“Giant flame throwing trebuchet you say?” Castiel looks very interested as he ponders whether such a device would have an application for the forces of Lastwall.
"Uh-huh. Crew of a hundred men - and it took them two hours of hard work to wind it and another hour to load it. Changing the direction of fire, even by just a degree took hours as well. And it couldn't be moved at all without dismantling it; we had to build a massive stone platform for it to rest on, as it was so heavy it would sink into the ground. But if you're firing at a stationary target that can't strike back..." Myron's predatory smile returns. "It could throw a hollow stone shell filled with eighty pounds of green Numerian fire paste almost two miles. Dumb plants never stood a chance."
"Uh-huh. Crew of a hundred men - and it took them two hours of hard work to wind it and another hour to load it. Changing the direction of fire, even by just a degree took hours as well. And it couldn't be moved at all without dismantling it; we had to build a massive stone platform for it to rest on, as it was so heavy it would sink into the ground. But if you're firing at a stationary target that can't strike back..." Myron's predatory smile returns. "It could throw a hollow stone shell filled with eighty pounds of green Numerian fire paste almost two miles. Dumb plants never stood a chance."
Edwin looks thoughtful as he puffs his pipe.
"Well Wod, I certainly wouldn't want you, or George, to get upset. Of course we do not want to bury George if he is not dead. However, the evidence is very much against the possibility of him being alive. And I don't believe anyone else has heard him speak."
He leans forward and pats Wod's arm gently and sympathetically. (And cautiously).
"Wod. George was a good friend, wasn't he? You miss talking to him very much, yes? I think that you miss talking to him so much that you are hearing him talk in your imagination. Um, in your head." he amends as he sees the goliath's eyes glaze over at the use of the multi-syllable word.
"So, I know that you believe George over me, as we just met. Would you trust the word of a professional? At the cemetery they have people who are very careful only to put dead people in the ground. Since we are going there, it would be no trouble to ask them."
"After all, If George is dead, I am sure he would be much happier if you let him rest, wouldn't you?"
heh heh...Robur teh Conqueror...
1d20+8
"After all, If George is dead, I am sure he would be much happier if you let him rest, wouldn't you?"
"You not bad, Edwin."
<Wod smiles at Edwin.>
"But you like 'if, if, if'. So if Wod dead you burn Wod on big pile of wood, ok? If George dead and he not talk, he not need rest. Wod burn George."
Castiel stands and bows when Lady Alinya turns in, wishing her a good night. He stays talking and drinking with the others for a time, but presently he stands. “I believe the lady had the right of it,” he says. “Time for bed. I’ll see you gentlemen in the morning; good to have met you all.”
With another bow he takes his leave, tossing the innkeeper a few coins as he goes.
"You not bad, Edwin."
<Wod smiles at Edwin.>
"But you like 'if, if, if'. So if Wod dead you burn Wod on big pile of wood, ok? If George dead and he not talk, he not need rest. Wod burn George."
Edwin returns Wod's smile, and nods in agreement.
"That sounds like a fine idea, Wod. I agree." He says jovially.
The ersatz bard-turned-detective rises with Castiel, puts out his pipe, and packs his instrument. " Do I really say 'if' that much,...?" he murmurs to himself as he ties his pack firmly shut.
"I concur Castiel. As fascinating as your tales are, I'm certain that we'll have plenty of time to continue this conversation tomorrow as we journey. Good night all. Till the morning!" he also leaves several coins on the table for the inkeep and heads up the narrow stairs, seeking his evenings lodging,...
Soonish; I think Pat's gotta make his character and then we can roll with it.
Soonish; I think Pat's gotta make his character and then we can roll with it.
Myron exchanges stories of horrid food, trench foot and other frontline joys with Castiel and Darias. "Olenko had one of those odd sky-metal men advising him. I was with him for almost ten years, yet I never learned its name. It had a hard time identifying us too - Olenko was easy, as he's seven feet tall with a ponytail down to his ass, but it called just about everyone else 'softman'. Hell, I grew this 'stache just it could tell me apart from the other engineers..."
<Dead gnome packed up, Wod grunts at the retiring brains then ambles to the bar to address the proprietor.>
"Wod thank you for good food."
<Throws a gold piece on the counter.>
"Where is stable?"
"Uh,....you don't do anything to the horses,...."
the taverner says,
"There's a room upstairs for you. It's more civilized."
"Uh,....you don't do anything to the horses,...."
the taverner says,
"There's a room upstairs for you. It's more civilized."
"Wod not come from Rasmiran. Not like horse wife. Where is room?"
He shows Wod upstairs. It's a bunkroom, with 6 bunks, a table, a chair, and a nice porcelain bowl on the floor. The bowl smells really pungent.
The beds have raspy tough blankets, and are made of interwoven rope, with hay stuffed in burlap; really comfy compared to the ground.
It even has a little charcoal heater in the room.
<Wod waits for the proprietor to leave before taking out his dead gnome and putting him on a bunk. He chats with George as he drifts off to sleep.>
heh heh...
I do got my work cut out for me though.
I find myself reminded of THIS Monty Python sketch for some reason.
Soonish; I think Pat's gotta make his character and then we can roll with it.
Nigel swaps stories until the early light with the others. Finally he yawns over his glass of Ustalavian liquor.
"Innkeep! Do you have my room ready?"
Edwin watches the inkeep show Wod to a room, then closes the door behind him and looks around his own room briefly. He (correctly) determines the physical characteristics of the last three occupants, and their likeliest occupations, before tiring of the simple game and settling in to sleep.
After all, this group traveling to the funeral looks to be the most interesting collection of individuals he has come across in a long time. He wouldn't want to miss anything in the morning,...
I find myself reminded of THIS Monty Python sketch for some reason.
Nigel says a quick charm against bed vermin and falls quickly asleep
right on....
It's got a busyish weekend coming up meself; I reckon Rags' got to finish as well...
The morning sun rises, occluded by dank mist, and everybody awakens covered in either dew or sweat.
Somewhere a rooster crows.
Filing down, performing morning ablutions; the small party gathers in the tavern....
the taverner announces,
"whelp....the final stage for Ravengro should've been here hours ago, gentlemen......and good lady.
I don't know what to say. I don't know what's keeping him.....would anyone care for breakfast? We've a fine assortment of sausages, and fresh eggs just laid this very morn..."
"Oh - I hope we aren't too badly delayed. Does this happen often?"
Alinya looks drawn and pale, as if she hasn't slept well.
"Eggs. Definitely eggs. And tea."
"Milady....not too often,.....a busted axle mayhap. A horse comes unshod....but often enough for it to not be considered odd, merely exasperating."
“Hmmm, there could be trouble on the road,” muses Castiel, after having ordered his breakfast. “Perhaps we should patrol out a little way in the direction the coach is to arrive from and see if we can help.”
“Hmmm, there could be trouble on the road,” muses Castiel, after having ordered his breakfast. “Perhaps we should patrol out a little way in the direction the coach is to arrive from and see if we can help.”
"That's right! Didn't the taverner say something about trouble on the road, just last night? A missing wagon and some farmers, or something?"
Alinya yawns into her hand.
"Most inconvenient."
Nigel descends to the common room, travelling cloak affixed, greying hair and salt-and-peppper goatee neatly brushed
"Ah, some tea good innkeeper, and some toast! No butter if you please , I shall take it ...dry."
He hears of the delay, and a frown crosses his face.
"Most ill-omened! Although I am sure having seen the deplorable condition of the roads hereabouts that such things are more common than in more civilized climes. Why my fundament still aches from the ride hither!"
... performing morning ablutions; the small party gathers in the tavern....
the taverner announces,
"whelp....the final stage for Ravengro should've been here hours ago, gentlemen......and good lady.
I don't know what to say. I don't know what's keeping him.....would anyone care for breakfast? We've a fine assortment of sausages, and fresh eggs just laid this very morn..."
<Wod, after 1000 one-handed pushups (each hand) and 500 situps, comes downstairs glazed with sweat.>
I don't know what's keeping him.....would anyone care for breakfast? We've a fine assortment of sausages, and fresh eggs just laid this very morn..."<Wod, after 1000 one-handed pushups (each hand) and 500 situps, comes downstairs glazed with sweat.>
Alinya looks up as Wod enters the room, and this time manages not to shriek.
"Ravengro's not that far. We can walk there easily - and maybe we'll find out about the coach along the way."
"What exactly do you mean by 'not far'?" Alinya asks suspiciously. "The last time someone told me that, we ended up walking well over a mile. A mile!"
"Is there another coach available? Or horses to buy?"
"Now the Professor is dead, there probably isn't much point me continuing. But I shall go to pay my respects. How far is it?"
"It will be good to have your company on the road - and who knows what the gods may have stored up for you. As to how far, Myron believes we can walk there today. But then he has very long legs."
“About half a day’s ride further along the road, Ravengro,” Castiel says. “If the coach doesn’t arrive soon I say either we start heading to the town – it will likely take us all day on foot – or go out looking for the coach.”
Alinya looks up as Wod enters the room, and this time manages not to shriek.
<Wod throws another coin on the bar.>
"Food. Lots."
“About half a day’s ride further along the road, Ravengro,” Castiel says. “If the coach doesn’t arrive soon I say either we start heading to the town – it will likely take us all day on foot – or go out looking for the coach.”
"You run, only a few hours."
heh heh...
“About half a day’s ride further along the road, Ravengro,” Castiel says. “If the coach doesn’t arrive soon I say either we start heading to the town – it will likely take us all day on foot – or go out looking for the coach.”"You run, only a few hours."
"Oh these ideas just get better and better. Darias, I heard Paladins can sommon a mighty steed from the domain of their god..? Please tell me that's not just in story books!"
Nigel looks a bit put out
"WALK? Shall we carry sacks of cabbages on our heads like peasants as well? "
He looks about the inn, eyebrow arched, nose jutting upward in disdain.
"Can no one tell me where suitable transportation in this damp bog of a town can be arrainged? I refuse to go to this funeral rain-soaked and bedraggled!"
lol it's just a carriage house, a stopping place in the middle of nowhere's essentially.
"There might be another coach along in a day or two. Maybe can be persuaded to do a side trek to Ravengro....I really don't know."
"Meh. A day of brisk walking never hurt anyone. With a bit of luck we'll run into the coach along the way." Myron unfurls his chainmail from his backpack and tarts armouring up. "Now might be a good time to get this out, I suppose."
<As Wod readies himself for a jog, the scent of decaying gnome and acrid armpit musk builds into a suffocating miasma.>
<Wod sniffs the air.>
"George needs bath."
And here's the strange thing. The gnome doesn't even smell.
Anybody need more time?.....
Anybody need more time?.....
"Does anyone have a spare backpack? Oh, and innkeep, please will you look after my chest and send it on to Ravengro when you can?"