The scythe wielding northman swings low, but manages to miss the little blighter.
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Good news! I am leaving for LA in the morning and will return early Monday morning. I won't have access while I'm gone. Well timed on your project deadline, sir.
Björn stalks towards the tree peering about for any holes at it's base wherein the goblins might hide.
Björn grins broadly at his handiwork. Kneeling down to the carcass, he pulls out a short broad leaf blade and begins to ply the pelt from the flesh. Taking his time, he peels back the skin, scraping the remaining gore from it's inside before rolling it up and strapping it to his pack.
------------------------------------------------------------------------- Stalking forward, the woodsman tries to remain aware and quiet as he progresses.
The druid scythes through the neck of the worg he had already wounded.
Face split wide by his smile, Björn charges one of the worgs, his scythe flashing in the dappled sunlight coming through the leaves.
I, too, am having fun. I still don't think we're going to have much of a fight here with two worgs, but you have to ease into finding the right challenge level.
Björn responds to his shield mate's question. "Saga hennar að segja. Það eru úlfur shamen sem myndi furða á feldinum ég vera." :
Her tale to tell. There are wolf shamen that would wonder at the fur I wear. ------------------------------------------------
The northman stops at the sound of rustling and turns to the snarl from the other side.
At their appearance from the brush, he recalls the tales of such beasts. Horribly cruel creatures which stalk all manner of prey, but humanoids a favorite. Fiercely grinning, the brutish giantkin quips, "Tveir fleiri pelts fyrir mig að vera í." : Two more pelts to wear.
Björn nudges sleeping beauty and motions to follow. The druid rises and begins slowly searching for tracks making a lazy spiral from the camp.
Björn finishes his watch then settles into his nest of furs. Waking with the sun, he sits up and draws into himself letting the morning's sounds wash over and through him. When the breakfast is prepared, he takes his share and quietly eats. DM Salsa: At the appearance of Rayla wrapped in a bear's fur, Björn becomes very still, his face a stone mask. He sits such a moment before resuming his meal.
Björn settles back to his watch, stropping the blade of his scythe with his whetstone again.
Björn hears the words of his friend and rejoins, "Það er svo lítið að drepa í þessum mjúku löndum." "Hvers vegna eru þeir að binda þá upp? Þeir augljóslega ætlar ekki að láta þá lifa." He queries. : There is so little to kill in these soft lands.
Why are they tying them up? They obviously do not plan to let them live.
Björn's eyes are mirror bright and his smile is Death's grin itself as he slashes at the goblin at his feet.
Björn is caught unawares by the wizard's cry of alarm. Springing to his feet, scythe in hand, he begins looking around himself for signs of danger, his long hair whipping back and forth. His back to the fire, he sharpens his senses the better to see in the darkness.
I do hope that I have cleared up any perceived confusion over how Björn has a 7 Charisma and...I must admit I am somewhat concerned with the tension in the group at this point. I don't want it to end in blood shed. I find it important that a group, for all their differences, gets to result and works together towards the common goal. I further hope that you can bear with me to discover his jovial side.
The hirsute man comes sauntering back into the camp only a moment after he left, shaking his head in bemusement. Clothed only in his own body hair, he settles back into the nest of his furs. Taking out a whetstone from a pouch, he takes up his scythe and begins to strop the blade in long steady strokes. Catching the eye of any of his traveling companions who look his way, he motions at their bladed weapon with the stone and makes a come hither gesture.
Björn eats his stew in a few gulps from the bowl. "Mundu að ég hef borðað elda þinn og þú mitt." :
Remember, I have eaten your cooking and you mine. As the druid began stripping off his furs, he noticed the southerner motioning to the two northerners. Seeing his friend rise, he grumbles and moves to join them, leaving the furs in their nest-like pile. Without so much as a loincloth, the giant man follows the other two. At the little man's question, he rolls his eyes and turns back to the camp. "Nú er hann forvitinn um ævintýri." He mutters as he walks away. : Now he is curious about faeries.
Stay safe and good luck!
A few minutes of work sees the bodies to the ground. Wilhelm asks the others to help gather stones to build a cairn for the dead. By the time they are laid to rest and Wilhelm has said a prayer over them, it is almost dark. Björn stares at Wilhelm with a blank look. When he sees the guide begin building a cairn, his face contorts into a look of disgust and he pointedly walks away from the southerner.
Björn takes no pains to conceal his interest in ogling the barbarian's form as she strips. "Og það er það besta að fara þar sem við höfum komið." He shakes his head at this remark and moves to stand on the rope, keeping it straight and taut for the woman's climb.
Just noticed the battle map tag under your name, DM. Looks like we're doing pretty good so far. =P
Björn grunts in surprise at the tripwire as it pointed it out to him. "Of rétt, bróðir. Látum okkur sjá hvað liggur Kols." :
Too right, brother. Let us see what lies yonder. So saying, the near giant grasps his scythe just below the blade and tamps the ground on the far side of the tripwire with the butt looking for a concealed hole or pit.
Björn comes into the clearing looking for any signs of trouble. Seeing none, he looks to his friend, "Of mikið drekka. Þetta er nógu í dag, nei?" : Too much drink. This is far enough for today, no?
"Nú deyr hún." The druid replies to his oarbrother. :
"Now she dies." Taking up the warscythe in both his massive fists, he swings around and stalks off down the trail.
Considering Druids are the only ones that know Druidic, I'd say that the Dryad might be able to understand a word or two, but it still wouldn't be enough for effective communication. Agreed
The haft of Björn's warscythe slams to the ground between the dryad and Helena. "Ég sagði að láta hana velja." The towering giant quietly intones to the alabaster woman.
How does Druidic factor into this conversation? Is it related to Sylvan? Should it be? Should it be something that is strictly a secret code for druids, even one such as Björn?
Sorry kids, had to sleep and I had a home game tonight before work. I'm not sure if Skane returned last night or not (he's six hours ahead of me), so I will only post once more as Skane and then I will give him four hours to post for himself. I am going over to the game thread now.
Seeing the others crowding around the dryad, the þursfyrðar growls. He stalks forward to stand astride the fey, his towering bulk looming over her as he brandishes his fearsome warscythe. "Ég hef fundið þessa veru og það er mín með hægri. Ég krafa það er lífið, vegna mér í blóði, vatni eða weregild." : I have found this creature and it is mine by right. I claim it's life, due to me in blood, water or weregild.
I have added all of the extra gear to my character sheet and sent a PM to Skane with his extra gear to do the same. Edit: S&+!! I forgot that we are both sickened. We should have missed the perception checks.
Björn looks sidelong at the oracle as she nods to them. Muttering to himself, he moves away never losing sight of the pale woman.
The shaman looks down at the tracks that have been pointed out. He shows no concern over the news that goblins are in the area. Suddenly, he picks up his head, staring ahead. Pushing past the others, he begins to move quickly, his massive stride eating up the trail.
At his fellow viking's suggestion, the pale, fur clad giant-kin picks up the remaining two tents asking, "Sem? á rúm lak eða einn af þeim?" : Which? The bed sheet or one of them?
The man giant shakes his head and drops the canvas. He takes up the remaining bundles of rope and tosses one to Skäne. Unspooling the rope to respool it to his size, he drapes them over his head to hang from one shoulder.
The two northerners lumber down the road to the keep, only occasionally crashing into each other. Once before the town's lord, they stand shoulders slumped blearily looking out at the others. At his offer, they sullenly take up rations and water. Björn picks up one of the piles of canvas, asking, "Er það rúm lak?" : Is it a bed sheet?
For the second time in a span of mere seconds, the sound of a skull cracking against a beam announces Björn as he too staggers out of the inn. Bellowing his own curse, the hirsute man nearly drops at the pain from his own yelling. Calling out to his shieldbrother, he implores, "Hvers vegna gerðir þú ekki vara mig á þá fordæmdur dyr?" : Why didn't you warn me of that damned door?
Apologies for the lack of posting. The computer issues of two nights ago persisted throughout the night and last night was our monthly deployment which kept me busier than I expected. I am heading over to post now.
We're having issues here at work. For instance, I cannot now get a new tab to come up so I cannot open imtranslator.net. Hopefully, that will get better, so I can post. As an aside, I do not look at others profiles. That information is for me to discover through interaction in character. Also, in the absence of description, I go to the avatar. For example, Bjorn looks just like his picture.
Björn rises as much as he able, following Skäne after the guardsmen. Once outside, he rises to his full height, shortening his stride to keep from overrunning the others. Upon entering the old timber fort, he snorts, Að minnsta kosti get ég staðið hér án þess að berja höfðinu á mér á geisla.
As the southren noble enters, the druid looks down at the man's feet. Nudging his companion with his elbow, he asks, "Ert þú Taldi hann gengur á stultum?"
At Skäne's judgement of the lord's worth, the bear-kin adds in a low growl, "Ef hann er að halda aftur, ég mun bæta húð hans í feldinum mínum."
As the assemblage breaks up, Björn actively avoids the pale woman with the milky eyes. He waits for her to pass him through the door of the fort before leaving. As he waits, the near giant is brought up short by the horned lavender woman's request. Visibly sniffing as though he can glean knowledge of her just by her scent, he turns his head and spits. Sneering, he says, "Illt blóð norn."
Yeah, when I had my wisdom teeth pulled, I was going to be put under. I advised the doctor to strap me down so when I woke up mid-surgery, he wouldn't get punched. He scoffed at me, saying they had a very good anesthesiologist and I wouldn't wake up. I refused to allow them to sedate me until they had strapped me down. Later, as the doctor was hammering away with a chisel to my impacted teeth, I heard him exclaim, "Oh, s*#*! He's awake! Get him back under! Get him back under!" In the post-op room, I remember asking for my teeth to be returned to me. When I was told it was an OSHA violation for me to get them, I reiterated my request ever louder until I was yelling at the nurse in Spanish to give me back my teeth. Good luck on today's extractions.
Post, Skane! Post! =P
Responding to his friend's statement, "Ef hann vill drengi, hvers vegna að senda drengi að finna menn?"
Björn looks to his shieldbrother to gauge his reaction.
Downing another ale while pondering the kobold's insult in bringing men drinks in a child's cup, he misses the clamor at the door. At
Björn and Skäne: Björn glares with menace at every person he passes, making the effort to leer at any of the womenfolk. At the entrance to the inn, he growls, "Fjandinn þessi litlu fólki og hovels þeirra! Það er eins og við klifra í kanínum holu.
Folding nearly in half, he enters the room. At the sight of the kobold, Björn stops in his tracks. He snarls at the dragon ilk, "Ég mun klæðast húðina eins og fingur hanski, þú stökk upp ís maggot. Þjóna upp eðla, blóðug."
GM and Skäne: The gigantic hirsute man bellows back, "Reyndar erum við víkingar. Við misstum skipinu og hafa komið til að taka einn af þinn!"
Turning again to his boon companion, Björn shakes his head as he says, "Lítil stofnanir halda aðeins lítið gáfur."
I am sorry, I didn't take as something horribly secret, but more of a means to keep things separate. Nah, I was just teasing. I've learned to PM if I want something secret.
1. Why are you reading other people's spoilers? 2. As all Gaelic speakers know circles belong over consonants, not vowels. 3. Yeah, we've been using Icelandic for awhile for these characters. It's because Icelandic is the closest to old Norse. (Iceland's relative isolation kept the language from significantly evolving/devolving over the centuries much like how the inhabitants of Tangier Island in Virginia still speak English with an Elizabethan accent.) 4. I was just going to use the Icelandic word for northern as the name of the language. Funnily enough, northern in Icelandic is 'northern', so it sounds flat to me. I'm sure Skane will have something nifty for us to call it.
Björn and Skäne
Spoiler: Björn and Skäne:
At the hail from the gate pygmy, the truly gigantic of the two men roars, "Við erum að koma í víking! Senda út skatt á flestum fitu manninn þinn, af þyngd jafn sitt og við munum ekki brenna heimili og taka konur þínar!" Turning to his smaller companion, he mutters, "Þó að vera heiðarlegur, börn gera ekkert fyrir mig og þetta virðist vera annar bær of litlum fjölda fólks." [spoiler=Northern]
"Þó að vera heiðarlegur, börn gera ekkert fyrir mig og þetta virðist vera annar bær of litlum fjölda fólks." - "Although, to be honest, children do nothing for me and these appear to be another town of too small people."
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