Bowing out
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Knowing the boar would either press its assault in a rage or flee, Killian decided to step up to force it to do the latter. Then again, it was no wolf but still dangerous. But also delicious when cooked. Much more favorable than turnips...
Back off,pork! His fingers hooked to mimic the fangs of a wolf and he struck out with thrusting fists, the power of his blow driving his fingers through the boat's thick hide to leave dribbling wounds and deep gouges.
Fun playing with ya Raurya!
I was catching a lite DBZA Freeza minus the maliciousness
Gotta say I a throughly enjoying Azzeryx and his antics
Killian saw Trin hurry off,nursing a welt above her eye,and then remembered he saw the goblin waiter shoot off through the stables. He cautiously made his way back into the tavern proper as everything seemed to be handled and everyone had regained their senses. He checked on Raurya,who had set up in a corner defensively. Way to start the night,huh? You alright there?
Killian had finished his morning meditations and katas and came back to the common room to rejoin his companions. When Azzeryx stormed in and proceeded to take leadership of their loose group, appointing Grazmik as his personal troubadour with all the air of a high noble. When the kobold with regal airs jabbed a talon at him, he flinched in bewilderment. ...W-What?? Who even are you? What makes you think I'll be your Talon or henchman or whatever? Finding his spine, Killian straightened to his full height of 2'11" and squared his shoulders. I'm just here to repay Bort for giving me a ride from the temple. Y-you can't just boss me around. I had enough of that from the other monks!
I honestly thought Killian had run out with her out the back. My bad.
Killian rushed out into the open when he saw Marny fleeing, clapping his hands and shouting at the boar. Oi! Cut that out. Bad pig!
Killian,at the tavern's rear exit, rubbed at his bald scalp for any additional bumps or bruises. He glance at Trin, who was nursing what seemed to be a swelling eye from catching a tankard with her face. Oof. That looks pretty painful. i can help if you need. i know a bit about patching up. killian offered.What did you say about your sibling? Was he in the brawl?
here and good! Welcome, Azzerxyx! the log in issue on my phone was what held me up. had to bust out the ol laptop
Killian took a look bout before he realized he had company.
Killian manages to get clipped by a flying tankard and yelps, holding an ear.Ow! He's incredulous as he was all the way within the kitchen when the wayward drinking vessel came sailing into it,bounced off the ceiling, and hit him. Killian decided to remove himself entirely and went out the way he saw the goblin waiter go at the kitchen's rear. That tankard got some distance...
Ooooh...noooo. Killian's ears drooped as he watched the peaceful atmosphere burst into a bar brawl. Something similar to rowdier meal times back at the monastery, which ended up him tossed bodily at another monk like a fleshy projectile. Not wishing to suffer the same indignity, Killian scrambled to maneuver himself out of harm's way. He stowed his staff and darted away from Grazmik, who started up a jig with her bare feet smacking the worn floorboards as she struck out a ditty on her fiddle. At first it was an ungodly screeching of strings that warbled and evened itself to an quick, upbeat tune. Then the goblin unleashed a spray of sparkling colors onto the brawling farmers. Getting outta 'ere...he whimpered. With an impressive series of twists and ducks, the halfling made his way across the room towards the kitchen. He dodged sweeping fists,falling bodies, and flung furniture.
Killian listened to Grazmik and felt his heart swell. O-Oh...Well, thank you, Grazmik! I appreciate it. I'm trying my best to be better. I'm...a bit of a coward. Lots of things scare me. And for good reason! Killian rubs the back of his bald head, smiling sheepishly. At first he was leery about interacting with the goblin, what with her inhuman features sporting beady red eyes and too-wide mouth crammed full of teeth. But he realized she wasn't going to gnaw on the soft parts of his face, he relaxed noticeably. He didn't nearly jump out of his skin when she prodded him with an elbow.He was used to getting snacks to the back of the head or tossed bodily by the other monks.
Killian winced at Bort's version of events, ears drooping, before giving a chagrined smile and rubbing at the back of his neck. A-Ah,well, you're not wrong...I-I just tried my best and managed to survive is all. I clobbered one of the smaller wolves and then found myself savaged by the boss wolf. Which drooled acid. Much worse than the fleas the smaller ones had... Killian gestured to his bandaged torso, the beginning of scars peeking beneath the thick cloth. The smaller scratches and bruises already scabbed and discolored.
Killian raised a fist with a grin to Raurya. And I heard you and your fierce little falcon brought down that slobbering beast that mauled me within an inch of my life. I dunno how I wasn't trampled in the mud or drowned in my own blood. But you have my thanks as well!
Killian gave a rather dismayed look at the state of the dying town but shrugged before deciding to make the most of it. He appreciated the straw mattress he had access to rather than the wood flooring of the caravan wagon and his bedroll. Still using his staff to lean on, mostly due to his lingering soreness, he wandered about the tavern to occupy himself. Aside from the mess hall at the monastery, he'd never had this sort of atmosphere to experience with such a variety of people. Well, this is new...Different,for sure.
He saw the way the hulking Hallod treated the staff and scowled, painfully aware of an overbearing bully when he saw one. Big ol' meatheaded bully. Guess they're everywhere you go. He found himself watching the second goblin he'd ever met outside word of mouth scuttle about underfoot, a startling doppelganger. He found his hands curling into fists, a wave of melancholy diffused him. He was here to change. To adapt to be more. He found it curious that Grazmik seemed to go out her way to avoid the only other goblin. Outright avoiding acknowledging he existed while he moved among them. His curiosity peaked, he made his way to where the she-goblin sat. H-Hail there,Grazmik. I noticed you're,uh,avoiding that guy there. Does he make you uncomfortable because you set yourself apart from the majority of your race? he awkwardly opened the conversation.Also, if it wasn't for you and Miss Aurora, I probably wouldn't be here. Your singing really bolstered us back there.
Welp. Now I gotta gnarly cool scar of my chest!
Killian found his eyes fluttering open at the feeling of warm,caring hands tending to him. He found the kind face of Aurora swim into focus, pinched with concern as she tended to his wounds. ...T-Thanks, nice lady...he croaked groggily, a wan smile splitting his pale face.Hoooo...what a way to start my first week out of the monastery. Almost ending up in the meanest wolf's belly. Who finally put that thing down? What had been his tunic had been discarded, the blood,bile, and mud cleaned away from his upper body and replaced with thick bandages. Whatever herbs and poultice she had applied had successfully staunched the bleeding, keeping them white and clean. After about twenty minutes of the priestess' ministrations, the halfling was able to not only sit up but get to his feet unaided. He wobbled unsteadily before shuffling towards his fellow caravaners, using his monk's staff as a walking stick. He was weary yet triumphant. Despite his first kill with the one wolf, proving he could indeed fight, he'd nearly died to the next wolf. One that was bigger,meaner, and drooled acid, but still. Yet he still stood. He had survived. And he would continue doing so as best he could.
Although unconscious and dead to the world, Killian somehow cling desperately to life. He did not feel the cause of his condition jostling him with its hefty paws as it shifted in the mud made up of its acid drool and his blood. His shallow breaths bubbled from the crisscrossing fang wounds that had been further ravaged by the scald of acid, turning his upper torso from shoulder to chest a gory mess. The tunic of his monk robes had been eaten away, hanging in soiled tatters. .....
Hhhhhhhhhaaaaaallll~~ Killian regretted all of his life choices up to this point as he found himself savaged by gnashing teeth and scalded by acid that ate away at his open wounds. His terrified shriek ended with a gurgle as he went limp, dropped from the wolf's maw like a discarded chew toy.
Are we using crit hit/fumbles?
Killian looked shocked as the wolf he'd pummeled crumpled,boneless. He glanced at his fists in awe as he realized he not only survived his first actual combat unscathed, he'd killed the threat easily. ...I...I did it? I actually did it! His chest swelled with pride. He wasn't such a puny weakling after all! Then a bigger,more menacing wolf trotted from the treeline with nasty bubbling gunk boiling from its slavering maw. Its bloodshot eyes rolled in its skull as it raised its snout and unleashed a howl. Killian shivered at the eerie resonant call that made his teeth rattle but shook himself. Seeing Windgate and the singing goblin Grazmik having their hands full with the last of the smaller wolves harassing them, he decided to step up to the main threat. He watched as the half elf lady with the bow send her fierce little falcon at the oversized wolf.
H-Hey,Foamy! G-get back on where you came from! Bad dog.Shoo! Killian barked, feeling more confident than his crackling voice sounded. ◇Mountain Stance◇
Taking the Mountain Stance once again, he threw blows at its nose as he tried not to focus on its teeth or its steaming green drool.
Frozen with fear as he was at the sudden rush of movement and alarming sounds,Killian struggled with himself to react at what was unfolding around him. ...O-Oh no,no,no,NO~~ He watched other members of the caravan spring to action and realized he had to act. He couldn't put others at risk because he froze like a frightened deer. G-Get it together,Killian! Fall back on your training! Mountain Stance (Stance) The halfing monk forced himself to enter the mountain stance, feet firmly planted and shoulders squared with knees bent. His made firm fists facing outward and angled downward.
One of the wolves decided he looked small enough to handle and hurried over, snapping at his shoulder with his slavering jaws. A minute roll of his torso evaded its yellowed teeth. Stoppit! Bad dog! Very, very bad dog! ◇INTERACT
His reedy,quavering voice came as a sharp yelp as he boxed the mangy wolf's ragged ears.
At the sound of the Osirion woman's self-assured comment, Killian nearly jumped out of his skin. He stifled a squeal and flinched, jerking to face her. O-Oh! Hail there. I'm, uh, Killian Leadheel. I come from the Ironfisted Temple we passed about a tenday ago. I don't believe I,uh,caught your name? The skittish monk recovered from his fright to introduce himself, unsure at the unwaveringly polite smile she wore.
A cloud of smoke wafted from one of the wagons ahead,catching the halfling's attention and sending him jolting onto his feet from his kneeling position. The monk was on full alert, concerned that a fire had started in one of the wagons. Which could spread to the rest of the caravan. W-Whoa...!
What the~? His eyebrows furrowed upon his bald brow when he saw the tiefling glance around as if checking to see anyone was looking before hurriedly ducking back inside, yanking at the cloth covering the back of the wagon closed. Bewildered,Killian stared for a moment before settling back into his kneeling position with a frown. He recalled seeing that tiefling fellow hauling around the sort of bag apothecaries would use. Clinking bottles and vials on his person. ...Wierdo. Small even for his race at 2'11", Killian was an uncommon sight. Clean shaven from the crown of his skull to the tops of his feet, the halfing monk sat in a kneeling position atop the canopy of one of the wagons. It gave the skittish and paranoid lad some peace of mind--a great vantage point to spot any threats and so he could shout an alarm. Watching the scenery pass by was pleasant enough to calm his neurotic mind. The shifting breeze and the steady sway of the canvas beneath him of the wagon's covering similar to a stiff cot preferable to the hard wood of the interior. He wanted to do his part acting as a lookout while he ride along. It was the least he could do for Bort allowing him to come along after passing the monastery he'd left. As a wry smile settled across his round, youthful features. He had left the monastery due to being the odd one out--mostly dwarves and a smattering of gnomes. All strong, sturdy, and stalwart. And him, a foundling, tolerated but not truly belonging. Skittish, nervous, and paranoid. Smaller,weaker, and not as stout. Hence his rather ironic moniker they'd given him--Stoutheart. He knew he was a coward. He just wished he wasn't so scared of everything. But here he was in defiance of his nature. Out in the world from his sheltered cloistered halls. And a part of a caravan made up of people as varied and different as could be. Yet together in unity. Heh. I'm one to talk. Killian stretched as he decided it was time to see where today would lead.He slid down from the roof of the wagon to see they'd stopped in a sad excuse of a town. ...Oh. Overhearing the chatter from the others about the slowly dying village, he shuddered. ...Plaguestone? Why would anybody wanna stop in a place with such a ominous nickname? Not like Etran's Folly sounded any better.
Player Name/Alias (for Chronicle):Edith Watson/Swagtastikal
Perception:+6 PFS : Org Play and Character Number:
Faction: Radiant Oath
Interested! Name:Killian Leadheel Ancestry/Background/Class:Halfling Acolyte Monk A notable event of your past::
Slavers killed his fleeing parents. One of the Bellflowers who managed to smuggle him out left him at a monastery populated by dwarves and gnomes, leaving him a bit of a black sheep. A nervous,almost neurotic lad who is pessimistic and always puts himself down. He cringes at all perceived threats. He likes the lifestyle and aesthetic of the monastery, finding it peaceful and comforting but not the people around him as they make fun of him for being so skittish He's was inspired to broaden his horizons after a chance encounter with a passing dwarven farmer and his two daughters, who were friendly and took a liking to the craven halfling, he decided to take their words to heart. Several visits and interactions where a rapport was reached, he decided to leave the monastery and begin a journey of self improvement. The eldest daughter winked and said mayhap the next time they came visit, he'll come back home with them as her bodyguard. An attentive fellow like him would be welcome in the halls of the Houndshearth. As he laughed at the idea of a scrawny halfling monk being the bodyguard of a dwarven farmer outlandish, the idea stuck. If he would take her up on that offer, he'd have to be brave enough to to defend himself before he could someone else. A short-term goal for your character (something that could be achieved by level 3)::
Stop being such a coward. Gain enough self confidence to become a bodyguard his friend could count on! Discover some more about himself as a person. A long-term goal for your character (something that would happen after or beyond the scope of one adventure):
To hone his culinary skills as he believes cooking is as soothing as meditation. Improvement in his culinary skills alongside his martial training to even himself out. He could be either a cook or a bodyguard or both. Everyone needs to eat! And nobody refuses a good meal! It felt good to feed those whose bellies need filling. If it's one thing dwarves and halfling could agree on was a hearty meal. Why are you working for Bort's Caravan, or why are you traveling with him to Etran’s Folly:: He decided to take his chances when he proclaimed he's going to leave the monastery to become a bodyguard, his fellow monks laughed themselves silly. Instead of cringing back to his cot like he usually would,he stuck to his resolve and decided to make good on his declaration. Much to his fellow monks surprise, he marched up to one of the visiting caravans and refused to quit until he found one willing to hear him out. Bort, amused, decided to give the scrawny halfing monk a chance and welcomed him among his caravan. With whatever meager belongings he possessed and his robes, Killian left the monastery. As the caravan left the monastery behind, he was surprised to see his master and his fellow monks seeing him off, even his rougher teasers. |