The Crimson Kings - Pentor Lionsmane's Mercenary PbP - #1 Squad (Inactive)

Game Master sunshadow21

The sun dips below the horizon as Corporal Red River Running gives the order to make camp. He stays long enough to see the squad banner unfurled above his crude tent before leaving to deliver his debriefing.

'The Crimson Kings' have just returned from their latest mission, bloodied but triumphant. They are camped nearby the Chitterwood in Isger with the rest of their company.

Feel free to chip in as much as you like, the idea is to RP us making camp and waiting for Red River to come back with our new assignment. I've left the details of the previous one vague, so be creative and fill in the gaps :)

Krathok sniffs the air suspiciously before throwing his pack a few yards distant from the Corporal's tent. Crusted blood covers his left forearm from a wound left untended. He then stalks off to gather wood for a cook fire, returning with a healthy armful.

Bear wonders out of the woods, having disappeared again for an hour or so with a large piece of oak in his hands, Club was broken again, I don't like it when the gobins use shields, they get in the way. he limps over before sitting in front of the soon to be fire,
Arrrrgh! he yells out quickly rising. Digging around his arse for a moment he pulls out a bloodied crossbow bolt.
What in the hells? I wondered what was stinging back there...

He pulls several rabbits out of his sack and throws them beside the fire pit, Dinner. he says simply.

Darlock looks around to see where everyone else is setting thier bed rolls and moves away from Kathok's pack before setting his down.
Dang half orc smells like a bag full of crushed anises, with all his "trophies" hanging off of his neck. He sure can fight though, I gotta give him that. Just wish the Corporal would of had us march through a creek is all. As for the pint size scouts, I thought halfings were supposed to be jolly, these two are crazier than a outhouse rats! Well at least the turn thier loony toons lose on the enemy, not us. I still am not sleeping next to em, I bet thier version of a practicle joke would be setting my bedroll on fire with me in it. Glad those crazy bastages are on our side.
Darlock pulls a plug of tobacco from his pouch and takes a bite. Then moves off looking for fresh water for the camp taking 2 water sacks with him.

Pvt. Talbot stays to the outside perimeter of camp, eyes ever gazing toward the wooded horizon. "Gotta stay sharp, damn gobbos probably watchin us from the treeline!" Loading a bolt into his trusty crossbow, Talbot's attention shifts to the fellow members of the Crimson Kings. Some real killers in this squad. That's good we'll need killers if were to have any hope of destroying the Goblinoid menaces plaguing the Chitterwood. "Hey Bear looks like the gobbos shot ya in the ass! Better see the medic, those wounds look nasty and gobbo arrows carry filthy diseases. Looks like you got some dinner though huh? Not gonna let those damn pests keep you from a meal aye? Whatya say we fry the rabbit tonight? Stop by the chuckwagon and see if we have any oil and flour?" Wonder when we'll return to Wolf Point? We may need to resupply soon, I'm tired of salt tack and roasted meat! With a thought of food, Pvt. Flynn pays a visit to the dinner wagon.

That bloody healer is never around when you need im, e's probably in the bottle again.
Bear looks around and grabs a couple of leaves to place on the wound. Have to do for now, I am ungry...where's cook?

Krathok watches Flynn leave then crouching on his haunches, he sets the fire and gets it lit. He then turns his ministrations to the rabbits, gutting them with his dagger before skinning them with his hands and twisting their heads off. He leaves their pale skinless corpses by the burgeoning fire expecting one of the 'children' to be along to cook them shortly.

Licking the blood off his blade, he sheathes it before planting his boar-spear in the earth haft down like a flagpole next to his pack. Talking quietly in gutteral Orcish, he appears to say a prayer before impaling one of the rabbit heads, with its empty skin hanging below, on the spear point.

Moving back to the fire, he crouches beside letting it's warmth dry the rabbit's blood still on his hands.

He smiles at Bear, an unnerving sight given his missing eye "He he he, why not hit goblin in head not shield. Maybe club not break"

Darlock walks back into camp and sets the now full water sacks next to the fire near Krathok and Bear.
"Water for the cook. There is a stream about an eighth of a mile from camp. Plenty of water if ya need to wash you kit and your wounds. Deep enough to wash your arses too. Maybe next time the gobos wont smell us a mile away before we get there."
He then sits next to the fire and begins skinning one of the rabbits. "How'd you get these Bear? Did you kill em with your club, or did the poor critters kill over from the sight of ya?"

Darlock walks back into camp and sets the now full water sacks next to the fire near Krathok and Bear.

"Water for the cook. There is a stream about an eighth of a mile from camp. Plenty of water if ya need to wash you kit and your wounds. Deep enough to wash your arses too. Maybe next time the gobos wont smell us a mile away before we get there."
He then sits next to the fire and begins skinning one of the rabbits. "How'd you get these Bear? Did you kill em with your club, or did the poor critters kill over from the sight of ya?"

The dirt keeps the bugs off an if I wanted to be all pretty and clean I would move to the city and wear a frilly dress. Plus I am used to these fleas, if I wash I will just ave to break in a new group.

Darlock laughs, a harsh disturbing sound coming from the ranger. "Now that is a right awful picture, you in a frilly dress drinking tea with your pinky out.
He shakes his head and chuckles, "Yepers, I just about had my fill of gobos myself. Little bastages are easy to kill but there are just so dang many of em. Not to mention last fight I almost confused one of our ankle bitters for one of em. In my own defense, ours do act like shaved down gobos at times.
Darlock begins unwrapping his cestus from his left hand exposing a brused fist, recieved from beating one of the goblins to death, and begins to massage it. "Who knows, maybe we can go after some bandits next mission. Would be a welcomed change thats for sure."

"The dirt keeps the bugs off an if I wanted to be all pretty and clean I would move to the city and wear a frilly dress."

That one. He sniffed slightly, his mouth curling in the barest of a half smile at that comment. On the opposite side that Krathok had tossed his pack, Declan had dropped his, and checked to see which of the camp chores had been taken care of. Compared to the rest, he was pristine. The only dirt on him was that of where he was sitting on the ground, leaning against his pack. The size of their engagements were attempts at controlled chaos.

While he did not engage quite near as many of the goblins as his squadmates, he did set several on fire with a spell and a fanning of his hands. Beyond that, it was one spell, one bolt, and he was making sure the downed were dead.

The chores had been done, for the most part. Fire, Water, Food... Guess he had first watch.

Krathok quietly growls at Declan through gritted teeth, before remembering his pledge to Red River. He starts wringing his hands so that the dried rabbit blood starts to flake off. "You make pretty fire today 'Gypsy', not much else ... maybe you worry you break nail" chuckling gutterally at his joke. The Gypsy is in reference to your partial Varisian background

He then turns to Malnivar "I also not want kill more goblin 'Hangman' ... they no taste good"

Darlock nods at Declan when he aproaches.

"I also not want kill more goblin 'Hangman' ... they no taste good"

Darlock smiles and shakes his head at Krathock. "I will just have to take your word for that my one eyed friend. Their ears are much larger than a humans though. Who knows, maybe we can get lucky and one of the bandits will be an elf. Now that would be an ear worth keeping as a trophy.

Krathok spits into the fire in disgust "I no meet elf yet who worth taking ear." Holding up the ear on his neck "This from orc that took eye. Take as mine after kill as revenge.", then the tongue "This from wolf I meet first night as free orc. Kill for food, only reason I not dead." before letting the necklace drop to his chest.

"I not take for fun. For memory, so not forget." before sniffing the air and looking around. "Where other 'children', the butcher and clown? Krathok get hungry"

Rolling to a stop, a bone white cart rocks in place for several seconds before finally settling. Stepping down, a little boy painted like a porcelain doll pats the donkey harnessed to the cart. Walking around the back of the cart, he trails his hand along the skeletal frame. Reaching up to take a cauldron being proffered by another halfling inside the cart, he exclaims in a high pitched, childlike voice. 'I always knew "Chuckles" would amount to something useful.'

Even Bear is slightly disturbed by your cart, no wonder we are all in one squad, we are almost like a mini carnival...lol's

Corporal Red River Running strides back into the camp, the bone and wood totems braided into his hair knocking against one another softly, and heads straight to the fire taking some meat and tearing into it with his teeth.

Swallowing he looks round at the closest members of the squad making sure they are paying attention.

"Tommorrow we go hunting. Bandits got a base somewhere around here so we are going to find it and then raze it to the ground. Get some sleep after you've eaten, the usual watch rotation. Wake me up for last watch," states Red River before tearing off another strip of meat. "Good meat!" he says as he wanders off to his tent.

Bear smiles, Good, bandits don't fight with shields as much, less chance of me breaking a club.
Hooch, what for supper udder than the rabbits I caught? Men need a full belly before we do more fightin'

After listening to Red River's instructions attentively, Krathok turns back to the fire with a grin on his face and a fresh glint in his eye. Absentmindedly he starts talking to himself in Orcish as he gazes at the flames.

Figured I would go with Declan's vibe and actually make my orcish mangled russian (feel free to read the spoilers) from a free translation program

Climbing down from the Chuck Wagon is the remaining halfling... unlike his childlike playmate, Abitan always look like someone's pissed in his soup... His butcher's apron is stained with blood old and new, and you never cease to be amazed by the amount of knives, choppers and blades the grumpy little basterd carries on him. Worse yet every one has a name...

The dour halfling raises his head at the mention of meat;

"Good meat?...that ain't good meat... Good meat is a owlbear nugget or a bucket o battered stirge wings... feckin philistines!"

Shaking his head he then picks some blood sausages from the cart, skewers them on his rapier and walks over to the fire and the rest of the squad...

You all can't help but notice that he's slick with blood and offal... well more than a mere battle would produce

After a few minutes of roasting the blood sausages sizzle and pop, oozing fat and flavour.

"Made fresh this mornin. Flavoured with a little garlic. Try em you porkchops."

Deadpan and somewhat demandingly the bloody and grizzled halfling waves the succulent rapier-skewered sausages at any who pay him heed

Bear is on the Seefood diet so he takes as many as he can eat, There better not be anny Gobbo meat in these Cookie, they ain't good eatin! Oh shiiit those are hot, but good.

The sausages hop from one hand to the next as the searing fat burns both. Fat drips and collects in his beard which he wipes with his big meaty hands. He walks over to the cart to grab one of the jugs of mead and proceeds to drink his fill, before walking back and throwing it to Hangman.
@ Hangman, Drink up, tomorrow you could be dead. grinning at him the whole time.

Bear's buzz begin's, @ Karthok, Hey one eye, I thought all Orcs drank themsleves into a stupor every night, how come you don't drink?

Little Hakon is first in line to try one of his partner's sausages. 'Mmmm, these are delicious!' He exclaims in childish delight.

Hearing the giant human's whining, he scurries back to the cart, cutting off the bear. 'Do not reach in there. You look good with both your hands.'

'Look, Mr. Running! We found Charles!' he proudly proclaims, patting the bone cart. 'It turned out you were right; he forgot to walk away after lighting the fuse on that barrel you told him to lay at the gates. I fear he misunderstood your directions and laid down on the barrel itself. Never fear, he's back with us now.' He natters on with pause for breath, 'Of course, we couldn't find his skull, but as Abitan said, "It's not like he ever used it, why should we?" hahahahahaha!' The falsetto tinkling of his giggles should be contagious, but instead leaves you feeling like you should somehow hold on tighter to your soul.

Furtively looking around before literally diving into the junk that threatens to overflow the cart, he disappears for no few seconds before emerging once again, a jug held triumphantly in his small hands. 'Ah! Here we go! A fresh gallon of luglurch ale to go with dinner.' He maneuvers back to his squadmates and begins pouring out the pale ale for each of them. Once all have been served, he raises his own cup and cries out, 'Here's to Chuckles! Never did the still sit so still while Chuckles did carry it still.'

As each of you take a sip, swig or gulp of the drink, your face puckers up before turning sour. It tastes as if someone poured Krathok's whole bag of salt into a jug of seawater.

Abitan sips a small off white cup that suspiciously looks like bone.

His shark black eyes stare unblinking around him as he listens to his companions chatter and toast. His tongue slips between his missing front teeth as he savours the taste of his sups...

Automaton like he raises his cup "Chuckles"

When Bear questions the origin of the blood sausages his eyes flicker and he shakes his head.

"Goblin!?! Do I look like a Ustalavic freak? This is prime Polovica-ljudožder Blutwurst..!"

"Goblin!?! Do I look like a Ustalavic freak? This is prime Polovica-ljudožder Blutwurst..!"

What does an Ustallllaaaavvvic freak look like? asks seriously, And why would you ask me if you look like one? And what is whatever you said?

Your sarcasm was obviously lost on Bear...

Grinning the lean halfling looks even creepier than normal stoic expression.

"Said it was Bear."

Abitan sighs and walks back towards the Chuck wagon

"Meatball" he mutters.

You're all left wondering (as you enjoy those tasty, juicy garlic blood sausages) that if Chuckles' bones became a halfling carty... what in the Abyss happened to the rest of him...

Bear stands there completely lost for a moment...
So its Bear sausage? It that why is tastes so good?

Well whatever, you are making Bears head hurt. You got more of that salt beer?

Darlock takes one of the offered suasages and takes a bite. "Well whatever it is, it taste better than hard tac. Thanks." Darlock nods his head to the two halflings. Cazy little bastages.

Hearing Bear's tirade of questions, Abitan stops dead mid-step and stands motionless...then spins round all dead eyes and dried blood:

"HE..." (points to Hakon) ...kills the liver. I... cook it."

Then shakes his head.

Again.

Drink up, tomorrow you could be dead. grinning at him the whole time.

Darlock catches the jug, wipes off the mouth and takes a swig. "Someone will be. That I can guarantee."

Declan was the next to take the jug, taking a swig from it. The 'Gypsy' as he was called, kept a straight face save for a little tightening around his eyes. The sausage he declined, prefering to get a piece of rabbit instead. The group was very much.. 'unique', that was certain. As for tomorrow, bandits.. He would have to do some thinking about what to prepare for-- assuming that their scouts didn't decimate the lot of them before they arrived.

As he ate, he looked across the fire and around at his squadmates, figuring-- or at least working on figuring a way to maybe make them more cohesive in battle. Outside of battle, he really was not going to even attempt. Not yet, at least.

Krathok smiles at the children as they interact with the rest of the squad while he chews his way through a blood sausage. It was tasty, though he preferred his man flesh less cooked and more bloody.

"Thank you butcher, little log taste good." he then moves back to his pack and lays down with eyes open and the boar spear at his head.

Bear looks at his meaty fists, he thinks for the nth time about strangling the little ones...then he thinks about how mad the others would be....a moment later he forgets what he was thinking. He comes and sits down. He looks to Declan...it is the most lucid you have ever heard him...

How come the halflings make me so mad? There is just something off about them. Then again I suppose you could say that about most of us...sometimes I wonder why you are even here Declan. You are like an oak in a forest of sycamores. Well, come tomorrow I am sure everything will better. I need another drink... Bear grabs the jug and does his best to finish it is one great swallow...

Talbot approaches Abitan's chuckwagon, eyeing his sausages and other meats suspiciously. "Got any oil and flour on this meatbus? I sure could go for some fried rabbit. Nothing against your fine selections here, I just thought that tonight I would dine on something special. With the dangerous mission against the bandits tomorrow some good ole comfort food would set my mind at ease. If I don't make it, at least I can die with a full belly!"

If Little Bitter doesn't have the required ingredients, Talbot reluctantly tries the sausage.
Flavor Roll:1d20 ⇒ 7 = Tolerable

Talbot chokes down his sausage with a look of confusion. "Fine meat Little Bitter... do I detect a hint of greasy hair and sweaty rump meat in your recipe?"

If by chance flour and oil are on hand, Talbot will prepare some fried rabbit instead of trying the blood sausage.
Craft Cooking:1d20 ⇒ 13

After dinner Talbot retires to his quarters, wishing his squadmates a peaceful nights rest. He reminds his allies to sharpen their weapons and check their gear at least twice before bed. Following his own advice, Talbot meticulously prepares his gear for the following day. With whetstone in hand he sharpens several of his crossbow bolts to a razors edge. He also polishes his studded leather and crossbow with fresh coats of oil, lubricating all the moving parts.

I'm now realizing we recieve max starting gold so I'm going to do a bit of tinkering with my equipment.

Talbot spends three hours sharpening crossbow bolts. At fifteen minutes per bolt that's twelve crossbow bolts sharpened.

Abitan looks blankly at Talbot as he asks about the sausages.

"Got oil. No flour. Not baker. Butcher... See..."

The rough halfling opens his arms wide revealing the bloody apron and multitude of blades.

When reminded about the sharpening of blades... Little Bitter forces a fixed grin;

"Silly little hamshank. Butcher's blades always sharp. Butcher's blades always ready."

Abitan then lays out all his butchers blades... one by one, cleaning them with a rag before honing them with one of his whetstones... he mutters a ditty as he does;

"Bandit clod or bandit shin... skewer the bandit drive it in... Cut bandit flank, chop bandit chump... leave them with a bloody stump...

6 blades sharpened and cleaned will take Abitan at least 1.5-2 hours, then he'll wash down his chopping blocks, feed the mule and grab some shuteye.

Darlock leans against his pack near the fire listening to Little Bitter sing his work song and sharpens his weapons then goes through his kit.
" Well One Eye, I guess you can smell 'em out tomorrow. As long as Big Bear is down wind I guess. When we find 'em I think we should surround 'em then send in our demented minstrel over there. Once they get a load of him, the will run right to us and beg us to kill em on the spot. Just so they don't have to listen to him any more."

Sharpining greatsword, shortsword, and 4 arrows. takes 1.5 hours.

Krathok grins "We find by smell or track, Children and us first in shadow, Red River and Bear in sun. Then fun start."

The half-orc sniffs the air, then shuts his eye to sleep.

Krathok not need sharpen sticker and chopper! Hurt more when go in blunt

You hear some snoring and see that Bear has already fallen into a deep slumber, you know from past experience that nothing short of direct bodily harm can rouse him.
Remembering his previous wound, and goodly placed kick to the rump should do it when it is his turn for watch...

Abitan lies on his bedroll under the Chuck wagon, his only act before sleeping to whisper night to first Hakon, then Charles, his Ma & Da, Carver, Sticker, Boner, Big Parer, Little Parer, Shish & finally Chopper...

Although sleeping his eyes remain wide open, beady shark eyes eerily refecting the flickering camp light.

As is usual he prefers the final watch when he will also prepare some liver and onions, washed down with bone marrow tea for breakfast.

For those passing on the above feast (and displaying consitutions more befitting of the She Wolves and Tin Circus they'll be sloppy gruel).

Hakon continues going around the campfire making sure everyone has a full cup until all are satiated. He then sits down and quietly spends some quality time with his daggers, rapier and a whetstone for the next forty-five minutes. All the while he absently hums the refrain from Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star over and over again.

Once finished, he heads over to Chuckwagon where you gear shifting of pots and pans. Once he, too, has laid out his bedroll under the cart, he calls out, 'Good night, Mr. Running! Good night, Mr. Krathok! Good night, Mr. Teddy Bear! Good night, Mr. Hangman! Good night, Mr. Flynn! Good night, Mr. Declan!'

His arms wrapped around the end of an arm bone protruding from the cart, he murmurs, "Good night, Charles!' before crawling under the cart and into his bedroll. Once settled, he says softly, "Good night, Abi!' Laying his small head on his miniature pillow, he is soon sound asleep until early in the morning when he will rise along with Abitan to work some of his mojo on his craft and study his spellbook.

Pentor - I'm pretty sure we are all ready to get things rocking, so when you're able we can get on the road tracking down the bandits.

Both Malnivar and myself are going to attempt to track the bandits. Here is my roll, attempting to track by Scent Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Bear's admittance raised his eyebrows, surprised to hear someone echo some of his sentiment, and looked around the camp again. He guessed that dealing with the way things worked in this squad was like living uncertainly. It seemed entirely possible that the second anyone began to show weakness consistently, they would be dealt with-- one of the reasons the "Chuckwagon" unsettled him slightly. Still, he was part of the squad, and it would benefit him to stay with it, since they did not have any magical support in the manner that he was capable of.

So he decided he would remain neutral to the squad, do his job, and not worry much about them. They would do what they could to make the squad function, and he would make sure that they got targeted by no hostile magic while he was able to stop it. Which reminded him... He still had to scribe those scrolls into his spellbook, then start producing scrolls. Necromancy was something he was distasteful of, but that did not mean that he leave that gap in their defenses.

He had first watch. His pack and bedroll were left where they were, and he began watch, stepping away from the fire to look out into the area around their camp. It was fairly safe, but he still watched and listened, counting time in his head and glancing at the sky overhead.

Location: Isger, 10 miles east of Logas, on the edge of the Chitterwood, Base Camp for the 1st Company of the Blood Hawks
Date: Toilday, 4th Sarenith 4708
NPCs: The rest of the 1st Company of the Blood Hawks,
The Crimson Kings Squad - Corporal Red River Running,

It is slightly before sunrise when Corporal Red River Running awakens those of the squad who are still asleep with muttered curses and a swift kick.

"Get your gear ready, we are moving out. Krathok and Hangman are going to take the lead. We are heading for the forest, once we hit the treeline we will head south and see if we can pick up any tracks," says Red River Running to the gathered squad.

Once you are all ready he points to the woods and heads towards them at a saunter.

Pentor - I'm pretty sure we are all ready to get things rocking, so when you're able we can get on the road tracking down the bandits.

Both Malnivar and myself are going to attempt to track the bandits. Here is my roll, attempting to track by Scent Survival: 1d20+7

Don't forget that Bear has a +8 Survival bonus to track as well, although he isn't all that stealthy.

@ Bear - bloomin heck, bit rough when your Druid is a better tracker than either of your Rangers :P Feel free to join in the track watching as you see fit good man

Krathok doesn't have much to pack so he just pulls his boar spear from the ground, making a point of removing the rabbit head / skin into the remnants of the nights fire. He looks positively excited to be back on the hunt and smiles to Hangman as they move out.

On the march Krathok runs on point - nose to the ground and following whatever trail we are on. Has his boar spear in hand.

Bear is in the lead of the group behind the scouts, he is also looking for tracks as well as tracking the two scouts.
Hah, I got the first roll in....survival 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

Hakon looks to Red River Running, asking, 'Mr. Running. Will we be coming back to the camp or are we moving on?'

Darlock wakes up and takes his short sword that he slept with under his pack and sheaths it on his belt.
After quickly relieving himself, he puts his pack on and prepares his kit for the day ahead.
With his bow at the ready, Hangman returns Krathok's smile with a lopsided grin and moves out behind him, allowing the halforc to take point for the hunt.
”Be mindful of our speed One-eye, we don’t want to leave our smaller squad mates behind.”

Survival (Track):1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 +2 = 13 If human
To Assist Krathok. Add +2 To Krathock's Tracking.

Aid Another (From PRD)
You can help someone achieve success on a skill check by making the same kind of skill check in a cooperative effort. If you roll a 10 or higher on your check, the character you're helping gets a +2 bonus on his or her check. (You can't take 10 on a skill check to aid another.) In many cases, a character's help won't be beneficial, or only a limited number of characters can help at once.

Darlock will be behind Krathock in marching order, close enough to assist in finding any tracks.

Abitan finishes the last of his marrow infused tea and gears up. Little fella travels light; armour, pack and lots and lots and lots of blades.

Each one is checked and double checked, then he helps check over Hakon's gear as well. As they do the two halflings sing a little ditty:

"A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go
Heigh ho, the hootchie-o, a hunting we will go
A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go
We'll catch some men and give them a cut or ten
And then we'll kill them slooooooow"

"A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go
Heigh ho, the hootchie-o, a hunting we will go
A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go
We'll catch an orc and stick him with a fork
And then we'll kill him slooooooooow"

"A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go
Heigh ho, the hootchie-o, a hunting we will go
A hunting we will go, a hunting we will go
We'll catch a Bear and cut off all his hair
And then we'll let him gooooooooooooo"

At the end of the verse Hakon descends into a fit of giggles and Abitan a wheezy chuckle.

Once the hilarity subsides they form up into the ranks, Abitan near the back of the group on the left hand side.

@ Bear - if you look up you'll notice I had a pre-roll ready, which is a healthy 26 with Malnivar's aid another :)

Krathok bears his teeth in a grin at the Butcher and Clown show.

"No worry, go slow enough for children keep up"