Best of luck to everyone!
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0. Download and read the Player's Guide. Done! 1. Build a character using the crunch below. Done! In the Alias Profile. 2. Share how often you can post/contribute to the game. I don't want to put unrealistic expectations on the group, but I'd like to shoot for one post per day on weekdays. If we go faster, I'm down with that. I can promise to post at least once a day. I generally do more like 2-3 when possible. 3. Share how many other PBPs you're currently playing. I play in 2 and GM 1. All are with RL friends that live too far for realy games. I would love a chance to play with people I don't know. :) 4. Share why your character is in Brevoy and how he/she became a part of a chartered group to explore and settle the Stolen Lands (aka your backstory). Done! In the Profile.
"I will be honing my weapons and bettering the fit of my armor this evening. Does anyone wish me to tend their things as well?"
"I would not scorn another pair of hands on the road. I am something of a healer, but I am sure I could learn much from Alkaid."
I am here! OMG, there a lot of posts! My Campaigns Tab didn't tell me!!!!!! I will work through these and try to get caught up.
It should.
Hod will join Mikka and do some mock sparring to get sharp for the day.
Curious, Hod climbs down the spider holes to see what might be in them.
Hod swings his axe into the beast's carapace.
Hod moves to attack the remaining spider.
Good to know! Thanks.
Hod takes a swing at Buckwell's spider, but forgets to get close enough...
Hod will aid Silstaren's search.
Hod discharges his spell on Buckwell, draws his axe, and swings.
Höd rushes to the hole shouting, "Hold on!" His hand glows with a pale grey-blue light as he moves. At the entrance where Buckwell disappeared, Höd raises his shield and moves in. He touches Buckwell on the foot to bolster his defenses. "The gods are with you my small friend. Fear not!" Mechannics: Fighting Defensively= +2 AC until the start of my next turn. Total AC= 21 Cast Shield of Faith then hold the charge and move to discharge the spell on Buckwell
"It weren't any steel made these marks, but tooth or claw. Mark the fine webs as well. We may be watched by the eight eyes of one creature."
"Killing without eating? This is a fouler deed. We must discover the truth of this."
"Something this hungry should be put down I think. We wouldn't want it hurting potential settlers."
Seeing the bones, Höd unlimbers his shield and takes the reins in one hand. "hva har vi her?" Skald: What have we here?
"I can saddle Módnir and be ready in half an hour. She is not accustomed to two riders, but if you of you require a mount, I think she'll allow it."
"I agree." "Thank you for you words Halloran. I know it is not the time, forgive me. In truth that was a few years back now that she passed. It's still hard though. Alle elsker sin mor." Skald: Everyone loves their mother.
"I doubt many of you will have heard of Ragna Magnusdotter, but she was the best blacksmith in the north. No Linnorm King felt secure in his seat without Ragnastål at his side. She was also my mor." "I was useless as a child, at least to my people. I was frail and sickly. I couldn't play with the other boys, because they were too rough for me. The smithy though, there it was warm and it rang ever to the sound of min mors ambolt. She taught me to swing a hammer too, and soon, I was producing fine steel: nothing brilliant, but strong." "Then the gods took away my eyes. Overnight I was plunged into a cloudy hell on earth...but I could fight. Guder kunne jeg kjempe!" "I abandoned the smithy and the warm forge for the training yard. I earned my stripes with best, but min mor grew sick and I was not there to notice." "Hun døde, og jeg kunne ikke få meg til å bo." Skald:
"She died and I could not bring myself to stay. His voice breaks and it is a moment before he can go on. "I wandered around as a caravan guard, working where I could. Not so long ago I came to Restov, but these Rostlanders are a superstitious lot and my eyes betrayed me for one touched with magic and they would not trust me. I turned to banditry; I am ashamed to say it. I was arrested, and my pennace, it was determined, was to serve Brevoy by mapping these lands with you."
"Either or both suit me just fine." The Ulfen smiles.
Höd, who'd been doing his best not to seem bored, looks up from his cup for the first time since coming inside. "Do any of you know any songs? I'd like to hear a song."
"Until it's over, I think. It's no use waiting for the weather. I say we light a fire and tell some stories over a horn of ale."
Höd takes Halloran's words for a decision and puts horse and saddle back in the stable.
Höd stands in the yard, saddle in hand, looking from Elaine to Halloran and back. "This is getting heavy, do I stay or do I go now?"
"A little rain never hurt anyone, but mud can ruin clothing. I will abide whatever decision."
"As far as I know. I've found that nothing one does will stop it, but redirecting it can be very useful."
Hod wakes last and rises slowly, covered in hay, and appearing like some freakish plant creature. When the straw falls away (well, all but a few stragglers in his beard) he looks more pale than before. "Jeg tror jeg gjorde en dårlig ting. Gudene er skrikende i hodet mitt, og jeg tror jeg vil gjerne dø." Skald:
I think I did a bad thing. The gods are screaming in my head and I think I'd like to die. Hod staggers to his saddlebags and retrieves a skin of water, and a skin of wine. He nurses both in silence and watches the others, obviously trying to puzzle out from where he knows these people.
Höd excuses himself from the table with a drunken, "Bergin' yer perden...", has a long piss in the corner of the trading post, and falls asleep in a pile of hay outside the stable.
The Ulfen drinks what is given him.
"I can't wait to see you headbutt something Mikka! What a sight that will be."
Höd laughs. "Thank you. Frue. You are kind to offer. Mikka will decide if your services are needed." Skald: Frue means "My Lady"
"Maybe on the morrow we spar a bit? Would that calm the fire in your blood? It is common knowledge that the Brevic people's temper rivals that of my own people. For my part, I prefer not to fight my friends, but if testing my steel with let you sleep better, I will consent to a friendly bout."
"I trust then, Mikka, that you will show no more flaws to insult?" Höd returns the stare cooly. "I have no quarrel with you, but Fenrir has been known to bite those who assault me." The Ulfen pats the greatsword affectionately.
"I speak from experience. The gods took my eyes. I speak of what I know while you blow wind and swagger about like a peacock." Höd takes a deep swallow of whatever alcohol he was given, and sighs. "Forgive me friends. I am sour to the gods. It is not right for me to push my views on others."
Höd snorts as the priest introduces himself. "And how has that gone for you sir? Has servicing the gods made you life less mean? You'd be better off serving Oleg and the River Lands."
"Thank you Halloran. I am sorry for your set backs, but I can tell you we are here to work. Shall we discuss tomorrow's plans over a meal?"
"How long have you been down here? What have you found out so far?"
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