Gwath Gil's page

"Not a bad haul there," says Gwath as they leave the Blacksmith.

As he follows Henry through the town, the half-orc cannot help but ruminate on that phrase: a "mission of the heart".

It's felt like an age since he left the ramp off the Silver Cleave and onto the docks of Port Elam, but it's only been days. It's been one thing after another. And while there hasn't been much time to think during this journey he still feels a fool for not having wondered more about what might have happened to the ship, with all its jibs and booms he knew backwards and forwards, until now. Certainly they would have cut the ropes and cast off when they saw trouble coming? But if others on leave were still taking in the town when the attack came... how much of the crew might have made it into the Saukith Sea?

"Speaking of - no matter where I go - I'm going to need to be lighter. If you or you think Quick want some of the things I've picked up along the way, I'd rather you take them rather then sell them to a stranger."

Gwath hefts his pack, and what's attached to it, to the ground and begins to open its flaps.

You can look in my inventory - things like the cold iron longsword or shield is what I'm thinking. Gwath wouldn't give up his falchion or something!

"It's not so much about the pay. Or even our ghost employer. But yes, if this is a mission of heart, I've been thinking perhaps there are other matters of the heart I should concern myself with first..."

Gwath looks back to the rooftop from before. Then back to Henry.

"Lets at least speak with the blacksmith. I'm starting to get sick of the weight on my back," he says with a smile.

"Your company is always welcome by me, Gorim. Till the next time."

Gwath looks down at his hand after he departs wondering what just happened.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

If that even helps...

Gwath looks down at Gorim to try and measure some feeling out of him as he answers Henry.

"I don't know. You may have heard the growing doubt in my voice lately. It's not that I couldn't continue the mission. I have the will, strength, and means to do it - but cause? ... That, I'm not so sure.

A flutter of wings draws Gwath's eyes up to the roof a building nearby. He squints in the direction of the sound, feeling like he's forgotten something.

"Like you say, the mission has changed, from one of employment to one of conviction. But without that conviction, the base of it falls out."

Before Henry engages the blacksmith, Gwath, arms folded, turns a worried look to the mercenary.

"I know he has more to tell us, but I can't help but feel we're being dragged in over our heads by Quick. This job is starting to feel like... a crusade."

I don't really want to depart but I feel like I should.

Work trips and other travel have already taken me away for good periods of time during this adventure, and, if anything, these trips might propagate in frequency soon. (I actually quite hope they do as the dry-spells in-between break my brain and make me consider a different career.)

More importantly, I think I'm still struggling with with my inability to ride the learning curve. I think if I had a few in-person adventures in my resume I could have contributed a lot better. I'm sure picking a solitary character didn't help, but I find myself often thinking of how to write a "Gwath does nothing" post or just waiting for someone else to take their turn. Not out of apathy for the game mind you, but just because I really can't think of anything to do. :)

I think if I could throw myself into a live session someday and learn the ins-and-outs trial-by-fire style I could get the hang of things. Since there's so much downtime in-between posts and major events (due to the nature of the online setup, plus my inconsistency in schedule), I find I'm just simply lazy and I'm only looking up how to do something when I'm up against a wall. I eventually figure something out only to forget it by the next time I need it. :/

I'm glad to hear everyone else is also slowly losing their minds, though. At least we can go insane together. :)

I'd like to ease Gwath out of the adventure gently. I have the time to post right now. I definitely don't want him to be written off a la "our actor just quit the show" style! He's already found that he's gotten in over his head, so I don't think it will be out of character to part ways at some point soon.

Gwath cocks an eyebrow at the innkeeper at the mention of orcs, then drops a gold coin into the man's hand. The privateer then starts to slowly point Quick towards the door.

"Come now, Quick. We don't need drama over a goat leg with talking tornadoes and spider-dregs filling our workdays...The tea was good at least."

"Where to first?" asks Gwath as they head toward the exit.

Gwath finishes his meal with his focus on his food and drink. He gets used to the surroundings and lets himself relax slightly, perhaps for the first time since Elam.

'Gwath is right?' I'm not sure what I even said... Not sure of anything anymore to be honest. The half-orc lets the absurdity of the last few days lay dormant as he finishes his tea.

"I think we're owed some explanation, yes... but AFTER food, please."

Gwath raises his cup automatically, simply not to stand out.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Gwath begins to sip his tea with both hands around the cup. The days have been long and full as of late and any refreshment is appreciated. He attempts to observe the arrived soldiers without staring as he speaks to the group in quiet Orcish.

"Two steaks with eggs and bread, please..." says Gwath realizing only afterwards how the needs of an orc metablism sounds to strangers, "...and a cup of tea."

Gwath remains speaking in his native tongue.

Orcish:
"The farmer, near the fiddler."Gwath lets his eyes dart towards the man for a brief moment before continuing. "I've seen him before. But it may be nothing..."

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 12

When Gwath senses a a break in the conservation between Henry and Quick', he lets them know what has been distracting him.

Orcish:
"...We may have a shadow."

"Perhaps Henry hasn't noticed we're Orcs," suggests Gwath with a smile.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

Gwath feels a bit reassured and impressed by Henry's save, though he didn't appreciate the accusing eyes on him from the captain.

"An Inn might do us good if we can find one to fit us. We haven't had a good night's sleep since Port Elam.

"Head out, recover some travelling coin from the drow's goods and then shore up for the night?"

Sell everything! Then sell the Scale. Then buy a nice mountain castle somewhere and make it our cool bachelor pad.

Gwath was considering an attempt of an explanation to the captain, but decides to wait and see what happens. Don't need any conflicting stories...

As Zaal's voice dissipates with the withdrawing cold, and the guards react like any sane man might, Gwath can't help but wonder if Zaal could be a tad more subtle in his messages...

Gwath is again concerned by the beings he has surrounded himself with when Quick zealously claims his mission.

"I didn't sign up for that," Gwath says quietly to himself.

Quick's dodge of Henry's suggestion pulls out a sigh from the half-orc.

What is he doing? If the guards think us religious fanatics and not the mercenaries we are this will get a lot more complicated...

"Well of course it couldn't be that easy," says Gwath sarcastically as he walks over.

Don't need a shield or armor and was thinking of staying with the heavy two-handed weapon style, so I'm not leaning towards any of the goods.

Gwath takes a breath then attempts to take a stab at the nothingness Quick is grasping, careful not to hit Quick himself.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Damage: 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (3, 3) + 6 = 12
Hit/Miss: 1d100 ⇒ 22

He feels the blade fly without resistance.

Do I need to roll something extra if I attack the drow? I mean, don't I risk hitting Quick?

Gwath steps forward as she winks out of sight. Before he has chance to consider his next move, he sees Quick dive toward her last known spot. Gwath holds his ground, not wanting to have everyone in a small, dark room swinging sharp weapons at each other. He looks towards the ground to see if he can see any signs of a movement...

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

...but his eyes have yet to adjust to the darkness in the cellar.

Gwath hurries down the steps into the cellar first and sees the last light of the summon fading into nothingness. Gwath keeps sidestepping around a pillar to flank the Drow while she is distracted, ready with his blade if he can get in a swing.

Readied Action:
Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Damage: 2d4 + 6 ⇒ (2, 1) + 6 = 9

Wow, sorry, this just skipped by my brain for a while somehow. Been swamped lately and haven't been using my home desktop with the Silver Scale link at the top.

Definitely want to finish this battle, but I'll start considering if I should stay in the game. Convention season's in full swing and it will probably make me disappear more soon. :(

As the shouts for aid come echoing down the alley, Gwath draws his falchion and moves. He passes the backdoor knowing the upper level will be too congested and hitting the attacker from behind will give him space and opportunity. He slides to a stop in front of the guards standing at the cellar door.

"I need to get in there."

Hmm... after asking that, I forgot to make the changes in my gear. I've retroactively done so in my inventory if that's okay. I don't think that would have made any difference in anything that happened.

The guards at the back door and cellar door haven't moved, and while Gwath might have heard a shout, he isn't sure. He remains ready and out of the way of the guard.

Is there anything Gwath should do now? I can't think of anything...

Gwath nods at Henry's directions and heads into the alleyway on the left, getting a firm hand on his falchion's grip before he reaches its end. He finds a small alcove in the masonry of one the buildings opposite the shop's rear, giving him a line of sight to the guards watching the exits without announcing himself.

As much fun as filing paperwork sounds, Gwath will pass. :P

Gwath takes a small step forward and closer to Henry.

"... And if you need a wall to lessen any chance of hurt to your men or damage to your town, I am here. No disrespect to your command, but there's no reason not to make use of me. No investment, no loss."

"The guard may appreciate us taking the brunt of the risk, and in doing so we might recapture the Scale without attention drawn to it..."

Turning his head back and forth from speaker to speaker as the discussion turns to debate, Gwath asks, "Why not use this magic hat ourselves?"

Gwath, leaning in close to the back door after hearing the shut of a door, is surprised to see Henry come calmly round the corner. Keeping in a low whisper, still unsure of the situation, he asks:

"I thought this might end in shattered wood and broken glass - did you find her?"

Thanks Nether. Sounds good. I should be able to keep up for a while. :)

Gwath's eyes dart past the ruffians and toward the sounds he alone hears...

He turns his head back to his comrades. Although these two vagrants can likely overhear him communicate in a hushed tone to his company, he's not convinced they'll even be able to understand his speech by the sound of their accents.

"I believe these two speak with the bravery of reinforcements..."

So I've had another death in the family and going to be out of touch again for a bit. Might be able to post tomorrow, but feel free to NPC Gwath. Sorry to do it again so quick.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

"That went better than I expected," says Gwath, though the employment of half-orcs in the guard had given him some hope they wouldn't be accosted on those grounds at least...

"To the east stables then?"

Gwath slips the clothes on above his armor. Seams rip here and there thanks to his orc physique, but it does the job.

"Your lead, Henry. If we split up, I might suggest pairing the orcs with... more welcome partners."

"I can tell you Quick and I may not be the best choices for your interrogators. From the looks we've been receiving... I'm not sure we should be here at all."

Gwath wonders if it wouldn't be better if the half-orcs head into the town proper and try their hand at the locals... Though they too may not receive them well.

"And what if they are memories that should remain locked?" asks Gwath, a step behind them.

A flabbergasted look crosses over Gwath's face, at least as much as a half-orc can look flabbergasted.

Seems like that might have been nice to have known, he thinks.

"I am Gwath, from the hills south of Elam, but I call the Saukith Sea home," says the half-orc as he watches the soldier peruse his things.

Gwath exhales thoroughly as Quick spills forth all those many words out into the open air... He notes the passing glances from the riders - glances of hesitancy, fear, and judgement. He responds with a stoic and still face.

I am truly back in the world of the civilized, aren't I? Port Elam, and the sea before it, was as much an opportunity for work for any race as it was a limbo of culture. The harsh waves of anarchy and practicality that nested between Elam and the Korgrut Empire never gave Gwath much knowledge or concern for the doings of men and elves in their seemingly smaller, political worlds.

Which King is it again? Gladeus? No, that's not it...Thadeus is it?

Gwath decides it is best to let Henry and Quick remain the sole voices for the group, despite their so-far alarming approaches. No need to complicate things further - and to be honest, he isn't quite sure what he would say. This seemingly-straightforward job has evolved into something much, much more than what he signed on for...