Corvin Tergsvor's page

An hour or two later, as the market is most busy, Corving Tergsvor and his hunting group come back. The noble riding on his horse. His woodsman leading the horse that drags a makeshift travois a dead owlbear. The creature looks impressive even though it's dead. Like a large bear, covered in feathers instead of fur and a large beak instead of a mouth.

Corvin rides through the crowd, followed by his trophy and the hirelings. One of them limping. Once he reaches a position he feels most can see him, he proclaims "Valued people of Abadon. The threat posed by this mighty beast is no more, for I, Corvin Tergsvor, have dealt with it. So that the people of Abadon can continue to live their life in safety and the life stock of the farmers can live in peace."

Then he turns around to ride back to the garrison, to collect the bounty and brag there some more.

The group passes through the marketplace and once they are on the outward road the woodsman and the noble get on their horses leaving the city through the gate to the south.

A rough-and-tumble-looking woodsman heads over the place towards the city gate, followed by a young noble dressed in finely tailored, studded hunting leathers. The two men push through the thin crowd, oblivious to anyone else’s concerns. Several scruffy-looking hirelings follow behind them leading a pair of horses and carrying wooden crates marked with heraldic symbols. As they shuffle past, the woodsman calls back to the noble, "For the last time Corvin! I’ll take you there, but I ain’t bringing my dogs!"

The arrogant noble hollers back "You think you can do it without them? Fine. But I'm not paying you for a walk in the woods. I want results. I want a trophy!"

With the time running and the woman not making a move, Corvin takes on the role of attacker and tries some different attacks. Most of them Haleen simply evades, or parries. Some hit her chain shirt, but don't wound her. But as the time is almost over, Corvin manages to draw blood.

@Haleen
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 191d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 181d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 261d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 121d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 101d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 211d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 261d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 231d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Stab: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 281d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Confirm: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 251d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Some of the guards under Aithaloessa's command groan at Haleen's offer. But there is always some young guy, who is full of himself and needs to show his greatness to all around.

A tall blonde, by the overall looks of noble descent, gracefully jumps the stage. "I'll give it a try. But only if the bet is 1:1"

He hands Haleen the coins to double the stack. Bending down to place them himself is beneath him.

The young man steps back, draws his rapier and cuts the air several times to loosen his muscles.

Corvin doesn't look good either. The cut Herm dealed him is one thing, but being possessed by a spirit has visibly shaken up the poet of the lodge.

Will Save DC18: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18
Corvin rears up and a wolf like spirit is pushed out of his body. The wolf spirit howls and flees through the wall.

Corvin collapses to his knees panting heavily, but the bestial features have left him.

The door to Graydon's room is broken and an fight is going on inside. Graydon is attacked by Corvin Tergsvor. But something seems wrong with Corvin. His fingers are too long, ending in claws and his face is distorted with his mouth forming a short snout.

He rages in the room, clawing and biting at the unprotected Graydon, who tries to shield himself with little success with his arms held up.

Corvin looks into his glass and ignores Herm.

"That's none of your business!" Tergsvor replies as the topic changes to him.

"He is right. Readin is too hard on the mind of most of the guests." Corvin calls over from a neighboring table. Just loud enough that the other people can hear it too.

Corvin Tergsvor, a young noble with good looks and a sour mood occupies a table in the sitting room, with notebooks, quills and ink as well as with a bottle of absinth and a glass.

Corvin Tergsvor, a young noble with good looks and a sour mood occupies a table in the sitting room, with notebooks, quills and ink as well as with a bottle of absinth and a glass.

"The profit?" Corvin suggests, and puts his attention to the girls around.

"You really want to work there?" Corvin asks in disbelief. "They took it from the previous owner. It's told he didn't pay his taxes. Who knows where he is rotting now." he takes a swig from the ale.

While Logan ogles the Salt Works an old drinking buddy of him from the docks comes by. "Eh, Logan. Looking for a second job here? You should stay away from that. Since that grumpy sadistic dwarf took over the Salt works with the Dottari there is nothing to get there anymore. You come along for a drink and some nice gal? I'm headed for the Three-Legged Devil."

”Excuse me for being blunt, but ‘ave we met? I would think I would remember ‘aving talked to you, but cannot.”

"We haven't been introduced. We just happened to be at the same event last night. Corvin Tergsvor, at your service." he replies with a slight bow.

As Meliandri strolls through the park she notices a young man leaning at an old oak tree watching who comes by. As he sees her coming along he smiles at her, his expression a mix of adoration and a smug 'I know what you did'.

Corvin's body has no memories of the time it was possessed. "Yes, I want to be raised. I have no clue what happend. What wolf, what ghost?"

Even though the answers are questions, the spell is done.

Grergof finishes off the creature. It returns to the normal Corvin Tergsvor which is now beaten to a pulp and dead.

Will Save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
Werecorvin is badly hurt with the damage from Grergof's hit on top. He turns on Grergof.
bite: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 311d6 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
claws: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 201d4 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
claws: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (11) + 12 = 231d4 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Damage 60

"Who let you in?" Corvin snorts at Spugnoir from his usual table. "I'd wonder if they let someone like you wander freely as stable boy. Much less in here. This is a place for nobles."

Corvin gives Grergof a glare and then looks away to ignore him. Because this is a question a Nihilist can hardly answer.

"All politics and scheming." Corvin gripes.

"Just a few thoughts I write down. Nothing in particular." Corvin replies. "So Duristan finally got what he wanted all along? Almost getting eaten by a werewolf?"

"Needed a meditation time in the bushes?" Corvin teases Grergof as he comes back.

"You are from a monastery? Or brother of whom are you?" he asks in a mocking tone ignoring the offered hand.

"Sharp mind like a sharp sword. That kind is only useful for killing." the blond guy bickers from the neighbouring room just loud enough that it is recognizable.