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I hate to do this, but I have to step out, too. Since I got my new computer I just totally haven't felt the urge to play PbP games, and I don't want to hold you all back with spotty attendance and lack of interest. You guys were awesome, and I had so much fun playing the first book of this with you, and I wish you all the best.
Doran chuckles, nodding deeply at Pirknok's words. "Coul'n't 'ave said it betta meself, mate," the tanned Inquisitor speaks, looking thoroughly tired and beat up.
Sounds like a plan.
Doran simply nurses his wounds as the others interact with the strange animal. A' leas' i' don' look like we've gotta fight th' damn thin'... I don' know 'ow much more I c'n take t'day... the tanned man thinks to himself.
Doran lifts himself off the floor, shaking his head and wincing at his wounds. "Blast, 'at 'urt. Th' 'ell e'en was 'at 'ing?" he grunts in a displeased tone.
My PFS number for Doran is #70257-6.
Doran grunts as he hauls his behind out of the room, turning and taking off as fast as he can.
Doran cusses in surprise, hefting his weapon and firing a pair of bolts into the beast as it appears.
Bolt Tracking: 2 bolts fired, 0 misses, 3/5 remaining bolts in magazine.
Doran sighs heavily, letting his weapon hang across his chest as he watches the others discuss the contents of the room. "I still don' like 'is place," he grimaces, taking a furtive glance at the exit.
Doran attempts to approach the gate separating him from his dwarven companion, looking for a way to assist him in his predicament.
Doran rolls his eyes at Ventus, but does not say anything or move to stop the man from taking the deceased woman's belongings. "A'yway, we should get movin'. Dawdlin's jus' gonna give Nualia time t' be ready for us," he states in a gruff voice.
I've been lucky to be able to breathe during the last three or four weeks. PbPs are literally the least important thing for me, right now. I am now aware that I had taken on way too many during a lull period, and once I got busy it just became far too much to handle. It's not that I am not enjoying myself or that I don't want to play (I quite enjoy this game, and if I restricted myself to four PbP games, this would certainly be one of those four) but I just have no ability to stay up-to-date at the moment. I don't want to make it sound like I don't care, but at this exact moment, I really can't afford to.
Doran reloads his weapon as he walks into the room, a calm look on his face. He pointedly ignores the corpse of the woman, his eyes fixed on Oric. "'e's got th' right o' it. Ya take us t' 'er, an' we'll let ya go in one piece."
Sorry guys, just touching base to say that I'm not going to be able to post at all until at least this Friday. So much to get done and not enough hours in the day.
Doran gives the goblins a harsh look, but doesn't do anything hostile as he and his companions walk past them. "Yer right t' 'ave chosen 'is path," he whispers in passing. "Th' o'er one wouldn' 'ave turned ou' nearly as nicely f'r ya," he finishes in a low voice, not giving the goblins even a glance as he prepares himself for the troubles ahead. He puts his left hand on Pirknok's shoulder, trying to get a better view down the stairs.
Doran takes one of the vials of poison and wedges it into his belt for further use. He shoulders his crossbow once again and nods to the others, ready to move on.
Have fun, man! Bring us souvenirs~ I'll try and post something tonight, bossman, but I've got work and then a meeting with some classmates, and another two papers to write (though they're luckily not due today) as well.
Doran gives Pirknok and the fetish a strange look, but nods. "S'pose it migh' be worth a shot... bu' I'd sti' like t' 'ave th' poison ready, if things turn sour," the Chelaxian concedes.
Doran nods at Eli's suggestion. "'at's usin' yer noggin. I like it."
I'd say that the third is likely closest to my situation, as well. Most of everyone else's activity seems to happen when I'm in the middle of homework, class or at work, so I end up trying to catch up all the time.
Doran's ears perk up as he hears some scuffling and chatter coming from the east. "I can 'ear 'em comin' from 'at way, too," he says to his companions, nodding at Pirknok's statement. He lifts his weapon to his shoulder, eyes hard as he readies himself. "If we can' go 'round 'em, we can always go through 'em," he speaks in a cold tone.
I'm having a blast, and I really enjoy playing Doran. It's just that my workload is an absolute monster at the moment, and I'm having trouble trying to breathe, let alone get super involved with PbP right now. In a month or so, it should clear up quite a bit, but for now, I'm struggling to stay caught up in the things that are important to my future.
Doran follows after Pirknok, weapon clutched tightly as he prepares to go through the door.
Work and school have been absolutely annihilating me as of late. It may be a couple weeks before I can post with any kind of consistency again, so feel free to NPC Doran as much as you need to.
Doran pulls a handful of bolts from his quiver and begins to reload his weapon. "Reloadin'! Keep 'em busy!" he calls to his companions, trying to slot the projectiles into the magazine as quickly as possible.
Doran watches Ysme and Ventus take many attacks from the firepelt and the packs of goblins, and tries to clear out more of the creatures. "Damned things need t' just roll o'er an' die a'ready!" the Inquisitor calls as he empties the magazine of his weapon into the crowd of wide-headed humanoids.
Bolt tracking: 5 bolts fired, 0 misses, 0/5 remaining bolts in magazine.
The way you PM me after every grammar, word choice or spelling error, I am not even remotely surprised! :P
Nope! It's actually got some confidential info in it because it's about an interview I did, so I can't really let other people read it, anyway. I appreciate the offer, though. :)
Oh man, the feeling when you realize in the middle of class that you have a critical assignment due that day, and you haven't written a single word. I think this five page paper may be the fastest I've ever written, holy crap. :3 Anyway, I'm gonna buy like 13 normal crossbow bolts (1g 3s) and 68 bolts for my heavy repeating crossbow (13g 6s) for a total of 14g 9s.
Clucking his tongue as his attack seems to barely phase the firepelt, Doran takes a quick step forward, before firing a pair of quick shots at the goblins converging on his companions, each punctuated by the sound him him working the reloading mechanism of the weapon. Chkk-chkk! Chkk-chkk! "Shu' yer yap, fa'ead!" he calls in response to the goblin clutching a blade of flame's shriek.
Bolt tracking: 3 bolts fired, 0 misses. 2/5 remaining bolts in magazine.
Maybe if I give Feral puppydog eyes, he'll let me say I spent some of my hard-earned gold on bolts retroactively. Spoiler: Amusingly enough, the reason I keep track of my ammunition so thoroughly is because I hate the concept of running out of ammo. Them's the rules, though, so I make sure I (and the bossman!) know how many more bolts I can shoot before "oh snap, I guess it's time to ineffectually thwap things with my morningstar!"
Crap! I forgot to buy more bolts for both of my crossbows...
Moments after the firepelt attacks his comrade, Doran shoulders his weapon and tries to put a bolt in the attacking creature. "A'right, 'en, I s'pose ya'll 'ave t' be first!" he says as he pulls the trigger.
Bolt tracking: 1 bolts fired, 0 misses. 4/5 remaining bolts in magazine.
Doran's face hardens. "'is is th' kinda damned child's rhetoric 'at's gonna ge' us killed. She's tryin' t' burn th' city t' th' ground, an' I don't give a single smidge o' a care 'bout why. She is dangerous, an' I ain' gonna le' yer ramblin's ge' th' res' o' us killed," he states in an even harsher voice than before, hands clenched into fists. "I t' le' ya pu' yerself at risk on a foolish longshot, l'il girl," he says, venom dripping from his words. "E'en Abadar 'imself woul'n't bother tryin' Nualia. She can't be saved, an' if ya keep pursuin' 'is, i's likely 'at ya'll en' up jus' like 'er." Fury glows in Doran's eyes, his concern for the lives of himself and his companions making him deaf to Ysme's suggestion.
Doran gives the young Changeling woman a hard look. "I can respec' yer beliefs, lass, bu' in general, crazed cultists don' take well t' be bound an' put b'fore a court... Bein' prepared for th' eventuality's one thin', bein' able t' put it in'a action's another," he says, sighing heavily. "I ain' gonna risk my life, or any o' yers t' capture 'er when she's go' e'ery inten' t' kill us all," the Chelaxian states in a somewhat softer tone.
Doran shakes his head. "I don' think tryin' t' capture 'em'll be such a good idea," the tanned Inquisitor states. "'ey ain' like us. 'ey'd sooner chew each o'er's arms off t' ge' free and ge' at us. We ain' gonna be able t' avoid killin' the fa'eaded bastards." His face is cold, all the worries of the situation weighing heavily on him.
Yeah, I'm just dead tired tonight. I'm going to retcon Doran going to the morning training at all, because I'm just absolutely in no shape to be thinking at all. Sorry. :3
I'll try and get something up tonight, but I have work and then a group meeting for one my classes after it. I hate the end of the semester so much ;_;
Well, I don't know. Now that Doran can help Eli and Ensu with the healing, maybe it'd be a better idea to save up cash to buy new toys, instead? I wouldn't be against buying the wand, but I'm talking opportunity costs. Also, it's gonna take me a bit to make up this spirit totem animal thing, so be patient with me. :3
Doran's still shook up about everything that's happened recently. He's not really capable of asking more than she's just outright told them at the moment.
Doran listens to the Elven woman attentively as she speaks. When Ensu answers her question, his face goes from a neutral expression into one of concern and discontent. "E'erythin' goin' on seems t' be related... an' in th' worst way possible," he adds.
Doran enters along with Ventus, sitting with a nod to the Lieutenant. He has a calm look on his face, though still looks a bit weary from the morning's events.
Looks good on you, 'Ventus. ;)
Doran nods, accepting his armor as the dwarf returns it. "Me either, mate. Bu' I'm glad t' see ya in one piece, fir th' mos' part," the Chelaxian states, a small grin on his face. "Me armor, too."
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