Marcon watches the dog flee. Running down a wounded animal entices him not at all, so he moves toward the corpse of the downed creature to retrieve his arrows, for as Gamba the Archer quipped, "The largest, keenest, surest bow / needs ammunition, even so."
JohnnyWeird Member
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 7 yrs ago
- Posts: 59 (0.02 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- JohnnyWeird 7 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Marcon's demeanor is calm. "A chaotic battlefield can be mastered by an ordered mind," the sage Thrembrelgan maintained. Another arrow flies, this one to thr remaining worg.
"Shit."
Marcon sees the elf fall a second time. Punching a dog? Ill-advised, but none could question such courage.
His hands and arms reload and draw the bow as his mind races.
"Always strike a distracted foe," he quotes to no one in particular as the arrow flies to the same dog as before. Armstrong was no knight, but her "Tactics and Victory" had been read by more generals than Marcon could name.
Marcon sees the elf fall a second time. Punching a dog? Ill-advised, but none could question such courage.
His hands and arms reload and draw the bow as his mind races.
"Always strike a distracted foe," he quotes to no one in particular as the arrow flies to the same dog as before. Armstrong was no knight, but her "Tactics and Victory" had been read by more generals than Marcon could name.
Done! Hope it goes how Marcon wants, though I don't think he's that lucky.
One of Parsifal's "Animal Couplets" springs unbidden to Marcon's mind.
Old prejudices confirmed, the warrior looses his arrow at the beast that felled Theren.
Looking to exploit the savagery of these creatures, he aims for its leg. If it can be hobbled, perhaps its packmate will turn on it as an easy meal.
"This noble Dog, my truest friend!"
So bragged the Hunter of his beast
The Dog upon his corpse did feast
'Twas but a Jackal in the end.
Old prejudices confirmed, the warrior looses his arrow at the beast that felled Theren.
Looking to exploit the savagery of these creatures, he aims for its leg. If it can be hobbled, perhaps its packmate will turn on it as an easy meal.
Marcon Astoro, Travel Critic and Overeducated Fighter!
He goes on a 12.
https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/5195
He goes on a 12.
https://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/5195
Hot on the priest's heels, Marcon keeps his eyes open and his arrow nocked.
"The state of the keep suggests the greatest need there, Master Torletarte. As for the feeling of Nightstone, I would call it 'unwelcoming'. The 'Gazetteer of the Sword Coast' ought recommend against tourism."
Smiling wanly at his own poor joke, Marcon watches his surroundings.
"The state of the keep suggests the greatest need there, Master Torletarte. As for the feeling of Nightstone, I would call it 'unwelcoming'. The 'Gazetteer of the Sword Coast' ought recommend against tourism."
Smiling wanly at his own poor joke, Marcon watches his surroundings.
Dramaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
"Giants seem likely, Master Torletart. Treganne credits the stronger of them with size and might sufficient to this assault."
Close by the priest, Marcon trades sword and shield for bow. Nocking an arrow, he examines the surroundings as well, though his mind is more readied for danger than deduction.
Close by the priest, Marcon trades sword and shield for bow. Nocking an arrow, he examines the surroundings as well, though his mind is more readied for danger than deduction.
Marcon's brow furrows. If the town had been beset by plague, as Olgalla saw in his journeys, the gates would be shut. A sack would explain the state of the keep, but why keep the palisade untouched ("Wood burns quick, stone falls slow", as Bragnon Broadshield observed in 'Siegecraft')?
"I shall go with you," he declares to the healer. "I would know what happened here."
"I shall go with you," he declares to the healer. "I would know what happened here."
© 2007-2024