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I know pin already mentioned it in chat, but I just wanted everyone to know that I'll be stepping back from this game for a while. I really like Armin's overall concept, but for a while now he hasn't really been speaking to me as a character. My hope is that with some time and distance (in a more official capacity than not posting for months on end), I can figure out what I really want to do with him and come back.
"Hmm. Fair enough," Armin replies after a moment of thought, not Looking back at the board, Armin frowns and taps his finger against the boar bounty. "Is this 'Vekkel Benzen' around here? He might be able to tell us where we should keep an eye out for the beast."
"Do we really have to talk to the little lizard people?" Armin asks sincerely, picking at his ear with a small finger. It didn't actually itch; having seen humans do it in the past, it struck him as the 'normal' thing to do while standing by idly. "We could always just, you know." The android mimes hacking an invisible adversary into pieces.
Armin is of course, oblivious to the winking. He bites into another yellangelo as he inspects the bounty board. "We could save ourselves the trouble and make sure the head comes off with the same blow," Armin agrees after reading the bounty, somehow finding it more interesting than the bandits and kobolds. But even more interesting was the tatzlwyrm bounty. He had never heard of the creatures before, but judging by the picture, it was clearly some kind of dragon. "Same deal with this thing. I've always wanted to slay a dragon. The beast must be truly enormous if Oleg wants its head so badly."
"Nothing of the sort," Armin replies, after several seconds of chewing. Only then does he swallow, the fruit having apparently passed some kind of test. The taste was certainly pleasant, but then, he did not exactly have a large frame of reference. But compared to the numerous berries he'd scrounged up from bushes over the past few years, the golden fruit was clearly superior. "I give it my endorsement," he says with a nod, before taking another large bite out of it.
Already committed to his whim, Armin plucks the fruit and takes a bite out of it. He chews on it slowly. Very slowly.
With the violence and odd business with Bokken out of the way, and with his rage abated, Armin seems to be back to his usual self. As "usual" as he could be, at least. The android is quiet and contemplative on their way back to Oleg's, evidently not keen on discussing what happened any further. The seething anger came to him all too easily, but the rest was still a tad more difficult to process. That's how it felt, at least. As the group pauses to inspect the fruit-laden tree, he leans forward to give Aeon a good pat on the head. Perhaps sentiment was just as easy for him to grasp. "Shouldn't we sample the goods, first?" Armin asks out of the blue, already inching closer to the tree.
Armin had half a mind to chase after the surviving bandits, but fortunately he had enough of a semblance of rational thought to let the matter rest. With a sigh, he lets his bloodrage pass - the wound on his leg immediately starts spurting pale blood, but thankfully Ali's ministration pushes out the arrowhead and heals the wound shut. He shakes his head when he hears Kalica's apology. "We were never in any real danger. We were more than suited for the task. It is as I said - their protection of Bokken must have been woefully inadequate, for what they were asking of him." The matter of this apparently being the second time these bandits have died does not seem to interest Armin in the least. They were, after all, dead again.
Armin looks down at the arrow sticking out of his leg and with a snarl, haphazardly snaps off its shaft. His choice of who to dispense his wrath on next made for him, the berserker lets out another inhuman howl as he rushes the bandit archer, blade raised high.
Any more confusion Armin might have felt over the unintended recipient of his attack is quickly washed away by the torrents of rage pulsing through him. That aside, there was indeed a dying dog just a few feet in front of him, but it was not put down by his hand. Pushing these paltry details aside, he hurries over to the dog hounding Blossom.
With the rage in his blood building, Kalica's reckless charge strikes Armin less as a fool act, and more as a signal to let loose. A second longer passes and his power reaches its peak, his eyes suddenly blazing with azure. Like a coiled spring he launches himself toward the enemy with his blade held high, loosing a bloodcurdling war cry. He follows the elf on her warpath, aiming to slice one of the bandits' mongrels in two... only to fail utterly. But failure was fine, for it only served to fuel his anger.
Armin frowns - for a moment he could swear that his blade had hit its mark. Just one possible destiny, among many.
"Hm. No, I think not," Armin says abruptly, after staring at his horse rather than the readily hostile Happs. Aeon was a much better sigh to behold, anyway. Feeling strangely vigorous all of a sudden, the android rolls his neck around before reaching for his greatsword, loosing it from the leather strap holding it to his back. "Bokken, I'm afraid that you are about to be short one protection squad," he announces, hefting his sword's blade so that it rests on his shoulder. He could feel his blood beginning to rise. "But I think you will find our services considerably less expensive and, as I will demonstrate, more productive."
"Fangberries," Armin repeats, committing the errand-slash-passphrase to memory. It seemed simple enough. The android budges slightly, as though eager to leave, but the discussion with the mad alchemist seems to continue. Quite honestly, he found it difficult to believe that Bokken's brother was even more unhinged. He stares at the strange ooze, as though its very existence proved his point. Eventually, Bokken makes it clear that they have outworn their welcome. Armin sighs with relief and looks to the others. "Let's be on our way before he starts throwing bombs at us again."
Armin looks at the alchemist's selection of potions with some interest. The ones that were bottled in skins rather than vials were oddly appealing to him. Perhaps they seemed more pragmatic? Unfortunately, the android was rather light on coin himself. "I think it is for the best that we leave," Armin suggests lightly, growing increasingly aware of the possibility that Bokken might in fact, be insane. "But should we come across more gold in our travels, we might well return. Is there any way we might approach without you lobbing more bombs at us? Perhaps a passphrase, of some sort?"
Armin blinks, the strangeness of their situation not at all lost on him. Hardly a worldly person, most of Bokken's ramblings go right over the android's head. He did not have the faintest clue about what "tengu" and "ninja" were, but judging by the alchemists' claims, they were either very elusive or very imaginary. Looking down at Arielle, he smiles, being about as amused as she is. "How many customers do you usually have?" Armin decides to ask, in lieu of clarifying what his feared assailants were. "This place seems... out of the way."
"It looks like someone wore out their welcome," Armin remarks, eyeing the scene of apparent conflict. "Still, this close to Oleg's, it's hard to believe that it's anyone particularly dangerous. Unless they've been living under his nose this whole time. Why don't we just walk up and knock down - ah, I mean knock on - the door?"
"East should be fine," Armin agrees indifferently. The way he saw things, it did not particularly matter which direction they went in first. That Miyari had a logical basis for her suggestion was all that mattered to him.
Armin dismounts Aeon and follows after Miyari. He looks first to the rusted lamp, and then to the bed of snakes. "Well, I do not have a stick, exactly, but I do have this," the android says, tugging one of his javelins off his back. The weapon was clearly not meant for this kind of work, but Armin does not fret as he pokes the swarm with the sharp, pointy stick, trying to move the snakes out of the way, or perhaps uncover the object they were swarming over.
Armin sniffs at the air dubiously. He could pick up on plenty of scents, but he could not describe any of them as being "adventure." "Are you sure? I don't smell anything like that."
Armin turns in early, helping himself to a long, uninterrupted night of meditative "sleep." By the time he stirs from his torpor early in the morning, any paranoia he felt toward the place was gone. For the most part, anyway. At the very least, he could accept that Oleg's is a safe place. A good thing, seeing as they would be returning fairly often. As everyone discusses their next (or first, technically speaking) course of action, the android peruses the charter's text. He was hardly familiar with documents of the sort, but it struck him as surprisingly concise. What few limits it imposed on them aside, the charter gave them a rather hefty amount of freedom with how to proceed. That much Armin could appreciate. "We should check out the immediate area, for now. Get a lay of the land," he says in agreement with Miyari, trying to keep everything within the scope of the charter.
I hate the idea of dropping out of this game, but I think I am going to go ahead and retire Armin. I had a lot of fun coming up with his concept, but in practice, the character has never really clicked with me. I don't usually have too much trouble putting myself into the proper mindset for a character, but I always have that problem with Armin. As a result, even the most mundane responses I type up come out feeling bland and lifeless to me. Like a robot. And yeah, Armin's kind of a robot himself, but he's supposed to be a robot with feelings. :P
Long weeks spent with Kellid nomads had taught Armin that the energy spent fussing over one's appearance was better spent elsewhere. Taking this to heart, short of making certain that his armor is strapped on snugly, he makes no other adjustments to his being. His bedraggled hair was fine as is, and the dirt- and bloodstains on his clothing simply added character. He pouts at Arielle's sorcerous grooming, but says nothing. She was only a little girl, he supposed. "Wolves," Armin clarifies, keenly aware of what Glenn was referring to. However, he makes no move to draw his weapon just yet. "Probably waiting for us to tire out, so that they can eat us alive. " He goes quiet for a moment, as he offers the lupines his condolences. "Not their fault, really. They can't help themselves."
Ow. Armin, Level 2: Male android bloodrager 2
CN Medium humanoid (android) Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +8 DEFENSE
OFFENSE
RAGING STATISTICS
STATISTICS;
"It was a fine collaboration, then," Armin remarks, the closest thing to a compliment he could think to give the halfling. As much as he hated to admit to himself (he certainly would not admit it aloud), attempting to fight their way out of the fort would not have gone well. Not for them, or for anyone else who got involved. "I can only imagine that our escape will stoke any delusions the Issian Guard has about us. Are they likely to send anyone else after us?"
Armin quietly complies with Grub's request to handle the heavy-lifting, nary a complaint coming from out of his mouth. When not in battle - or rather, when not angry - he seemed to be a totally different person. The more personable kind, thankfully. His body moves of its own volition, tirelessly trudging through the escape tunnel, but the android's mind felt numb from fatigue. Far too fatigued to even think to suspect Grub of foul play. For the better it seems, when their horses come into view. Something resembling a smile passes over Armin's face when he is reunited with Aeon. After mounting up and passing the rope along, he rides after Grub, glad to put the fort further behind him. Once they have all reached the safety of the camp, Armin is all too quick to unsling his large blade and dump it onto the ground. He sits down beside it, claiming his spot for the night; but as "tired" as he is, he did not want to sleep just yet. "Did you plan this out all by yourself?" he asks Grub, genuinely surprised by the ease of their escape.
Eheh. Kinda did it on accident in my last post. Whoops. It's my preference, but it won't bother me if someone else objects to it.
Armin's blood rage comes to an end, his wrathful visage abruptly vanishing as though an off switch had been flipped. He looks down at his kills, his expression impassive. They had certainly gotten him good, but they apparently couldn't take hits too well - all things considered, this was not terribly surprising. Several seconds seem to pass before the android even realizes that the strange halfling is there. Armin blinks a few times, making sure that he is not just seeing things. Another second later, and his brain finally seems to catch up. Realizing that "Grub" is apparently an ally, Armin relaxes and kneels down to wipe the blood off his blade, using a scrap of his victim's clothing as a rag. "I did not expect us to see this kind of action before reaching the Greenbelt," he muses as he works, not sounding terribly upset about their situation. He eyes the gnome briefly before looking back to his sword, apparently indifferent to her fate. "It doesn't matter to me. You're the one holding the knife, at any rate."
After felling the warrior, Armin turns around to look at the sneak, having not forgotten the man's attempt to shank him. Stepping forward, he lets out a furious bellow as he aims for the man's neck - only to aim several inches too high.
Armin lets out a snarl, gritting his teeth in both pain and anger. The provocation is all it takes to incite the countless nanites in his blood to unleash their power, bequeathing their host with strength and vigor beyond his normal threshold - under no circumstance could they allow his destiny to be compromised. Outwardly, the bloodrager's eyes flash dangerously in the most literal sense possible, shedding blue-white light that shines with such intensity that it might burn a hole right through the target of Armin's ire. His grip on his sword's hilt tightens and with a vicious backswing he aims for the neck of the warrior that attacked him, in an attempt to return the favor.
Roused from his "slumber," Armin reaches for his greatsword and tugs it off the leather thong holding it onto his back. He did not know who the sneak was or why he was there, but what he did know was that he was armed. In other words, he was fair game as far as he was concerned. The android takes a huge, graceless swing at their opponent.
Armin's eyes open suddenly, far too fluidly for someone just roused from slumber. They shift side to side, before falling upon the one crawling through the shutter. The weapon in his hand immediately catches his eye. "What do we have here...?" the android asks, not yet taking any sort of action against the intruder.
The idea was to stand guard. To at least feign the ridiculous notion of falling asleep against the wall. Sleep was, after all, not a necessity for the android man. Unfortunately, standing around for hours on end only bred boredom. The solitude did not exactly help, either. And when one was bored and alone, the mind tended to wander. This had not always been the case for him, of course. But the truth was, Armin was not quite sure of whether he wanted to dream again. Not after what happened the last few times. And so, Armin leans against the wall by the shutter, very much awake, but oblivious to his surroundings regardless. Those women... Have I been dreaming awake? Or is this all still a dream...? Somehow, things in Numeria had been so much simpler.
"I can count the number of times I've slept on a 'real' bed on one hand," Armin remarks with a faint grin, making no move to make himself comfortable. Instead he positions himself by the wooden shutter, leaning by the wall beside it and folding his arms. "This suits me just fine," he adds, shutting his eyes, mostly just for show. Instead of going to sleep however, on occasion he cocks his head and takes a peek outside, acting as a sentry of sorts.
"If he causes us any trouble, then we'll deal with it," Armin says with a shrug, breaking his silence for the first time since entering the fort. Asides from already having a lot on his mind, he had not exactly contributing anything to solving the captain's "riddle." While far from being a dullard, matters steeped in politics - even indirectly - disinterested the android. True enough, the actual purpose of their charter meant very little to him. "Besides, he will not exactly be with us for very long. We'd might as well put up with him."
The political implications of the soldiers' actions all seem to fly right over Armin's head. Not that he would usually be cognizant of such things - while far from stupid, politics were not one of the things he typically paid any mind to. On this particular day however, the android seems especially distracted. His expression seems troubled, but it was not their current situation that bothered him. Rather, it was his increasingly frequent visions that truly bothered him. Somehow, the device Relzand had entrusted him with felt heavier than it was before. As they wait for dinner, Armin finally seems to come out of his reverie, blinking a few times, as though he were trying to get something out of his eyes. He looks around at his traveling companions, and at his surroundings, before settling down into a chair. He sips at some water despite having no real urge to drink any, waiting patiently for their chance to get some answers. But not the ones he really wanted.
What in blazes is this all about? Armin wonders with a frown. He holds his tongue, attempting to gauge the situation, but missing all sorts of social cues in the process. All in all, the android seems distant... more so than he had been when his companions were mere strangers to him.
Armin is more or less oblivious to the men's motives, paying them little mind as the others explain their business. He had not woken up with so much as a headache, but the odd dream he had almost seemed to dominate his attention span, even as the day went on. As such, he only pays half attention to the soldiers, having apparently lost interest when it became apparent that they weren't bandits.
For the rest of the night, Armin does not go out of his way to speak to anyone, evidently content to enjoy his drink and the company of those already present. The wine was weaker than what he typically indulged in - the Kellids had liked their strong drinks - so he simply drank in excess to compensate. All the while, he never quite let his guard down, still haunted by the memory of frothing mouths and maniacal laughter... Late into the night, the inebriated android returns to the Pig & Steer, where he sleeps like a rock and lets the nanites in his bloodstream do their work. For him, the night is a restless one - an odd thing to say, for someone of his kind.
Whether out of tact or on a whim, Armin opts to leave his sword behind, along with its flimsy leather harness. His handaxe however, stays right where it is, hanging off his belt. The android pauses when he first enters the Meadhorn, taking a moment to settle into the atmosphere. For entirely different reasons, he takes also note of the floor's layout. Just in case. "It seems they started without us," he says to no one in particular, watching Ruvius with amusement. "I suppose we will just have to catch up."
"Hm. Very well then," Armin says at last, having said nothing throughout the group's brief encounter with Ruvius and his companions. The truth was, he did not care much one way or the other. But since he was not exactly tired, it was not as though he had anything better to do. I suppose it might be amusing to watch the fair ladies quarrel.
"I did not catch the whole fight, no. But this one seemed less skillful than his opponent. Hence his loss, I assume." Or perhaps he was not in the right state of mind for a fight to the death. ----- Armin blinks once at Gherie's finger, uncertain of whether she was trying to insinuate something. He gives a stiff nod, having no qualms about her arrangement. As she walks off, he is quick to turn to the male members of their band. "I'll take the floor," he volunteers, not so much out of the kindness of his heart as some other reason he wasn't keen on sharing.
"Ah," Armin says simply, after taking a moment to recollect the duel in question. Having accepted Brokk's invitation, he had not seen the contest through to its conclusion. "So he is alive, then. I was under the impression that their sort dueled to the death." Glancing at Ali, he adds a shake of his head. "If they are trying to be inconspicuous, I wager that our presence would only draw unwanted attention. Besides that, they are not our concern."
Armin brings Aeon to a slow trot once they have entered the town, giving him ample time to survey their surroundings. It is not until he overhears the others that he turns his gaze forward, inspecting the riders in front of them more carefully. Indeed, they did look a little familiar. Not a terribly unusual coincidence, but it could prove to be terribly unpleasant, depending on who they were.
"The Pig & Steer, then," Armin says in agreement, grinning wryly. "Hopefully it will fare better than the last inn we spent the night in." He glances over at Kalica as the others try to placate her, but says nothing. Having traveled through the wilds himself, he certainly felt more at home outdoors than he did in some stuffy town. But more importantly, he had learned that safety - and strength - could be found in numbers.
When everyone next sees Armin, he carries on his back not the odd club-spear he had wielded the night before, but a sword of rather impressive size. He does not have much to say on the matter, other than his belief that it was better suited for the challenges they were sure to encounter in the Stolen Lands. After reuniting with Aeon and putting the confines of the city behind him, Armin is more at ease. The Kellid(?) is still hardly the talkative sort, but he is far from an inept conversationalist. With little in the way of explanation, he departs with the others, feeling that it was only logical to do so. Of course, that was not the only reason he was still with them. As they travel, Armin tosses the occasional glance in Arielle's direction, whenever he thinks that she isn't looking. At times he finds himself struggling to remember exactly why she was accompanying them, but it was an issue that quickly grew easier and easier to brush aside. He thought that there was someone else, but... perhaps he had been mistaken. Regardless, he could not deny that he felt the urge to protect the young girl. Armin regards the sign indicating the presence of the nearby town with a furrowed brow, weighing their options. He felt that he could keep on going, if he truly desired to do so. However, he was not oblivious to the fact that the same could not necessarily be said of his companions. Above that, he had no desire to do anything that might betray his true nature to them. That... was still not something that he felt he could discuss, even if he did find them trustworthy. "This fog is becoming rather troublesome," he remarks, using the rather convenient excuse. "We should rest in town for the night."
Skill Point: Spellcraft (+5) Bonus Trait: Arcane Temper (+1 to initiative and concentration checks) More Human Than Human (-15 RC): Raging Vitality
Earlier: Armin had virtually no experience with shopping, nor was there anything in particular that he needed to shop for. And with only eighteen of pieces of gold to his name, it was not like he he could afford anything substantial. Still, he was nothing if not curious, and the lack of need did not necessarily imply a lack of want. It is for that very reason that he steps into the shop, which amounted to a miniature armory.
He pauses at the doorway to inspect the shop's wares; dozens of swords, spears, and axes were grouped together, meticulously arranged on the walls. Each and everyone of them were unmarred and untouched by blood. "Well? Are you going to just stand there?" a deep, irritated-sounding voice says from behind the counter, "Or are we going to do business?" The android looks to the one speaking to him, a muscular fellow with little hair on his head but the beard hanging from his chin. One that would put Brokk's to shame... not that Armin would ever tell him such a thing. The shopkeeper does not speak again right away, but the man's annoyance was as clear as day. Armin wordlessly approaches the counter and pulls his weapon off his back. He sets the planson down with a thud, dominating most of the space on the counter. "A plançon à picot. Not a weapon I see too often, even in the hands of a soldier," the weaponsmith says, answering an unspoken question. He looks back to Armin, furrowing his brows. "And you're no soldier." "You are right about that," the barbarian agrees, unable to argue. He quickly gets to the point. "I have been less than pleased with this weapon's performance." The smith grunts. "Of course you have. It's little more than a glorified, over-sized club. A waste of steel and wood." Armin frowns, wondering if this man spoke to all of his customers in this manner. After what happened the previous night however, he was not very interested in letting anyone get under his skin again. Not before getting out of the city, at least. Above that, the man's attitude suggested that he knew a thing or two about weapons. "So what would you recommend replacing it with, then?" The weaponsmith lets out a harsh laugh, finding this question terribly amusing for some reason. "Boy, anything in this whole damned shop would be better than this piece of scrap." "Oh?" Armin lets his eyes wander once more, scanning the walls. They come to a stop once they see a particularly lonely specimen, one that stood out for one, very particular reason. He walks over to it, unable to resist raising a brow. It was easily the largest sword he had ever seen in his life. The Kellid warriors he had trained with briefly favored their clubs and axes. But this... "How about this one?" he asks, gesturing at the blade. "That old monstrosity?" The blacksmith chuckles again, shaking his head. "Nobody around here wants a sword that large. They favor their dueling swords and their rapiers. Only allowed to let one of their hands get dirty. And so I've been leaving it there to collect rust. Maybe I'll drop it on their feet the next time they come in here to complain about my wares. Bah!" Grabbing the greatsword by its hilt, Armin gives it a sharp tug, pulling it off its rack. As it so happened, the weapon was lighter than it looked. Lighter than the planson even, though its weight was distributed differently. Holding the blade in a swordsman's grip, Armin pulls it back, tempted to give it an experimental swing. He hesitates however, remembering himself. "Well?" the older man says expectantly, his arms crossed, "Are you going to do it or not? It's not like there is anyone else in here." Giving the man a nod, Armin takes the swing. The heavy blade slices through the air, far more quickly than the other weapon ever could. Simply because he could, he follows through with the swing, following through with a backswing, slaying some invisible foe. Feeling rather satisfied with himself, he lowers the blade. "Hmph. It suits you," the sword's creator admits, looking rather amused. "Indeed," Armin replies, moving to return the sword to the place it had been hanging, "I will have to look into acquiring a similar sword some day." "What?" The protest is delivered sharply enough to make the android freeze on the spot. "Well... I do not have the coin." An unfamiliar feeling comes over Armin. To admit such a thing in this to someone under these circumstances felt... something. The blacksmith groans in disbelief and runs a hand over his bald head. For a moment the barbarian expects to be asked to leave, but instead the man grips both ends of the weapon he had left on the counter. "I'll tell you what, boy. I'll take this" - he turns the planson over in his hands - "for that. In exchange, you take it wherever you plan on going and cut down anything you have to swing it at. And in the act, you will remember the name Boldwin. You hear me?" It takes a moment for Boldwin's words to sink in. When they do, Armin smiles and gives him a single nod. "I hear you."
Stuff: blanket, flint and steel, iron pot, riding kit (bit and bridle, riding saddle, saddle blanket, saddlebags, horse feed [2 days]), rope, scroll case (charter), soap, torches (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, 18 gp Armin has a horse - we could always use that as our pack animal.
Spirit of Pinvendor:
Armin clasps forearms with Imes, feeling that he could respect the man.
"Until next time, then." Of course, it is the meeting that follows that interests him more. The android watches Relzand's reactions quietly, recognizing them somehow. It was strange how not so long ago, he had been in a very similar state of mind. It had taken a good friend and some time in a small community for him to grasp the world of emotion he had awoken to. He wondered if his fellow android could grow to realize such feelings as well, as he had. Armin accepts the device, treating it with more reverence than he ever has with an object. Before leaving, he ultimately settles for smiling reassuringly at Relzand, even if the meaning of the gesture would be lost on him. It was the very least he could do. "Save it for the Stolen Lands," Armin says simply as he arrives on the scene, nodding toward Kalica's drawn blade. He does not spare the dueling students a second glance. After what he witnessed the previous night, his current opinion of their sort could be summed up with unkind words. It took very little in the way of guesswork to determine what this was about. He leans against the wall by the office's entryway, waiting on the others, though his mind was elsewhere.
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