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Guys, it's time I admit the truth: I just don't have the drive or inspiration to keep up on the boards anymore. too many things to do, too many people to keep up with, too little time. School's not getting any easier, and there's been a resurgence of...well, STUFF IRL that the brain just doesn't have as much free time to wander anymore. I've enjoyed our game, and hope it plays out memorably, but I just need to quit. Maybe one day I'll be back; raise a glass for me at the next toast, fellows.
Belgrin scoffs at the malevolent trinket. I say the thing needs t'be melted down for the jewels. No sense bein' scared t'offend a dark god; we're already facin' one before long. 'Sides, sticking a thorn in evil's sides always earns ye good graces with yer own gods, I'd imagine."
Belgrin lifts his maulaxe, bringing it down across the surface of his shield, which bears a flurry of protruding wooden shards; the wood splinters away, leaving the shield relatively clean. replacing the weapon at his side, he reaches up to check his beard, picking out splinters every few seconds. "First bone, now wood. World's got a grudge against Dwarven beards of late..." Satisfied with his grooming, Belgrin takes up position near the body. "If yer buryin' her, let's get to it. Don't want a shovel in hand whenever our quarry--or our nameless beastie--comes back for more jollies."
Well, I can't claim to be anything more than forgetful lately myself, so I'm going to let the majority speak for us here. Whatever method ends up working best for juggling pace vs. immersion is what we'll go with in the end; the group and the DM either find a method to their liking, or change it up, so it works out one way or another. I'll do my best to keep a daily tab again, despite college getting dumber by the day. I'm a culinary student, and they STILL find excuses to lump me with homework.
Good to see a returning face, though I'll readily admit I've been heinously neglectful of the boards myself lately. All the new things on my mind of late have yanked some of my attention away from the PBP's. I still don't want to give up on what I've got as I do still enjoy the games, so I will do my best to keep involved if we start up again.
It's ok, I think lots of people have just hit a speedbump in life lately, myself included. tons of reasons I haven't checked much recently, none of them very good excuses, but here I am!
Unrelated topic: somebody needs to make up their mind on the font and format of this site. Have to do a double take every time they change it to make sure I'm still going to the correct site.
Dreary business, that is. No rush; we're here when you're ready.
Seeing the creatures spring to life and move on his party, Belgrin wastes no time marching over to the wooden bear and laying into it with the sharp side of his maulaxe.
Belgrin dismounts and draws his weaponry, his stony expression laced with barely perceptible outrage as he growls his protest. Goddess or no, ye don't just butcher good stonework and vandalize it for laughs. Someone'll bleed for this mockery, mark my words.
"Aye, we've spoiled ourselves on warm hearth and food enough lately. Time t'earn our keep and make some distance. Kane and our mystery madmen're countin' on us bein' lazy t'give em extra space anyhow."
Belgrin cocks an eyebrow at the suggestion of being disarmed, and scrunches his nose as his companions begin to surrender their weapons one by one. He lifts his maulaxe to eye level, glancing between it and the captain, obviously weighing his options intently. "Bah! Better off out here with the guard, I'll be. Don't see smiths with weapons like these just hanging on the wall every day, aye? You lot go play with the wee ones; after what's reared its head of late, I'd rather wait outside than let me own blades out of arm's reach. Lest ye want to wrap mine up the same as the big one."
All set. Heads will roll, demon or otherwise.
"Lovely. Couple of orcs, a Dwarf, an elf, and all manner of sharp objects followin' a demon sacrifice. Oh they'll be delighted t'see us."
Belgrin nods, still appearing passively disinterested in further examinations, but obviously concerned with the bigger picture. "Aye, Lassathor's fond of his walking bones and pus-filled corpses. Don't recall any demons or the like; just the living dead. If 'twas his lackeys, they'd have killed the wee ones too and made soldiers of their remains. Lasses're right; it's neither of our quarries. We got ourselves a new force ta reckon with. Just means somethin' new to smash ta red paste."
That's ok. Demon heads go squish more. You get kinda tired of constantly hearing the crunch of a skelly head. Variety is the spice of life!
favored class bonus: skill point, added to ride
Belgrin rolls his eyes at the new information and turns to Kevkas, as exasperated as if he'd just been questioned as to whether he was a Dwarf or not. "Oh, nine bloody hells, s'not enough the undead are recruitin', people are practically BEGGIN' t'join up? Demon, devil, ghost, ghoul, they're all the same! Make a bloody mess of our lands and neighbors and expect ta just walk away! Somebody find some damnable tracks already so I can flatten this animal's murderous hands and hack his daft head from his shoulders!!"
Belgrin greets the scene with a stone face, perfectly silent for several seconds; in truth, even the unshakable gut of a Stoneshield can be moved at times. turning his head to spit his current mouthful of saliva along with the sum total of any intestinal reaction, he exhales. "We came ta track some murderers, but...this. Aye. This is a problem."
Debilitating illnesses need no apology; hearing the good news is worth the wait. welcome back.
Belgrin sighs at the almost playful banter between the motley crew, stepping barely up to the height of Kevkas's abdomen and punching him casually in the arm. "Look, lad. I like yer gumption, I do, but stompin' round poundin' our chests'll do nothin' more than give the sod time ta set more snares and laugh as we hang from a tree by our ankles or worse. We send an oversized hulk like yerself scoutin' ahead first and we'll be lucky to even lay eyes on the prize 'fore he puts arrows in us all. Let the trackers do their jobs; we see him first and there'll be plenty o'flesh to hew, mark my words."
Belgrin folds his arms, eyes averted in thought, as the details are spelled out. "Well, if the lad had poison in him, s'not likely Kane let him go on purpose, at least. Still expectin' to walk into a snare or two, given the facts. Any signs what kind of weapons dealt the kills? Always nice ta know what'll be swingin' at ye when ye hunt."
Sad old year? Eh, six in one hand as they say...
"Well," Belgrin sighs, enjoying another bite of potatoes, "Here's hopin' it's not a trap, aye?"
Likewise. Eat your fill, everyone. *sits in opposite corner, sharpening axe...*
Belgrin pours a dollop of gravy over his potatoes before lifting a forkful to his teeth. "so, some hermit fancies 'imself a tree-hugger servin' 'is god, and sets to killin' everyone so much as steps on a twig, eh? Bout typical." As he slices a strip of his venison and begins to chew, he nods with approval. "Mebbe no one told the daft fool trees grow back. Yer cook certainly knows his trade, by the way."
You know you can count on me to be here when you're up and running again. Take care of business and stay warm.
Go ahead! Make it prettier! You're just cementing my victory! little girls braid each other's hair. Real Dwarves braid each other's BEARDS. Cause they're REAL DWARVES.
My beard's more ornately groomed than yours, Hezar. I win.
Belgrin, when asked of his dinner preferences, looks the server right in the eye with a furrowed brow and a devious grin, and says simply: "Surprise me."
most charismatic half orc ever? We shall see...
Belgrin licks his lips at the thought of a well-cooked meal. "Wouldn't be a proper inn without a full kitchen, now would it? Leave it to the shorter folk to show the beanstalks what a real dinner's made of, aye?" He then dismounts and finds a good spot to take in the atmosphere and enjoy the setting.
"Aye, it's been days now since we had a good scrap, and all the riding and walking's making me sore." Belgrin wastes no time packing up and biting a ration. "Let's be off then, we got knaves to hunt."
Belgrin responds to conversation during the ride, but offers little else, choosing instead to watch the new traveling companions as carefully as the neanderthals that cross their path.
If those super secret rolls involve stonework, I get an auto-check in 10 feet! NO SECRET STONE IS SAFE.
"normal" caster? ...does not compute.
And the curse of the disappearing mages begins again...will it claim another victim? Or will this bold soul finally be the one to break the fated cycle? STAY TUNED.
INTRUDER ALERT! HALT MUTANT. IDENTIFY YOURSELF.
Turkey...sleepy...zzz
Yikes. Dad did that for many years, and he was one bear you did NOT want to wake. empathy for you, sympathy for anyone living with, hehe.
Bummer. No party size is enough to balance out the tragedy of losing someone. I, however, will roll with the punches. If you recruit someone, I'll give 'em the shortspoken gruff Dwarf act just as solidly as anyone in the party, and we'll keep right on truckin.'
Hmmm. I've often contemplated whether I might delegate some duties if I ever get to DM around a table again, so I see no problem in principle. Especially when it does make sense, like in Hezar's case.
I have no qualms with the current plot; my own posts aren't exactly hectic in pace, though part of that is just my character's imagined nature, I would think. I seem to have a habit of creating characters that are better at responding to plot than creating it. I need to work on that. I'm just sad to see characters drop, especially when some of them were interacting so well.
Belgrin sizes up the newcomers, looking up at the massive warrior with a discerning eye. "Nice axe." He then checks his gear, jots down a new entry in his logbook, and mounts up.
"Well, if ye make a good name for yerself in all this, maybe a good vouch or two'll take some heat off yer head. Maybe. After that, it's up to you how ye work it out with the law."
"Well," Belgrin starts, before finishing a mouthful of food and wiping his chin, "Only way ye get yer shot is comin' with us, cause he's not walkin' away once we track him down." The Dwarf spares a moment to glance around the encampment, pausing with a bite of food an inch from his open mouth, noticing a few disapproving eyes from Rylind's band. "But I wouldn't bet me beard on that happenin', aye?"
Belgrin keeps to himself during the meal, observing the exchange between his party and Rylind's. Not sure what I want more; for these scoundrels ta sign up, or make a move. Bah. Least the food's passable. |
