Shattered Sea Chronicles, Book I: Festival of the Dead
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
-Redbeard and Johanna-
The spearman's eyes widen a bit when Johanna threatens him, and he glances quickly at his downed comrade. He visibly measures his options for another split second, then he says, "Malice! Five silvers the day isn't worth this!" He backs away from her and the sword, and then pushes his way through the onlookers.
Redbeard's spear throw proves unnecessary, though Polly does circle above the tall barbarian's head, screeching a war challenge.
The laugh from the bearish man is loud. "Well now, that was well done, woman." Then he looks at the druid, raising a bushy eyebrow. "You killed my wolf, brave rescuer of Jotun valkyries, but he marked you well, so I'm willing to say us even. What say you? Will you take the hand of Fiscus the Merchant on the bargain?"
The spearman's eyes widen a bit when Johanna threatens him, and he glances quickly at his downed comrade. He visibly measures his options for another split second, then he says, "Malice! Five silvers the day isn't worth this!" He backs away from her and the sword, and then pushes his way through the onlookers.
Redbeard's spear throw proves unnecessary, though Polly does circle above the tall barbarian's head, screeching a war challenge.
The laugh from the bearish man is loud. "Well now, that was well done, woman." Then he looks at the druid, raising a bushy eyebrow. "You killed my wolf, brave rescuer of Jotun valkyries, but he marked you well, so I'm willing to say us even. What say you? Will you take the hand of Fiscus the Merchant on the bargain?"
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
-The Nameless Psion- (ooc: hint, hint)
As the crossbow armed psion rounds the corner, a stench reaches his nose...a stench of corruption and death. What he sees is more immediate, a pair of shambling, rotting figures, dragging a young woman into the dark recesses of an alley covered by the overhang of the adjoining buildings. She starts to scream again, when a clammy hand covers her mouth, leaving only her eyes, round with terror, to plead for aid.
As the crossbow armed psion rounds the corner, a stench reaches his nose...a stench of corruption and death. What he sees is more immediate, a pair of shambling, rotting figures, dragging a young woman into the dark recesses of an alley covered by the overhang of the adjoining buildings. She starts to scream again, when a clammy hand covers her mouth, leaving only her eyes, round with terror, to plead for aid.
Blarkon Dragonslayer
First Post
-Broderick-
Grerik grins as Broderick joins him in the pit. "Until you tie that braid, youngster, you are still a boy. A mere youth." The the grin gets wider. "Unless you can prove me false, eh?" Two hamlike fists raise, hands that Broderick knows from hard experience are as rocklike as his own.
Grerik grins as Broderick joins him in the pit. "Until you tie that braid, youngster, you are still a boy. A mere youth." The the grin gets wider. "Unless you can prove me false, eh?" Two hamlike fists raise, hands that Broderick knows from hard experience are as rocklike as his own.
EvolutionKB
First Post
This man was obviously much more than the two of them could handle, being hurt as they were. Redbeard says, "It is a deal, we are even." Then Redbeard thought, Olephas would have here about this man and his "merchant" dealings. Perhaps I will go to him sooner than later. Redbeard's stomach growled a response, complaining about the lack of food.
Redbeard approaches the warrior woman, offering his hand. "Redbeard is my name, thanks for the help. You be wounded? I can mend yer wounds, if ya wish. Come here Polly, the eagle landing on his outstretched forearm."
Redbeard approaches the warrior woman, offering his hand. "Redbeard is my name, thanks for the help. You be wounded? I can mend yer wounds, if ya wish. Come here Polly, the eagle landing on his outstretched forearm."
pathfinderq1
First Post
Blarkon Dragonslayer said:
Johanna watched her remaining opponent flee into the crowd, then lowered her sword so the tip rested lightly on the ground before her. For space of a heartbeat or two, she hung her head, drew a few deep breaths and tried to get a sense of just how badly she is hurt, now that the immediate threat of combat is over.
It was bad, but she wasn't going to die of it, she decided quickly enough. And if she wasn't going to die, then there was business to attend to. First she acknowledged her red-bearded would-be rescuer with a firm nod of her head- for the moment she paid only the least bit of attention to the "merchant" who had, in her opinion, started this trouble. She leaned down and rummaged in her pack, looking for a spare scarf or something to clean her sword- the wound, while painful, could wait a minute. Letting it bleed might even clean the puncture out a bit.
"If one of you can attend to this man, I think it would be better for all of us- especially him. He doesn't deserve to die in a fight like this." In civilized lands like this, her words could be taken for concern- but she spoke in Jotun terms, indicating that this man had hardly earned the glory inherent in death in battle.
pathfinderq1
First Post
EvolutionKB said:
Johanna looked up at the man, and cast a quick, wary glance at his rather impressive avian companion. She stood up, and swung the greatsword around so that she held it at rest, one hand on the hilt and the blunted tip set on the ground. Then, moving slowly so as to not aggravate either her injury or his eagle, she extended her empty hand for a brief greeting. "I am Johanna," she said, "Johanna of Birka." Almost she had offered her father's name as a patronymic in the Jotun style, or her grandfather's name. But she had not done anything yet to merit such a title, so the name of her home port would suffice. "And while I'd appreciate a healer's aid, I think he needs it more." With that she nodded at her fallen opponent.
OOC, for both Redbeard and GM: [sblock] I'd guess Redbeard, as a sailor, might recognize the name of a fairly important Jotun port- that is your call. And Johanna is still not convinced her opponent is dead- but I'm leaving that open-ended as well[/sblock]
Bloodweaver1
First Post
OOC: Yea - Yea :: I am working on itBlarkon Dragonslayer said:
Are those undead? How fascinating! I have never actually seen one before! Wait what magic school is that… Nitro… Night… Necromany! That’s it! Was I ever a Necromancier? That would have been such an enthralling career! So lost is he in his complete amazement of finally experiencing the undead that he almost forgets about the terrified women being drag away to what looks like her unending death. With an outstretched hand he quickly creates a ball of raw mental energy in the palm of his hand. With a simple flickering thought he turns the raw energy into blazing ray of fire aim directly at nearest undead. Do they always eat the living or can they eat other corpses? What if the being was just killed, can they that or is there some kind of time limit?
OOC: Energy Ray (Fire) with Overchannel (2PP): Ranged Touch (1d20+2) Damage (2d6+2)
Larren hops off the end of the wagon, lurching forward. He'ss glad to be on firm ground, even if it does keep spinning. "Thanks for the ride. Good luck on your, uh, hay route." He shrugs and heads into the city.
Marvelling a bit at the scale of it all, Larren looks for a crowd, or something generally interesting.
Marvelling a bit at the scale of it all, Larren looks for a crowd, or something generally interesting.
EvolutionKB
First Post
Redbeard nods at the woman, as he kneels over the bleeding man, struggling to find his pulse. "If I can save him, what you want to do with him? If he be dealing with some animals, I'd like to take to my master, Olephas, he be at the Granite Badger. Perhaps for savin 'is life he'll spill all he knows about 'is boss."
Redbeard continued to poke at the man's wound, "Birka you say? I haven't seen that place in ages. Not since me and me pops were aboard 'is vessel. I'll tell ye what, if 'e don't pull through, lets go to tha Badger anyways, I owe you an ale." Redbeard was nervous at this proposition, he never had much luck with the ladies, especially pretty ones like this.
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