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So it is with some deliberation that I've decided that I need to pull out of the games here on Paizo. My mental health just isn't where it needs to be and while I'm getting it all sorted out, it is making being consistent difficult. Bookrat's game is honestly one of the absolute best games that I've had the privilege of being a player in and I definitely want him to have the best players for his game as possible. Hopefully, in the times to come, I'll get my situation under control and be able to come back to the games properly with a better mindset and rejoin whatever is going on or at least catch a few of you in other games if not. Thank you all for playing with me and tolerating my intermittent tendencies, it has been an absolute pleasure. Happy gaming and I'll catch you all later! <3
I apologize everyone for my silence the past while. Depression reared its ugly head and left things in tatters around here. I'm trying to get everything settle but it is taking awhile. Perhaps for the moment, Cynerik is in a catatonic shock of some sort at the inn? I'm trying to get things ordered as quickly as I can.
Cynerik's eyes take in that awful display and everything stands out in detail to him. The way the boy's head slumps ever so forward while the buzzing of the first opportunistic insects finding the meal that has been waiting for them. The tools on display added to the horror and the only thing that the priest could think of was that he hoped the child was dead before the monster began to cut into him with such coldness. The assorted bones, so carefully removed, made his spine shiver as he gripped the haft of his sword. "Are these the horrors you have laid upon my path, dear Martyr? Is this the way I redeem myself to God?" Cynerik thought to himself, finally taking a shuddering breath at the atrocity before him. It seemed like he was not the only one that was as shocked by the evil before them. Their newest recruit, the young man from Fletcher's Rest, would leave and the sound of his vomiting coupled with the awful buzzing that seemed to grow louder in Cynerik's ears. "Evil must be stopped. It must be destroyed. By any means necessary." Steeling himself, he took another slow breath and rebuilt his composure once more. Now was not a time to be still and frozen, there was a monster for them to hunt. "I agree with Jexen. It does not make sense that Waves is in league with his father. While the elf is...strange...I do not believe him to be capable of the same wickedness." Cynerik murmured, hoping inside that his assessment of the elf would not lead to a terrible ending. Looking towards the others, he would swallow hard and give a shrug. "Well...you all know I wandered for quite some time. Hunting game along the roads where it wasn't illegal...and I wouldn't be caught. I could see what I could do." [ooc]It is a bit stretching to use the Refugee as source of being able to get a boon but here I am reaching for it nonetheless. Looking for any sort of cover or cloth, Cynerik would cover the boy's body with it before looking at the others. "I agree with Jexen. If we wish to do our best, we hunt the Bonesmith down and end his life. We also make him tell us where the other boy is..." There was still one more to find, one more chance at redemption...or another awful evil to witness.
Cynerik would give Jexen a shake of his head, a grim look upon his face. **"No, not yet. I fear he has escaped us for now. We will need to hunt him down. Come, we've found a passageway further in."** Cynerik would turn with the others and make his way towards that bloodied bookcase and the horrors that laid beyond it.
Cynerik will look over Waves's shoulder to view into the room and as he does, those outside of it will see the priest's eyes widen. His hand began to shake and nausea would hit. The carnage of the battlefield seemed to hit him little but whatever laid ahead had shaken the usually stalwart man to the core.
There is an eerie silence as they enter into the Bonesmith's workshop, a sense of foreboding weighing heavily upon his being. His body still ached with a throbbing pain but he ignored it the best he could as he entered into the room where the perpetrator was supposed to be tied up. All that awaited them though was a pile of blood-soaked rags. Fear began to pound a little faster in his chest now, not for himself but for the children as he looked around the scene.
Seeing where the blood goes, Cynerik hears Jexen's feet stop their mechanical plodding and gives a nod. "I will restart him." Going out once more, Cynerik surveys the lay of the land before busily beginning to crank the clockwork man back to life.
The battle comes to an end and Cynerik's eyes coldly look over the sight of the battle. Leaves fell slowly to the ground, set aflame from the spell, and they shimmered like falling stars. The smell of burning leaves mixed with the coppery taste of blood that lingered on the air and the scent of burned, putrid flesh. Walking forward among these burning leaves, Cynerik would hold the young girl's hand before stopping by where Slugoth's body had once been. Dragged around by the sorrowful dwarf, Cynerik's eyes looked down at the burned blade that was stuck in the ground. Was the orc a true servant of god? He spoke poorly but his actions were far better than most men. With the caravan, hadn't they both spent time looking up into the night sky to study the skies? Was he an educated man? Cynerik never had a chance to know. Guilt wrapped tightly at his heart once more and he had to take a shuddering breath. "Steel yourself, Cynerik. The night will grow darker before it brightens again." He thought to himself, gripping the haft of the burned blade. This was his sin and his sin alone; Kandl and Slugoth's deaths hung over his soul. They were the price that was paid to protect the others. He would have to realize their ambitions in return, to ensure the debt was paid. Pulling the charred blade out from the ground, he would place it upon his waistband before lifting up the young girl in his arms. Innocence had to be protected, at any cost. Silently, Cynerik walked with the others. His legs ached for relief, for sleep, but he ignored it. Kandl and Slugoth had earned their rest. He still had to suffer for the good of the world. At last, the sun seemed to raise up once more in the air and a sense of hope burned in his chest. Not all was dark. There was still the light to look upon, even in these dark woods. It seemed that God had a plan for them, as they crossed paths with a group of lumberjacks there. Their voices were soft and careful, trying to not disturb the girl who slept within his arms. Cynerik would approach one of them, the first one that approached, and offered her to him. He could hear the elf's plea to help him destroy his father and the priest was inclined to agree with him. "Take her to her mother. We're still looking for the boys." Cynerik said softly, his voice betraying how tired he was feeling. "If you can bring our friends to the graveyard, we will prepare their last rites as soon as we can. Our task is not done yet." Turning away from the curious lumberjacks, Cynerik's attention instead focused on the elf that had joined them. To say that he did not trust him was an understatement; their kind was strange and unknown. He had never even met an elf until today and now, he was going to meet another who was accused of terrible crimes. "If your father is the source of this misery then he must be destroyed. We are looking for two boys as well; the sons of the man who runs the saw miller. He believes your father has them. Your father proclaims his innocence though he says they stole his tools." Looking to the others, it was the first time that Cynerik met their eyes all night. There was a mixture of emotions swirling in his dark eyes; pain, sorrow, but the most prominent was this righteous anger. These evils took two of his own from them; he would not forgive them. "Let us depart but we cannot kill him until we know where he brought those boys. Agreed?"
The fiery conflagration consumed Slugoth and Kandl, destroying the dark forces that stood against them. The fire consumed his allies and enemies alike and through the terrible pain that wracked his form, he could still feel that righteous -power- coursing through him. Was that what it meant to bestow righteous destruction upon the wicked? Was there always a cost to be paid in the end? Skollji's words fell on deaf ears as Cynerik's head to turn and look at the crying girl that gripped at his side with a terribly tight hold. "I had to save her. I had to do what was right" His hand slipped down into her hair in a reassuring pat as his heart hardened just that much more. "The ends justified the means. They died as warriors for the faith, for the good of mankind and their own kind. I must do what I must to save as the innocent from such a dark fate." That glint in his eyes hardened then, darkening some as he gripped his weapon. "No more innocents will die needlessly. Evil -must- be vanquished. At any cost."
A strange elf comes rushing up and out of the darkness to grab the dark dagger that the terrible beast had been using. Cynerik did not approach though, keeping his weapons drawn beside the young girl.
More people dying. Well...here comes being an Alcoholic Cleric. :P
Cynerik's flesh seems to almost sizzle as pain runs up his body, the heat encompassing him and drying him immediately. Even through the haze, his jaw clenching tightly, he finishes the incantation and the spell goes off with terrible effect.
Pain. That was the first thing to enter in Cynerik's mind as he held onto the sleeping girl who leaned in against him. His eyes opened with a start to see the spear that had dug into his shoulder and already his mind was trying to tell him that he needed to rest now. The girl began to scream beside him as his hand reached up and grabbed the heft of the blade before pulling it out and onto the ground. Red began to run along his armor and skin, the warmth sending chills under his spine. Despite the ache in his flesh, he would rise up and grab onto the incantation within his pocket before looking back out into the darkness. "Stay behind me girl, I'll keep you safe." He said tiredly, catching sight of Slugoth being shoved back by the massive, lupine form that was there. A bolt appeared in the creature's chest and Cynerik's mind remembered the scroll he had on his person. Taking it out, he began to focus on the words, pushing them into reality.
Good news! It seems to be working (for now). With trepidation, I saw that I am here? I'm going to try and grab a new one next paycheck or two.
With Jexen working on digging them out, Cynerik dedicates himself to the care of the young girl. Reaching down into his own waterskin, he gently wets a clean part of his clothing and wipes her face clean of the dirt and dust that had filled the room. His hand, calloused, bloodied, and dirty, would gently push the delicate hair from her face as he studied her. She was not his daughter, not really, but she was someone's daughter. Her skin was soft, innocent, and he could feel his chest shudder as the emotions he had kept bottled away almost welled up and sprung out of him. "You can't be weak. You were a coward, you ran and left them there. Left them as that -thing-. This is the best you can do. Be strong." Cynerik thought to himself as he took a soft, shuddering breath and coiled those regrets tighter in himself. Everything he did now was for his family, for his redemption. He would be a better man. With the Martyr's blessing, he would not run away again. There seemed to be an assorted collection of items of power, strange and wonderful gifts that were left behind by the dead. The others seemed to spend their time focused on studying these things. One of the bodies nearby had this strange tool belt and Cynerik's curiosity couldn't be denied. Taken the item, he would inspect it and even put it on his person eventually while Jexen worked hard on getting them free from here.
The place was foul, one of the worst places he had been, but Cynerik remembered sleeping in mud and fouler things when he was serving in the militia. This too, would pass. Finally, the two disjointed groups are brought back together and a smile spreads across his face. He remains seated against a wall, debris and dead bodies pushed away from him, with the young girl laid upon his lap in an almost fatherly manner. "T.A.S., Brinda, I am glad the two of you are alright. We haven't found another way out of here yet, have we?" Cynerik asks, looking down at the girl. Sköllji's question is answered by Cynerik's nod, his eyes looking towards him. "She'll be fine. She was hurt but the last bit of power I had for today was able to heal the worst of it. She'll need rest but she'll heal for certain." The little girl begins to wake up, her words nearly making Cynerik jump as he looks down at her. Opening up his waterskin, he tilts her head up as he speaks. "Be still child. You're safe with us. Now...open your mouth." Placing the waterskin to her lips, he'd pour as much as she would take to try and bring life back into her.
Kandl's torch hits the webbing and as soon as it does, the ground begins to tremble and shake. Soon after, the roof begins to cave in and debris begins falling. It happens too suddenly, too quickly, and it is all Cynerik can do to lift his shield up above his head and try to protect his skull from cracking open. Rocks bang against his body, bruising his flesh and leaving him aching, before everything seems to settle upon the ground. Dust chokes the air and the dry scent of decomposing flesh lingers in the air. Cynerik's eyes try to adjust to the darkness, his torch stifled by the haze in the air. All around them were coins, weapons, and decayed bodies of those that had been caught by the spiders before. It was a nightmarish scene to witness and be surrounded by, reminding him of the slaughter back in the woods.
The sight of the bodies is no worse than the mass graves of enemy soldiers, of the carnage left on the field of battle. Cynerik swallows hard for a moment, looking back at the others before going to check on the young girl. He looks her over quickly, trying to ascertain whether she was still alive or not. If she was okay, he'd cough out the dust in his lungs and look towards the others. "We have to hope that Brinda and T.A.S. are alright. Gather what you can and what can be of use, see if there is another way out of here outside of moving the rubble out of the way." He murmurs, beginning his own search if she was alright or beginning to cast another spell if she was not.
Cynerik looked at the rough hewn walls for a moment, eyeing them to see if there were any decent handholds to get closer to the ceiling. With a sigh, he nods. "Right. I was hoping for something a little more...elegant." He murmured for a moment, waiting for the group to escort the girl out from the den. Once they were gone, he'd stand nearby the door and aim for just a moment. Once he was confident, he'd toss the burning torch upwards into the webbing with the hope it'd burn away enough of the material to let whatever was there fall to the ground.
Cynerik watches the cage fall but it is easily caught by Slugoth who settles it upon the ground. A sigh of relief escapes him as the cage is opened and Kandl lifts the girl's body up and out of the cage. Stepping in closer, Cynerik's hand plays through the girl's hair gently as a sad smile comes to his face. She won't be lost today, not like the others, not like his family. His eyes close as he silently prays for strength for her and The New God answers. Strength would return to her just slightly, just a bit.
Once her survival is confirmed, Cynerik would point up at the ceiling. "There is something up there in the webs, something glinting in the dark. Does anyone have any idea how to get it down and not be stuck in the webs?"
Cynerik is moving around the cage when the cord is finally cut. His heart leaps in his chest for a moment and he watches as she descends. "Please God, let her be okay." He thought in that moment, watching it as it came clattering down.
As it falls, he catches the sight of something glinting up above. It made sense, the spiders likely have prizes and bodies up above. However, his concern was more on the girl than it was on the possible loot up above.
Cynerik could feel the blessing of his god begin to falter now, the power disappearing as a sense of mortality began to grow. All of them would feel it, that light that resonated in their soul fading away and the warmth now leaving a void behind. "His protection...it is gone." Cynerik whispered before taking the club and slamming it against the spider that had fallen upon the ground.
With a curse, the blow bounces off of its carapace once more. [b]"I can heal some of you but not all of you. We have to fight harder!" His eyes turned towards the poor girl hanging in the cage. He would not leave her behind again, not again.
Cynerik's weapon finds purchase upon the monster's shell, cracking it slightly bit still the beast would not fall down. It turned around on him, fangs sinking back deep into his thighs once more, the poison being entered into his body once more. Again, that burning would begin to surge in through his body and he could feel all of his muscles begin to tighten.
It is through sheer will and force that he ignore the harm of it pumping through his veins, his body aching though underneath it. Kandle looked worse though, the spider's venom beginning to wear him down. "Blessed Martyr, watch over your servants. Keep us strong." Cynerik whispered as he closed his eyes and focused, feeling a surge of power beginning to rush through him. The burn of the poison in his veins began to fade away and as his eyes turned towards Kandl, that power would rush through his veins as well.
Cynerik would be looking over that cage for a moment, analyzing where that cage was connected. His eyes looked upwards, studying the line that went higher and higher. It was made of no rope, not any rope that Cynerik had ever seen before. No, it was made of something far more heinous. "Kandl...that...that's..." It was then that shapes from above began to plummet down towards him, spiders bigger than the brave goblin descended down upon them. Immediately, the cleric would react and strike out at the foul beasts, aiming at the one that was closest towards him. "What I'd do to have a real blade in my hand." He thought to himself. If he survived this and made enough coin to survive, he'd have to buy something better.
The spider lands on the ground and bites at him, missing his armor and shield and sinking fangs into his leg. A cry of pain erupts from him, his club coming down to knock it away. A terrible weakness begins to pour through him and his closes his eyes, trying to fight it off.
The pain seemed to ebb away though, his form resisting the poison flowing through his veins. Rising up, he heard the cries of the allies behind him. "Hold fast Kandl, they're coming to help."
Cynerik frowns for a moment, nodding as T.A.S. translates the words. "A girl? We must help her." Just as Kandl takes the lead, Cynerik quickly follows behind the small goblin. He grabs his torch as he follows along, entering in the room behind the noble creature. He sees the girl in the wooden cage there, which hangs from the ceiling. A pang of pain shoots through Cynerik's heart as he looks her over. "She...she looks just like Clara." The same hair, the same physique, memories of his late daughter filter through the cleric's mind before his mind turns to the horrible thing that his family was turned into. Without delay, Cynerik approaches the cage with the intent of finding a latch or a way to open it.
Cynerik watches with grim satisfaction as the beasts go down, one after another. It is in the clarity of that battle though, that his eyes survey the scene of the battle. Most clearly though, he sees the power that T.A.S. and Brinda have both begun to wield. Blades of shadow, compulsions to bring the enemy to them, and even the ability to seduce an enemy's mind and bring them to heel. It was shocking to watch, to truly see arcane magic in use. "This is far more serious than I realize, I was right to walk along with them." Both of them had been pouring over their books of power, their knowledge growing. This magic was not aligned to the worship of the New God but neither was it aligned to the darkness of Hell. Carefully, quietly, he watched the others interact with the last survivor. He gripped his club tightly though; no monster would leave this place alive. If they served a dark master, it would alert them to who they were and what they were planning to do. If it served no master, it was one less awful beast in the world.
Cynerik watches as the spell is cast from Brinda, forcing the beast to come towards them rather than deeper into the cave with its allies. Swinging the torch at the beast, he'd hope for the best.
If The Fomor Is Still Up:
Seeing that the terrible fomor is still alive, Cynerik tosses the torch into the cave where Sköllji and Slugoth have now ventured, ensuring they have light to fight by and his allies can see the battle clearly. Turning towards the wounded beast, he draws his club again and growls.
"By the Martyr, stay DOWN!" Cynerik shouts, the club aiming to connect against the beast's skull and leave it dead upon the ground.
If The Fomor Is Dead:
With the injured Fomor dead and more of them beginning to rise from deeper within their lair, Cynerik moves deeper into the cave to aid his allies. Dropping the torch by his feet to illuminate the area, he draws his club once more and prepares to fight.
"Stick together everyone. Keep your eyes open." The cleric commands as he swings hard at the nearest foe, hoping to wound another for his comrades to take down.
"Move carefully everyone!" Cynerik called out, watching as the goatmen fell one by one to their blades. They began to call a retreat further back into the darkness beyond. Putting away his club, he would draw out a torch and quickly light it. The flames would catch fast, bringing light into the dark. "After them!" Cynerik would move further down into the cave now, lighting the way for his comrades to fight by. As he moved though, he would keep his shield lifted in order to keep himself safe.
Cynerik would drop down after Slugoth, landing roughly on the ground below. The bleating of the fomor next to him gives him an idea of what exactly they're battling against. With his club drawn, he swings at the same goat creature and aims to put it down.
Cynerik begins to walk with the others, noticing at just the same time the trapdoor that is part of the ruined building. Nodding at Slugoth, he was approaching right when that spike nearly caught the dwarf off-guard. It only reconfirmed his thoughts that this was where they needed to be, where they would begin to get some answers. "Be careful everyone. I am sure they are expecting us." The cleric whispers before getting closer to the trapdoor. Before Slugoth opens it up and heads down, the guttural voices inside speak in some sort of strange, wicked tongue. Cynerik wasn't sure of the words but he was certain of one thing; it didn't sound good. A hand would rest upon Slugoth's shoulder for a moment before shaking his head. "Not yet. Let us prepare. I expect...trouble." Cynerik would gesture for the party to kneel with him and he would lift that tattered book. Already damaged lightly from the bandit ambush that had occurred when they all first banded together, it had become worn from constant reading and rereading. "Everyone. Place your hands upon me. Have faith." Cynerik murmured as he settled the book upon his knee. Flicking through the pages with an experienced hand, he landed upon the proper prayer and began to speak in formal tongue of High Archaic once each member had a hand upon him. "Quoniam magnus dominus, et virtutis Dei,
High Archaic:
God of power and mercy,
maker and love of peace, to know you is to live, and to serve you is to reign. Through the intercession of the Martyr, be our protection in battle against all evil. Help us to overcome war and violence and to establish your law of love and justice. Grant this through your children, almighty Lord The prayer would finish and with those final words, a warmth would resonate within every single person there. It would start in the core and spread through, a sense of peace and determination settling into everyone there. Even the Clockworks would feel it, the warmth of something holy bolstering them. The fear of the dark would seem less and Cynerik would rise with a fiery resolution in his eyes. "Let us find those boys. Slugoth, lead the way. I'm right behind you." Drawing his club and shield, Cynerik prepared to bring God's wrath on whoever brought such dark arts to this peaceful town.
Indeed! Enjoy your holiday! We'll be here :D
Cynerik sat in the seat listening to the others report back what they had learned. There was something going on within this small community, something more sinister than just the kidnapping of two young boys. His head lifts up as he takes a bit of charcoal and mimics the arcane design upon the table. "Brinda...T.A.S...., what do you two make of it?" It was certainly dark magic of some sort but what was its purpose? Perhaps they would be able to help him figure that out.
Cynerik crouched down with the others, looking between them all as they approached. Looking back at the others and noticing Slugoth with his blade drawn, he'd nod softly. "We approach quietly but we do not attack unless they have the children or fight back. Are we all agreed?" Once an agreement was made, the veteran soldier would begin to make his way towards the ruined structure carefully and quietly. Having wandered the roads for so long though and passing through dangerous territories, the cleric knew where to put his feet down and where to carefully maneuver to keep his approach quiet and easy.
Hey there everyone! Still here and wanting to post, just my laptop and Paizo's shutdowns are working really well to screw me over. I'll try to get a post up tonight!
Cynerik had been patiently listening after they arrived at the Sawmill, watching Clyde as he worked. His anger was understandable, sympathetic even, but such anger could be misplaced so very easily. Jexen took the lead talking to him while Cynerik walked around the area, carefully watching out for anything of interest.
I'll have a proper post up tomorrow!
I was going to get a post out today but a surprise trip has ambushed me. If where I'm going has WiFi, I'll post later. Thank you all for your patience <3
In the morning, Cynerik was just finishing getting his armor and weaponry settled upon his form when Jexen spoke up about going and speaking with the sawmill owner. T.A.S. and the other seemed determined to go and speak to the blacksmith owner. "Enough people going that direction. "I'll join you Jexen. We'll get some questions sorted and get an idea of where to go next." He looked back at the others, smiling at them. "Make sure the smith doesn't feel threatened. Just ask some questions when you get there; when he last saw the boys, what they took, how long he has been here, so on and so forth. Follow-up questions will come naturally. Just...be careful, everyone." Cynerik had never met an elf and he wouldn't know what to expect "I'm ready when you are Jexen." Cynerik would say before heading out in the morning, on his way towards the sawmill. [ooc]I hope that helps, other side of the party! get out there and ask the hard questions! :D
It was with a smile that Cynerik nodded, glad to have all his companions be willing to join him on such a venture now. Over the time they spent in Fletcher's Rest, it seemed his instincts were correct about their potential. Some grew in combative skill, fighting even better than they did before when they were travelling through the woods. T.A.S. and Brinda began to manifest the powers of magic, arcane energy flowing through their fingertips as learned more from the tattered tome of power. Cynerik felt his connection to the divine grow ever greater and a renewed purpose reinvigorated the worn-down man. He had a greater spring to his step and the somber aura around him seemed dissipated for the time being. Cynerik even dared to be hopeful for the future. When it was time to leave the small village, Cynerik prayed for the Martyr's blessing once more before heading off with the others into the forest and off to the next venture. He looked back only once, staring at the place and considering that maybe, when his task was done, this would be a good place to rest and die within. There were certainly worst places to die in.
Jexen mentions that the group would be formidable and Cynerik was inclined to agree with him, walking up and beside the Clockwork. "Indeed, we will be. Yet we must remember that one victory does not make us masters by any means. Caution, care, and skill will keep us safe." His voice dropped a little lower, looking off into the horizon. "Yet...I feel that things will just be getting more challenging. I can't describe it but...I feel something. Something on the edge, something wrong. Maybe I'm just being paranoid after good fortune." It was just then that the infamous trees of the forest would come into view and Cynerik could almost already feel a headache coming in. "I don't think I'm going to enjoy this place..."
Cynerik was correct in his observation; he did not like this place. The illusion of warping gave the building an almost unnatural appearance and it made the older man's mind hurt trying to see them as they were supposed to be. The streets were empty now though and their charge would thank them for the escort, mentioning that he was going to stay at the Bloody Stump. "Charming name." Cynerik murmured, walking with the rest into the inn. His eyes looked around the establishment, taking in the jovial crowd and the merry music being played up at the stage in the corner. Sköllji's comment brings a weak smile to Cynerik's face, his head shaking as he murmured to them. "And have them steal away from the glorious criticism that is you, my friend? That would be a terrible shame." Brinda's laugh catches him off-guard, his eyes looking at the tired girl. She stifles it down to a dull, bubbling series of giggles and a brighter smile would spread across Cynerik's face. "It is good to hear you laugh, Brinda." It was an earnest statement, he had been worried about how deeply she was investing into that magical book. Cynerik's eyes finally rest on the woman that was there on the other side, muscular beyond belief and just missing an arm below the shoulder. It was Cynerik's moment to laugh out loud as the tavern's name and possible owner all clicked together. Nothing like a woman with a sense of humor about tragic events. Cynerik would approach as she beckoned them to her and he would begin to listen to the problem that the town was having. Two boys were missing as well as missing tools from a smith's shop. The former was of greater importance than the latter; such actions could make a town tear itself. He listened to the woman's explanation about the parties involved before he began to think it over. One of them was well-known, trusted, and well-regarded it would seem. The other was an unknown, the most likely suspect or the easiest scapegoat to blame things upon. Before he could speak up, the others pitched in their thoughts and it did him proud to see Slugoth and and Kandl seem to volunteer to look into it. Sköllji's question is more in line with what he expected but he didn't hold it against the man either; what good was kindness if they starved to death. The look of shock on her face was just as expected, the dwarf's bluntness on being paid was not the most tactful of bargaining. It made sense with the kind of history he had been told in regards to what the man had done before he joined with them. Jex would explain the situation and the amount that they could pay them for their assistance and Cynerik would nod, thinking that a few open rooms for free and payment was exactly what they were looking for. "We just need to make sure that we can continue to travel and help out Jex, just like you are doing here. I apologize for my friend's bluntness but our venture's beginning started in tragedy, our opportunities are small and we are wishing to make a change for the better in the North, Martyr's hope anyways." Cynerik says, looking to her arm. "I am sorry for your arm but I appreciate the name of the inn. You're good people, I can tell. We'll look into this for a small bit of coin and a free stay. Sound fair?" He would offer his hand out to her, making sure it was on the side that she actually had an arm.
Cynerik's time is spent in deep prayer, fast, and meditation up at the Martyr's burial site. Though he was certain there were other towns that boasted the same reputation, but there was honestly a connection there. A sense of peace seemed to grow within the man. His instincts began to sharpen and as they did, so did his strength of will. The first moment came when a man was brought to him after having suffered a nasty wound from a hungry wolf. He did not have much time left, the young man's face was as pale of the moon and he was as chilly as the morning dew. Cynerik did what he always did in these moment; prayed. Yet a warmth grew in his hands like a scalding fire and without think, he pressed them to the man's wound. The villagers were taken aback at this sudden use of magic and the young man's eyes opened up. When Cynerik's hands pulled away, it appeared as if the wound had healed itself shut and his body was flushed with energy once more. "Bless the Martyr! You've been touched!" Offers of food, drink, and shelter were given to Cynerik but he shook his head and thanked them all for their generosity. "It isn't I who did this. It was our merciful God that worked through me. Perhaps...we should all pray in thanks?" The rumors quickly traveled that one of the pilgrim's to the Martyr's Tomb had been blessed by Her touch and Cynerik became more popular as a local resident. The temptation to rely upon their good graces was there but he felt no need to do so, happy to stay in the inn's common room with the others where he could reread the holy texts again. He did accept a chain though, a chain in which to hang the book from his form and have it ready whenever it was needed.
Cynerik would listen to the drunken dwarf, unable to keep a slight smile off of his face at least until he became more serious. As he had imagined, all of them had come from hard times and rough beginnings, all of them had made choices that they were not proud of. Yet when Sköllji slams his fist down hard upon the table, it brings that grin right back to Cynerik's face. "And I will be glad to have you at my side, Sköllji. I need a realistic viewpoint to keep me settled in the here and now." Looking at the others, he would continue to speak. "Each of us, I am sure, have done things that were are not proud of. I know I have enough to be ashamed of. In this company, we would be equals. All things done by an honest vote, payments split evenly between each other. We'd trust one another, be like...a family...some would say. One hell of a strange family." Cynerik would say with a laugh, unable to keep the merriment from his eyes. "We could trust each other and maybe, just maybe, we'll make something of ourselves in this world. Maybe we'll do some actual good too. The world could certainly use that."
Alrighty, I'm all happy with my spells. I took Minor Healing because...well...healing is great and we like to not die. Create Holy Symbol is not as potent as Denounce but I think it'll be more powerful if Cynerik survives to higher levels. The benefits it gives could be useful for Theurgy attacks. Blessing, I think, is pretty damn awesome and powerful. If we know that we're going into an awful fight, it can give us quite the boost of power.
Brinda is the first to speak up and Cynerik smiles warmly at the young woman. The dark circles under her eyes have showed the determination of her studies so far, ever since she found that book of magic. She had said little and slept little since their battle and Cynerik was worried that everything was a bit too much for the girl. Yet he didn't voice his concern, not yet. "Everyone had a different way of dealing with the horrors of life. Some drank, some ate, some whored, some of us even found our faith. Let them find their way but don't let them destroy themselves." Cynerik thought to himself, considering the wise words of his sergeant during his time in the military. They all had to deal with their demons on their own to some degree but he wouldn't let them fall alone. "I appreciate that Brinda. I am sure we all have our own dreams, our own goals. Starting again, finding a new home, maybe a new business, or maybe...we just don't have a purpose yet." He said in regards to Brinda, nodding softly. "What say the rest of you? Shall we start a venture?"
As for the loot... If we assume that 1 silver shilling = 1, then the total of our treasure is 25.51 silver shillings. Divide that by 7 and we come up with... 3 silver shillings, six copper pieces, and four bits per person. Not a bad haul. That is, of course, if we can get a buyer for the silver cup. Otherwise, our total is 15.51 and the total is... 2 silver shillings, 2 copper pieces, and two bits for each of us.
You say limited, I say strongly focused :P
I am feeling much better today, thank you. Woke up early as well, thanks to going to sleep so early yesterday. Huzzah for us all surviving! I apologize for my wall of text, I just had some scenes that I wanted to get out of the way really quickly to setup my ascension into playing a Priest! Cynerik is definitely feeling like a Paladin at the moment but we'll see how things go. I'm going to be doing the leveling up right now but I figured trying to turn ourselves into an adventuring party would make good sense. What do you guys think? EDIT: So I am looking over the three Traditions I get access to; Celestial, Life, and Theurgy. Truly, Life and Theurgy are calling to me at the moment. Life would be really good for keeping us up and moving but Theurgy has some excellent buffs as well. What do you all think? EDIT EDIT: Nevermind. I just read the Priest more in detail. I'm going to take them both and get one spell in each.
Cynerik was about to say something cheerful when T.A.S. explained what it was that he had felt, the darkness that had taken him away. It sent a chill down the man's spine, even more so than the tentacled abomination that was being hacked apart and prepared to be burned by the others. "I wonder where he went when that darkness came and if it is as terrible as it seemed." Cynerik pondered for a moment, gripping the Clockwork's shoulder tightly before nodding. "You are most welcome. I won't let the darkness take you without a fight, T.A.S." The words left him honestly, earnestly even. There was a kinship that Cynerik never imagined he would have again. He had kept himself so separate from others as he fled his fears and his cowardice to the South. Now, he counted dwarves, orcs, and clockworks as friends. What strange times to be alive in. "Let us get back with the others, shall we?"
The fires burn high and the bandits are left to burn, Cynerik praying for their souls to find redemption in the afterlife. He stands there alone if he needs be but it just felt right to do so, maybe the dwarf wasn't too far off. Maybe he has truly been missing his calling this whole time? "I never considered myself a holy man. Not till I heard Her voice in the air." Cynerik pondered to himself as he helped the others get prepared and ready to carry the supplies back to town. When it came to the coin and valuables, he was first willing to share it with all the men but the volunteers spoke up. An aged local by the name of Stedd, he would clear his throat and shake his head. "It isn't for us to take. You all survived a nightmare with the Martyr's blessing and then led us to victory. If any deserve it, it is all of you." It seemed that the experienced man's words were approved by all who were there. Not too ashamed to accept such generosity, Cynerik would agree as they all made their way back to Fletcher's Rest without a man missing or dead. Truly, a miraculous day.
A hero's welcome awaited them as they returned back with the much needed supplies and with the much-missed men at their side. A necklace of dog bones is hung from around Cynerik's neck, a gift from one of their mothers before she kisses him on the cheek and thanks him for his bravery. While others may exult in the town's friendliness, Cynerik pushes off his contributions and fame to the others. It was their blades and clubs that brought the enemy low. It was their skill that felled the foul beast. It was the Martyr's kindness that led them to victory. He begrudgingly accepts any true credit, shaking his head when the injured Robos compares him to being a general on the battlefield. "I was just a lowly conscript and I knew how to keep my head down. Best I could do was teach you all the same." He'd say with the tiniest of smirks, looking to the pilgrim that had traveled with them. Pulling the man aside, he would whisper quietly for Kenneth to take him to the holy site. There was a pull there, a need that he had to be there. A small distance from the town's busy center laid a grave apart from all the rest. Shaded underneath the boughs of an oak tree; prayer scripts, tomes, and other tributes decorated this holy site. Taking out the well-worn holy book, Cynerik would slip down to his knees and clasp his hands in prayer. The grip was tight, turning his knuckles white as he began to whisper. "Ever compassionate Martyr, ever mighty God, please hear my prayer for forgiveness. I-I have been a coward, a weak man. I have fled so long, so fearfully, that I never thought I would stop running. Please, I..." A warmth would begin to encompass him and as Cynerik's eyes opened, he swore he saw golden light casting down upon him. Impossibly bright, he had to shield his eyes. Yet he could see a beautiful woman dressed in soft blues, her face kind and gentle. Knives were embedded in her skin and her name slipped off of Cynerik's tongue. "Astrid..." "I know you ran, my child, you ran from that which you feared. But it was not the fear of death, the fear of darkness." This angelic voice said, stunning Cynerik into silence. "You ran from being powerless. Feeble. Weak. Yet now you know, you were never weak." "Cynerik Salt, you are blessed in His eyes. You have suffered much and, sadly, will suffer more. Yet you will be a blazing star in the North. You will take the darkness in you and burn it asunder. Guide them. Teach them. Protect them. This...is your calling. Know that you are forever loved and forever welcome under His eyes." She was so close, so brilliantly close. Cynerik's eyes closed when she reached to touch his face and then that shining light was gone. The Martyr's presence was no longer there but that warmth, that powerful warmth, resonated within his stomach. Tears had streamed down Cynerik's face as he picked up that leather book, clutching it to his chest before he looked up in the sky. "I vow I will accept your task, my Lord. I will be a burning star, I promise." With surer feet than he ever could remember having, Cynerik rose up once more. Heading down the steps, Stedd was awaiting him there. The pilgrim's eyes widened at the man's appearance, stepping in close. "You felt Her presence, didn't you?" He asked excitedly, which brought a smile to Cynerik's face. "Even more than that. I accepted her charge to me, friend." There was a look of confusion upon Stedd's face and Cynerik would laugh softly, shaking his head. "Let us return to the others, shall we?" With less heavy feet, Cynerik would walk alongside the pilgrim back to the center of town where the inn was waiting.
Having washed his face in the basin outside, Cynerik didn't look like the teary mess that he had been a little while ago. Entering into the inn, he would sit down beside the others just as the coins were being put out onto the table. Giving a quiet prayer for thanks, Cynerik would look to each of them. "It would seem our task together is done. We have all made it to Fletcher's Rest. For some of us, this will be our last time together." Cynerik would let that sit in the air then, looking at each of them before he continued. "However, I would like to make a proposition to you all..." "We have shown great teamwork together, great skill in survival as well. We may have butt heads here or there..." Cynerik says with a smirk at Sköllji. "...but I do believe we all survived together for a reason. I feel that the Martyr and God brought us together. For that reason, I would like to suggest we start a company together; adventurers, if you will. The work will be hard and dangerous but there is no one else I'd want at my side who isn't at this table. Now...what do you all say?"
Cynerik moves along the small battlefield, checking on each and every person for a moment. Starting from the most injured villager, he thanks each one of them for their courage in battle before being approached by the dwarf. The request to put a blessing upon the weapon surprises the older human, who looks down at the weapon for a moment. "Sköllji, I'm not..." A holy man? A priest? He had felt the Martyr's touch and something was different. Ever since he found that book among the wreckage, things began to turn around for them. It steeled him for the night among the restless dead, it strengthened his resolve. Was he so sure that is was not one of the fortunate ones to be blessed by Her touch? One to have the might of the New God behind him? "...I'll try." He could've just mumbled a few things and passed onward but the sincere look in his comrade's eyes stopped any real duplicity from occurring. Instead, he'd reach down and open that worn book up again. "Let the blessing of the Martyr and the one true God come down and remain upon this blade and those who carry them, for the protection of the truth of the Martyr and her faithful flock. Amen." The words came easily from Cynerik's lips as he laid his hand on the battleaxe, letting go and giving the dwarf a reassuring nod. A few of the villagers murmured among themselves that it seemed like they had a priest among them. Stepping through the bodies, Cynerik would catch sight of Brinda crouching down on the ground. He was making his way over towards her when he noticed the unmoving statue of T.A.S. still perfecting his shot into the woods. "I think we'll be fine, friend. No one else is around." When the Clockwork didn't respond, Cynerik's eyes would notice that the distinctive whirring, clicking, and other soft noises had seemed to just...stop. He remembered back to Mary, the girl accompanying them, and how she would crank a part of the automaton's body up every so often. Getting closer, Cynerik would do the same, the body cranking and clicking back to life slowly with each hard twist of his key. Breathing just that much harder, he would pat T.A.S. upon the back and nod. "Are you good now, friend?"
The axe goes flying through the air, embedding clearly into the bandit's skull with a loud thunk. Looking between the himself and Jexen at Sköllji, Cynerik's eyes were both an expression of impressed and disbelief that you threw a damn axe at him. Turning to the rest of them, Cynerik cleared his throat for a moment and looked over the field of battle. Some of them were hurt, some of them badly so, but they were all alive. That was better than what any of them deserved. "Strip the bodies, the armor will be worth something. We'll need to cut open that beast's belly, might have something worthwhile in it." It was an unfortunate truth but it was true enough, any advantage that they could get would be worth it. "We all did well today, damn well. The Martyr was on our side for our side was just." Looking back at the others, he would give a grin. "Damn fine work. You should all be proud. Now..." Cynerik pointed in the direction of where the bandits had come from. "...let us reclaim what they have stolen." In time he would return to bury the dead and give them a proper burial as well. They would pay for their sins but perhaps, in the end before their consignment to Hell, they'd seek redemption.
Cynerik will watch as the terrible beast finally falls to the ground, a wide grin spreading across his face. The last bandit begins to run and Cynerik takes just a moment to see how the battle has fared for their side. "By the Martyr, we all made it." His body aches terrible and his muscles cry for relief. Yet the adrenaline was still pumping and as Jexen charges after the man, Cynerik nods and charges after him. Catching up to the remaining bandit, he lifts his shield up and drives hard into the man's back hoping to knock him down upon the ground.
Seeing Brinda fall back to him, he smiles at the young girl and gives her a nod. "Stay back and help any wounded who fall. Otherwise, use that sling as best you can." Cynerik quickly moves in now, taking the place that Brinda had just left before swinging at the tentacled monstrosity. He carefully swings this time, trying to keep himself protected from those awful extremities.
Cynerik still continues to try and protect himself, even as the awful creature full of eyes and tentacles descends upon the group of them. It was an awful abomination to behold and every sense of what was right felt twisted at the sight of it. "Jexen is right, we must put them down fast!" Cynerik thinks, again swinging carefully at the bandit that he is in combat with. He prioritizes his own safety though, wishing to keep himself as stable as he can before they do battle with the awful beast.
I went to a buffet. The food coma is so real...so good...
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