Gilen finishes smashing the splinters out of the floating furniture long enough to hear the sounds of combat and follows after his comrades, more or less oblivious to anything and everything in his path.
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Gilen laughs as arterial spray speckles his bare arms and kicks the nearly beheaded corpse to the ground. He turns to the final dog as Viviana goes for the kill. He heaves his sword over his head and down onto the dog's flank. Even if Viviana succeeds in killing the target, overkill is always more fun. In case of
Gilen notices the feral beast just in time to brace his unsavory steel blade between himself and the foaming jaws of his hungry opponent. Just as the dog recoils from its unsuccessful attack, Gilen hefts his two-handed sword and sends it plumetting downwards with an excited bellow.
Gilen grins back at Malph. He asseses the break in the entrance and is halfway through the entrance before Malph mentions Alassa's vision. Gilen pauses, looking back, and shrugs. Already half way through. What's the worst that could happen? He turns back to squeezing though the entrance. It is a tight fit with his gear, and it takes a few elbows and kicks--accompanied by obligatory growling--before he finally inches his way through. Immediately after he frees himself from the opening, he draws his Greatsword from his back and gives the door a begrudging thump with the massive weapon's pommel. He mumbles to himself for a moment before calling out to the others. Not dead yet. You lot coming?
Gilen chuckles to himself as Alassa speaks. Not leaving evidence of his presence was basically impossible, and he had a feeling the same went for most of these people. He shoulders his axe and strolls through the door, keeping a hand on his coin pouch.
Gilen doesn't press the noble any further, though getting "lucky" in a fight rarely means incapacitating four fighters in a group that out numbers you eight to one. Especially not concerning someone so...squishy. There is something odd about this noble. But, who cares? Haunted sounds good to him. None of the items peek Gilen's fancy beyond the gold, so he makes no effort to stop the others. Magical bracers sound interesting but, well, he hadn't chiseled his forearms so he could cover them with metal. Really, it's a shame so much of him is covered already.
Not much good in a fight? Gilen says, his eyebrow raising inquisitively. So it wasn't you that flattened four of those brigands before we arrived, eh?
Gilen just shrugs. If taking out the regime means freeing up a ship to take him home and he gets to kill people in the meanwhile, he doesn't care where the orders come from. Not to mention that he still has no idea what anyone is talking about.
Gilen finally stops pummelling thug 3 long enough to check and see if there's any gold on his corpse.
Gilen flushes with frustration as his attack bounces off his dazed opponent. With a blood curdling roar he let's out a series of blows into the thug.
Gilen clamors past two of the stunned thugs and comes to rest over one of the previously incapacitated ruffians. With a bellow of effort he swings his axe at the only currently operational opponent's jaw.
Gilen charges into the nearest thug, whirling his axe in a downward stroke with everything he has. .
Gilen, still slightly put out at missing what was likely an entertaining scene back at the opera house, perks up as the sound of combat rings out from ahead. A wide grin stretched across his face and he quickly prepares his equipment, charging forward with reckless abandon and incoherent whooping.
"Depends on your objective, I suppose. Either way--" he cuts himself short as a dagger imbeds itself in the throat of a woman standing beside Thrune. Gilen's jaw nearly scrapes the moist stone as she pulls the blade from her throat and returns it with impressive accuracy. He's still staring in disbelief as the woman dissapears into the opera house. Did that...just happen?
Gilen sighs and, with a roll of his eyes, slips his axe back into its loop and fastens his shield. How could these people have repelled a raid with stones as pathetic as these? Who rallies a group this size, boils their blood for battle, and tells them to go home? As much as he wants a fight, those people clearly have the crowd's ears for some reason. He doubts he could coerce a riot with all three of these silver-tongues advocating peace. Though, by the look of this, "Thrune," there would be violence soon enough, riot or no. As the cloaked woman darts into the crowd, Gilen saunters over to where the warrior woman and the monk are standing. "Well, that was certainly productive and not a waste of anyone's time."
Squassation? Was that a...joke? Well, either way, restrictions on shipping weren't going to do him any favors. Gilen was in the middle of determining whether or not his axe could successfully make the journey into that smug man's ugly mug when the odd woman in the mask spoke up. She shoots lighting through some painting, though he can't tell what was on it at his angle. She keeps yelling and dumps some grain onto the ground, which seems like an unfortunate waste. Even still, her words are getting to the crowd. He can feel the tension surging. I'll have to thank her later, he thought, lifting his axe from its loop and shifting his shield from his back.
Gilen Reidford watches with interest from the perimeter of the gathering. Maybe he would get to kill someone today. He'd come here with a hope that, somehow, dealing with whoever was in charge of this infernal place might alleviate the incredible difficulty he was having of finding a ship. None of them seemed to be going anywhere, much less somewhere as far or potentially dangerous as Halgrim. Of course, the promise of a fight would do fine for now. After all, he'd come to Cheliax to kill people and steal things, hadn't he? He smiles as the strange woman wearing a mask riles the populace. He loosens the fastenings on his shield and taps his hand on the head of his axe in anticipation. He didn't know exactly what was going on in this city, but he did know that this Thrune fellow was an issue. The talkative serving wench at his inn lat night had been more than clear on that particular note. Well, if there was any problem Gilen liked to fix, it was one that bled.
I gave Gilen a profile. Sorry I didn't do that before. I didn't realize I could XD
Greetings! I'm interested in trying a play-by-post game, and I've wanted to give the Pathfinder system a try for quite a while now. I'm not too familiar with the setting, by which I mean that I know it's high fantasy, so I'm not sure if a viking-esque barbarian suits the world. If it does, I'd like to submit Gilen, a young raider who was left behind by his crew and wants nothing more than to get home. Given the militaristic lock down if the city, I've got a feeling that's going to take some work on his part. |