Fetzen

Blades of the Blood Coast

<Snipped quote by Fetzen>

Faeril, foiled by his own density again!

@DrRtron

Unless Lorcan would be stupid enough to set a foot onto his own trap I guess :)

Winds of Fate - A Thieves' Adventure (Semi-Tabletop)

For the last couple of minutes, or rather for as long as the 'debate' between Solange and Nora had unfolded, Skarsat had done nothing but to remain on his seat and to continue eating. Nora's unexpected appearance, her orders and the fact that Solange had managed to suck the poor woman into yet another bloody mess of her making had actually saved Solange from a quite sudden and ferocious reaction of the Tork man, but demoted the latter to the role of a mere observer. A three-front war was going on in his mind, all participants being different parts and schools of thinking of himself.

The first was the rational one: He had been given a clear instruction to wake up the others, so he should obey so not to make a bad first impression and to prove helpful for the party overall. Also, given how Nora had cornered Solange on a chair and her facial expression, it seemed that she was already getting things under control and would give that other woman a lecture well deserved.

The second was the curious one: Solange had done more things wrong in a matter of minutes than he could ever have imagined previously, so what would come next ? That part wanted to stay, even if that would mean having to eat even more than the flabbergasting amount he already had just to have some kind of pretense. Solange was just bound to screw things up even more and in some way it was so ridiculous it was even funny!

The third one was responsible for rage: It wanted to do the exact same thing as the second one, but not out of curiosity and a good laugh but because it hoped that Solange would turn her attention back towards him and just give that one, absolutely blatant, unmistakable, perfect reason for him to jump onto the table, run at and jump at her like a wild beast and ruin more than just this morning's hairstyle of hers!

Unfortunately none of those three parts had shown any sign of winning the conflict. On the contrary: none had achieved even the slightest bit of a goal so far! He was still sitting here and waiting for his very own decision making...

Enough!

In a bold move, the rational part forged an uneasy alliance with rage: Maybe Nora would give Solange the lesson she derserved, but it would be Nora's lesson! So where was his lesson ? Could he really rely on Nora doing the dirty work for him and tell Solange that she had done wrong to him as well ? No, of course not! And if things went according to rage this Neh’miah would not need a personalized wakeup call after some special kind of Solange lesson anyway!

Skarsat got up and approached the two women, coming so close that probably at least Nora could feel the floorboards buckle beneath a pair of Tork feet. He looked down at Solange and some minor parts of his face twitched. Then the giant lowered himself so he could look her in the eyes more easily, letting go of a prolonged, albeit artificial, sigh. He folded his hands in front of his face and rubbed his nose. Like said... it was an uneasy alliance between rational and rage...

"Solange..." he started, rather calm at first. "So you think that handing someone a plate full of food because he asked for it equals 'feeding' that someone ? Or how did you suddenly get to this 'Shut up and feed me ?' thing." Quoting her, Skarsat also tried to mimic the voice of her words, but not without adding a lot of bitterness and personal disgust to his attempt. "Or, more generally asking... exactly what part of my drinking and chewing made you believe that I or anyone else in this room had actual interest in hearing your bedroom stories of personal superiority ?"

And now rage backstabbed the rational and took over, immediately commanding Skarsat's right hand to try and hit Solange's cheek hard while his left hand was given the order to approach her head from the other side to prevent her from just escaping in that direction. However even before he could see whether he'd hit her or miss her his speech continued. Now much, much louder:

"When we're in trouble, you run out of arrows and shout to me to hand you my quiver, will I then afterwards also just be one more petty man in the life of the great Solange who begged you to lie about the size of the thing between his legs ? You sound like you're the pinnacle of the world yet so far you've only spread doubt about your actual usefulness!

Oh and before your crazy mind even dares to think about it: You will never 'feed' me! Not with a spoon and not with your breast if that's what you're imagining! Your milk is spoiled by your arrogance!"

Blades of the Blood Coast

<Snipped quote by Fetzen>

That's the beauty of it, Lorcan will be in the lead so we just follow his movements no matter what he does! No convincing required!

@DrRtron

Did you hear of that secret Skayleigh technology ? It's called 'big hole with pointy poles at the bottom of it and covered by branches that only break upon 250 pounds or more of pressure'.

Should be safe for the party, except for Faeril!

Blades of the Blood Coast

Now all you gotta do is convince Lorcan of this plan!

Blades of the Blood Coast

There was a not so uncommon rumor that Skayleigh would meet Burrowfolk with disdain, but if things had gone Lorcan's way that kind of talk would have met firm resistance many years ago already. In his opinion hardly anything could be further from the truth and the only thing that kept this kind of malicious rumors alive had to be stubborn people with ossified brains that really thought that a massive height difference alone could make a deal.

The 'princess' however now started really not to impress him. Her being in the circus ring alongside him and them battling through arranged arguments full of foul speech so to entertain the audience was a fun imagination. Them drinking together backstage afterwards was even more so. Right now however that circus was a very long way away and, given their overall situation, the Skayleigh couldn't help but expect at least some tiny bit of decency from everyone. It was an expectation the tiniest member of them all had failed to meet at this point!

Luckily though the others appeared to be a less troublesome, though quite rough bunch. Who could blame them for that after this week of hell alone though ? Lorcan did not, at least not so far. He just once more reminded himself to be a tad careful when it came to people like Faeril. Had the dwarf noticed his stares ? Also there was no way to determine whether the human, Raddek, actually did know something about this region or just wanted to make himself appear important. They were quite a bit in the same boat though, so why should he talk absolute shit ?

Ultimately Lorcan convinced himself to follow suit without asking questions, but taking the time to obtain a wooden stick himself. To his misfortune the Skayleigh knew that in terms of an undetected approach he was a worst case, so he tried his best to... stay as low as possible. He also felt a bit of an uneasy tension raising: Just how likely was it to be released as an anonymous prisoner at a seemingly arbitrary location and to encounter a threat like the one he was thinking about within moments ? The idea of this being an elaborate trap appeared anything but far-fetched.

Lorcan ultimately found his own way of relieving some of his stress, even though he did it in a very low tone so not to betray their position earlier than his footsteps would. Thinking of poems and rhymes had always helped him a little in such tense situations and this party had made it pretty easy so far to find a subject:

So there she was, the princess
she'd just got off the wagon!
Her scent a big fat bloody mess,
so find a perfume flacon!

Her hands could almost touch her feet,
she didn't know she was a stub!
So to make a meet and greet,
she bowed into the mud!

Talk of wooden sticks and rotten dicks,
foul words there were with every breath!
Yet those around her were no lunatics,
so could she see impending death ?

Poor Skayleigh wants back north,
it must feel like ascension.
The Caelic Isles and so forth,
that's a whole other dimension!

Hopefully his tone also was low enough so a very distinct individual wouldn't hear it all too easily...

Blades of the Blood Coast

Why am I thinking of that Jurassic Park scene with the T-Rex eating the goat as a whole? Doesn't leave as much behind as chewing it, and with its jaws such a beast could pick up a body from the ground, too...

Just in case we don't manage to club our potential predator to death using nothing but manacles I'm thinking a roll on taming could be a last ditch option

Blades of the Blood Coast

I think we got an engineer in the party, so here's my suggestion: Let's take the key with us, so then upon encountering a more formidable foe, we can combine the five shackles into a chain by interlocking them with each other. Attached to one of the wooden clubs this could serve as a makeshift flail.

Maybe we could also combine them into a bola to throw at and immobilize an animal. If then we encountered some wild horses...

*mumble muble mumble, just imagine some additional useless trash talk here*

Blades of the Blood Coast

And who got the first loot ?

Do iron shackles count as exotic weaponry ?
(just kidding!)

Blades of the Blood Coast

On day one, Lorcan had been full of hope that a journey in a wagon was not the worst thing that could happen to him. He had seen the clouds, the many mounted soldiers with no roof over their heads to protect them from anything. He had also seen the road and that it probably would turn more rough at some point, had thought that they were the lucky ones who did not have to carry their own weight for the next few days.

On day two, Lorcan's neck muscles had started to ache. All the effort of trying not to bang his head against some part of the wagon's ceiling or side walls with every bump on the road had been taking its toll already. Luckily his hair was a big, fuzzy mess that could act as some sort of shock absorber.

Somewhen over the course of day three Lorcan's guts had started to protest against the food that could hardly be called such. Maybe it had been the better decision than to try and fully process it, even if the infrequent breaks had made it difficult to hold things back quite literally.

Had it been day four or five when Fenks had died ? The plus point: There now was more room, less of the nasty smell and the certainty that none of those remaining was infected. On the other hand however it still was one person who had died a painful death and while maybe some of the others didn't care, Lorcan did. And with that kind of revelation the wagon had started to feel just that tiny little bit more dirty.

Also, Lorcan would have preferred the wagon breaking a wheel than one of the horses breaking a leg. He was in no way claustrophobic, but being practically immobilized for days had felt like a very bad thing for the athletic Skayleigh. Getting out of that wagon would have taken away some of his worries, but such a change of things had been nowhere in sight. The foothills had punished his already pretty beaten head just like the mountain roads, but not harder than those either. So there had been no hope for the material breaking down then after so much survival.

And yet, after all that hardship, the way their guards just left them behind still managed to baffle him quite a bit. Weren't those iron shackles worth anything or why did they just leave them and the keys behind ? Maybe a quite tiny oddity to wonder about given his overall situation right now, but still...

The person Faeril passed the keys on to was him and greedily the half-giant rammed the keys in the crude lock. Ironically, now that the clamps had been pressing on his skin for so long, removing them actually hurt as blood was pouring back into layers of flesh that had been in lack of it for days. Lorcan looked down on himself, gently pulling back the sleeves to check whether any kind of infection had formed beneath the iron. Nothing! Maybe the only good thing this day for otherwise their situation could be considered rather bleak.

Having handed the key over to the one standing next to him, Lorcan kneeled to pick up his still warm shackles from the ground again. The thought of keeping those felt odd, but on the other hand it somehow felt satisfying and good for his sense of security to have something in his hand. Maybe that iron could send some sparks flying to start a fire ? Or maybe they could be used to beat a small animal to death for food ? Lorcan did not know, but his grip around his shackles only hardened. If they should prove to be useless ballast he could still throw them away at any time.

"Lorcan. Just Lorcan." It would be easy for anyone to notice that the Skayleigh was speaking with a bit of a weird accent. The Caelic isles were a bit of a region of their own and he could not hide that easily. "I do not have any other name."

Winds of Fate - A Thieves' Adventure (Semi-Tabletop)

Skarsat

It had not taken long for Skarsat to start enjoying the overly abundant plethora of food The Faded Lantern had to offer, although it seemed rather obvious to the Tork man that this offer was much more a special one than what any everyday guest could hope for. How much all of this would have cost if ordered by ordinary people without an assignment as critical as theirs ? Or rather: How much this Lord Vargas secretly subtracted from their reward for all of this ? Skarsat had a hard time imagining that their employer would not have calculated all of this very thoroughly, from what was on the table to the very rooms they had slept in this night.

On the other hand... if he had been nothing more than an ordinary guest this morning, Skarsat might have had it easier to just try and talk his money back out of the innkeeper's pockets, claiming that the overall atmosphere was... unpreferable and inappropriate. Or at least so it felt for him the moment Solange started her verbal siege. A piece of egg was still hanging out of a corner of his mouth as the hulking Tork raised his head, just looking at the woman -- with surprise at first, but quickly with rather obvious unhappyness that could hardly be explained by some residual morning groggyness.

Darling ? Reservation in helping himself ? Skarsat's thoughts could be summarized as follows: 'Erm... what?'. There were no such words in a Tork tribe, and right now he could just hope that there never would, even if his current judgement probably did those kind words great unjustice because it was Solange and her special way of expressing them that bothered him right now.

Since Tork tribes had come into existence they had found many phenomenons on, above and below their heated sands that they had found hard or impossible to explain, so many desert myths had formed over the ages. At some point one had found out that large grooves in the dunes were caused by nothing else than rocks being pushed around by violent gusts of wind, but that discovery had been too late to prevent the creation of a particularly nasty myth: the one of the great snails. Not great because people had liked them, but because they had been said to have been so abormously large that people had feared them.

Just like your ordinary snail, those creatures had allegedly been omnivores that had satisfied their large appetite by use of a radula. Not only had it been claimed that they had been able to cause disaster for a tribe by eating away all of the fruits a much needed oasis had to offer, but they had even been given the ability to attack any unwary wanderer directly. In your sleep they'd come at you at their shameful pace, slide aover your body, suffocate you with their weight while grinding away your skin at the same time.

Solange's words just seemed to do the same thing. That woman was a very good big snail impersonator. Unfortunately deploying any of the countermeasures a tribe would have had to offer against such a hypothetical threat would have caused big trouble for himself. So there was no other choice but to stand fast and bear all of it.

"Have you ever tried bare silence ? Maybe that's the best or second best thing you can give ?" No smile and no grin either. Skarsat's words were pretty dry, but even that already was the result of filtering out the negative emotions he currently had. "And handing me that plate over there certainly is the other thing, right ?" Now he tried to put up a slight smile, but whether it would have success and not come across as a pretty forced thing was to be questioned. He did not want to start an argument with Solange or anyone else right on the first morning, but he felt no need to hide his true feelings all too excessively either.

"A big man needs big food. That large plate, please." and he pointed to a pretty big one filled to the brim with bread, cheese and bacon.