"Actually, we are picking weeds to enhance our bandit-smashing effectiveness. As this will please Gorum immensely, we are still picking weeds for the priesthood in a way."
Thom mulls this over for a few seconds, ripping a particularly tough weed from the base of the gate, "... now that I can get behind."
"Hey, Aleth," Thom looks up to watch the strange man, "you need any help with'at hay?"
I'll have to look into it; tonight I plan to wrap my brain around Aleph thoroughly.
An hour before the the time of their expected arrival, Quinn changes into a large owl and takes flight, circling the trading post and keeping an eye out for the bandit group.
sure...
Heimoth paces impatiently around the yard waiting for Quinn to get back.
MArc stretches, trying to work a kink out of his neck. He takes his place behind the gate and tries to make himself comfortable on the ground as he waits.
Hasren will take up his position behind the gate with the sorcerer. Awaiting Quinn's return, he'll take a seat up against the wall with the gate blocking his view of the courtyard.
Knowing the following sunrise will bring the biggest test to date, Thom heads to his bunk as early as he can, lifting a silent prayer to the heavens for strength while checking his long weapon once as he prepares to turn in.
The night will pass fitfully, raw nerves will wake him early, slightly red-eyed and unusually tight-lipped, and Thom will slide quietly from the bunk (letting any still asleep rest undisturbed) and head outside. Others will find him sitting cross-legged on the ground, back against the gate door he's assigned to close, the steel resting across his knees. He'll be eager to chat with anyone who happens by, trying to hide and soothe his nerves. (though it won't be hard for them to see his anxiety.)
MArc smiles at Hasren, makes few polite small talk comments, then draws a pair of crossed lines in the dirt in front if him.
#
He smiles at Hasren. "Your move first?"
MArc smiles at Hasren, makes few polite small talk comments, then draws a pair of crossed lines in the dirt in front if him.
#
He smiles at Hasren. "Your move first?"
Hasren cheerfully responds to Marc's small talk, passing on little bits of Ulfen, Elvish or Varisan wisdom about the weather, or whatever subject they happen across.
Watching Marc scratch the lines in the dirt, Hasren will look up questioningly. "Move?"
Hasren cheerfully responds to Marc's small talk, passing on little bits of Ulfen, Elvish or Varisan wisdom about the weather, or whatever subject they happen across.Watching Marc scratch the lines in the dirt, Hasren will look up questioningly. "Move?"
Marc responds with anecdotes of his own, most of which were gathered while out on the town with his friends, and are therefore of dubious reliability. He scratches an "X" in one of the corner spaces of his lines.
"Make your circle in whatever space you choose. The first one to get 3 in a row wins. If played properly, there can be no winner! I find it amusing to see which contestant loses concentration first and loses a game." Marc explains.
"I wasn't foresighted enough to pack a deck of cards." He shrugs wryly.
"Ah! Well if there's not supposed to be a winner when played properly, I think we should invest in a deck of cards the next opportunity we get."
Hasren puzzles a bit before he places a circle in the center space.
"Ah! Well if there's not supposed to be a winner when played properly, I think we should invest in a deck of cards the next opportunity we get."
Hasren puzzles a bit before he places a circle in the center space.
MArc nods and smiles, looking at Hasren's move.
"I believe I shall see what master Oleg can do for us, as soon as we've cleared up his little problem,..." He says, finally deciding on where to place his next mark,...
Trying not to let his nerves overwhelm him as he awaits Quinn's return, Thom thinks to himself...
Dang, i hate this waitin'. Why is it that time turns to molasses when you're nervous but runs quicker'n wildfire durin' the fun times?
Then he stands up to stretch his long legs and begins pacing to work off some excess energy, idly chopping the tops off weeds with his great blade.
Quinn steps out into the chill morning air and walks through the gate. His face passive, he turns to the North, and bows to the cold North Wind. Turning to the East, he salutes the rising Sun. With an about face, he waves farewell to the night retreating into the West. Finally, he looks long into the South, wondering for a moment what his father is doing right now.
After a moment, he shakes his head clear and concentrates for a moment. In a blink, Quinn is gone and in his place stands a Great Horned Owl, one of the largest of the birds of prey of the River Kingdoms. Silent as the dawn, he takes wing, looking for his quarry.
wow!
awestruck by the shapeshifter, Aleph's lips purse in a feeble attempt at a smile, like it might pull a muscle in his face.
Marc also stares for a moment at the departing druid. He blinks. Then he raises an eyebrow.
"Alright. I have to admit. THAT was pretty impressive!" he says nonchalantly.
Marc also stares for a moment at the departing druid. He blinks. Then he raises an eyebrow.
"Alright. I have to admit. THAT was pretty impressive!" he says nonchalantly.
"Agreed! That's not something you see every day."
"Though... I suppose now it'll be a bit more common..."
Quinn flaps off into the early morning mist and, settling on a tree, keeps watch on the track from the trading post into the wilderness. On cue, a rag-tag band of riders emerge from the forest a few minutes later. Wearing scraps of leather armour and carrying bows, packs and various heterogenous types of melee weapon, they look a disreputable crew of woodsmen - filthy and unshaven, hunched in the saddle.
In a blink, Quinn is gone and in his place stands a Great Horned Owl, one of the largest of the birds of prey of the River Kingdoms. Silent as the dawn, he takes wing, looking for his quarry.
Huh... That's new... Wonder what other surprises this crew has...
Aubrey
The large owl arrives, as silently as he left. He alights in the courtyard, swiftly changing back into the tall Galtan youth.
'They are coming.' He says, striding over to his assigned spot.
"Excellent! How many? I... uh, did you just turn into an owl?"
Thom takes a long sideways look at Quinn, "I'm curious to know what other critters you can turn into." And when the Paladin asks about numbers, the tall youth looks in the direction Quinn indicated, "And how were they armed? Any Archers? Mages?"
"Excellent! How many?
'Six. The woman is not there.'
I... uh, did you just turn into an owl?"
Quinn stares at Heimoth for a moment, as if he just asked if the sun came up.
'Yes.'
"That's.... That's what I thought. Good."
how'd you do that? turn into a bird? i wish i could fly.
Marc looks up and grins.
"Oh goody. Showtime!" He whispers as he gets up, brushes himself off, and makes himself motionless behind the gate.
"Excellent. Again, I can hold my own for a while, so close the gates first and then come running." Heimoth is grinning like a schoolboy. "This'll be awesome!"
whispers;....tashpa.....antashash potalkar....um Wazhach.....boteth fushazix.....um Niirva....um WaTHUHzhach......f'taghn besh mannach......
As Thom and Quinn take up their positions behind the gate, Thom (looking obviously impressed) whispers, "Seriously, though, where'd ya learn to do that?"
A few minutes later the men arrive. They are a disreputable-looking lot, unshaven and unwashed, dressed in scraps of leather armour and carrying bows and assorted other weapons. They don't bother to conceal their faces as they rope up their horses outside and shuffle towards the gates.
;P
Marc takes his place behind the gate with Heimoth, but his excitement, nerves, and brightly colored outfit threaten to reveal him prematurely,...
Hasren takes his position behind the gate.
I'll try hiding; I have to look at the book and see what I'm doing.
stealth:
Aleph hugs into the thatchwork of the house he's on. Doesn't do too well. Tries to pretend like he's looking at something up on the roof, a hole or whatever.