So is this game still alive? Or is it very very dead?
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To cut a long story short, my parents recently divorced, I had to pick a side, and I was without internet for quite some time because one of my parents wrecked my computer because it was "All I cared about." It's been a hell of a month gentlemen, but, I believe I'm back. I sincerely apologize for my absense. Or did no one notice? Because this was going slow prior.
I mean I like to think so. I think we kind of all know what we're patiently waiting for at this point >:3
As Lars sat at the top of whatever the hell he was actually sitting on and looked down at people poorly trying to climb the wall, he smirked. He thought, silently to himself; I have no idea what a bear is. "Thanks!" is all he could say as he looked around. The air was nice, just like Junker's edge. The smell of sweets was new, though.
As lars saw that people were finally coming towards him, he decided he'd give that whole reckless thing a try for once like the goblins did. At the worst he'd have to catch his hands, but, just like that, he was fairly certain he'd ran out of stuff to climb.
Lars had never, and probably would never, have been the type to make a brash attempt to climb hastily. Given that, he attempts to very calmly climb the rock-wall as fast as he can comfortably do so, shortly after nodding to Kortus.
Looking over toward Anaach, he's surprised to see the man practically kill the people at the Tug'o'war. "Strooooong." is all he says as he turns back slowly towards Kortus, as the man basically savages the present apples.
I'm a dude too.
Lars follows Anaach primarily, watching him begin his weight lifting challenge with crossed arms. He doesn't say much, but he repeatedly looks towards the rock climbing wall occasionally and chimes in here and there asking if Anaach needs any help, but first, he wanted to tag around him and the nice dwarven man, and this new fellow and lady.
"You know. Anaach wins. Likely, yeah? Look at him. No?" He asks as they walk. Lars can't help but look at the Climbing wall as they pass, however, raising his mask and looking at it. "Climbing wall high. Treacherous, maybe? Nothing like Junker's Edge, maybe... Hmm." he ponders the fact as he passes it.
"Err... well... That's it, yeah? Don't know anything. World is... Big, isn't it?" he asks in sequented questions. "World is... really big. Lots to see. Lots to see." he says repeatedly for a moment, before looking back at the Dwarf. "Wanna see it all, too, yeah? Not just mountains."
If by "Background stories" you mean Kept everything I originally had and added atleast 8 character incorporations, then yes. Yes I did.
"Ah... well! I'd. Like that, yeah?" he says as he sits down, crossing his legs in a spot where he can barely make out the pedestal where everyone is singing from. After he realizes he can't see anything, when someone moves, he stands back up after a short pause. "Sandpoint has... been home. Long time. Still. Curious what rest of world look like, yeah?" he says with a bit of indecision.
With the Advent of a second chance at hitting this recently-dead captain, the Doppel raises his mighty Zweihander and brings it down in yet another crushing blow, placing it firmly in the creatures chest, tearing away flesh and bone.
Taking his damage all from the towering Barbarian, and being completely surrounded making his escape impossible, the Captain, whether in a wave of poor decision or not, continues to attack; Focusing upon Doppel as the beacon for his rage.
The Blow is well placed, taking the wind out of the Barbarian yet again as the 2 exchange blows mutually.
Damon's furious attacks are enough to harm the creature even more, nearly severing it's head as both blades land against the neck.
Doppel
Huh. I live in Richmond at the moemnt, Death. Though all things considered my go-to pleasurefood as a college students levitates between Ramen and Smirnoff, but. Never at the same time.
Speaking of RP, didn't we have a Fifth?
"Ah... Mind if... Tag along?" Lars said the words somewhat sheepishly, knowing full well what he was asking. Lars had never went farther than Sandpoints walls his entire life, really, and with his funds slowly getting undercut by Grovi the idea of going out and really getting to know the rest of the world was something he'd enjoyed the thought of. "Sandpoint is home, yeah? Me, though. Me home. But... Leaving, yeah? Thought about it... Thought about it for a while." he says the last sentence with surprisingly accurate common.
"Close enough." he says with a laugh. While he looks around at the rest of the situation, he finds himself rather happy with the present circumstances. The group is lively, well-mannered, and unusually nice considering his recent lifestyle. It's a pleasant change of pace for the masked Lars, really. It was about this time he realized that some of them might not have been natives, and that they might leave soon and, he made it a point to not act too terribly concerned while in fact he was worried of just that; them leaving. "Ah... a Question, yes? Folks.. Leaving, after festival, maybe?"
"It's... Really fun, yeah." he says with a low chuckle. "Bakees'sal mean "Piss off" if that... helps?" he wasn't certain about that last word. "Junker's Edge not so bad. Grovi annoying..." he points out with obvious disinterest in the name. "That about it, really." he points out.
Goblin:
"Ah, well, Hemlock never payed me for doing the rounds. I live on Junker's edge in a shack that I built there a few years ago, but before that I slept wherever I could, really. I made my living by stealing stuff from the goblins whenever they found shiny things in the refuse pile... It's as good as reason as any that I've managed to get really good at killing them, but I'm not short on scars, yeah? Yeah?" Finishing his final bit of chatter, he smiles. "Glad someone else fight goblins, though. Imagine Anaach has seen one. Maybe, yeah?" he asks, looking at him and putting the mask back on.
Goblin:
Ah... I taught myself Goblin. Fought them for the past 15 years, and, yeah. I mean, I'm learning common right now so... it comes out shaky. The words are a lot bigger, yeah? On the bright side at least... they don't have like 500 words for fire, right? This is my primary language, but I still know it's completely different from common. It's a human's natural tongue anyway, common, yeah?" He smiles as he removes his mask for a moment. "Yeah... Speak common. Anaach speak no Goblin. Can't understand us, yeah?"
Lars laughed in a strange pitch. He'd never met a person who could understand him speak that language, and he was about to milk it for all it was worth. It was somewhat relaxing, really, not having to strain to grab words in common. He was actually pretty talkative and knew how to string together a sentence if you could just understand him. Goblin:
Dunno. Never bothered learning Dwarven, really. I know Goblin because I've lived near and fought the things for my whole life. Like to think I came out alright enough though..." He doesn't seem to bother trying to sneak in even a hint of common as he speaks the raspy strange dialect.
"Can barely... understand. Never good at common. Never, yeah?" jubs aierl quag rgwt aoijw fivkub...twlg? he says in a garbled tongue. You're not really sure how that language of his works, and you're not entirely certain he does either. Goblin:
"Just sorta wish they spoke goblin...Yeah?" Lars kind of looks to the other man as he stands there with his greatsword, leaning against it. "Long speeches... Sheriff Hemlock nice, though. Met?" he asks, kind of looking at Anaac with his head tilted quizzically.
Consider me unnaturally pumped.
"Mmm..." Lars has never really had to deal with whatever he's currently feeling right now, and can't help but look around nervously until the dwarf shows up and gives an explanation. At the sound of it he recoils in sheer revulsion. "That.... Sounds painful!" he says exasperated. "Blade. Never should drink." he points out. "Cut you up. Cut you up bad, yeah?" At the idea of people catching eyes, he lets loose another obviously antisocial quip; "Merchants need eyes." he says in a mumble.
Lars somewhat just looks around nervously, not really sure what any of this means, and hearing words that he's not familiar with in common at all, but he follows all the same, as expected. "What is... Inebriation? And rum? And... what is Marvel?" he asks repeatedly.
Getting laughed at was something Lars was certainly used to, but he usually understood why. This time, he most assuredly did not. "What funny?" he asks out of suspicion and cluelessness.
I mean Lars is a straight up local sensation of strangeness. He's basically a hermit that earns his keep by bringing things from Junker's edge that are worth like 10 gold. Apart from that he just builds stuff on his hill, and is good at killing goblins as a result.
At least... no water, yeah?" is all Lars can manage as he walks out with them. "Why so loud?" he asks. "What drink? Plenty of drink in there, yeah?" he asks again. It would seem that Lars has no concept of Alcohol.
Hell yeah Anaach made it in! I was hoping you would :D Can't WAIT to play with all of you, and many thanks to everyone who made a post!
"Whistle intentionally. Sound nice. Disorienting! Sound confuse goblins lots." he says with a bit of glee. "Goblins get angry at sound. Reckless. Vulnerable. Good plan." he says with a soft chuckle, taking the dagger back.
"You see." is all he says as they walk along. "Nasty. Nasty, Nasty." He kind of gestures towards the lumbering Shoanti man with his freshly sharpened dagger, holding it by the blade to Anaach, presenting the hilt. "What you think?"
Lars looks towards Tylur as they all begin walking. The group was rather enormous now, actually. About 6 or 7 of them, and that was enormous by his standards. When asked about the Hagfish he grimmaces and shakes his head. "No. Fish... Pet. Water... Nasty. Challenge is drink it." he says as he takes out his dagger and files down the many little holes on the inside, and starts to sharpen the side of it. "Nasty, Nasty..."
I mean lars is from sandpoint.
Lars just sort of mumbles under his breath, and more-so under his mask; "It's.... not the fish." he says sheepishly. He somewhat gets a shiver up his spine at the thought of it, and it isn't difficult to notice.
Lars may not have been around sandpoint for long, but the hagfish was something he'd had experience with, and, while he could understand quite a bit of common, that word in particular sent a chill up his spine. "Hagfish... Nasty..." is all he can think to say as he rubs his exposed chin at the thought, and walking along with his "friends".
"Woooooow" is all Lars can say as he watches the pebble sail forward and hit the pole in the distance. "Toss rocks. Good, yeah?" he says looking in the distance. "Throw many rocks. Many rocks. Junker's edge... is tall. Easy find. Easy throw." he points out, using his hands as well.
Lars looks a the suddenly much larger group with concern and befuddlement, before putting his mask back down. "Lots of people. New people. Nice people? Questionable..." As he openly judges the surrounding members by getting uncomfortably closer to some of them and looking a them, he smiles beneath the mask. "My name is Lars. Nice. Nice." he says in a hushed tone, somewhat congratulating himself on doing so well in a public situation.
Lars absolutely marvels at the care and sheen of the massive axe. Putting his sword back in the ground, he somewhat presents his hands, hoping the enormous man would let him have a better look at it. He wants such a better look that he raises his mask to the top of his head to reveal his handsome face, eyes wide in adoration. "That's... Pretty." he manages. "Even weight. Wrapped. Sharpened. Good tools... used." he says as he looks at the weapon from a bunch of different angles. "Leather wrap... oiled? Oiled. Cared for... Hmm. Hmm." he seems in deep, somewhat alien thought. Though it seems he's just found his next project. After a moment, he pats his fist on his open palm, and quietly assures himself that he's making an axe next. A good one! After that he realizes he's actually talking to someone that's willing to suffer him, and he plans on milking it. "Ah, eh. What brings... You. To... Festival?" he asks as he finds the proper words.
"Ah..." While lars understood the gesture, he'd never actually shaken a hand before. He extends his hand, grasping her whole hand, gripping it strongly and shaking up and down slowly, studying the entire thing. "Hm... Lars. Name is Lars.. Meet you. Nice to meet, yeah?" he asks, not really stopping the hand shaking.
"Ah." he says deadpan. Looking down and away, scratching his head as the woman walks away, he turns back to the built man. He knew full well what the sudden movements meant, and then looked back at his dagger. "Wanted. Wanted to show you dagger. Have weapons. Like me, yes? Curious. Like dagger?" he asks, presenting the weapon to the large man, before pulling it back. "Hmm..." he looks at it closely, before pocketing it. "Too small. Small. For you, yes?" he asks as he places a single hand on the rusty greatsword, drawing it out of the ground, and presenting it, hilt first, flat in his hands to the man. "Made this, I did. Like it?" His antisocial nature screams through with the blaze of a thousand suns. "Ah... Earlier. Goblin tongue. Sorry."
Lars was ecstatic. The scene was vibrant, and full of color. People he'd never knew or seen were arriving, and... there was more to these people. They're like me. he thought to himself, half-believing it. Looking around as he walked, he noticed the 3 people that had gathered, a large man among them, taller than most that he'd met. He took a moment to admire the strength that he seemed to wield, and before he'd noticed himself, he'd already walked up to them, mask and all. He wasn't at all concerned, either, even if he'd managed to walk, clanking forward in his makeshift armor. Hearing the last bit of their conversation, he did know about the festival upwards, and before he could really hold back, he sank his greatsword into the ground, rather deep and between the smooth rock road. Placing a hand on it, he just said. "Festival!" presenting his hand about. In an unusual display of interest, he plucked his recently fashioned dagger out of his pack at his hip, and gently presented it to one of the 3, marveling at it a bit, making it seem more than what it was, but, it was more of an eccentric habit than... whatever he was doing. "What'chu think?" he asks, presenting the dagger with too many holes in it. "Jistis Kis Kis Talral Matakazi, Haha?" Goblin:
"I made it recently! It's got lots of holes. Light as a feather." The garbled tongue is strange, and grating on the nerves, somewhat, but mostly unusual.
As no one replied to his suggestion, and joined together in a sudden, merry bit of fun, Lars looked about. He walked towards the door, picking up his axes and placing them on his side. With the axes on his side, he felt a bit upset, and so he collected the wooden planks of the table, carrying the majority of it out of the tavern through the back door. As he did, he wondered how things would go at the festival the next day as he ventured back towards Junker's Edge. He wondered if any of them would come visit him there? What's most, nagging, at the back of his head, he wondered if any would even remember him. The goblins certainly will, no? A bauble would definitely perk him up right about now. He'd deliver the table back as soon as he could. He would.
Slinking away to the kitchen as he sweeped up the last of the little pieces of table, Lars found himself in the kitchen kind of rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Umm... Table can be... err... Fixed? Mind if do?" he asked nervously. Goblin:
"It'll only take a few pieces of scrap. I have those on person..." He mumbles a bit in goblin. "Could take out back. Fix proper. Hmm?" he says, withdrawing a hammer out of his backpack. It's a crude thing, really, and seems to have even built the hammer, as it's just a piece of scrap attached to a somewhat sturdy bit of wood.
His head lowers as she states that no one touched his mask. "Hm... Good." he said. "Nothing wrong with face, yes? Just comfortable." he says with a bit of a chuckle. "First good bauble I took. Good trinket. Queer. Curious. Comfy." As Raseri left for a moment, he smiled rather wide beneath his mask. It had been true, what he said, but hardly anyone really believed him when he said it. Looking at the door as the woman returns with the Sheriff, Lars can't help but be a little worried. He knew of Hemlock, for sure, as the man had come to talk to him before about worrying the passersby. People eventually had just gotten used to him, but this was promising to be a wondrous encounter, to say the least.
Waking up wasn't fun, at all. In his dazed state he had felt the tug of a hand upon his wrist, and so he followed as his vision slowly unfurled. He hadn't heard at all what the woman had said, and only just caught the end of how to properly use the wooden stick he'd been handed. "I... Huh?" he said, scratching his head in confusion. As he scratched his head he felt the string upon the base of his neck, making sure they were still properly fastened and tied in the way that he so frequently tied them. Looking to Raseri as she watched him use the broom in an amateurs fashion, he asked sheepishly, slowing his broom work. "Did anyone touch mask?" he asked, sweeping with 1 hand as he pointed to his head. Finishing his primary sweeping he began to lift the bulk of the table, holding up a rather large chunk of it, with most of the pieces still attached, he actually began to look at the tables carefully.
Looking at the pieces of wood carefully, he found that it wasn't broken. It would take time, but he wasn't about to just trash perfectly good wood, no? Instead he figured he'd just pack it outside and place it in a dark corner before he came and jury rigged it back to good standards. Just as he began to think this, he couldn't help but hear a crash from the kitchen. He sighed a deep sigh, looking about to see what had happened. Goblin:
I'm not the only one breaking things. he mumbled something silently in goblin, with a bit of a pout.
Will save
The woman that had yelled was the nice lady he had so recently talked to. Unfortunately, when his head snapped toward her his eyes widened in a little more than surprise. The display that erupted from her hand seemed to hit him in the back of the brain, forcing him back a bit, and causing him to drop his remaining spinning axe. Which had still been spinning. As he lost control of the thing, it flung across in the distance, past, and dangerously close to, Bethana. The weapon embeded itself in a support beam not a foot from her. His consciousness left him as he fell coarsely to the ground, and he drifted into a forced state of delusion.
To say Lars's head didn't circulate the room slowly would be an understatement. He quickly checked the onlooking faces of the spectators, all of whom bore signs of misunderstanding and surprise. Some even outrage. He felt bad that he'd broken the table, really. Atleast, he did now. Putting away the axe in his left hand, the one not spinning, he keeps spinning the other. "Woman is scary! Just wanted to..." and that's about the time he realized how silly an idea it had been. Goblin:
Apologies! I just wanted everyone to have fun again! How much is table? I pay!" He spouts off in goblin, hoping to be better understood.
As the woman approaches him, he can't help but realize that he may have done something that people in high society didn't enjoy. Looking to the green man, he couldn't help but wonder what the word "civilized" met. Backing away from Raseri, he does make it a point to raise his axes, and spins the one in his right hand upon his wrist, as slow as he could. "Apologies. Gold? Gold." he asks as he backs up more, gesturing forward with his left axe.
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