Sounds cool to me...
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Sounds good to Janus! ;)
Shouldering his pack and club, and with a quick roll on the drum that evokes eagerness, Janus joins the others by the entrance to the cave.
We are glad to hear that you are feeling better, Jon!
Yep. I posted on Saturday, and only one other has posted since...
Janus shrugs before baring his forearm for the 'proving' wound, "I am not good with sharing. I defeated an ice bear singlehandedly when I was 17. I hate whiskey. My mother and sister were slain by orcs during my 19th winter." He pauses for a moment then, with slow and deliberate movements, reaches into the campfire and picks up a bright red coal with his bare fingers, "And fire is less of a threat to me than to most." He seems to completely unharmed by the ember before he flicks it back into the fire and shows an undamaged hand.
Though he is awake and on watch, Janus is unaware of any disturbance until the cloak suddenly flies out of the mouth of the cave. He surges to his feet, huge club coming into his grasp, but the dark shape is lost in the night before he can react, "What in all the nine hells was that thing?"
Janus looks at the fleshy sack that had been the captain, "Would it not be simpler to put it out of our misery?"
Have a good trip, Jon!
Janus remains silent, but his fingers begin softly tapping a decidedly irritated rhythm on his drum.
Janus simply stares, an ever more revolted and disturbed expression on his face.
Janus crouches in the dark, eyes peering into the night for any threat.
Janus nods to Marcus, "Sneaky then, eh? I will bring her along just in case sneaking fails. She will be quiet though unless we need her."
Janus climbs back to his feet, slings his club behind him, and moves over to stand beside Marcus, "Shopping, eh? And you need me to, what, carry the heavy things?" Only the rattle of his drum sounding a little like a chuckle or snicker gives away the joke.
Janus speaks softly, shrugging to settle his huge club across his back, "We must find a safe place to hole up until we can look for these colonists, and perhaps strike back against those who have wronged us."
Janus follows Marcus' lead, staying as low as a man of his size can. Once in the trees, he will take the captain from the sailors; the man will slow him much less than he would slow any of the others.
I am fine with Marcus' solution.
I am very glad the compression gloves helped. The ones my sister-in-law uses also have just the finger tip missing and go up over the top joint. :)
She said she got them from Jo-Ann Fabrics. Must be a sewer's aid or some such.
My sister in law has RA and uses fingertip-less compression gloves which help her a lot. Perhaps that would help?
Janus takes a position partly down one of the ladders to the lower deck so that he can see the deck easily but cannot, hopefully, be seen.
Janus glances at Garrick, then follows the gesture to the flasks and smiles broadly. He says nothing but a rattling rhythm on his drum sounds somewhat like an explosion.
This is Tyler. If you look at the profile for this character you will see a good example of a profile that I find easy to read. None of you have to do it this way, I am just showing it as an example because I have been complimented on how I format my profiles and a couple of times it has made the razor's edge difference in selection for a PbP I was trying to get into. So I feel pretty confident in saying it is well done. Sorry if that came off conceited or pedantic.
Janus shrugs and returns to his hammock.
Janus cocks his head at the captain, a quick drumroll emphasizing his question while masking his words for those further away, "What else draws you this island?"
Janus rumbles deep in his chest, accented by a satisfied drum rhythm, "Why? What more could we have learned by continuing to talk to the maggot?"
As oblivious as ever, Janus simply tries to keep his face impassive. His fingers begin tapping out a quiet, ominous rhythm on his drum.
More like the swindle of a lifetime. At the point of a blade, no less. Janus tries to keep his distaste and unease off his face. This is over my pay grade, anyway.
Janus spends the days of calm helping with whatever tasks unskilled help can benefit, or simply drumming quietly. He does not speak often, if at all. When the red sails appear he looks out at them with some apprehension, he hand drifting up to the handle of his huge club.
Janus looks at Donkor with a strange half-smile, and his soft rhythm becomes a little more complex, "Janus Draugur, J-a-n-u-s D-r-a-u-g-u-r. We should work on blending our talents. You play very well."
Janus nods to Annika, "Yes. Janus. From far to the north. A pleasure." Janus seems fully sincere, even happy to be speaking with someone, but there is an undercurrent of discomfort in his manner.
Standing near the others and absently tapping on his drum, Janus looks a little awkward. After a moment he nods his head and stays quiet.
Janus stares at Marcus, then at Kahurangi, then at Kahurangi's grandfather before beginning to chuckle. The chuckle grows until he is laughing in earnest, bent over and braced on his greatclub, "Flying...Beaver...Duck," he manages to wheeze between laughs before sitting abruptly on the deck, laughing helplessly.
Feeling the effort of the fight and the pain of his wounds, Janus wearily lets the drum rhythm trail off before looking around to see where he can help. He finally staggers over to the broken and destroyed supplies and begins trying to take a tally of what is ruined, sort the things that can be repaired, and re-stow the things that are intact.
Staggering, the rhythm of his drum getting a little ragged, Janus nevertheless steels himself against the pain. His mighty club swings once more at the more healthy opponent in front of him.
Janus sidesteps an attack by the lesser creatures, only to take a minor stab from the abomination's trident. He grits his teeth and the drum rhythm alters slightly to one that conveys an iron determination. He steps to the side to make room for the other crew to close. Seeing the others above, Janus grimly directs a swing at the unwounded sahuagin, but his injuries pull the swing wide.
Seeing the many sahuagin down in the hold with them, Janus calls to the crew standing around him, "Come on, lads! We cannot let them destroy our supplies!" Janus leads the way back into the other compartment, swinging at the closest of the monsters and drawing on his reserves to make the blow count.
Moving in time to his drumming, Janus slips further into the hold staying out of reach of the monster until he can bring his greatclub to bear.
Janus steps past the monster that wounded him to better block its access to the hold. With a snarl of effort he staves off the pain of his wounds as he swings his huge club at the creature, continuing his drumming rhythm with barely a thought.
Janus pulls the huge club from his back with blurring speed while his other hand begins a heavy, thudding beat on his drum. The throbbing rhythm echoes around the ship, bolstering the courage of the defenders and guiding their motions into a frenzied state of heightened grace.
Janus, the amount of time you can run is actually measured in rounds, so I see no reason you can't take a run action on your turn with the usual penalties associated with it. Sorry for the bad phrasing .. I mean that there were actual, physical turns in the route that I wanted to run... See the line I have drawn on the map...
"To arms, enemies on deck!" Calling an alarm, Janus moves forward to block the path from the poop deck to the holds. His greatclub held ready, he prepares to attack the first creature to come in range.
Your link gives a white page that says Not Authorized. I have to get to the game by going through the Roll20 website.
good to go here...
Matching his huge frame rather well, Janus' voice is a profoundly deep rumble accompanied by a quiet and complex rhythm on his drum, "I am Janus Draugur. I come from far north. The Lands of the Linnorm Kings."
Though he may not be unusual in Absalom, Janus stands out in any group. He towers over even a large man and his hair, worn long and braided, seems almost to be aflame, particularly in the bright light of the sun. The traditional hides and homespun cloth of the far northern lands further mark him in the urban metropolis; though to a knowing eye, his clothes are of far lighter materials than they would be further north. Unlike Annika, Janus does not fit through spaces in the throng, but rather he slowly forces his way through it as it parts on either side of his huge frame like flowing water before a stone. A massive club nearly as tall as Janus himself hangs down his back, and a beautifully wrought drum hangs at one hip where his hand occasionally taps a short rhythm.
I will be out of reach from friday night to tuesday afternoon. I am going to my sister's house and then on to watch the eclipse from inside the path of totality. I may have occasional access on saturday, but I am not planning on posting anything. |