Search Posts
Tim/Bohrs rises to his feet, at least reasonably sure Russiet wasn't going to die. He returns to the rest of the group and squares off with Elvar. "Do you want to go first, or should I?" he asks. "I paid my respects to the gods of the sea, fate, and fortune; you know, the ones that might be the difference between me holding fast or pitching over the side and drowning in a gale. I tried not to play favorites. I was afraid of Gozreh, but I had a bit of a thing for Besmara."
Tim/Bohrs wanders over to Russiet, as if curious. "So, is she dead or what?" he asks in a tone that effected no compassion. He drops to one knee and makes small slapping motions against her mask, while checking her pulse with his other hand, shielded by his body.
"Oi! Anyone home??"
Tim/Bohrs gives an audible grunt at the force of the blow, and winces visibly. He says nothing else, and makes no other demonstration of pain or injury. Well, that bastard's going to get his comeuppance before this is done..." he thinks to himself, as he tries to remember any particular features visible in the priest that struck him.
Doing his best to not move or shift his posture, Bohrs calls out from behind his mask, "Oi! Fight! Fight outside!"
Cayden help me, but this is dull! Makes the Erastilians look like Calistrians in comparison. Tim/Bohrs thinks to himself as he endures the ponderous ceremony. He considers what he saw today. There is something phony about this whole thing. The priests don't seem very devout, and do not seem to exhibit any discernible code of ethics beyond obedience to one's superiors.
Tim/Bohrs grumbles under his breath as he scrubs the floors. As he contemplates how they saw through his ruse, his eyes keep catching on the various tapestries and murals in the chamber.
Bohrs looks at Egarthis and replies, "As you wish, Brother Egarthis." He gives a nod of assent. So, we know they are watching everything we do closely, at least during the day. This is not a faith. It's a cult, and they are conditioning us to obey out of fear, not loyalty or shared belief, he thinks to himself, as he waits for Egarthis to dismiss him.
Bohrs takes note of the mask-marked doors and the rich carpeting and appointments, but does not tarry, as he has a bad feeling that being caught alone with the suspicious priest could end badly for him.
Tims/Bohrs nods stiffly towards the other priest, as if affected by the magic that tried to penetrate his mind. He continues pretending to work, only with a bit more stiffness to his motions.
Tim/Bohrs keeps his head down, and does whatever he can to draw neither the ire nor the praise of the group's brutal instructor.
Tim/Bohrs grabs two waterskins and four drinking mugs. While he's alone in the dining hall, he mutters a quiet prayer to Cayden Cailean to fill them, one with water and one with something stronger. He returns to the barracks, holing both skins in one hand, and the mugs in the other. He gives a wink and a nod to each of his compatriots as he passes them, and rattles the mugs enough for them to clatter together.
While everyone's chatting, Tim/Bohrs looks around the room to see if there's a water jug, or at least, a jug that could hold drinking water.
Tim/Bohrs gives Russiet a small nod of acknowledgement for his/her endorsement of his skills. "So, who's it gonna be? Are you going to get your money back, and then some?" he says, looking to Craig. He then turns to Lars, "Or will you learn the things you need to make sure you can take his money almost every single time he puts it in The Pot?" He sits back and waits to see who jumps first.
”Fine, then. Whichever one of you makes me the best offer will get the benefit of my tutelage in the fine art of gambling. Feel free to ante up.”
"What would it be worth to you if I coached you on how to beat him, and get your money back, and perhaps his, too?"
"Who's currently ahead in winnings?" Tim/Bohrs asks, continuing to chase the chance to gamble.
"So, does that mean the chance of winning a boon from me doesn't interest you?" Tim/Bohrs replies. "If not, what about a marker towards an amount of my wages, once I earn them?"
Tim/Bohrs approaches the two acolytes playing dice, and watches for a few minutes until he either recognizes the game or figures out the rules.
"Care to make the game interesting?" Tim/Bohrs asks them. "We can make wagers, and make a proper game of it. I figure since we don't have money or anything else of value, we could bet boons. The winner gets to make one request of each of the losers that they have to honor. We can even play every free night to see if someone wins their boons back, just to make it more interesting. What do ya think?"
Tim/Bohrs tries his best to keep up during exercises, then decides during work to work with Senrin to cut wood and clean the stables. Ultimately, he doesn't want to stand out positively or negatively.
Tim/Bohrs talks, but not to anyone in particular. "I've heard tell that in Cheliax, they recruit prisoners to watch and inform on other prisoners in exchange for leniency. Of course, this isn't prison. I mean, we signed up for this, right? I imagine they're testing our resolve. They want to see if we'll break under a bit of pressure. A sword's not much good if it snaps in two on the first strike, eh?"
Tim/Bohrs holds his plate up to his face, as if smelling it, then touches it with a finger.
Tim/Bohrs nods, and mutters, "Yes'sir," to the giant man. Razmir's cult almost the exact opposite of what it means to follow Cayden Cailean. He thinks to himself. Probably a good thing. If it were similar, I might start sliding into it before I realized what was happening.
Tim/Bohrs sees Senrin take the lead on this ritual. He decides going second isn't a bad option. The first to go and the last to go will draw notice. He's just one of the herd, the best way to remain hidden from the predators. He nods in acknowledgment to the priest, then steps up, as instructed.
Tim (he needed to get used to thinking of himself as 'Tim', lest he not react when someone called him by the assumed name) doesn't even catch the priest's comment as he walks away. As the Jailor/Priest pours out Senrin's water, 'Tim' tries to determine if there was deliberate malice in the action, or some other motivation.
"Tim" puts on the robe, as instructed, and sits cross-legged, with the bowl of water in his hands. He closes his eyes and meditates on the image of a crowded common room, filled with laughter and music, and the smell of ale, roasted meat, and fesh baked bread. He sees himself at a table, ready to face off against a robed and masked figure in a game of chance. The masked figure has demanded an ante before the rules of the game have been explained. He looks at his small pile of silver and copper coins, and then the pile of gold and platinum in front of his opponent. Game on.
Bohrs accepts the robe and bowl of water from the priest. As he grasps the rim of the bowl, he places his thumb on the inside of the rim, so that it is touching the water. He calls upon the Druidic powers granted to him in the Crypt of Everflame to purify the water. "Are we supposed to drink, wash with, or stare into the water? I don't want to get it wrong and cause offense," Tim (Bohrs) asks the priest.
Bohrs sits quietly for a moment and meditates of all that Cayden Cailean means to him: freedom, luck, and the courage to take risks. All of these virtues will be necessary to him in the immediate future.
"Where are we?" Bohrs asks no one in particular, pushing himself up to a kneeling position. "Did they spike our drinks? But why would they do that? I mean, we signed-up to join them, didn't we?"
Are we still in our regular clothing? sackcloth? loin cloths? or are we in our birthday suits?
"Great! I'm famished, myself," Bohrs replies indulging in food and drink. As he does, he carefully watches the Razmirans, especially the head priest for any sort of suspicious behavior.
"My name's Tim, sir," Bohrs says, rising to his feet. "Ain't a one of the other gods that've done a thing for my betterment. If what you're promisin's true, than I'm Razmir's man!"
"I'd say the less extra you can add to me, the better," Bohrs replies. "If I'm going to be a rough n' tumble sort, then it would be awkwaard if my nose fell of the first time some fellow clapped me on the shoulder. What if I we cut my hair and beard short? New sailors often get shorn on their first day to make sure they don't bring lice on board. If my hair was really short, and my beard just stubbly, that would fit what I was going for."
"Good to know. Thanks again, Lady Bough," Bohrs replies, with a smile and a friendly flirting wink. He hands over the pouch of ten platinum coins, along with ten gold coins of his own. "My apologies for not carrying more common coin, but this is what I have." Assuming their business at the Grove Shrine is concluded, Bohrs accompanies Russiet back to the inn. He looks at the overall tattoo on his left hand and forearm, and gives his fingers another flex. "Overall, that went well, don't you think?" he asks, conversationally.
Once the Druid-Artist completes her work on his arm, Bohrs flexes his fingers and whispers a prayer to Cayden Cailean, focusing on the tankard in the piece.
As the glow of divine energy fades from the tankard tattoo, Bohrs turns to the druid and says, "Fine work. What do I owe you?"
Bohrs chuckles. "I think I can pass as a rough-edged workin' lad. I'm no sailor, but I'm pretty sure I can weave a yarn that'll meet expectations. Maybe I was fairly new to the sea-life, and found it not as much to my liking as I'd hoped, or...oh...I was press-ganged, and I jumped ship!" He scratches his beard with his right hand in consideration of the idea.
Bohrs drinks away the pain of the needle, his right arm uninhibited by the work being done on his left. He looks to Russiet and says, "It might take a bit for her to finish this. Is there anything you want to talk about, or is there some other errand you need to run while I'm getting this done?" Bohrs leaves it up to Russiet. It's not like he himself is going anywhere at the moment.
”How about something like a skull with an eyepatch, a pile of coins, and the tankard as a single image with the tankard unobstructed? Could that be done in one session?”
"Maybe incorporate it into an overall scene, like a sultry pirate lass throwing the tankard, as if in a bar brawl, and the tankard shown flying through the air, so it isn't touching any other part of the tattoo?"
"I was thinking the back of one of my hands...the left, I think. That way I can brandish it and hold a weapon in my right, if necessary. That seems sensible," Bohrs replies, talking to himself as much as to the druid. "I was also hoping you could surround it with other designs that would obscure it from casual view; make it part of a half-sleeve from my hand to my elbow. Would that be possible?"
"Helloooo My Lady," Bohrs says with a smile, a tone of appreciation in his voice as he draws out the first word of his greeting.
"My thanks Speaker," Bohrs says with a polite bow, and he heads over to the nearby Druidic Shrine. "Hello? Excuse my intrusion. I'm looking for Emerald Bough?"
"Any recommendations for tattoo artists capable of doing the work I'm looking for?" Bohrs asks.
Bohrs accepts the coins from his friend, and pulls him into a hug. he then grabs Nicolette by the hand and pulls her into the embrace as well. "Safe journey, my friends. May the Drunken Hero's luck be on your tongues, your finger tips and your heels in times of peril and need. If Cayden wills it, we will see each other again, perhaps back home in Kessen." He releases the two from his grasp, and wipes a tear from one eye.
|
