the guild to report. Halfway through the night the orcs caught up. We fought a retreating battle. The heavy rain gave us a chance to get away from the orcs. By that time the Sarge had already taken a nasty bowshot to the shoulder.
I've sent men for a healer and to wake up the second gate shift. The rest of the patrol I sent back to the gate. By my estimate there's 50 to a 100 Orcs in that raiding party"
"pardon me for not getting up Sir, the sarge needs attention. The first day of our patrol was uneventfull, the second day as well until we closed the eastern border of the woods. We were attacked by some 10 Orcs. Because of the lack of wild life activity, mainly the lack of birds singing in the trees we were on the alert and we beat them back into the woods, killing four of them. some of us wanted to persue but the sarge held them back. Good thing too. Those ten were only the forerunners of a larger raiding party, presumably come down from the mountains. After beating the orcs back into the woods the sarge ordered back to the guild to report. Halfway through the night the orcs caught up. We fought a retreating battle. The heavy rain gave us a chance to get away from the orcs. By that time the Sarge had already taken a nasty bowshot to the shoulder.
I've sent men for a healer and to wake up the second gate shift. The rest of the patrol I sent back to the gate. By my estimate there's 50 to a 100 Orcs in that raiding party"
"Good man. I'll have someone alert the watch as well. Elrond! You heard D'grey? Get moving, and don't take no for an answer!
D'grey, wait with the sergeant until the healer's done his job, then have him look you over as well. If you're up for it, join the rest of the men at the gate after that. I'll brief the next shift, but you can fill them in as well. If the situation is under control, bring your patrol back in. You'll have the day off."
Sir Dunstan clasps the sergeant's good shoulder briefly and then hurries off.
Dorian waits for the healer to come and work his tricks on the Sarge then has his own scrapes and bruises and a few unnoticed minor cuts fixed by the healer.
Feeling slightly better he heads out into the rain again and rallies the men from the patrol around him.
"Word from the Sarge and sir Dunstan lads. The Sarge is going to fix up allright though his right arm'll be stiff for a while. As for orders, once everything is under control and the second shift reports in we're off to bed and unless those Orcs return tomorrow you've all earned yourselves a day off. Now pair up and get yerselves on the wall. I'll come get you when we're releaved, and someone tell me who's in charge of the gate shift"
.oO(Perhaps I should have just went to the watch first, that's probably where they are right now, oh well... just thought with the of chance they'd be here we could all report in together.)
*Zade looks around a bit and not being able to find them, decides to take a seat in the common's room for a bit before heading out to the watch.
Taking the key from one of his pouches, he unlocks the chest that rests at the end of his bed. He gathers what funds he thinks he will need for his purchase, and locks the chest back. Making sure he is forgetting nothing from his room, he leaves again.
After quickly walking through the hallways of the guild, he emerges outside, and starts for the blacksmith.
"CAW, CAW!"
Thorik immediately stops, and looks in the direction the sound came from. He sees a raven sitting in the branches of a small nearby tree.
"Pawl?" asks the dwarf of the bird.
"CAW!"
"Where's yer master?" he asks of the bird as he moves in its direction.
"CAW, CAW, C-CAW!" replies the bird, taking to the air, and flying directly over the building.
"Stupid bird." he adds getting back on track and walking towards the blacksmith.
.oO (Wonder where that damned wizards been.)
He opens the door of the smith and enters.
"SMITH!"
*After a weeks worth of meandering around town and getting to know it a bit more deeply Zade returns to the guild complex to see if Dorian and Arvindur are around.
.oO(Perhaps I should have just went to the watch first, that's probably where they are right now, oh well... just thought with the of chance they'd be here we could all report in together.)
*Zade looks around a bit and not being able to find them, decides to take a seat in the common's room for a bit before heading out to the watch.
Arvindur shows up a moment later, looking embarassed, "Just realised I had no idea where the watch was, was hoping someone would tell me."
"Wonder if I can get some more armor..."
Gerin gathers up everything and leaves looking for the smithy. After a few minutes of listening around he finds his way there.
Should have located this earlier...
Gerin enters and sees Thorik again.
"Well fancy seeing you here..."
Gerin wanders around a little and finds a set of armor that is to his liking. It is a bit heavier than what he currently has. Gerin finds the smithy and points out the armor.
"I would like this set. I am pretty sure it will need to be fitted to me."
Thorik gives a look like he's just tasted moldy cheese.
"Fancy? If ye say so, Gerin. If ye say so." he says with a slight grin.
"SMITH!"
The smith emerges, gives Thorik a distasteful look, and then goes to help Gerin.
"Oh, jus' ignore the dwarf." he says looking hurt.
"Alway's bein' overlooked... taken for granted, that's whut...no respect..." he continues muttering. Mostly under his breath.
The next day, the patrols day off a messenger finds him, infomring him to report to the city watch by the end of the week. Coming up on Zade and Arvindur the next day he joins in the conversation
"Looks like we'll be heading out together again, I've been ordered to the city watch as well. Seems like we're off to the city again"
"I would like this set. I am pretty sure it will need to be fitted to me."
"Aye, I s'pose 'twill. Tha's good, solid armor though, tha'. Can no' go wrong wi' full plate.
DENTON! Come an' 'elp out!"
The smith yells for one of his apprentices.
The smith emerges, gives Thorik a distasteful look, and then goes to help Gerin.
"Oh, jus' ignore the dwarf." he says looking hurt.
"Alway's bein' overlooked... taken for granted, that's whut...no respect..." he continues muttering. Mostly under his breath.
"Denton! An' bring tha' chain ye altered las' night. Show yon dwarf yer 'andiwork."
While the smith gets busy measuring Gerin and fitting various pieces of armour, a sullen lad comes round and shows Thorik the refitted chain shirt.
"To your satisfaction, sir?"
He lays it over one hand, and with the other wipes it down. Seeing no residue on his hand pleases the dwarf, and he goes about trying it on.
"Yes, yes. Much better fit." he says moving around in the new shirt. "Ye did good lad."
He takes the shirt back off and lays it over a nearby counter.
"So wha'do ye wan' fer it?"
When told he raises a brow, but goes for his coin nonetheless.
When his turn comes, Malic nods, "ah yes, I'd like to purchase a suit of full plate armor."
"So wha'do ye wan' fer it?"
When told he raises a brow, but goes for his coin nonetheless.
"Those go for 1100 golds, sir dwarf. The black we throw in for free."
The smith, whose ears perked up at the mention of payment but who let the lad handle the matter, quirks an eyebrow when he hears the off-hand comment about free services but nods in agreement at the price.
"'E'll be ready fer 'is masterpiece soon, tha' un."
"ah yes, I'd like to purchase a suit of full plate armor."
"Full plate, aye. A lo' o' demand fer tha' lately," he winks at Gerin, continuing to take measurements.
"See anythin' ye like, son?"
The man was tall. Exceptionally tall. In fact, he would closesly resemble a tower, if you were to ever find one made of wire. He stood at six feet and eight inches, easily overshadowing the crowd he pushed past. The combination of the man's height and the quality of his 'stallion' turned enough heads as it was, but the few who would not look twice at such a spectacle would likely then take note of the mask that fit snugly around the man's face, a beautiful porcelain face frozen forever in a smile. The eyes of the mask were exceptional, for they were completely covered over as well. As though the man were blind.
He pulled his magnificant stallion to a stop just to the side of the guild, letting the tether fall from his hands to where ever it may. The donkey... sorry, the magnificant stallion who only vaguely resembles a creature of that less prestigious species... pawed at the ground impatiently, silently wishing it could chew on one of the two coat tails that fell behind the masked man.
The grey haired man, his age hinted at in hair and in the little flesh that peeked out of the sides of his mask (as the rest was covered by gloves, a lovely black coat with a high collar, a silk shirt with a lovely white scarf around the neck and long black pants with long boots) which was holding fast to his skull, pocked with age marks, stepped forward and raised his arms.
"Here yea, oh people of Garic's!" He called out in a voice that could only be described as crystalline. It immediately brought the imagine of windchimes to mind, made of long fluted crystals that whistled and chimed happily in a strong and sudden wind. It was very at odds with his appearance. It seemed to particularly bring his frailty to attention: built like a wire, fragile as glass.
The man coughed. With a sigh, he removed a handkerchief from his sleeve and dabbed at the lips of his mask. When he spoke again, his voice was louder, stronger, and somehow more elegant. "I come here on a quest of great import! A valient effort, you see. I have come through shadowed valley and the harrowing mountains of distant and hostile lands, drawn by the stories of this most wonderous of cities!
My people, my audience," He said, letting his arms drop and resting his gloved hand over his left breast. Over his heart. He tilted his head forward, looking down solemly. "I have sacrificed much to be here. Oh, but I have sacrificed. I lost so much: a pen, a blanket, my favorite toothpick.
A tragedy unlike any other, my friends. The toothpick fell in desperate battle against the mightiest of foes. Now, one would say that a toothpick is incapable of true heroism, but I contest! For this toothpick did the unthinkable, the unmatchable: it felled a mighty ogre. A lesser giant, it still towered over the trees, smashing its way to and fro. A wicked, dire beast it was, green with mold caught in its unwashed flesh, grey with grime and crawling with the tiny ones who call corpses their home.
Imagine our surprise as this most dire beast stepped before us, unnoticed before this moment. For it was truly exceptional indeed: it was a sneaky giant. The smashing and frothing came only after it cleverly downed the path behind us in stone and stood before us surrounded in trees.
Our Dwarven champion, Fardinn son of Arnin son of Gashgim, launched himself at the fiend bodily, and was swept aside. The beast tore his axe from his belly, undaunted. Our beautiful and exotic Elven mage, Esui, called forth the fire to reduce it to ash. She merely cleaned it. We now knew it was actually yellow.
Nay, it was the toothpick that saved the day, but only after the beast ate the feed for my most precious stallion, Aniv." The donkey did its best to look impressive at this point. "The beast lurched forward, wrapping its mighty hand around Aniv. Fardinn convinced the beast, with shout and with dagger, to take only poor Aniv's feed and a saddle bag, which it quickly consumed. It was then that I remembered! My favorite toothpick was in this bag. I called to Esui, who understood. She waved her fingers and sang the words of power: 'AZ AVIR LOQITA HERADIVIS!' The toothpick expanded in its throat, slaying it instantly. This is how our once and always beloved toothpick ridded the world of the most powerful of Ogres, this yellow fiend. This is also how I find myself without job or companions: the task frightened them so that they have taken to farming, a beautiful couple of Dwarf and Elf.
Would any be so kind as to tell me, then, where I might find those majestic individuals one might label 'adventurers'? Where I might also find feed for Aniv," Again, the donkey attempts to look very much like a stallion. "And where I might bury a toothpick's remains and find another to avenge it?" He produced a small shard of wood, bent and broken.
"Would any be so kind as to tell me, then, where I might find those majestic individuals one might label 'adventurers'? Where I might also find feed for Aniv," Again, the donkey attempts to look very much like a stallion. "And where I might bury a toothpick's remains and find another to avenge it?" He produced a small shard of wood, bent and broken.
A small, pig-tailed girl with wide eyes, innumerable freckles and a runny nose points towards a sign and says: "Swords..."
Come along, Aniv." He said, pulling the stallion behind him and examining the sign. He tied the donkey to the front of the building, wherever he could really, and stepped in, looking to and fro. "Are there, perchance, adventurers present?"
"Are there, perchance, adventurers present?"
Several people look up from whatever they're doing and look the newcomer over. Reactions vary from outright gawking to barely-disguised snickers.
"Take your pick, lordling," one of them says. "Are you looking for a particular variety of adventurer, or will any type do?"
"Full plate, aye. A lo' o' demand fer tha' lately," he winks at Gerin, continuing to take measurements.
"See anythin' ye like, son?"
Malic nods and points to a set of full plate, it's silver accented with joints a shade darker than the rest of the armor. "I think this one will do."
"I think this one will do."
"'S a fine choice, tha' is," the smith agrees. "Should no' take a lo' o' work to fit yer either.
Denton'll take yer measurements an' I'll come 'ave a look once I'm done 'ere."
As he waits he looks over to Thorik, "that's a beautiful chain shirt Thorik."
"That is a good looking set of armor Malic."
Gerin is a bit of the opposite. His is pretty plain looking. Nothing really distingushing about it. No sharp lines, everything is....well plain. Not too shiny, not too dull.
"I'm sure e'is." he replies to the smith. "Ye done good son. Me thanks."
He hands over the 1100, and picks up his chain.
As he waits he looks over to Thorik, "that's a beautiful chain shirt Thorik."
Thorik gives Malic a grin, and nods in agreement.
"Mithral." he says quite pleased. "Can'na beat the stuff." he adds as he puts it away in his pack.
"That'sa might fine piece ye've chosen yerself there Malic. And you as well, Gerin. Looks like we'll be ready fer anythin' come mornin'."
"Would you lead me or direct me to him? I'd be much obliged, sir."
"It would be my pleasure, lordling. Come with me, if you please."
The Silver Sword leads you deeper into the compound, occasionally pointing out some feature of the building, and finally bringing you to the door of what must be the duty office, a very large notice board with long lists of names and units hanging next to it. He knocks and walks in without preamble: "Visitor, Sir Dunstan. I think you'll want to see him."
"Very well, show him in." Access is granted straight away, and Sir Dunstan looks up expectantly at the stranger at his door.
Malic gives the smith an appreaciative smile, "Alright, thank you."
Tucking away the long list of measurements and specifications for Gerin's armour, the smith now joins his journeyman apprentice and Malic's fitting is soon concluded as well.
"Fine choices, sirs. Mebbe we'll 'ave yours ready this evenin'," he says to Gerin, "if no', then t'morrow. Th' other un'll be 'ere fer you 'round noon," he continues for Malic's benefit.
The man spun on his heels and nodded, extending a hand. "Good morning, Sir Dunstan. I come in search of adventurers. Not to hire, but to join. I am a storyteller, and I am in need of stories to tell. I heard that you would be able to guide me to a group of people who may be leaving shortly. Or who is next on the menu, in any case."
The clash with the orcs is over as soon as it begins. Three full squads on foritfied walls was not what they bargained for when they came down from their mountains. One single attempt at the wall is made but the rain of arrows coming down from the walls quickly stoppes the assault, the Orcs fall back, leaving an score of dead and wounded behind. Leaving the clean up tot the two guard patrols Dorian leads the men of his partol of the wall and dismisses them.
The next day, the patrols day off a messenger finds him, infomring him to report to the city watch by the end of the week. Coming up on Zade and Arvindur the next day he joins in the conversation
"Looks like we'll be heading out together again, I've been ordered to the city watch as well. Seems like we're off to the city again"
*Zade nods his head and smiles to Arvindur whenever he sees him and is about to respond whenever Dorian walks over to great them.
"Aye it seems like the three of us are off again. I'm ready whenever you guys are, although I'm not exactly familiar with the directions to get to the Watch base. Perhaps you know Dorian?"
"Good morning, Sir Dunstan. I come in search of adventurers. Not to hire, but to join. I am a storyteller, and I am in need of stories to tell. I heard that you would be able to guide me to a group of people who may be leaving shortly. Or who is next on the menu, in any case."
"You have an advantage over me, stranger, since you know my name. Would you even the field?
As for joining some of our Silver Swords on assignment, we're broad-minded in taking on members but also careful when sending them out. Ours is not a trade safe from harm, so there's nothing more important than knowing everyone in a team is dependable. We don't send out fresh recruits untested."
*Zade nods his head and smiles to Arvindur whenever he sees him and is about to respond whenever Dorian walks over to great them.
"Aye it seems like the three of us are off again. I'm ready whenever you guys are, although I'm not exactly familiar with the directions to get to the Watch base. Perhaps you know Dorian?"
"Nah, but the guard at the city gate'll be able to tell us where we need to go. If the two of you are ready we can get on our way. I came packed and ready"
The tall mans indeed seems to carry his entire arsenal with both his shield and his bow slung across his back
"The weather is still fair and will be for a few hours. The best time to get going"
Arvindur heads outside and whistled for Wolfkin, who padded up and dipped his head for the halfling to scratch the neck of the man sized dog.
He stepped forward and rested his gloved hands on the table. "Please give me this opportunity. I've not much longer to write the epic of my life, before it fades away and leaves me stranded. I will cause no harm to any who may carry me along, and know to follow the commands of more experienced individuals."
Gerin moves over to take a look at the chain shirt.
"May I hold your chain shirt Thorik."
"I appriciate your time, and I am looking forwards to wearing your work. Would you like payment now or when the piece is fitted?"
"Yon dwarf's gold means we 'ave plenty on 'and for now an' 'sides, since I do no' extend credit, I do no' suppose I should ask fer money upfron' either. 'Tis no a commission piece. Jus' bring yer gold when you want to walk out of 'ere wi' it."
He stepped forward and rested his gloved hands on the table. "Please give me this opportunity. I've not much longer to write the epic of my life, before it fades away and leaves me stranded. I will cause no harm to any who may carry me along, and know to follow the commands of more experienced individuals."
"As I said, not untested. By custom your skill is evaluated by our master at arms or one of the instructors, but I can use the exercise and I have the privilege of rank. You do know how to handle a blade?"
"I do at that, I do. I am handy with a rapier, but better yet with the clever whip. I cannot say I am the greatest warrior in existence, but I am no slouch. I suppose I should meet you on some field of battle then? Give me directions, friend, and I will meet you there more appropriately dressed."
"The whip? Not always very effective, but an interesting and unexpected choice, hm? A contest of arms will be involved, but you'll get to demonstrate your abilities first. Meet me in the first circle training ground in an hour, hm."
Sir Dunstan explains how to get there as he makes a note in one of his ledgers.
"Most excellent, most excellent. Know you of any rooms that I may change in? Perhaps on this complex, sir?"
"There are rooms adjoining the training grounds for that very purpose, hm. You will also find sparring weapons and practice armour there, should you want to use them. Check with the attendant instructor or his or her assistant first before helping yourself to them, hm? You can recognize them by the single-circle insignia hanging from their belt."
"A good day for walking men, just whistle if I go to fast with these long limbs "
With that, he turned on his heels and stepped out of the room, made his way to Aniv the magnificant stallion, and took his bags from the donkey. He nearly buckled under the weight, but he came to no harm. Slow and steady, he eventually arrived at the rooms the man described, having followed the directions quite well. Still carrying the bags, he approached any figures in the area that were as Dunstan described: wearing a circle insignia that hung from their belt. "Hello? Hello! I was wondering," He called out. "If, by friendly recommendation via Sir Dunstan, I could use one of these changing rooms and preview the practice weapons that may be found here?"
"Hello? Hello! I was wondering," He called out. "If, by friendly recommendation via Sir Dunstan, I could use one of these changing rooms and preview the practice weapons that may be found here?"
"Sir Dunstan sent you? Sure, the locker room is right there. You can stow your belongings in one of the empty trunks, if you want. Practice weapons are on the racks, take your pick. If it isn't too uncommon, we have a blunted of padded version of it. We have some padded practice armour as well: if you need any help with that, just ask."
He unloaded his gear into the room and quickly got dressed, changing out of his fine clothing and into much more drab traveler's wear, still slightly dusty from their most recent use. They were primarily dark green with brown lining around the shoulders and collar, with drab black pants. He wore black leather gloves and high leather boots with this outfit and his mask remained firmly lodged on his face, just below neatly combed hair, both of which stood in stark contrast to his clothing.
He fit leather armor over this, situating his whip on the hook that protruded from his belt. He looked at the rapier for a time before deciding to leave it behind: practice weapons were best. He was sure they had a padded rapier.
That finished, he set to fitting his equipment into the trunk. That took some time: he brought a lot with him. Finally, he departed the room and looked over the racks, looking for anything that may resemble a rapier.
Finally, he departed the room and looked over the racks, looking for anything that may resemble a rapier.
There are several wooden rapiers of varying lengths on one of the racks. Most stay close to average, but there are some that should fit Stranger's exceptional length as well.
While the newcomer's looking at the practice weapons, Sir Dunstan enters, greets the attendants and walks over.
"Bring your real weapon as well, hm? We'll start with looking at your forms and technique first, I want to see those with a weapon you're used to handling."
He then walks to the side of the floor, probably not wanting to disturb the scheduled training.
[color=BlueGerin moves over to take a look at the chain shirt.
"May I hold your chain shirt Thorik."
"O'course ye can." Thorik says almost wanting to show off his new purchace.
"These men do fine werk, as'ye can see."
"Very nice...."
He lays one layer over the back of his hand and flips his fingers up and down individualy, while observing the way the chain moves. He looks at the individual links and is impresses by how small each is. Gerin hands it back to Thorik.
"You should be pleased with this piece. It is a good one and should serve you well."
The comment was directed more to the smiths than Thorik.
"Malic.... If you would like we could do some training together. Get a feel for one another before the journy ahead."
After Malic answers Gerin leaves for his room to put the funds back until they are needed. What ever the answer Gerin then goes to the training room selects some padded armor dons it, and selects a training sword to his likeing.
You people are well prepared! I had not thought to find one of suitable size. I had to have mine custom made for me." He stated, admiring the padded wooden sword.
The storyteller stepped forward, into the ring, and bowed to Sir Dunstan. He began with the rapier, holding it before him while resting his other hand on his hip. Left leg, left hand forward, right hand on hip, right leg back and relaxed, both knees slightly bent to allow for ease of movement. The sword was kept straight and a little lower than usual, likely to make up for his height. It became readily apparent that the man was left handed.
It also became apparent that he was neither good nor horrible with the weapon. He wouldn't stab his own leg, but it was unlikely he would do the same to an enemy. He knew the forms, those having been taught to him in the past. It was harder to do now, with his health failing him, but he was proud that he did not simply drop the weapon. He was also fully aware of the likely embarressing display.
That done, he set the wooden blade aside and tapped the hook on his belt. It popped open, allowing him to easily unfurl the whip in one fluid motion. He was much better with this weapon. The whip cracked and snapped in the air, constantly in motion to keep a certain degree of momentum and surprise.
It also became apparent that he was neither good nor horrible with the weapon. He wouldn't stab his own leg, but it was unlikely he would do the same to an enemy. He knew the forms, those having been taught to him in the past. It was harder to do now, with his health failing him, but he was proud that he did not simply drop the weapon. He was also fully aware of the likely embarressing display.
.oO(Not a promising start, but at least he knows one end from the other. Looks like he had some formal training, but nothing beyond the basics, hm. Being left-handed might give him a bit of an advantage. Every little thing helps.)
That done, he set the wooden blade aside and tapped the hook on his belt. It popped open, allowing him to easily unfurl the whip in one fluid motion. He was much better with this weapon. The whip cracked and snapped in the air, constantly in motion to keep a certain degree of momentum and surprise.
.oO(Now that's bit better, hm? It's still an ineffective weapon, but in a group he'll have the advantage of its reach and as long as he doesn't run into a seasoned fighter, it'll be intimidating enough.)
Sir Dunstan looks slightly disappointed at the first display, but the whip appears more convincing - even if he doesn't exactly show enthusiasm there either.
"Very well. Now let's see you do something with that, hm?"
Taking up a defensive pose, wooden longsword held steady pointing at Stranger, he motions for his opponent to make a move.
This meant thinking outside of the box a little. The stranger snapped his fingers in time to the melody in his head, singing a very short verse in Celestial. The air behind and to the left of Sir Dunstan flickered, then expanded into a being of bluish light. It was only vaguely humanoid in appearance, transparent and drifting. One of its arms looked long and sharp, almost bladelike. It made no sound as it brought up its blade.
The stranger himself kept his whip at the ready. Hopefully, the light would distract the man long enough for him to get a good single hit in. If he can do that, he will be assured a place. Or so he thought.
[Dancing Lights.]
The stranger himself kept his whip at the ready. Hopefully, the light would distract the man long enough for him to get a good single hit in. If he can do that, he will be assured a place. Or so he thought.
Sir Dunstan throws himself backwards, straight into and through the light, rolls and comes back up positioning the lights between himself and Stranger, just beyond his blade's reach.
"Not bad, hm. But you will eventually need to do some damage - show me."
Show
You're pushing the limits of the spell a bit, but it's ok. Sir Dunstan isn't phased though.
He did exactly that, letting the whip fly. He refrained from cracking it, instead attempting to show that he can aim well rather than hurt the man if he actually pulled it off. The light he simply willed to move aside. It wasn't helping anyways.
Grinning at Dorian as they walked, "Oh, no worries, I'll just get Wolfkin here to fetch you back. He likes to play fetch."
Dorian laughs at the joke, the journey just got off on a light note and good spirit. A good omen
"In that case I'll have to see if I can learn to outrun your companion"
the ranger digs in his pouch, pulls out a scrap of jerkey and tosses that to Wolfkin
"here boy, that'll sate your appetite for my ankles"
He did exactly that, letting the whip fly. He refrained from cracking it, instead attempting to show that he can aim well rather than hurt the man if he actually pulled it off. The light he simply willed to move aside. It wasn't helping anyways.
Sir Dunstan swats the whip aside with his practice weapon and immediately settles back in his defensive stance.
"Better. Again, hm?"
Show
Inspire Courage
"Malic.... If you would like we could do some training together. Get a feel for one another before the journy ahead."
"I think that would be a good idea, yes I will join you when I am finished here."
After Gerin leaves Malic comments to Throik, "I think he'll be a good compatriot yes?"
"We should'ave a better judge of his merit once he's crossed yer greatsword." he adds with a hand on Malic's shoulder.
"I'll see ye in the halls. Could use some excercise meself."
The dwarf thanks the smiths again, and leaves for his quarters. He removes the leather armor and places it in his chest for storage. He puts the new chained shirt over his light padding, and puts his black leather vest over it. After removing his shield from under his bed, he leaves for the training hall.
Thorik is suprised to see Sir Dunstan practicing with a man wearing a mask. Curious, he moves closer to the action. He is impressed with the strangers work with a whip, but knows it is only a matter of time before the distraction is met with force. Having never seen Sir Dunstan in action before, he waits anxiously to see how he handles things.
When he spys Gerin across the room, he makes his way in that direction, but keeps his eye on the two sparring.
"How long've they been at it?" he asks Gerin.
His mind focused on the story, he tossed the whip at the man again. His aim was more true this time, if still lacking in the face of a real warrior. Such was the benefit of a story: even if it was honestly simple, it releaved the stress of battle and allowed for a man to come in renewed.
He had the light jump between them, trying to catch Sir Dunstan's attention, if even for a moment. He was fairly sure he was doing well with this test: he showed he wasn't completely incompetent. "Well now I've told you, and we are fast friends for it."
"That was well done," he says, bringing his sword down to keep the trapped whip taut. "You'll do, hm? We will, of course, expect you to work with our instructors when time permits."
Noticing Thorik and gerin, he waves for them to come over.
"Tell me, Stranger, can you ride?"
"Glad we've a competent leader."
When summoned Thorik is suprised, and at the same time worried. He turns to Gerin and shruggs his shoulders.
He quickly goes over to Sir Dunstan and the stranger.
"Sir?"
After the measuring Malic thanks the smith again, "Thank you very much sir. Ah. DO you have an estimation on when the armor will be finished?"
Dorian laughs at the joke, the journey just got off on a light note and good spirit. A good omen
"In that case I'll have to see if I can learn to outrun your companion"
the ranger digs in his pouch, pulls out a scrap of jerkey and tosses that to Wolfkin
"here boy, that'll sate your appetite for my ankles"
Wolfkin snaps the meat up happily, wagging his tail and nearly bowling his master over accidentally with it. Arvindur tsked at the large dog goodnaturedly as he ducked the tail, "So easily bribed, I see. I think he likes you, Wolfkin here usually tries to chew on people he don't like when they're holding food."
Wolfkin just offered a huge doggy grin, chewing on the jerky as he walked.
He turned his porcelain smile to the man named Thorik. "Pleased to meet you."
"I'm sorry my friend, but I don't think I have any food you might like in my pack, how about a nice pat instead?"
*Wolfkin looks a bit sad at receiving a nice pat on the head instead of food, but in the end after being scratched behind the ears he licks Zade's hand and returns to his masters side.
"That is one smart companion you have their Arvindur, I'll make sure to do whatever I can to protect him. Now, let us make haste to the watch."
He looks both confused and intrigued.
"S'pose it is. 'Cept we haven't met... leas' I don'think." he says snapping out of his look. "Me names Thorik." he adds extending his hand almost reluctantly.
.oO (Tall one, aint'cha!?!)
His grip was not strong, but it was firm. Confident. "My name is lost, forgotten, hidden, obscured, and strangely missing. Most seem to call me stranger, but you may give me any name you desire." His crystaline voice was very friendly, very soothing. "A fine grip you have, Thorik."
The stranger reaches over and takes the man's hand. He was still holding on to the whip with the other.
His grip was not strong, but it was firm. Confident. "My name is lost, forgotten, hidden, obscured, and strangely missing. Most seem to call me stranger, but you may give me any name you desire." His crystaline voice was very friendly, very soothing. "A fine grip you have, Thorik."
The 'look' returns to Thoriks face, but disappears when he realizes it's return.
"Glad ye like it." he says slipping his hand away.
"Did'ja need somethin' sir?" he asks Sir Dunstan again, but his eyes keep looking towards this stranger.
.oO (Rude son of a... )
"An adventurer?" he asks turning towards the masked man again.
He takes a step towards the much taller figure, and the 'look' is no longer visable.
"I've been on adventures t'be sure. Been'ta planes ah fire an' ash. Fought demons, dead things, an' other nasty **** that'd scare the smile right off that mask'a yers. If that'd make me an adventurer, then that's what I am. But I say, I'm Thorik. That I know and am sure of. Still don't know you tho."
Standing his ground and keeping his eyes on the masked stranger, Thorik almost forgets Sir Dunstan is there.
Thorik. I will remember such a strong name." He stepped back, letting Sir Dunstan and the man speak while dusting himself off. His expression was, as always, unseen.
.oO (Don' loose yer head ya gruff dwarf.)
He then turns to Sir Dunstan.
"Sorry 'bout that, Sir."
"Sorry 'bout that, Sir."
"No need for that, Thorik. Stranger here showed up this morning and is unusally eager to for active duty, hm? I've been thinking he could make a good addition to your team, provided he can get along with Gherben. Maybe he can spread word of the Silver Sword, hm: we're still looking for recruits, and if we only look for local aspirants we'll cut into the guard's numbers too much."
"Just a few minutes. The visitor has only taken one swing at him."
Gerin continues to watch not showing his thoughts. When Thorik comments on having a competent leader. Gerin nods.
[Dwarven]"I have always felt more at ease having a dwarf as a companion. Stout, loyal, and straight to the point. I am looking forwards to becoming a friend of yours."[/]
He walks over with Thorik to greet the stranger. He does not wear his thoughts on his face and greets the man. When the idea of taking the man with them on the trip is proposed Gerin turns to Stranger.
"What are some of your abilities aside from the display of arms we wittnessed and the little thing with the lights? So that we may be able to find how to best utilize your strengths. Such as what languages do you speak? I mean no offense but I don't belive that combat is one of your strenghts. Can you command the archane, or channel the power of the gods, or possibly move unnoticed?"
[Dwarven]"I have always felt more at ease having a dwarf as a companion. Stout, loyal, and straight to the point. I am looking forwards to becoming a friend of yours."[/]
[Dwaven] "AH! A civilized tongue. Aye, we'll get along jus' fine Gerin. Jus' fine indeed!" [Dwarven]
"No need for that, Thorik. Stranger here showed up this morning and is unusally eager to for active duty, hm? I've been thinking he could make a good addition to your team, provided he can get along with Gherben. Maybe he can spread word of the Silver Sword, hm: we're still looking for recruits, and if we only look for local aspirants we'll cut into the guard's numbers too much."
"Lookin' t'become an adventurer himself, I guess. Ah'm sure we'can make one of 'im. Long as he holds his own an' stays alive long'nough."
Nodding his head as Gerin asks, Thorik listens intently for the Strangers answers.
Dorian picks up a sturdy branch an throws it a good measure in front of them
"Fetch Wolfkin"
He turned his attention then to the adventurers, this time with no flourish in his step or gestures. Strictly business. "It is true that I am not the best combatant, but neither am I the worst. I do in fact have the gift of magic flowing through my veins. While not yet potent, it has afforded me with the unusual gift of weaving power into my words. My stories can bring a man courage, can lay low the spells of another, or I can use them to bring a crowd to ease and notice nothing at all.
Further, while I use lights to craft clever ploys and trickery, I also have some command over sounds, over simple tricks and most importantly I may fix what was broken with a word and a touch. To a limited degree, of course, but if your equipment is compromised I may repair it without the need of a blacksmith. I am quick with my hands and I also have the unique gift of forcing magical items to heed my command with some difficulty.
My greatest strength is diplomacy and, yes, language. I of course speak common, like any other man, but I also have Celestial, Elven, Draconic, Dwarven, Halfling and Abyssal in my repertoire. I also am a natural linguist: it won't take long for me to learn a new language if I am exposed long enough.
You will also find I am loyal and that I will fight to the bitter end for those I call friend."
"Aye Zade, he's a willy one Wolfkin is. A thrustworthy friend Arvindur and a magnificent beast as I said before. I've thought of buying a dog myself, perhaps now that I'm settling down a bit I might actually come 'round to it."
Dorian picks up a sturdy branch an throws it a good measure in front of them
"Fetch Wolfkin"
Wolfkin hops forward and snags the branch, then drops it beside the ranger and begun nosing into his pouch in search of more jerky, right until Arvindur tugged him back, grinning at how well the dog was getting along with the others. "Not so much jerky, boy, you'd get fat and lazy. I can't carry you!"
Giving his master a reproachful look, Wolfkin backed off from the pouch, licking at the last bits of the previous jerky in his teeth.
He turned his attention then to the adventurers, this time with no flourish in his step or gestures. Strictly business. "It is true that I am not the best combatant, but neither am I the worst. I do in fact have the gift of magic flowing through my veins. While not yet potent, it has afforded me with the unusual gift of weaving power into my words. My stories can bring a man courage, can lay low the spells of another, or I can use them to bring a crowd to ease and notice nothing at all.
Further, while I use lights to craft clever ploys and trickery, I also have some command over sounds, over simple tricks and most importantly I may fix what was broken with a word and a touch. To a limited degree, of course, but if your equipment is compromised I may repair it without the need of a blacksmith. I am quick with my hands and I also have the unique gift of forcing magical items to heed my command with some difficulty.
My greatest strength is diplomacy and, yes, language. I of course speak common, like any other man, but I also have Celestial, Elven, Draconic, Dwarven, Halfling and Abyssal in my repertoire. I also am a natural linguist: it won't take long for me to learn a new language if I am exposed long enough.
You will also find I am loyal and that I will fight to the bitter end for those I call friend."
"Ye'll be'a use, ah'm sure. Might even help Gherben get'a better deal fer them horses."
Thorik turns back to Sir Dunstan.
"We were 'bout t'get some tranin' in. He's welcome t'join us. We might be able t'show 'em a few things."
He looks again to the stranger.
"If ye want."
Addressing Gerin he adds, "When Malic gets 'ere we can trade up if there's time."
"I need'ta werk on me crossbow 'fore leavin' out in the morn."
"Come at me and we will see what we can do for you friend."
Show
HP 24
AC 13 (10 +1 Padded Armor +2 Heavy Shield)
Padded Bastardsword +7 (1d10+3/19-20, subdual)
Full Defense +4 AC Total Final AC 17
Don't worry about inititive rolls, you go then I go. Oh and btw his hair is white not gray.... Mid to late twenties...
HP 24
AC 13 (10 +1 Padded Armor +2 Heavy Shield)
Padded Bastardsword +7 (1d10+3/19-20, subdual)
Full Defense +4 AC Total Final AC 17
Don't worry about inititive rolls, you go then I go. Oh and btw his hair is white not gray.... Mid to late twenties...
He did not succeed. His aim was poor indeed. The whip went far afield, slashing instead at the arena's edge, somewhere behind him. He sighed. "Not my best day, my friend."
Show
http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1781143/
Total attack: 6
Total attack: 6
.oO (Not bad feel. Now lets see... squeeze the trigger. Squeeze the trigger.)
The bolt flies through the air and hits wide right. Thankfully it hits the board, but is nowhere near its target.
.oo (Curses!)
Firing bolt after bolt the dwarfs aim gets better. Soon enough he is hitting the target circles everytime. Nearing the bullseye on a few occasions.
"I do not know how to help you with the whip... I was more interested in your sword play meanings how it is something I can help you with. Take out the blade and try again please."
Show
Same action as before.
Same action as before.
He moves forward and stabs at the man, fully expecting to not hit him. Perhaps it was because of this thought that he did so much better: knowing he would fail, he took to the challenge more readily.
Show
One attack: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1783136/. To hit is 17. Damage if hit is: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1783144/. 1 Nonlethal damage.
Seeing Gerin, and a strange masked man fighting Malic makes his way over to Thorik, "who's that?"
"Thank you very much sir. Ah. DO you have an estimation on when the armor will be finished?"
"Noon t'morrow, sir, noon t'morrow. Ye can d'pend on us."
OoC
Sorry about that, Malic - I must have missed that post because it was the last one on the page. I indicated the time a lot earlier already, but now it's confirmed.
Gerin shifts his weight to let him attack but still guarded. The wooden blade takes a half hearted trip that sails past Strangers flailing defenses and connects with his temple.
Stranger drops to the floor. Gerin looks down at Stranger sprawled out on the floor with a somewhat guilty face.
bugger...Didn't mean to knock him out...
"Was hoping you would block that..."
Gerin looks up to one of the attendents that helps with injurys.
"Could I get some help with him?"
When they get Stranger off the floor Gerin looks at him again.
"Sorry about that... Hope your headache isn't going to be too bad..."
Gerin looks over to Malic.
"Would you prefer to use our main armor or this stuff?"
Gerin picks at the practice armor he is wearing.
Show
ooc: Sorry about that stranger. I was hoping to....not hit you, or deal a small amount of damage to end the combat... Gerin is going to need all he has against Malic.
Attack 17
Subdual Damage 11
Attack and Damage (1d20+3=17, 1d10+3=11)
ooc: Sorry about that stranger. I was hoping to....not hit you, or deal a small amount of damage to end the combat... Gerin is going to need all he has against Malic.
Attack 17
Subdual Damage 11
Attack and Damage (1d20+3=17, 1d10+3=11)
Show
Don't worry Gerrin. ;) He's not exactly built for combat yet, so I don't mind if he gets knocked around. Good luck against Malic!
Seeing Gerin, and a strange masked man fighting Malic makes his way over to Thorik, "who's that?"
"Don' really know. The stranger was 'ere when I arrived. Sparrin' with Dunstan."
He turns to Malic and gives him a strange look.
"Apparently he don't gotta name. Wants us t'call 'em whatever we want. Dunstan was callin' 'em Stranger. Oh, and he'll be comin' with us tomorrow. Dustan wants him spreadin' the word of the Silver Swords. Help recruitin'."
[COLOR="blue"] Gerin shifts his weight to let him attack but still guarded. The wooden blade takes a half hearted trip that sails past Strangers flailing defenses and connects with his temple.
Stranger drops to the floor. Gerin looks down at Stranger sprawled out on the floor with a somewhat guilty face.
Thorik flinches as the attack connects with the strangers head.
"OOOHHH!"
"Gerin," Thorik starts as he jogs over to the the ring, crossbow still in hand "Ye did'na 'ave t'kill 'em."
Thorik leans over Strangers unconcious body, raises an eyebrow, and smiles.
"Gotta learn the hard way, I suppose." he says as he turns back to Gerin and Malic. "He'll learn a great deal more'n the weeks ahead."
"Malic 'ere'll give ya a bit more'a trouble, Gerin. Seen 'em in action. He dangerous with that great sword of his."
Once the stranger is back on his feet, Thorik holds out the crossbow to the still shaky man.
"Come on. Lets see if ye can shoot."
Gerin looks over to Malic.
"Would you prefer to use our main armor or this stuff?"
Gerin picks at the practice armor he is wearing.
"It would seems wiser to use the practice armor so we don't ruin the practice weapons," Malic muses as he removes his chain mail.
Show
I don't think going at it with a great sword and a bastard sword with a +7 attack bonus will last more than a few rounds. Armor will make things a little more interesting. We don't even have to beat each other till one falls over. We could do first to get three hits in or something.
I don't think going at it with a great sword and a bastard sword with a +7 attack bonus will last more than a few rounds. Armor will make things a little more interesting. We don't even have to beat each other till one falls over. We could do first to get three hits in or something.
Sir Dunstan nods in the direction of an attendant, who is just now coming over with a small set of bandages and ointments to take a look at Stranger.
"Yes, yes, fine," he waves at the question regarding armour, more concerned about the possible injury of one of the recruits.
"You, tall beans, how many fingers am I holding up," he asks, waving three fingers in front of Stranger's face.
Gerin points over to Stranger. If Malic argrees Gerin quickly retrives his armor from his room and gets some help putting it on, and enteres the ring ready.
He was holding on to a crossbow with his other hand.
Show
Sorry for the late response: net troubles.
"Is yer head straight? Do ye need a minute fer it'ta clear?"
When the masked man turns to look at Thorik he has another thought.
"And can'ye even see with that mask on yer face?"
oops
Wow! I butched that. I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, Stranger. So ignore me completely, or make it work somehow. I'll leave it to you.
"Minus the two extra, noting that they seem to come from a central point... three?"
"Lucky guess, or you still have some sense left in that noggin'. Your skull is still in one piece, at least. I suggest you go see a healer anyway, but I'm reasonably certain you'll live."
Taking Thorik aside, the attendant continues: "I'll allow it if he wants to practice with that crossbow, but if an accident happens because his brains are addled you'll be answerable. We understand each other?"
Seeing the crossbow sway this way and that, Thorik wonders if he should take cover. After watching his gloved hand go from the crossbow, to his head, and back again he begins to worry. He stops him from shooting after he hears his mutterings.
"Is yer head straight? Do ye need a minute fer it'ta clear?"
When the masked man turns to look at Thorik he has another thought.
"And can'ye even see with that mask on yer face?"oopsWow! I butched that. I had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, Stranger. So ignore me completely, or make it work somehow. I'll leave it to you.
!
Sweet
"Ready?"
Gerin is looking and sounding like someone completly different from who Malic has known so far. It has an unsettling feeling.
Show
Intimidate Check: (demoralize) 22
Intimidate Check (1d20+6=22)
Intimidate Check: (demoralize) 22
Intimidate Check (1d20+6=22)
Demoralize Opponent:
You can also use Intimidate to weaken an opponent’s resolve in combat. To do so, make an Intimidate check opposed by the target’s modified level check (see above). If you win, the target becomes shaken for 1 round. A shaken character takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws. You can intimidate only an opponent that you threaten in melee combat and that can see you.
ooc
Level Check 1d20+3=19
[HTML=Level Check: 19]http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1788157/[/HTML]
Total Defense: AC 21
[HTML=Level Check: 19]http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1788157/[/HTML]
Total Defense: AC 21
"Plant yer feet Malic!"
Deciding to get a better view, the dwarf moves towards the fray.
Show
Attack and Damage (3 powerattack) (1d20+4=19, 1d10+6=11)
I don't think Dcon negates any damage from a subdual weapon. You should be at 17 Subdual.... well 28 now.... I keep getting good rolls....
Attack and Damage (3 powerattack) (1d20+4=19, 1d10+6=11)
I don't think Dcon negates any damage from a subdual weapon. You should be at 17 Subdual.... well 28 now.... I keep getting good rolls....
Show
FYI: from the Info & Rules thread regarding armour - "Damage conversion is the number of hit points done by any weapon or natural attack that are instead converted into subdual damage. Weapons or natural attacks that normally do subdual damage are instead reduced by this number."
.oO (He's good. Hadn't seen'm fight before. Glad he's with us!)
He sees the newcomers approach, and inches closer, so he doesnt lose his good view.
"You are an excellent sword hand Gerin."
Malic steps forward planting his left foot hard and swinging his sword with as much force as he dare muster. Malic shouts out his father's battle cry as the sword rips through the air heading towards Gerin's side.
"Thank you, you deal a powerful blow."
Gerin finds out just how much more powerful a moment later. Realing from the blow Gerin Rights himself and counters.
Show
Ok, well then we must revise the current damage. Gerins Dcon is 3 and Malics is 2.
Strangers attack is negated then and the nine delt bt Malic is reduced to 6 from 9, leaving his HP at 18, It is then reduced to 3 by Malics last blow which was a rather powerful one I might add.
Malic I belive you have 8 remaining (7-2)+(10-2)+(11-2)=22
Now I must get you back for that last one.
....here it goes.
Attack and Damage (1d20+7=27, 1d10+3=5)
Errrr. I got a Natural 20.... I belive that would be a crit... I will roll for confermation...
Critical Hit Confermaion and x2 Damage. (1d20+7=25, 1d10+3=11)
...Wow.... I'm not sure about the rules on getting a critical hit with practice weapons but I am pretty certain the match is over. I would like a second opinion on that please.
Ok, well then we must revise the current damage. Gerins Dcon is 3 and Malics is 2.
Strangers attack is negated then and the nine delt bt Malic is reduced to 6 from 9, leaving his HP at 18, It is then reduced to 3 by Malics last blow which was a rather powerful one I might add.
Malic I belive you have 8 remaining (7-2)+(10-2)+(11-2)=22
Now I must get you back for that last one.
....here it goes.Attack and Damage (1d20+7=27, 1d10+3=5)
Errrr. I got a Natural 20.... I belive that would be a crit... I will roll for confermation...
Critical Hit Confermaion and x2 Damage. (1d20+7=25, 1d10+3=11)
...Wow.... I'm not sure about the rules on getting a critical hit with practice weapons but I am pretty certain the match is over. I would like a second opinion on that please.
Show
Critical hits are not affected by whether or not you're doing nonlethal damage. Unless you agreed on some sort of exception to the normal rules in this regard, I expect the crit effect applies as usual.
ooc
Well I was planning on yielding... But I suppose you could knock me out. :P
Although I always thought a crit just multiplied the one roll instead of giving you a second. Not that that matters...
Why can't Invisible castle treat me as nice as you.
Although I always thought a crit just multiplied the one roll instead of giving you a second. Not that that matters...
Why can't Invisible castle treat me as nice as you.
"We are going to need some more of your help."
He comes over and starts his work.
"Sorry to keep you so busy today."
You are a capable man Malic, I am looking forwards to our trip together. This was just luck
Show
I guess it is a matter of practice. I have always added a nother set of die. As far as I know the book never specifies that point.
I don't know why the online roller doesn't like you.... I'm sorry.
I guess it is a matter of practice. I have always added a nother set of die. As far as I know the book never specifies that point.
I don't know why the online roller doesn't like you.... I'm sorry.
ooc
It probably does depend on the group or individual I guess. The group I'm in is pretty large so doubling the dice is easier than having thhat person roll damage twice. 
"Mine is a little heavier than yours. That is all, next time you will. Perhaps when we return from our assignment. We will have equivilent armor soon. Lets get you up here."
Gerin helps Malic up.
"Next time don't let me get in your head. Most warriors weakest point is their head."
Gerin taps his temple lightly.
"It took you off balance early."
Gerin glances at the practice swords. They are pretty damaged but they are easily replaced. He then sits down on a bench by Malic and sighs.
"You pack a punch... I'll be feeling this in the morning."
Thorik shakes his head, as Malic falls to the ground. He walks over and watches as Gerin calls over the attendants.
"Good show, Gerin. Yer cert'nly skilled. Glad yer with us!"
"You pack a punch... I'll be feeling this in the morning."
"Well mornin'll be here 'fore ye know it. S'pecially fer us."
"I think perhaps I could do with some tea," Malic muses adressing his three soon to be adventuring comrades, "would you three wish to join me?"
Gerin stands and helps Malic up if he accepts the help.
"But lets get out of our armor first. Wouldn't do to sit and enjoy a warm drink with our armor on would it?"
Gerin leaves for his room to remove his armor, and dress in something clean. Gerin checks to see if his bracer is in place, satisfied that his tatoo is concealed he straps on his blade, gives his boots a pull, and walks out the door dressed in his grey and blues. Gerin meets the group in the mess hall, gets himself a cup of coffee and exits to find a comfortable place to sit for a while.
"It is nice to take a little time before a trip to sit and relax."
"Especially now, I think it best to take these moments while you can. We're usually far to busy to do so."
Gerin gestures into the wilderness
"And they wait just long enough for you to let your guard down"
"I think perhaps I could do with some tea," Malic muses adressing his three soon to be adventuring comrades, "would you three wish to join me?"
"Aye, sounds like a fine idea."
"We will have several days of travel to work out the kinks...Well coffee is more my cup of tea... But I would love to join you. Shall we drink outiside perhaps?"
"Tea... coffee... I thought I travelled with men!?! Ale! Strong an' dark be what's best fer ya. Good fer the body."
Quite comfortable in his new armor, Thorik skips his room, and is on his third mug of ale by the time the others are ready. He joins them outside.
"That's why ye keep yer guard up at all times. And ye keep comrades near te watch yer back!"
Thorik grins before raising his drink.
"And after watchin' the two of ye battle... I think we'll do jus' fine!"
Thorik takes another long pull of his mug almost draining it.
"Ye can'na move as freely in the heavy stuff. Nor as quietly either. I'm not one'ta stand toe t'toe with me foes."
This time he does drain his mug, and then lays it on the ground.
In the blink of an eye Thorik has out one of his hammers, and twirls it in his fingers. It continues to spin up and down the width of his hand until it suddenly stops and is back in its sheath in a flash.
Do we have any idea what adventure we will be embarking on?" He continued, sounding more and more excited.
Gerin leans back, takes a sip from his coffee, and falls silent. Thinking about the mission ahead.
"Do we have any idea what adventure we will be embarking on?" He continued, sounding more and more excited.
"Security. Transportin' a large some'a coin to a horse fair. Once the horses 'ave been bought, its on us'ta bring 'em in safe."
Well that sounds like fun. I do hope there aren't many bandits on the road. Giants are easy: bandits are pure murder."
Poor guy has no clue what he is talking about... We are going to have to keep a close eye on him to make sure he does not get himself killed.
Gerin finishes off his drink and leans back for the remainder of the time.
"Well that sounds like fun. I do hope there aren't many bandits on the road. Giants are easy: bandits are pure murder."
"Expect less fun an' more bandits." the dwarf says as he picks up his mug off the ground.
"An' put giants outta yer head. This'll be anythin' but a fairytale."
He begins walking back towards the complex.
"Anyone need a refill?" he asks not pausing.
After refilling his mug he goes back outside with the others. He shortly discusses the plans for the next day. He mentions his plan to bring a couple crossbows along for the ride, and then talks again on why he thinks ale is better than tea or coffee.
"Shall we meet at'tha gate? Bout an hour 'fore dawn?"
"I best be off to bed than if we're to get up that early."
Standing he brushes himself off and heads back into the building, "see you in the morning."
In any case, new as I am to the city, I've no place to stay. Do you lot know of a lovely inn? Nothing fancy, for if it is too fancy I'll not be able to trade story for room.
Good night to you, sir."
"Such a dour folk, can you not tell a joke when you hear it? Aye me, but I have a long and ardous task before me if you do not find the life in life to live." The stranger said, shaking his head sadly. "I'll take it as a challenge, I suppose.
In any case, new as I am to the city, I've no place to stay. Do you lot know of a lovely inn? Nothing fancy, for if it is too fancy I'll not be able to trade story for room.
Good night to you, sir."
Thorik only smiles when the Stranger talks of jokes.
"From the way Sir Dunstan talked, yer one'a us now, Stranger. They'll be a bed fer'ya in the guild I'm sure. If'ye talk to the quartermaster, he'll let you know where."
Thorik stands and takes another pull of his drink.
"Think I'll take me leave as well. G'night to'ya, and see you early."
Thorik goes to bed, dreams of giant bandits, and awakes refreshed. He brings enough funds to purchase a crossbow and enough for the trip ahead, and stores the rest in his chest. He goes to the quartermaster, and purchases a light crossbow, with 20 bolts. He thanks the quatermaster, and goes to look for the others outside by the gate.
Panguar
37 gold for a light crossbow and 20 bolts. I will keep 20 gold in my purse, and stash the rest in my chest. If you can keep up with that on my sheet, I would greatly appreciate it.
The stranger comes a little later than the rest, but only by a few minutes. Just when the others may start to notice his absence, he arrives. "Sorry, my magnificant horse decided to act like a stubborn mule." He said, gesturing towards what was in fact a very bored mule that stood not a step or two behind him. The stranger was dressed in the same traveling clothes he wore when sparring with Sir Dunstan.
Show
Of course I am assuming Thorik is correct, Panguar. If not, feel free to subtract the appropriate amount of gold from my total. I should have enough to survive a night.
I'm not going to get any more rest... Might as well as get down there and get my armor.
Gerin gets his gear together leaves behind his old set of armor. He does a quick stop by the quartermaster pickes up ten days worth of rations, and continues to pick up his armor. They get him into the suit and off in short order, he hands over the coin he brought for it leaving him with fifty to carry. He heads to the kitches to get a quick cup of strong coffee and heads out to the gate. He sips on it until the group arrives. Happy in his solitude but looking forwards to his companions company.