I'll be done with my post in just a moment, sorry. I've been ill these past few days, so I've done a lot sleeping, and forgot all about this.
Maxwell
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Dumber than Advertised
STATUS: God, this place has been around for 13 years already. I feel old. So very old. 5 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: M@XWeru
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- Maxwell 11 yrs ago
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God, this place has been around for 13 years already. I feel old. So very old.
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8 yrs ago
That bearnaise must have been bad. Please kill me now.
8 yrs ago
Someone make me a retro Pokémon role play.
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I went back and padded out my post a little. It needed it.
The weeks at sea passed slowly and uneventfully, a fact for which Baltazar was thankful. Lustria promised enough dangers for a lifetime, and he had plenty of living left to do. To that end, he devoted his days to training, and getting to know his traveling companions. When there was nothing better to do, he would assist the ship's crew with shipboard chores, climb the rigging for a chance to stretch his legs, and gamble - as long as anyone would still take his bets. As always, he found himself in Ranald's good graces.
The fencing masters of the Estalian schools of fencing prescribed daily practise of each form, as well as keeping up with the latest scientific discoveries, to incorporate your understanding of the physical universe into your combat style. Baltazar had never been much for winding technical manuals, nor drawn out scientific discourses, and typically found the complicated kata of Estalian swordsmanship more trying than his patience could bear. With that in mind, he preferred the Imperial method, of sparring and physical exercise (the Tilean recipe for success, being heavy drinking and declaring vendetta on everyone you come across, was not very applicable at sea), and offered to teach his tricks to all comers.
When the storm hit, he immediately joined the crew on deck, battening down hatches, trimming sails and making sure the ship was in irons. At the mention of the approaching longboat, Baltazar, spouting curses, flew down to get his sword. The crossbow would soon be useless in the rain; even stringing the thing would be a waste of time, and If the crew couldn't finish off the Norse while they still had dry powder, the ship would inevitably be boarded. Assuming they survived that long.
Coming back up on deck, he was just in time to fall flat on his face as the ship crashed into something in the darkness. From the screaming up at the bow, he had a faint inkling that the wizard's apprentice fallen overboard. What she was doing there in the first place, Baltazar couldn't guess at - she had no business on deck in the middle of a storm, and saving her would be as good as impossible. Naturally, the young Bretonnian jumped after her before Baltazar could do more than stare in bewilderment. He would have given up a few curses, as well, but the longship was already closing in on the Wellenbrecher.
Ripping out his sword, he ran and slid in behind the ship's railing - the Imperial ship had the height advantage, and the Norse would have to climb. In the chaos of the storm and the fighting, odds were good no one would notice a shadow stalking behind their lines, cutting ropes and hamstrings. Baltazar touched one finger to his golden four leaf clover, wrapping around him a cloak of darkness that dimmed his very presence. Sword at the ready, he listened for the sound of grappling hooks and Norse cursewords.
The fencing masters of the Estalian schools of fencing prescribed daily practise of each form, as well as keeping up with the latest scientific discoveries, to incorporate your understanding of the physical universe into your combat style. Baltazar had never been much for winding technical manuals, nor drawn out scientific discourses, and typically found the complicated kata of Estalian swordsmanship more trying than his patience could bear. With that in mind, he preferred the Imperial method, of sparring and physical exercise (the Tilean recipe for success, being heavy drinking and declaring vendetta on everyone you come across, was not very applicable at sea), and offered to teach his tricks to all comers.
When the storm hit, he immediately joined the crew on deck, battening down hatches, trimming sails and making sure the ship was in irons. At the mention of the approaching longboat, Baltazar, spouting curses, flew down to get his sword. The crossbow would soon be useless in the rain; even stringing the thing would be a waste of time, and If the crew couldn't finish off the Norse while they still had dry powder, the ship would inevitably be boarded. Assuming they survived that long.
Coming back up on deck, he was just in time to fall flat on his face as the ship crashed into something in the darkness. From the screaming up at the bow, he had a faint inkling that the wizard's apprentice fallen overboard. What she was doing there in the first place, Baltazar couldn't guess at - she had no business on deck in the middle of a storm, and saving her would be as good as impossible. Naturally, the young Bretonnian jumped after her before Baltazar could do more than stare in bewilderment. He would have given up a few curses, as well, but the longship was already closing in on the Wellenbrecher.
Ripping out his sword, he ran and slid in behind the ship's railing - the Imperial ship had the height advantage, and the Norse would have to climb. In the chaos of the storm and the fighting, odds were good no one would notice a shadow stalking behind their lines, cutting ropes and hamstrings. Baltazar touched one finger to his golden four leaf clover, wrapping around him a cloak of darkness that dimmed his very presence. Sword at the ready, he listened for the sound of grappling hooks and Norse cursewords.
I'm still here, I'm gonna post. Just got distracted for a couple of days by unusual circumstances. Got about 1/4 of a post written out already.
I have to agree that a kraken is a bit much for a team this size and composition.
I honestly thought the boat trip would go on for a while - definitely longer than one short conversation. I don't feel like we've hashed out anything like a party chemistry yet.
"To be young again," Baltazar replied with feigned wistfulness, punctuating his sentence with a snort at the young knight's last comment. "I've never met any damsels myself, but I'll take your word for it. To answer your question, I suspect we're looking at over a month's travel, and that's at the very least. I've never been across the ocean, however, so you may want to ask the captain to be sure."
He had enough experience with the elder races that their condescending remarks was so much white noise at that point, and Baltazar weathered it patiently. No more introductions were forthcoming; he briefly considered introducing himself a second time to drive home his point, but decided against it - if for no other reason than that a handshake with a seated dwarf would probably be the most awkward moment of his life. Wait, what was that the dwarf just said about lizardmen?
"Are you experienced at fighting lizardmen?" Baltazar blurted out in honest surprise, "I mean, master dwarf, if you have encountered the lizardmen before, any information you might have would be tremendously useful. All I've ever heard myself are vague rumours."
He had enough experience with the elder races that their condescending remarks was so much white noise at that point, and Baltazar weathered it patiently. No more introductions were forthcoming; he briefly considered introducing himself a second time to drive home his point, but decided against it - if for no other reason than that a handshake with a seated dwarf would probably be the most awkward moment of his life. Wait, what was that the dwarf just said about lizardmen?
"Are you experienced at fighting lizardmen?" Baltazar blurted out in honest surprise, "I mean, master dwarf, if you have encountered the lizardmen before, any information you might have would be tremendously useful. All I've ever heard myself are vague rumours."
There's no need to be defensive. I disagree with you on what's appropriate, but it's not my call.
I've never heard of Warhammer elves not needing sleep. Are you sure you're not getting them mixed up with DnD elves?
Yep, the Harbinger hit the nail on the head.
In the words of Leeky Windstaff:
"I'm a druid. I have class features that are better than your entire class!"
In the words of Leeky Windstaff:
"I'm a druid. I have class features that are better than your entire class!"
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