Dunlin steps forward, sizing up the fiend, ready to make an exact strike!
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Dunlin draws his sword, moves towards the red beastie and attacks!
Dunlin turns his attention to the critter next to him.
Dunlin draws his sword, moves (provoking if it can react), and takes a mighty swing at the critter.
Dunlin removes his helmet. ”Hale and well met friend! Indeed we have traveled from Citadel Alterein. As you are a learned man, no doubt you can see from my armor that I am a member of said order of knights; my order is that of the Pike; monster hunters and defenders of those upon whom monsters prey. I see from your wayfinder you were at one time a Pathfinder or are still a member of that august organization. My older sisters are, er… well one of them… no I guess both have moved on though my oldest sister, Robin, still does the occasional mission for them. The other, Wren, left to work with one Zarta Dralneen. She was a bit more of the studious type and spent most of her days cataloging items for what she called the Dark Archive? Meant nothing to me then and still does not now.” Dunlin shrugs. ”But this inn, the Golden Falls Inn, did you say? Why this is a magnificent piece of architecture. Please, I beg of you to tell me more about this building’s history over a flagon of ale.”
Dunlin steps closer to the giant and grips his bastard sword a bit tighter before swinging it at the fell creature.
”No, Davian! Make him come to us! Command would be nice right about now!” Dunlin turns his attention back to the giant.
“Come and get me you oversized lump of excrement!
The Hellknight takes a moment to center himself after just missing with his first two arrows. An almost imperceptible nod announces the flurry of arrows towards the giant.
Dunlin readies his bow and takes aim at the large critter across the river.
Dunlin attempts to install a sense of order for the campsite each night. When it never happens, he simply sighs and joins the nightly revelry around the fire, telling stories of hunting monsters in the forests, hills, and mountains of east Cheliax.
Dunlin nods at the orderliness of what he at first thought regarded as a rather chaotic bunch.
Dublin grasps Davian’s hand, ”If you’ll have me. And I believe there shall not be another of the Orders coming to dispute Citadel Altaerein. ”There is the matter of the… free spirited among us, though. Is Aragelda within?” Dunlin turns his attention to the precocious goblin. ”Happy? Joy? Is that what you have named these good looking pups?” Dunlop kneels to grab, scritchie, and wrestle and overall love on the caninesque animals in front of him. ”Master Warble, tell me more about these magnificent specimens!”
"Repairs? The citadel must be in worse shape the the Pike believed. I do have some knowledge regarding the architecture of Hellknight Citadels and a bit about how best to repair them. I can lend a hand if you would like?"
"Ah! Hello there! Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Dunlin Aeronica, Hellknight; Order of the Pike. I believe you are already familiar with Alak? I have come from Breachill; nice little town there. Anyway, my request for entry is two fold; One, I bear a message from one" Dunlin retrieves a scrap of paper, tilts his head back a bit squinting, "Brynne Taithe, a rather off kilter person but she is a bartender; I digress. She has a message for Aragelda who I believe is to be found here at the citadel. "My second reason has to do with Citadel Altaerein itself. I was sent here by my Order in hopes of securing the deed for the Citadel, long believed to be abandoned. It is our sincere wish to reclaim the Citadel and have it serve as a base of operations for the Order of the Pike. If you are unaware of the tenants of the Pike, I would be most happy to explain our mission in greater detail. "May we come in?" Dunlin continues to his goofy affable smile.
The clank of heavy armor precedes the striking visage of Hellknight armor. Polished to a mirror sheen, the black armor's oppressive aura radiates outward. A bastard sword hangs from the figure's hip with a longbow and arrows across it's back. The figure moves with an easy gait, the serrated plates moving in harmony. The Hellknight stops on occasion, its horned helmet twisting to and fro, up and down. A slight shrug and the knight starts forward again. Though this time, it whistles an old Varisian folk song. Stopping a respectful distance from the front gate, the knight removes his helm. "Hello? Is there any one here?" An affable smile compliments the young man's Varisian complexion while his dark cinnamon hair gives a clue this man may not be Chelaxian; at least not a full blooded one. |