Keraos's page

Iron incarnate, it spins and weaves through battle leaving seeping stillness in the midst of chaos. The holes cut in lines don't fill, they remain gaping, crimson, soldiers shying away from the fallen. Utter destruction, the mass of blade and plate moves unchecked through lines of steel and flesh and life, and leaves only torn steel and broken flesh in its wake. The few blades which rise to meet it, or fall to strike at it, find no purchase in flesh or blood. The arms tear from the bodies which wield them, and soon there is only silence.

Tholan wakes with a song of war in his heart, his pulse beating the steady metronome's hammer of war. "A day to seek out the beginnings to new battles," he hums out in a low rumble. He find a seat in the room, and begins tending to his blade, cleaning and preparing it for the next battle. Power thrums beneath his fingers as he hones the blade, and the magic drained from the day before slowly flows back into his being. Blade tended and magic renewed, he looks to his armor and gear. This second set of armor... It served me well, but I can only wear one at a time. With a sigh, he resolves to sell it when possible, then stows and packs his equipment.

Prepared for the day ahead, Tholan leaves his room, and finds himself meat and bread and another flagon of ale to welcome the day. Pack secure and belly full, Tholan moves to the wizard's quarters.

Tholan turns to looks at one of the small figures that has popped up from the sands. The laughing glint in his eye turns deadly as he steps a little closer, raises the flask up, and punches it into the face of the small creature with a loud cry of "THELKON PUNCH!".

With a grin, he slips his falchion back into both hands, and stands at the ready.

Heh. 1d6 ⇒ 3 only dealt to the midget, because of reach. Heh.

Geez, this GM is so slow to post. You'd think he was in the middle of some major life changing event or something. Pffft.

Tholan has a very hard time not laughing outright at the King's response, but waits to watch the proceedings. He notes the King's smile with some unease, and with each word it grows. The concern which began to show itself on his face fades into a blank mask as he considers the likelihood of a thrown falchion successfully beheading a man from this range.

Tholan grinned ruefully. "Yes I do. I've learned a few tricks of my own. House Rudianos has at least had the grace to teach me well in my chosen field." He moves to follow Thaegrin, looking to see if he can spot anything of note, and see if he can discern the strength of the spellcaster from the damage left in the enviroment. He also begins to search for any further signs of where the thieves may have entered or left.

Perception 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
Spellcraft 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Survival 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

See, now why can't I roll like that all the time?