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Tracing the edges of the hoof print with a fingertip, Lisabett whispers and studies the source of the mist. She had not expected them to survive the previous wood after witnessing the troll turn to rock and shatter when touched by the sunlight. And the elves with their words about Brother Holheim...
From the SRD: a druid may move through any sort of undergrowth (such as natural thorns, briars, overgrown areas, and similar terrain) at her normal speed and without taking damage or suffering any other impairment. Thorns, briars, and overgrown areas that have been magically manipulated to impede motion, however, still affect her.
Husband had minor surgery on his gut as general upkeep for his condition. Five hours waiting in the hospital for a 15 minute procedure. The healthcare system in Soviet Norway is brutally efficient. And it's not going to come to combat. At worst, she'll drop an entangle spell to slow the heavy armor guys down further and keep running. I dare someone to try to track the druidess with trackless step :P By the way, I have internet on the weekends, but it is slower than the dial-up I leached back in the late 90s with my 36.6 kbs modem and it likes to drop off frequently, like... now for instance. Come Wednesday our vacation ends and i'll be back to fiber and regular posting.
The crash of men running in heavy armor alerts Lisabett to the wonderful foolishness of the heroes among her companions, who were like to leave track that could be followed by a child. Varisian:
"Stay, fools," she hisses. "He will burn this village to the ground, and the sea has ever been friendly to raiders. You must let me go!"
Lisabett gives a sigh of exasperation and tosses the machete down, then her dagger, her javelins and her other small belongings and takes up her spear. Skald:
"Remain among the women," she snarls at the captive. "Their attention ever favors you." Lisabett spares a last glance for Sandru. "They cannot track me. May the Lady guide your journey North." Mine ends here. Lisabett hefts her spear and runs for the treeline. She could not stalk, but that was never her way. She knew where her captain would be, and should she be captured, that none of his insidious toads would dare harm her before she had seen him. His honor demanded that he destroy her himself.
Water at our backs, and them controlling the treeline Lisabett seethes. He will burn this village to the ground, the food, horses and wagons, too. Lisabett spares a glance at Sandru, and recognizes the slack look on his face. Inaction. No man was he, certainly not Ulfen, and if he were an example of a Southern one, Almar would eclipse him as surely as a giant a dwarf. Lisabett wants to grip and shake him, but recognizes that not a word she has said thus far has reached him at all. "And what do you know of the wood, little one?" Lisabett asks Setomi. "A clever sneak you are, there is no doubt, but these men will survive for weeks on bark and berries. I know you are no tracker." Lisabett looks to the captive, pulls out her machete and tosses it on the ground, and speaks in Skald. Skald:
"Du. Claim your prize and your freedom." She looks about for Shalelu. "Mistress, your skill with the bow is better than his eyesight. Let us end this," she suggests. Finally she looks to Sorin and smiles sadly. "Attend the girls."
Woah... 36 new... well, i'll be home for a few days, but my husband is having minor surgery thursday, hopefully i'll get up to snuff sometime soon.
In the evening, Lisabett casts and attempts to identify any items that give off an aura.
After having seen to the horses and eaten what she considers a ration, Lisabett waits until she can approach Sandru alone to speak with him. Sandru:
"I am wondering if you misunderstood what happened in town last," she says, her eyes fixed on a point to the side a few feet between them. "When you fell asleep, Sorin and I carried you to a bed. I tried to leave, to enjoy the storm and they encouraged me to drink more, till I lost sight, myself," she admits and frowns. "I came to help you with the morning sick, but only appeared to have succeeded in hurting you," she says and shakes her head. "And since." Week 2: Lisabett Perception Lisabett Perception Lisabett Perception Lisabett Survival
Lisabett pokes through the bundles, but is reluctant to take anything from them. The tube with lenses she recognizes, but quickly passes. A useful tool, to be sure, with sight further than a scout with far less risk. Certainly not a tool that meant to reside in her hands. She suggests that they collect the bundles and see to the contents when they have rested for the night, as identifying items will cut into their sunlit travel time.
Lisabett steps out of the way of the elves, some color on her cheeks for holding the other magics for too long. While they are engaged in trade, she sets up the troughs for their teams water for their mounts, but does not attempt to interfere with their animals in any way, or the trade.
Lisabett shakes her head as Raziel goes, and looks to Sandru. Varisian: "Walk with me a while, and keep that sour face," she says, "I want to keep them within range of my spell if they try to flee with our priest... And I promise I will speak more on this if Brother Holheim will allow me."
Sandru, Varisian:
"That the beast that named me witch still breathes is testament to my care for you," Lisabett replies to Sandru. "In my lands, men are flayed alive for lesser insults. You stood for me when I had nothing, and I will not soon forget." Lisabett colors at Shalelu's suggestion, and keeps her face and eyes cast down. She was a moment from enlisting herself before Brother Holheim speaks for himself. Skald: "You'll not go alone if you will have me," Lisabett offers knowing that Shalelu cannot speak her tongue.
Be assured, Sorin, Lisabett will be pulling her head out of her ass soon and teachin' ya magics. Well, as much as a Sorc can teach a prepared divine caster about magics, I suppose :P I've been playing it like she doesn't know where her druidic magics come from, she just comes away with them after she sits and ponders the stars for a bit.
At the end of the week, Lisabett speaks at Sandru under the pretext of removing the harnesses from the horses on his wagon. Varisian:
"If the lady no longer brings a smile to your face, you must find something different," she says, hauling one of the harnesses over her shoulder with more effort than it has been previously. "I know that my face never brought you happiness, now. So much as I can I am making room for you to pursue whatever that may be." At Almar's word, Lisabett looks to their train, and swallows hard. Of the folk of the caravan she felt closest to Shalelu, who was also the only of her kind among their number, forcing her to consider what it is about the former Warden and Qoural that disposes her to conversing with them more than the others. "She has found where she belongs," Lisabett comments, and resumes her scouting duties.
Lisabett glances at the mother, her expression wistful. Varisian:
"She has shown me my ends," Lisabett says to the woman. "And neither of them entail reaching your age, Mother." Lisabett lifts herself up and speaks to Andres. Skald:
"I know you will continue to keep the Mother safe." Lisabett continues to withdraw from the group, speaking on occasion to Warden Proudstump and Qoural while attending the animals, and generally avoiding Sandru except when delivering what little she manages to forage. It rubs in an open wound that the prisoner finds a cherished place in the caravan having named her witch, further proving that the efforts she has gone to mean nothing to a single one of her companions. At the end of the week, Lisabett abandons her bodice. The garment never fit correctly, and now losing rather than gaining weight, it has become more cumbersome to don than is rightly worth the effort. She keeps the laces, however, finding them useful.
Week 01 Skill Checks: Day 01 Lisabett Perception 01
Day 02 Lisabett Perception 01
Day 03 Lisabett Perception 01
Day 04 Lisabett Perception 01
Day 05 Lisabett Perception 01
Day 06 Lisabett Perception 01
Day 07 Lisabett Perception 01
Lisabett picks shards of glass from her skin as she makes her round on patrol. It seems nothing she has ever done has been enough. She has spared the caravan from damage by a raging boar, hunted and brought back meat, and rose to meet every attack with a solid defense only to watch the others scatter. How she wishes for that moment back, to send Ulrick to murder her captain. The peacekeeper would make of it what she would, and the priest would yet live, and the near two dozen that died on account of his loss, too. Come spring she would have been free, when the others went to raiding or other troupes, and she would still have a modicum of pride. Lisabett rubs the scar beneath her left eye absently, more familiar with it than any other on her body. Any normal woman's vanity would have been crushed by such a blow, but Lisabett had always thought herself repulsive compared to village women, the breeding and housekeeping stock. Her skin is sun and weather beaten, scarred and tattooed beside, and no man worth having was like to touch her. And Sandru had admitted that the few smiles he had given her had been false. Sighing, Lisabett lifts her eyes to the stars, then tromps back to camp and kicks out her bedroll. She briefly entertains a thought of taking Qoural just to have the thing done and not think on it again so long as she might live, but simply grumbles and rolls onto her side.
Ah good, then you don't know about the weirdness with Joanie Stubbs. That would make Almar Charlie Utter :P
So... I'm rewatching the first few episodes of Deadwood. I think I know where I got Lisabett's unwashed surliness from. If only she were also a drunk...
DM Hamied:
Nah, no real instructions for those two, just asking them to help. She's not much in a talkative mood. The lady had asked to speak, not to keen. It was not enough that she had heard the screams while she built the pyre, and saw dozens of bodies laid out when she put Ulrick upon it, but she had to sing. And worse... worse! Lisabett begin trembling with a fine rage as frost began creeping over her back, up her neck and stiffening her hair. It cracked and fell from her, wafting into ether, then built itself up to a hard crust in seconds. "You are no peacekeeper, no leader of men. With your smiles and your keening, you drive them insane. Yet they love you," Lisabett's voice breaks on the last, and she pulls her machete, then looks to Espen and speaks in Skald Skald:
"If that is a woman, all the sooner I wake find a cock between my legs." before raising the machete to hack at what remains of her platinum hair, and tosses it on the pyre. "He was the only man who ever touched me," she says softly, then produces the vial of ink and pours it out near the flames. "The only one who knew the truth," she adds and crushes the vial in her fist. Lisabett spares a frosty glance at the others, and lets the shards of glass remain in her hand as she walks away.
Lisabett returns to the camp after a time, bearing quite a bit of wood to build the pyre. She speaks quietly to Espen and Andres, if he will have her, about collecting more while she tends to the horses, ensuring they have water and feed and are comfortable before building the pyre. Her eyes are covered in frost when she lifts Ulrick's head upon it, then sets it ablaze, and she sits down and allows the others to talk while she watches it burn.
Lisabett looks to Sorin. "Do either of you say words to Gorum? Might you with your golden voice convince our Lord to take a man who was slaughtered like a pig to the fields of glory?" At Andres's question Lisabett gives a sigh of desperation and pulls her wet shirt over her nudity. "Do you ALL believe that I am a tyrant?" she demands, and hops down from the wagon. "I bring you meat when you are hungry, I sleep inside the walls you build to protect yourselves when I win my wager, I let that horsec*ck call me witch and he yet lives to smile at all of you," Lisabett's voice breaks as she points at the prisoner, and frost begins creeping up her arms and back. Skald:
"Say your words, or do not." Lisabett growls in Skald before picking up her spear and heading away from the caravan again.
Lisabett frowns as she wipes the pig's blood from her machete and spear on the grass, then grips it and carefully makes her way back to camp. With both hands occupied carrying the beast, she is exposed, and completely vulnerable, and now covered in a great deal of pigs blood. She nods to Warden Proudstump, Quoral and Setomi before dragging the pig to a clearing and begins butchering it quickly and efficiently.
When she has finished, Lisabett approaches Sandru "Tonight we burn Ulrick," she tells him and begins removing the stays on her bodice with blood slick hands, then turns and addresses the remainder of the caravan. "Tonight we will eat our fill, and I will burn my friend!" she announces, expression hard, then moves to her typical wagon and removes her bodice and shirt to wash them and herself with several applications of .
Tears spring to Lisabett's eyes as she watches the animal thrash in its death throes. Gripping the haft of her spear with one hand, she leans in and draws her machete across its throat to end its suffering.
Ah yeah, that was 3 days before I left the states, and I think the same day I ran my last session of my Kingmaker game online, which was my party's assault on the Stag Lord's Fort. And there was the fog stuff. Sorry my brains were quite scattered then. Assuming Lisabett can bring back some pork, she'll have a few things to say in camp while she burns Ulrick. Ulfen mourning without mead is not likely to be very pretty.
Hunting rolls: Lisabett Kn. Nature (pig) Lisabett untrained stealth Lisabett initiative
If needed, Lisabett tries to identify the pig, and sneak up to it. If it notices and combat is required, I have initiative, if not, I have at least hit it, I think. Depends on how you want this to play out.
Observing that Sandru has placed the captive out of her reach, on break, Lisabett waters each of the horses and embraces her power to provide some cool to their joints as she works out their legs. She speaks to them gently in Skald, finding their company of late far more agreeable than her companions, though the fault is entirely her own.
Lisabett rises stiffly and sees that Sandru has pulled Sorin aside, but does not make out the content of their discussion. Sighing, she embraces her magics and casts over her head to cool herself down, then sprays water from her lips and shakes out her hair like an animal before slinking ahead of the caravan to scout. It is likely just her imagination that she had to tighten the stomach on her bodice this morning. She certainly had no cause to let it out any. While the others are at rest, Lisabett hunts for live food. Ulrick should not remain above ground for much longer.
Did I ignore a request to learn spell craft from Sorin? I might not have been reading correctly if it was around the time that I left for Norway. Blah... Anyway, head is back in the game and I gotta get mine moving again.
Apologies, folks. My organic bits have been failing me this weekend. A pervasive funk has fallen upon me and I dunno when I will be shaking the feeling and getting my head back completely. Just assume Lisabett is doing her bestest patrolling.
Lisabett turns to glare at the prisoner when he, in his ignorance, asks if she has cursed him. She glances at Brother Holheim, then Almar striding up, and starts away. Noticing Sorin's confusion, she smiles wickedly and speaks to him in Varisian. Varisian:
"You cannot reason with a raider. They do not care that your small folk have spent generations achieving your bounty. Gorum thrives on the murder they make, and in their blood they take women who birth their violent seed and this way continues." "When I had a name, my father was a jarl. I was a defender, with my uncles. He cast me out, and now they call me witch." Lisabett gathers her spear in her hands, and begins her patrol of the camp.
Lisabett looks up from her captive with a smirk. Varisian:
"Aye, my effort, to spare this caravan, which was nullified with their song." Lisabett leans forward and whispers a spell, then touches his face almost tenderly. Spellcraft DC 15:
Lisabett cast Touch of Fatigue. She hits Touch Armor class and if it succeeds, the target must make a fortitude save DC 12 to avoid being fatigued for 3 rounds. She stands and looks to Raziel, then tucks the machete back into her belt. Varisian: "I will be on patrol. Translate for Sorin when this one begins to squeal."
Lisabett spreads her legs and crouches over the captive's stomach, straddling him, lowering the machete so it pushes against the softest part of his viscera. The blow would not kill, but it would wound, and hurt quite a great deal, and when his insides came spilling out, and they would, it would require a healer to put back together again. Skald:
"Do not lie to me," she snarls and lets him feel the whole of her weight. "We both know you are not man enough to tame that horse," she says and relaxes her grip on his hair so that she can work her fingertips through it in a comforting fashion. "And the beasts that told you I was a witch only were unkind. "I am a murderer. I will kill you and feel nothing, and I will roll you into a ditch and let the crows pick at your flesh." Lisabett begins pressing the machete into the scouts stomach, placing both hands on the handle, poised to push with all of her strength.
Lisabett growls from her bedroll as Ameiko and Sorin perform. "FÆN I HELVETES!" then jerkily rises. She goes to the prisoner, leans down and slaps him in his face. "DU! VÅKNE OPP!" She lifts her head and glares at the paladin and the lady interloper, then grips the man by his hair and presses her machete to his throat. "You have necessitated this," she hisses before she leans in close and begins speaking to the man in Skald. Skald: "You, these folk you found, they're cannibals. You just missed their victory song. If you want to keep your legs, and have a chance to escape, you will tell me where your camp is, and when we can expect your band to arrive." [ooc]Lisabett Untrained Bluff
"Aye, it is curious why I should remain here when everyone is so friendly and obliging, ikke sant?" Lisabett growls, slipping into her milk tongue. Lisabett gives a faint nod in Sandru's direction, and bereft of any responsibility, tracks back to the caravan. She kicks out her bedroll and lays down but does not sleep. Her stomach is empty, and she will not put on fat. Should they go north, she will not survive a winter, even if her captain allowed her to live so long.
"Not alone," Lisabett tells Setomi. "It is likely these men are raiders, and they take all sorts, even the cannibals. A woman does not travel alone among them unless she is more repulsive than me." Lisabett listens to Sorin. "This man knew me, Sorin. Beasts in the town before last mentioned a bounty had been placed upon my head by my captain. If you deem it necessary, I will track them alone," and allow Gorum to decide my fate.
Lisabett schools her expression to absolute stillness as she regards Almar. "I will recall next when I am speaking with the animal that you are an expert trainer whose opinion should not be neglected when it comes to making such decisions," she responds. "Clearly, that horse's decision to throw its rider and to attack me in fear was evidence of its ability to work in a pack." "Uncertain," Lisabett answers Sorin. "How many days rations did this man carry? A large group that could spare three scouts might be starving days away, or only hours," she shrugs. "We cannot spare me or Almar to discover their placement. We can only prepare ourselves for the attack."
Think I'm gonna go straight sorc from now on. kinda wanted wild shape, but three prepared slots for feather step, speak with animals and entangle are pretty good. Any more and I seriously will impact being effective... ever at anything with this dice roller.
Lisabett does not step back when the horse postures that it will rush her. Horse:
"Back to your mate, then. Off with you." Lisabett raises her arms and waves the horse off, and backs away from it on the balls of her feet, waiting till she has returned to the others to turn her back fully. "I do not know that horses have the talent for lies, but if this band can spare three and three scouts, they arguably have a larger force than ours," she says and studies the fallen one. If she heard Almar's comment about her person , she does not appear to take issue. "Also, it appears this one only speaks my milk tongue," she adds, "which may make interrogating him difficult. Regardless, we should get him to the captain quickly. We will have work ahead of us."
Lisabett dispells the entangle effect and looks to her companions. "This man knows me," she says and shakes her head. "Take his weapons, but do not kill him. There is no curse greater than being deprived Gorum's favor." Lisabett moves away from the scout and casts and addresses the horse from a safe distance before approaching. Horse: "Man no beat you. How many more men where he come from?"
Lisabett moves to H17 and begins speaking in Skald. Skald: "Cannibals are from the west country," she says, "and neither you or your horse seem particularly gainly, though there has been a shortage of meat. Surrender your arms, now, and you may yet live and go to Gorum elsewhere."
Having heard Sandru call out to the archers to remain close to the wagons, Lisabett runs ahead to E21.
"Reform!" Lisabett calls to the others. "We cannot stall those who have escaped. We must protect the caravan!"
Lisabett casts on herself, and moves forward to H40 to begin the arc she mentioned.
At the shout, Lisabett embraces her nature magics, struggling with the rage in her to seek out the second source of magic much lower in her body. The words of the spell come unbidden, and the earth beneath her feet roils as she imagines the vegetation beneath the horses rising to tangle them in place.
With Shalelu away, Lisabett's duty is a tangible weight upon her chest and shoulders. With Shalelu away, Lisabett cannot spend her hours tracking a beast worthy of a feast in Ulrick's honor, and another night his remains go unburnt. While the others return to their routine, Lisabett remains quiet, and detached from the two strangers who wear faces she once identified with. If Sandru attempts to speak with her, she will keep her eyes low, but otherwise avoids conversation with him, feeling accutely that whatever moment she thought she might have appealed to him in any way had passed. He had admitted that she could not bring a smile to his face. If Gorum is kind- Lisabett looks up with Almar calls. Idiot, she seethes, rising, Shalelu's knowledge of the ways would ensure that if it were she returning, they would not know it until she arrived in the middle of their camp, not spotted at a distance. The woman was an able hunter of beast, goblin and man. Her spear readily at hand, she lifts it parallel to the ground when the torch falls. Skald:
"Gorum, Lord in Iron, bless this field. Let me bring death to our enemies, or else let me rest here."
Wasn't trying to start an argument, by the way, Lisabett is genuinely interested if traveling with her has affected Sorin's stance on violence that she sees as necessary, but she's still not very good at communicating effectively.
Lisabett's eyes flick to Sorin. "Do not forget that I would have slain the goblin bastard and spared the deputy a life of misery, but refrained for your sake," she says and rubs the scar beneath her left eye. "I seem to recall there being some argument about my preferences then. Have you come to a new understanding of the necessity of some violent actions?" Recalling Minherzi Lisabett stretches and pops her neck. "Children should be encouraged to make their own choices. Had she understood Skald, she might have learned the song glorified defenders. Make no mistake, that girl will be a warrior, but to defend or murder will be her choice, as it was yours, as it is mine."
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