Since the Corporal doesn't seem to be responding to Cairn's cries, Cruach decides to wander over to the man's side and ask a question.
"I'm guessing you've got something over here that seems a bit less than normal, huh? Well, what the hell is it?"
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Though he doesn't really seem to be keeping an eye out, Cruach takes up a post near their two cartographers, ready to defend them if need be.
"I'll keep a weather eye out Corporal," Cruach says as he stoppers his flask. He leaves it nearly full for now. A good fire starter might be hard to come by out here.
Cruach comes to the morning fire already kitted up. Sitting down, he pulls out his flask and takes a short draw before digging into some rations. "I sure hope our luck is a bit better today. I'd like to actually be useful today."
"I can agree to that!" Cruach takes stock of the situation, and drops his pack to the ground. Pulling his bedroll off his pack, he rolls it out, and promptly settles in for sleep, pausing only to pull his breastplate and sword off.
"Sorry to go missing on you, Corporal! I started out in that direction, but I'm not exactly the keenest eye. I need a bit more visibility to be most effective."
"Can't say I'm too glad to be lost in a storm out here, but I'm certainly glad that I can see now. You think I should try to find the Corporal, or stick with you?"
Following the command without waiting, Cruach makes his way toward what is hopefully a squadmate.
Cruach pauses in his mad search for anything at all when the words come from inside his head. "What in the hell? Ceragia, you there?!" It takes him a moment to realize that she must be using magic. I'm pretty sure that I'm really lost now. I hope that rod finds me, cause otherwise I'm just walking blind out here. Cruach continues slowly in what he thinks is a forward direction.
The Kellid curses very loudly as he tries to make his way through this storm. The Corporal had ordered him to move the beacons, but he had barely gone a few feet before becoming lost in the storm. He tried desperately to make his way toward his companions. Pulling out his sword, Cruach starts hitting anything solid he can find with the flat of the blade, trying to discern his surroundings through echoing sound.
"Good to see us moving on. Where to next, Everett? I imagine we'll want to get moving swiftly."
The Kellid moves closer to the two cartographers, hand at his sword if he needs to fight. "Usually these things run around in multiples. Why would we only find two?"
Cruach smiles devilishly as he answers the boy, "I trained my sword arm by fighting for my life over years and thousands of miles filled with dangerous beasts and men out for my blood. My skill was earned through being vicious enough to outlast everyone who's tried to kill me, boy. Remember that."
Cruach finishes breakfast in about 3 minutes, stuffing everything down his throat with practiced ease. He washes it all down with 3 mugs of beer, and leaves the place with his kit. Sighing in comfort, he steps up to his compatriots ready to leave the city.
Cruach's face lights up like a child getting a present. "Well, that's the best news I've heard all day!" He quickly grabs a server and orders up enough of their hardest liquor to fill his flask. As their employers arrive, he smiles toothily at the young man, hoping to scare him a little, but then turns his attention back to his food.
Cruach slumps into a chair, his pack creating a racket. "Don't worry about the extra food Colross! I'm sure I'll be able to eat it all before it becomes a problem. I'd get through it even faster if the Corporal would let me bring some good whiskey along."
Cruach is settled in at a table, feet upon it. His gear is already stowed in and on his pack, sword standing at the table with him. He watches everybody else carefully, raising an eyebrow at Colross' actions. "Telling you from experience, sneaker, that most officers really don't like it when you play with their things behind their backs. We have to trust each other if we want to live. Don't go wrecking things before they've even got off the ground. You want to know something from her, stand up and say so to her face." The Kellid swings his legs off the table, letting them thump down for emphasis. "Confronting her, if you really don't trust her, would be for the best. Just make sure that you really want to do that. Might not go so well for you." Cruach gathers up his gear, strapping his large sword to his back, and takes to leaning against the entryway, waiting.
Cruach huffs at the Corporal's suggestion to clean up, but cleans up despite himself. Orders were orders after all. He grabs some extra rations and soap from a vendor and heads back to the barracks. The morning greets Cruach with its visage earlier than he'd prefer, but knowing that the Corporal expects them to be early risers he starts prep for their trek with a jog and some stretching. Checking his gear, he gathers everything up and is ready to go.
"So long as we get paid, I don't really care what we do. If you don't like losing your magics, bring a sword!"
"Huh. Whatever you say, Stern. Have it your way." Cruach settles himself in for a short nap as he awaits the squad's return.
Cruach snorts in amusement and says "You sound pretty damn crazy to me, but you still look like you can get the job done, so I won't complain. Hell, you're pretty stable-minded for most of the people I've worked with."
"And you just listened to a deck of cards and joined up just like that? This crew might be nuttier than I thought." Cruach shakes his head in disbelief as he cranks his legs up onto a table.
The Kellid man washes himself, and then proceeds to sort through his gear. Checking armor and weapon straps, sharpening his blade, oiling leather belts, all of the general maintenance that a good mercenary goes through. Should anyone else be around to talk to he speaks up with a smirk, "So, what's the story with the rest of you? What brings such an odd band together out here?"
The first thing the large Kellid does is find good water to refill his waterskin. Once he does that, Cruach goes back to the bunkhouse and begins sleeping off his drunkeness. Anyone who listens in on him as he mumbles to himself will quickly learn that he simply plans to engage in a drinkfest tomorrow.
Cruach greedily takes the skin from Ceragia and guzzles it like he's been lost in the desert for a week. He leaves little in the skin when he's done, handing it back nearly empty. Pulling his own skin from his pack loops, he hands it to Ceragia. "A favor for a favor, spellwielder. Thanks much!"
Constitution Check, Lap #1 = DC 11
Cruach had forgotten what is was like to run with such a load. Still, he had little trouble with the first lap, though his breathing rhythm was continually interrupted by belching. After he cleared his stomach of gas, though, he put a very strong showing in on the second and third laps. By the fourth, however, the drink in his gut was starting to catch up to him. Heaving a bit, Cruach still managed to finish the run in good condition.
Got a background up for the guy. Hopefully helps explain a little of why he's a drunk.
As the Corporal starts sniffing him, Cruach peers at her, rather bewildered. "What the hell you want, lady?" Her face tells him the rest of the story. When she tells them all to strip down Cruach is at first excited, and then agonized when she notes that they'll be running. "Running? Now? I just finished my longest boozing streak in weeks!" Cruach watches the rest of the squad get moving, his face incredulous. "You guys are all crazy, aren't you? You really want to go running, now?" When the Corporal starts unstrapping bunks Cruach just sighs, and then belches again. "Hell, I guess I'll join in then. You guys know this would be a lot more fun if you were all drunk like me." With that, Cruach goes to get the rest of his gear. Strapping his pack on, he marches back into the hall, drunkenly salutes the Corporal, and says "Kellids carry everything they need with them all the time. You want me to run, I run with everything I've got. See you outside, ma'am." Cruach bashes the door open and steps outside.
Covering a hiccup with a loud grunt, Cruach says "Crom Cruach, ma'am. Sword at yer service, and all that. Maldag-dka fendika." Hallit: Greetings, friend.
Trudging up to the others getting into line, Cruach attempts to throw a passable salute to the lady in charge, and fails somewhat badly. After a couple more attempts he simply nods at her and says "Cruach checking in. Sir. Ma'am. Lady. Ah hell, whatever you want to be called." His little speech done, he relaxes and lets out a small belch, grinning all the while.
Cruach stumbles back into the barracks after a few hours, obviously drunk and rather beaten up. "Damn bastards fight dirty here. Never seen anyone use a chair like that before!" Despite his complaints, Cruach has a slight grin on his face, which drains away like bathwater when he sees the angry officer charging about. "Ah, dammit. I was hoping she'd be late."
Cruach didn't wait to find out who the rest of the squad was. He asked for directions to the nearest bar that he wouldn't get stabbed for walking into, and soon found the place. Slamming a stack of silvers on the bar he sat himself down and called "Barkeep! Keep 'em coming until this is gone. And don't cheat me, or we'll have problems."
A large Kellid walks into the room, armored in breasplate, with a large sword across his back. He carries a lot of gear, and looks well prepared for just about any eventuality. "Huh, so you guys are Tempest Coven. Should have known they'd stick me with all the mages. I hope at least some of you know how to stick someone with a sword." Cruach throws his gear into some random corner, and immediately leaves for the nearest bar. "I'll be drinking myself into a stupor at the nearest bar, like usual. Send a runner when our commander shows up, ok? Oh, and the name's Cruach."
Fixed Cruach up a touch, should be ready to go. Still need to do backstory.
Finding picture, and still doing backstory, but base character is done. Decided to go with a Fighter anyway. List looked like it could use a little muscle. Used Core (class, some feats) and APG (1 feat, traits). |