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Brokk's pants catch fire. For some reason his thoughts wander back to a few hours earlier when everyone laughed at him and his tale of Firewater. Brokk roared in anger and brought down his longhammer on the Doomsayer.
Brokk begins fuming as he steps toward the newly summoned foe. Not my fight! He says over and over in his head to himself. "This is NOT MY FIGHT!!!" He bursts out in yell as his hammer whistled to strike the robed man in front of him.
Sorry for the delay guys and gals. I haven't checked the site in awhile.
"I've pummelled many singers in my day, he shouldn't be trouble for all o' ye!" He says, eyeing the rock elemental formed up behind the group. A smile crosses his face as he steps in between the elemental and Corinne. "I'll handle this!" Brokk said, taking a mighty swing.
I would've let them kidnap the girl had I not been put in the middle of this. Now nobody gets what they want! Brokk thinks to himself. He positions himself between Corinne, Arial and the on coming attackers. Readying his hammer for the first poor soul to get in reach of his hammer.
"Finally hospitality!" Brokk exclaimed with a grin. He rested the head of his hammer over his shoulder and raised his hand openly. "I don't know what we are waiting for, ye all were looking to avoid a fight and now ye have yer answer. And what luck too! Ye wouldn't happen to know where the next best inn is, would ye? Ye can take me there!" While the full situation may not be clear to Brokk, he doesn't seem to question it. "And so yer aware, any funny business Mr. Corvin and I will take ye with me!" With that, Brokk smiles and pats the shaft of his hammer.
Brokk's jaw clenched in anger. Why was this human butting in without ever paying attention? He walked over to Llewyn, grabbed him by the collar, and stared into his eyes. "Listen here," he hissed. "I'm signing that charter whether ye like it or not. What I was saying is this, current fight to save the city is not my fight. I am looking forward to going down in the hell of battle but not here, not tonight, and not for a cause that isn't my OWN!" Volume control was never this dwarf's strong suit. He let go of Llewyn. "I'm looking for away to get out of this area if I have to. Yer all more than welcome to tag along, but I don't guard children, or blind kids, or-" he paused with a scowl, "teddy bears." His knuckles were white, now gripping his warhammer as tight as he could. After a moments pause he went back to checking what doors for a safe exit.
Brokk looks at Glen for the first time and doesn't know what to make of him. "Yer right, I have no allegiance to any of ye minus the drinks I shared with Armin. Do ye always form hunting parties with complete strangers? I have shared many drinks and found more enemies than friends in pubs and taverns." He looks at everyone in the room. "Who's to say this Whistling Man isn't one in the room? Mind controlin and suggestin things." He pauses for a moment to let it all sink. "My motivations for tonight are surviving the night. These delusions of saving the city are yers'all to keep, but keep me out of it. And if ye think ye think compassion and a piece of paper is going to win you a kingdom in the Stolen Lands ye might want to come to terms with losing yer life. History has proven the lands are savage and unforgiving!"
Brokk is at a loss. He would NEVER volunteer to protect anyone! Brokk felt the walls closing in around him, the thought of working for free made his mouth dry. Nope, not happening! he thought to himself I'll just sneak on out of 'ere and nobody will think twice about it! He sighed lightly as he saw the others stuffing their ears with anything available.
Looks like the girl might have a bodyguard already.... . Brokk begins searching for a safe exit. Not wanting to get involved with anybody else he doesn't say anything to anybody else. If they lived through the night he might see them at the charter office in the morning...
Brokk looks at the girl unsure of what she means but he seems to calm down. "Aye," he mutters. His head clears for a brief moment perhaps sobering up from the prior night's drinking. His mood change is visible enough to anybody looking but he doesn't say anything else to the girl. He ignores the elf and turns his attention to Roswitha. "I never stopped and asked their motives but I wouldn't be surprised when we walk outside and find this puppetmaster pulling the strings." He thinks back to the man he hit with his hammer and a smile crosses his face. His madness returned.
Brokk looked dumbfounded at the elf. "Listen here ELF!" He spoke with venom in his words and saliva frantically exiting his mouth. "Ye can babysit children all day and frolic in the woods if ye desire, but don't think I share yer desires." He switched his attention to Roswitha, "The madmen were coming from outside I don't believe we've seen the last of them," he said with a grin.
For the first time in a very long time, Brokk finds himself speechless. The encounters Brokk has had with children always ended in them running in fear. Perhaps it was from what he was being paid to do because he followed orders and never asked questions. Whatever the case, children never approached Brokk. They ran from him and he liked it that way. So when the sweet, innocent Orphan Arielle approached Brokk he had to think for a moment. "Bu-bu," he stammered. probably not the best time to kick the child in the chest and walk on he thought. "Little girl," he started, "I am Brokk Brokkson XII! I am the monster teddy bears hide from!" His voice rose and rose. The speech? Epicly pointless. "My bear is not to hide TOYS! MY BEARD IS TO SOAK THE BLOOD OF MY ENEMIES! BROKK BROKKSON XII DOES NOT WANDER FIELDS AND PICK DAISIES WITH LITTLE GIRLS! BROKK BROKKSON KILLS." Brokk never intended to work himself up over a conversation with a child, but then again, Brokk never intended to speak to a child either. He slung his weapon over his shoulder and began to pace like a bull in a pen.
Brokk rests his hands on his hammer's pommel, his gear beside him. "I can stay here till morning if I have to. They won't sign charters till then," he declares. The sounds in the next room over start to make him twitch as he tries to keep his bloodlust in check. While his companions hope for the door to hold he would prefer it didn't.
"Oh HO HO HOOOO! What a fantastic night! Haven't had a night like this in ages!" Brokk proclaims, looking around at all the winded survivors. His smile stretches from ear to ear, an even bigger sign of his madness.
"Aye maybe yer right, boy. If yer thinking I'm going to protect ye best be carrying my gear for me. Unless, of course, ye can protect the two of us." Brokk replies to the boy shifting his eyes to the gear and then back at the macabre dancers. Maybe, just one more swing before I go? Brokk's grin widens as his opponent falls to the ground, unable to stand any longer. Another time! Plenty more fighting to come!
"Run if you wish, boy, my night has just started!" Brokk proclaimed with a menacing grin. "I can't remember such a beautiful day!" The holes in his hammer cause a loud whistle as he swings his hammer.
Brokk howls in mad delight as his opponent buckles over in pain.
Brokk looks at his fallen foe and begins to walk away. The bar itself is a madhouse and he loved it. He began pushing his way to the last place he remembered dropping his gear, the bar, in hopes it had been placed somewhere around there. The revelers made movement difficult and he had to keep his gaurd up in anticipation for anything. As he got to the bar he searched for his gear or that mischievous gnome Jellink.
Brokk is angry that he's even being bothered. All he wanted was a drink for the ringing in his head. It magnifies from time to time and that only makes him more angry. "Ye should have found a more willing dance partner!" Being familiar with a bar fight meant Brokk had a situational awareness keen to such fights. "When no weapons are around ye have to improvise. Never fight a fair fight, especially in a bar! His father had once said while they argued and right before he hit Brokk in the face with a tankard ending the arguement. The good ole times warmed his heart. Back to the present, Brokk knew what he had to do, quickly he spun his dance partner around. "Twirl for me darlin!" He then grabbed him by the hips and attempted to use throw the man over his head and through the nearby table.
Few things are higher on Brokk's list of things he hates more than any form of dancing. His anger gets the best if him as he tries to gain the upper hand.
Brokk takes the insult to heart but is quickly grabbed by the .
In his arrogance Brokk continues to look for his gear, paying little attention to the struggling desperately to control him.
Between the bell, child screaming, and his alcohol consumption Brokk becomes overwhelmed and throws up what might have been dinner. His head still spinning he begins to look for his trusty hammer.
He still can't find his gear as the tavern twists, turns, and tilts beneath his feet.
"Another drink, one of the ones ye give to children."Brokk whispers queitly. "But don't tell no one! I have the worst head-"
He looks dumbfounded at the men as if he recognizes them. And the releases a belch from what seems like deep in his chest. "Pardon me, I have a terrible headache and could really use something to drink. I also seemed to have misplaced my things..."
Brokk wakes from his slumber groggy with the rancid smell of his own drool in his beard his head ringing from the drink.
He motions for a waitress and a drink, something to stop the headache.
"I'm sorry were ye looking to join a troupe and frolic in the forest? I figured ye picked fights not flowers!" And with that he let out a hearty laugh, amused with his own joke. "Besides all that, Imes here bought us drinks, he's paid for my time and interest."
"I could find ye some uses for it! This is all very exciting but something tells me ye didn't come over to buy us some expensive drinks, Mr. Imes." Brokk drinks his new drink, a little watered down but given the days circumstances it was welcomed. He looked up as Llewyn approached. "Be as bold as ye like just do it somewhere else." Replied to the bard.
"Speaking of mysteries, I 'eard about an old fort to south of t' forest where the spirits still 'aunt it. T' dead whisper stories of t' ancient ones that lie in the depths of t' earth, from aeons past, plotting their return. Tho' some say the pale forms guard a treasure greater than owt we've heard of, that t' ghosts that inhabit the fort are in fact hunters after the ancient treasure & that's why t' land is wild." Ali starts to tell a story in hushed whispers hoping, it'd intrigue the pair. Brokk's eyes begin to twitch. His vision tunnels to the boys face. Stupid kid, he can't be talking about Rubblestone, it's over run by bandits- FFEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOO-CCCSSSSHHHH! The longhammer whistles as it smashes a bandit's shield in to kindling. Brokk sees only in shades of red. He's back in the moment. The warhammer smashes the bandit's face. Time crawls, the group of approaching rogues take forever to reach Brokk's hammer. He ends the first bandit, then the next, and the next. The longhammer's whistle continues, a reminder to keep moving. Keep killing. He knocks the last one to his knees. His eyes lock with the bandits yellow eyes and he sees the bandit isn't alive. His face is rotting and maggots fester in what used to be his nose."Whew! That will definitely light a fire under ones arse! Ha ha ha! I can feel the fightin' spirit in me. Perhaps you are right, Master-" "-Dwarf." The scarred man finishes. Brokk feels a cold sweat all over himself, he fights to stop from trembling. He fails. Quickly, he tries to prevent anyone from noticing, "Master Dwarf!" He gives Armin's ribs an elbow. "I think I'll keep that title, sir! My friend here is right. It appears to boil the blood and cloud the judgement."
Not when I posted this morning....
"And ye'd better not forget it!" Brokk joins in the common drinking ritual with humans no less. Brokk downs his drink as fast as he possibly can, not to be out done by his new companions. "That'sh delicioush, I'm telling ye thoshe guysh are ushing thish ash a fightersh ale! Ye'd be surprised by the effects it has on ye." His speech slows as he realizes he is starting to slurr. Can't look drunk in front of the humans.
Brokk has everyone's attention, every smug last one of them. He realizes his predicament. His new acquaintance violently brushing off his arm was rude but he had an audience and he needed to get out of this place and in the riverlands...and then a smile. "A mad dwarf!" He corrected under his breathe, his grin was wide and confirmed the statement. "Apologies, when drinking with a dwarf a belch is a sign of good beer I'd remind ye!" His voice in a normal speaking tone. "But let me tell ye a secret, this beer is the new secret weapon in New Stetven right now. With this even weakest of duelist can take the toughest of competitors. Imagine a Rostlander with that kind of boost!" That's it, hate these fools all ye want ye can't go down buy some prancing fool with a sewing needle, he thought to himself. "Now I'll tell ye a secret, those weaklings are buying it up for 4 times this price, it's all the rage ! They are trying to stock up for some tournament. If I weren't such a poor dwarf, I'd be buying up the stock anywhere I could!"
Brokk feels it in his gut before he can even even wipe the foam from his mustache. A fire burns inside him that he hasn't felt since Rubblestone Keep. Turns out Jelli just might be his type of girl after all.
He lets out an enormous belch, one that is felt by those nearby and heard by all. "Thas a fine beer!" He yells with a slurr. Throwing his arm around his new companion, he raises his glass. "No better drinksh in all the land I guarantee ye boy! I wonder what theshe foolsh think about drinking a fine dwarsh ale such ash thish."
"Aye, sweet Jelli." He takes the drink and gives it a sip. A little weak for his tastes but no use turning down free drink. "I'll have the pig on bread. Thank ye kindly. And with that he raises his glass and has another drink.
"Ah, forget about it. A tale for another time I suppose." Brokk said soberly. He looked in to his emptying tankard. He hadn't told anyone yet his true intentions and who would believe him. "I owe nothing to these humans. Fact is, nothing will impress these fools prancing around and stabbing each other!"
"A giants shoes to fill for me!"
"Aye, these people can't stand us stouter folk but don't mind being served by 'em!" Brokk replies matter of factly. "Give me a week serving these ingrates and oh, the dwarves would have their revenge!"
Brokk's eyes beam like Nevylle for Bentello. For the first time in a long time he has someone to listen him. He doesn't pay attention to anyone or anything (Armin included). "The nobles of Brevoy have set up heirarchy excluding any Dwarven members! They hate us! Did ye know Choral the Conqueror used a band of dwarves to take down the might of Issia and Rostland? It was them, or so a Rostlander would tell ye, that took the Golden Road between Restov and New Stetvan. A road made of gold bricks! Can ye believe what these morons would believe?!" He takes another drink, using his sleeve as a napkin. "Ye ever here of Gerrold the Giant?" He pauses but not long enough for Armin to respond if he were paying attention to the dwarf. "Ye haven't. Let me tell ye then. He wasn't hill giant or anything like that. Gerrold the Giant was more rare than...than...a flying moose!" His arms flew in to the air with excitement. Beer spilled out of his tankard and on to the table. As he slid his hand across the table, pouring the beer back in to his tankard he explained, "Gerrold was a giant dwarf! He stood about 6 ft tall and was completely hairless. Some say with out hair to grow his body just kept growing and growing. He carried a two handed axe, the axe head carved out of Obsidian. He called it his brother. He formed a strong but small band of dwarves dubbed the Obsidian Brothers and it was them who Choral used to create Brevoy. After Choral died they were kicked out of Brevoy and forced to be mercenaries. For hundreds of years the Obsidian Brothers sold their man power to the highest bidders, stripped of their right to land in Brevoy. I am the very last of those brothers and my only goal is to- Armin are you listening? Armin!? AR-MAN!"
"Aye, enjoying drinks is my only plan for tonight!" Brokk proclaims with a raise of his tankard and then finishing what is left. He wipes the remains from his beard and motions for another round. "Ye know how ye can tell a place is Dwarf friendly?" He asks but leaves no time to reply having given this monologue before. "The tables and bar. As a human, ye probably don't notice but places friendly to my kin will have shorter stools and tables or perhaps a ledge at the bar. This place not so much. It's one thing to a human but some may take it as disrespect to always be looking up at humans. Before ye start crying foul. The waittress is indeed a gnome but without a ledge ye'll always be looking down on 'er, also why the prissy youths come here. They like to down on us!" His tone is more matter of fact than anything. One might notice that he has not paid any attention to anybody in the tavern, present company excluded.
"Look harder and it may be ye are the one taken outside next." Brokk says to Armin. "Just saying, I'll drink with ye but a fight isn't what I'm here for. Not while I am this close." He takes a drink from his tankard. Why'd he have to over sleep the entire day?!
Brokk didn't hesistate. "Honor." He replied. He followed up with the story of the boy in the pub, miles away explaining that the charter he had found was a fabrication and it took some rather "aggressive" diplomacy to find that this was in fact where he needed to be. "I suppose ye'll won't find many dwarves in Brevoy. These people don't take too kindly my kin. It doesn't take a wizard to know yer not from here, taking company from a dwarf."
Brokk takes a gulp of his drink and orders one for his new acquaintance. "Aye, stupid kids don't know a woman with honor doesn't need it defended. Stupid kids. He'll get what he wants though. And it's not her honor." He takes another drink. He looks in to his tankard sadly remembering the days when he was the very same antagonizer. The good ol days "So what brings ye out to these parts? Where are ye from?"
Brokk, sighs with the knowledge of what's about to come. Stupid boy is on his way to an early grave. But it's not his fight. He looks at the Armin, standing in the middle of the tavern, "Hey you! This seats open, might want to get away before you get yourself involved in this ridiculousness." He points to the seat next to himself. "It's a damn shame. Make no doubt-o-bout-it but it's no shame o' yours. The name's Brokk." Disappointment:
I hate my job, so anything to distract me from it is welcomed. That being said, I don't think I'll need it but if it does feel free to bot me I trust your judgement.
Brokk swallows the rest of his drink in one big gulp, takes a deep breath and then orders another. His attention turned to the events developing before him. Nothing interests him more than one looking for death the way he does. He truely believes the man outside doesn't have a hope in the world to win and for that he raises his tankard in salute.
Ooc:
Brokk sat at a table in the Dragon's Rest drinking, again. This time he wouldn't drink so much he thought to himself. He had arrived the night before but the charter office was closed. After he had knocked once he decided to knock louder. Knocking turned to kicking and punching and yet no one had answered. He started to think and like everytime he thought one thing led to another and he was in the Dragon's Rest drinking. He doesn't remember much after that. He awoke the next afternoon to find he had slept most of the day on the floor of the bar. The innkeeper was surprisingly friendly and quick to bring him food and drink, free of charge. Judging from the coins left in Brokk's this generosity was well deserved. It was immediately after his meal that Brokk realised the time. Rushing out the door he realized his mistake. He was late again. He wasn't the only one this time at least and so he found his set again and ordered another round. This time, I won't drink so much.
You didn't want a min/maxing and instead you got a bunch of illiterate savages lol would be so good! I kneed to check again hope bloodrager spells don't require anny reading...
I don't know if I would describe it as saving. Not intentionally atleast. I was going to write Brokk as being illiterate as well because I could see him as not seeing it as necessary, he is still a barbarian after all
Sweet deal. I also don't think he's in the right city, but I am curious to see what you have in store.
Darn, will retconn during lunch today. The MISADVENTURES OF BROKK BROKKSON XII CONTINUE!!
Good News For People Who Love Bad News: Brokk sat in a cold, dark tavern in New Stetven. Not sure how to carry out his new self-proclaimed legacy he ate a beer that had to be cut with a knife. Just the way he liked it. The bard had passed out for the night and he was greatful. Such a perfect pub in a perfect city shouldn't be filled with the doom and gloom of love songs and noble knights tales. He had brought this up with the bard the night before and they couldn't come to an agreement. He found an old piece of meat in his beard and ate it.
"'Tis the truth I swear it! The man at the in even gave me this official decree. I'm going to be a king one day. Sven, Lord of-" Proclaimed a drunk man loudly. "Imbecile! The Rive Kingdoms are full of bandits, werewolves and giants!" Brokk looked at the two with hhis full attention. Brevoy was sending people to the Stolen Lands? "That's why they are called the Stolen Lands. They weren't given away but taken. Read a book!" "You know I can't read...and neither can you!" Sven replied sadly. "Your not welcome in my kingdom." "You know that isn't the point, you fool! And you haven't got a kingdom. You have a piece of paper that-" "Where is this man!" Brokk interrupted. He had climbed on to the bar, over the sleeping bard, and was making his way to the, now, very startled young men. "The man handing out deathwishes, where is he!?" "Th-they aren't deathwishes, they are royal dec-" "I know what they are even if ye don't!" Brokk screamed at Sven who's face was getting more pale by the second."You want a kingdom? Stay 'ere and marry the king. There aren't any kingdoms in the Stolen Lands, boy! Only thing left there is sweet, sweet death!" Brokk smiled at the thought. "T-th-" Sven's mouth went dry. He took a swig of ale and realized that the mad dwarf was telling the truth. The twitch in the dwarf's eye had a glint of sincerity that made it hard to keep eye contact. He looked away. "There aren't anymore. This is the last one dwarf. Ye can have it if ye want. In just a few days ole Tom's going to need farm hands. I can work for him." Sven swallowed hard, his mouth still parched. He held up his portion of the charter at the dwarf. Brokk, still on the bar bent down to look the boy in the eye. He smiled. "Aye, that's a good lad. Mighty generous of ye. Don't be fooled if ye change yer mind all ye have to do is find me." He snatched the charter from Sven's spastic hand. The boy flinched. "It seems to me this isn't a fair deal. From one adventurer to another, it's only fair." Brokk said as he reached in to his pocket, pulled out a coin purse, and shoved his hand in. In his palm were a variety of things. Coins were there along side teeth, a pair ofcrude dice, and a fingernail. He pulled two gold coins and placed the rest back in the purse. "Seems fair?" The boy nodded quickly completely lost as to what was happening anymore. Brokk spit on the coins and shook the scared boy's hand. Brokk quickly paid the barkeep and ran out the door. The bartender looked at the two boys left in the bar. He sighed and said, "That is the first night he's paid for his drinks all week."
I have it figured out. I'll have some sort of story once I am actually off work. |
