Kur-Awk passes out in the corner, listening to the soothing sounds of rioting in the streets.
Search Posts
"Kur-Awk fits just fine. Kur-Awk is not champion. Kur-Awk more of a stupid man who got himself thrown out of his tribe. Not much of a champion. But maybe broken city needs broken heroes?"
"Hmph. Kur-Awk usually sees things after more drinking. So, fortune teller lady is alive then? As an aside he turns to Richter, Evil twin. Kur-Awk hear this common story in city."
"Hm. Kur-Awk is confused. King is dead. Queen is whore. Fortune-telling woman is dead not dead in old house. Stupid city. Kur-Awk have drink." Kur-Awk pulls the clay jug from his belt and takes a long pull. He then grins widely. "Lamm is dead. Leah is avenged. Kur-Awk is happy drunk once again."
"Kur-Awk cares not for loot. Kur-Awk is happy Lamm is dead and being devoured by the angry souls of those he killed. Kur-Awk will help herd children. Then Kur-Awk goes to find the dead-not-dead woman with cookies." With this, Kur-Awk returns to the way they came down and begins climbing up.
Kur-Awk makes a harumphing noise. "Splitting doesn't make Kur-Awk feel good. Better to find out if dead woman is dead first."
Kur-Awk hands the head to Rolan, less disgusted by the sight than most would be, being from a tribe devoted to the care of the dead. "So, the woman who told us of Lamm is dead? Or was dead? Or is not dead, but has a twin sister? Kur-Awk is confused, but happy Lamm is sent to painful afterlife where imps will eat his privates."
Kur-Awk, curious at the awful smell, opens the hatbox.
Kur-Awk ponders the paper for a moment before shrugging. He turns to Roland and holds out the paper. "Words aren't mine. You're smart, right? Read this."
Kur-Awk drags one massive forearm across his nose, clearing it with a sniff. He stands up, looking down at Lamm's corpse and then spitting on it. "My Leah's dead. So are you, you bastard. Rot in the Abyss." That done, he looks around at everyone searching the room. He wanders about, after picking up his hammer, and looks around, as well. Perception:
Standing over the lifeless corpse of the fiend responsible for the death of the only woman he ever loved, Kur-Awk wavers for a moment as the rage drains out of him. He sinks to the ground, his hammer clattering next to him and begins to let out great sobs as he weeps for his lost love.
Kur-Awk sees the old man draw through a haze of red. When he mentions Leah's name, his hammer flies! "You don't get to say her name!" Attack:
Roaring at the lack of a straight shot at Lamm, Kur-Awk raises his hammer high as he moves. His barely articulate scream becomes a name as he gets close to Lamm: "LEAH!!! Attack!
Kur-Awk bursts through the door, seeing the foul fiend Lamm. At least, he's pretty sure it's Lamm. At any rate, he's a old liver spotted man, and Kur-Awk is just going to keep killing people until he gets the right one. Vengeance for his love demands it. Kur-Awk charges into the room, his hammer held high over his head. "Prepare to die, fiend!" RAGE!
Kur-Awk moves cautiously across the rickety boardwalk. He glances down at the rotting board, then back at the people following him. Hmm. I guess if it holds me, it'll hold 'em. He tightens his grip on his hammer, and walks slowly forward.
Perception: Kur-Awk lands, glances around quickly and moves along the walkway, his hammer out and ready.
Kur-Awk nods at the boy, walks over to the hole, secures his hammer to his person and drops into the hole. Swim:
Kur-awk nods. "Boat. Where?"
Kur-Awk points his hammer at the dead half-orc. "Not Lamm, then? Huh. Where's Lamm?"
Kur-Awk leaps over the railing of the stairs without grace or care. As soon as he lands, he moves toward the giggling fool, raising his hammer as he goes.
Attack:
Perception:
Kur-Awk shakes his hammer to remove any lingering brain matter. He studies the dead man for a moment, critically. "Not Lamm?" He shrugs and moves into the room with Richter, watching the knife holding man. If the man still holds the knife, he stares at him, hard. "Small angry woman said no hurting the kids. Put down the knife, Lamm. Or Else." Intimidate: If he's dropped the knife, Kur-Awk will leap off the catwalk and attempt to brain the man with his hammer...
Kur-Awk shakes his head at the dog's death. He wasn't particular partial to animals, but still, it was just a dog. However, the other man looks decided un-dog, and therefore had chosen to work for Lamm. He was part of the problem. And Kur-awk knew one good way to solve problems.. Moving across the floor, he raises the hammer to bring it down upon the man! Attack:
Kur-Awk smiles at the stealthy man until he disappears into the shadows. He then strolls over to the smaller doors and waits for anyone else to join him. He hefts the hammer, raises it high over his head and brings it smashing down into the door!
Rolan stifles a laugh at the banter between Kur-Awk and Taisha and shakes his head. His hand rests upon the holt of his dagger as he peers over the shoulders of the others. His frown deepens as the minutes tick by. With a snort he whispers to Kur-Awk, "If something else doesn't happen soon what say you to just knocking on the door with that big hammer of yours?" Kur-Awk nods, smiling grimly. "Knocking only polite."
She hides from the wind behind Kur-Awk hugging herself and almost jogging on the spot. Kur-Awk smiles at the woman and leans closer, sounding suddenly less stupid than before. In a low voice, he says "Kur-Awk thought small woman didn't want anyone doing anything for her. Is a windbreak something Kur-Awk should be providing?"
Perception: Kur-Awk stares at the building, then at the men and women and thing standing around, staring at the building. "Huh. How 'bout there?" He points toward what appears to be a way in.
"Damn right." Kur-Awk stands from his perch in front of the door, shoulders his Earthbreaker and starts out into the night. He pauses. "Which way?"
Kur-Awk grunts. "Don't kill kids unless they kill you first. Can we go now?"
Kur-Awk looks around the room at the strange assemblage. True, he hasn't been as successful as he might have been. Thinking, planning, these are not things that Kur-Awk knows. But maybe, maybe these people can get him close enough to kill the vile man and pay him back for his sins. The big man grunts. "Plan. Plot. Not too long. Then kill." Kur-Awk slides down to sit with his back against the door, ensuring no one leaves without him.
Kur-Awk listens to the story until Zellara gets to the location of Lamm. Then he smiles a frightening grin and seems to shake off his drunkenness. He stands, nods at the group, and walks to the door. He pauses for a moment, hand on the door. "Which fishery?"
"I am Kur-Awk, warrior of Skoan-Quah." The big guy seems to think this answers everything.
The Shoanti peers at the armored man with the big sword. "Lamm's a dead man. Killed my girl. He's gonna die. Soon as I find him."
It's okay, Rolan. Kur-Awk has already decided you need a large dumb friend who can teach you to love... Sitcom anyone?
Kur-Awk looks long at the man with the bookish look. He slowly sniffs himself, shrugs and stands closer to the man. He looks at him, studying his face from an uncomfortably close distance. "You send the card? You tell me where Lamm is?
Kur-Awk's stumbles finally prove fruitful as he sees light through the door of the address. He hits the door, throwing it wide and blinking furiously into the room at those gathered there. "You lot hate Lamm, too?" Kur-Awk is tall and broad, almost filling the door and forced to stoop a little. He's shaven bald and his dark skin is covered with fading tattoos of skulls, bones and graves, done in white paint. He wears homespun pants, a dirty, stained shirt made of some sort of hide and a studded leather vest over top of it. He reeks, positively reeks, of alcohol and when he talks, there's a slight slur to his voice. His eyes are mad, wider and more intense that they ought to be. He carries one one weapon, a huge stone hammer that features four studs on one end of the head. He looks young, but not a good young. The years, probably the recent ones, have not been kind to him.
Kur-Awk stares at the card as another cheap jug of ale slowly disappears into his gut. He doesn't even taste the drink any more, not since Leah died. An hour passes, and a new mug is brought. The owner was a friend of Leahs, and serves the big barbarian the cheap stuff in return for the occasional help bouncing a rowdy drunk or carting off the refuse. The card remains. A lead, after weeks of combing the dirty misbegotten hellhole. A lead, after weeks of getting close, then drinking himself into blackouts to avoid the guilt and the pain. A lead, after spending days in the jail for breaking someone's ribs or destroying property. A lead to the whereabouts of the murderer of his only love. Kur-Awk pushes back the ale. He belches loudly. Outside, the sun is sinking, afternoon already, another day pissed away in service to the drink. Not today. Not again. Kur-Awk stands, grabs his enormous hammer and shoulders it. Today. Today, he gives Leah her rest. Today, he kills Lamm. He staggers from the bar and begins walking toward the address. Diplomacy:
Sweet, fixed the issues. He should be ready when you are! In the meantime, he's probably drunk.
Drink? Drink! Kur-Awk is ready and able to get his terrible vengeance on Gaedramm Lamm..
Kiradia: Kur-Awk is proud of his heritage, but shamed by the fact that he was sent into the world without undergoing his adulthood rituals. In the eyes of his tribe, he is still a boy. He uses the alcohol to numb the pain of being seen as a child. He would dearly love to redeem himself and return home, but part of him is fascinated by the city. It's alive in a whole new way that he's never seen before. As for discrimination, he's really not that perceptive to notice most discrimination, but when push comes to shove, literally, he solves his problem by smashing them over the head or throwing a chair at them. He's not a subtle man. ;) Hope that clarifies!
Here is Kur-Awk, drunken Shoanti barbarian with an interest in killing Lamm because he killed Kur-Awk's lover. |