Rufinus Galsius.'s page

I like these woods. Pity about the magic.

Imperator Paper, do you mind if we spill blood?

Are we still not allowed to light fires or spill blood?

Here are your clothes.

I smote you in my madness. I am sorry. I don't know if you remember what happened. If you want vengeance, wait until the common foe is dead. I will not run.

Maybe he went to help set up this ritual. His kit is gone. Or he went to scout out the enemy. He knew that Rafi. Did he tell anyone where he was going?

I killed Hrothgar. I will give him five years. I would give more, but I am fifty years old. I cannot spare as much as a younger man. Where is Modius?

I hope so. Good sleep. This is too soft. He gets to his feet, then lays himself flat on the floor. In moments, he is asleep.

Well lets get some sleep. It may be a while before we have the chance again. I hope I can apologise to Hrothgar for killing him. Do you think he will hold a grudge? You know him better than I do.

Rufinus stretches out on one of the couches. His feet dangle off the end. He scratches his belly, and yawns like a bear.

Is the dial the glass thing with the sand in it?

Imperator, I will not be a part to slaving. I hope that you do not intend to sell captives. Ransom is better. It is an ill thing to bond another against his will.

What will you have us do?

The old man grins, showing his shocking teeth. " I prescribe a large hammer, topically applied."

Let's just get Hrothgar back from the feast hall, and go to meet this force of men. It will take too long to go other places and get help, and the nice horse-men need us. We can take them, if we keep our hearts in the fight. They are Rafi's men, I am sure. I don't like him. I think he is barbaric and uncouth. He burns things that belong to others, He has a dirty mouth, and he loves strife. A man like that is easy to kill. Just challenge him, and cut him down in his arrogance.

The old man places his hammer in his hands in imitation of Paper.

I will build in this realm for you. I will serve you for the rest of my days, and I will give you my sweat and my council. Hail king Paper, or Gnaeus Cornelius Caesar.

Softly I killed my countryman under your spell. We have heard that we can give of our lives to grant him a new lease on his. Is it true?

Your worship, I am Rufinus. I am a common labourer. Master Papyrus is our leader, I reckon, and he should speak for us.

"Horse-Man. Next time you need stitches taken out, Every last one of us has the skills to help you. No need to cut yourself. What did you do that is so bad, anyway?"

"Lots of books here. Must be worth a few librae."

"Do you think there will be any food here?"

"The redemptive power of slavery is very over-rated. A simple apology is usually better. You did nothing wrong, teacher. We have all been twisted this way and that by the witchcraft of this place. We have all been bent from our nature at least once. I think we should talk of happy things for a while. Of beer and women, and of work done well.

I knew a courtyard where women went to brush their hair and sing. Three of us were working on the roof, and the women knew it, but they pretended not to see us. They put on a little show for us every day. I have never put down tile so reluctantly. we made the job last for three days by cracking tiles, and by taking rot from one tile, and pasting it on another. I can still see them if I close my eyes. Fourteen dark tresses being oiled and combed.

There is much in our own world that is magical. I don't know if it would be improved if these creatures and enchantments came back. Maybe it is good time for the old ways to pass. I just know that Alaric is my enemy, and I will do what I can, in my own small way, to thwart whatever he desires."

Covers his head, and runs out of the woods, toward the hill

"Freya's dugs, this is as cold as a witches tit!"

Rufinus pulls one of the eldritch torches out of his bundle. It shines like a beacon through the trees and icy rain.

"Man-horse, we should stay under cover. This weather is not safe. What is happening?"

1d20+5=16, 1d12=8

1d20=14

Rambling and dreamy at first, but becoming firm.
"Something is fogging my head. I feel sweet, I mean druggy. Like a moss in the.. I mean hash. Work long on hash. Poor Zalmoxis shouldn't have died like that. Pa...roman. Friend Roman. They want us to go in, and they have my name. Not my family name. They can't have that one. Just got my slave name. Not really my name at all. I will not be bewitched again."

Rufinus slaps himself hard, and his eyes clear.

"I see why the Romans need roads. They run so fast! You need not feel any shame. That was strong witchwork. I know how it feels to lose yourself to a spell. Perhaps Modius is right, and this place is all accursed, though it seem so fair"

1d20+5=17

"Woman. You leave crow tracks. We should not treat with you."

"Is that home? Is that Midgard?"

Are we going to sleep on top of the hill? We can see anything coming. I think we should post watches. I would like to take the last watch. I didn't sleep well last time we slept.

My people believe that it is bad luck to kill a spider. They never grew so large though. We should take some cobwebs to stunch bleeding, but I don't want that thing close to me.

Rufinus makes sure the bundle is secure. He takes a needle and twine out of his pack, and sews up the rent in the linen.

"This is easier than stitching people. The little one was just frightened. We are giants to it. Maybe it just wanted to use his hair for rope."

Beeswax kills them? That is strange!

More Greek monsters? You have so many! We just have draugr and witches and the little people. It must be terrible to be a Greek child, and have to hear of all these perils, without being taught how to kill them all.

"We have left Greece and even Rome. We are in Germania now. We should take our fallen comrade for a while. I think the horse-man Crassus has not eaten for a while. Sit down in the sun on the log. I will bring you all water. Now before that, I need to have a... I mean... I will be back soon" Rufinus puts his hammer and his bundle down in the sun on his poncho, and grabs some ferns from the side of the stream. he heads out into the forest on the other side of the road.

" I don't understand any of this, but I trust you all to make the right choices for me. The All-father knows that I need the help."

"It is impossible, Stratos. The bow would need a titan's strength to bend. I could not even get an inch of play from the string. "

Sorry for the delete, but I reconsidered Rufinus' motivations.

"I will bear the axe, but I will not wield it. It is Hrothgar's line that must have that honour. I do not want to confuse issues, as there are people that would try to rally against Alaric, and they would see my heritage as a weapon in that struggle. The Christians have won the war for the faith of the north. All I want is to free some slaves, as I was freed. I will take what riches we can get from this adventure, and shall get a quarry, and fill it with men who are earning freedom. The profits will free more, and that is a batter legacy to leave than a few blooded corpses on the Danube."

Rufinus hauls Hrothgar's corpse onto his shoulders. He seems to be bearing two loads. One of flesh, and one of guilt.

"This witchcraft and sorcery is not my realm. I feel Ill-suited here."

Rufinus picks up the bow, and tries the string. He cannot pull the bow.

"It is too hard to pull. No offense, Isat. I thought you were just weak, but it won't budge for me either."

He takes an arrow from the quiver, and nocks it. The arrowhead bursts into flame. He drops the bow in shock.

"I have old eyes, but I will help you look for the star. How can I tell it from the others? Oh."

"I saw it. I feel better."

Post that ought to be part of a PBP, but was placed here by mistake.

Edit that bemoans multiple tabs.

"What is a forn? Are they edible?"

"This makes my head hurt. I will leave you all to it."

"Is this real? Is this still Hell?"

"I am sorry for what I have done. If any of you wish to extract vengeance, I will not stay your hand."

"Filthy thief. It is mine. Mine. It mine."

Rufinus looks grief stricken. He continues to hover between you and the coin.
"I did not mean to hurt him. He came too close."

He looks torn up. His face is contorting, and his neck is rigid with the strain, but he cannot free himself from the spell.

Rufinus is still standing directly behind Hrothgar, with his hands on his hammer. He speaks, in beatiful and precise Germanic. His voice is measured, and calm, like a man talking to an animal, to soothe it.

"Hrothgar. You are acting like a woman. Tell us what is wrong, and take your hands off my master, so he can heal Paper, and we can move on."

"Hrothgar. Are you alright?"

Looking at Isat Vastra, with infinite faith.

"You can fix the hand?"

Rufinus stoops, and shuffles into the light. He also teleports into the room. He blinks a few times, and lifts his eyebrows in an expression of wonder.

"How do we go back?"

"The socket looks the right size for one of the torches in the passage outside."

Rufinus places one of the everburning torches in the socket. The fit is far from exact. Again, the flickering light reveals a way through the plug, but the light source is not properly used.

"What else gave out light in this tomb?"