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Lorilon flies into a rage at the sight of the skeletons, the need for smashing things has finally caught up with him.
He lifts his Bastard Sword as high as he can, before he smashes it down upon the nearest skeleton - roaring with gnomish might.
"DIE, DIE, DIE!"
"Alright, I agree! Let's get inside and bust some heads!" Lorilon takes the front and heads inside, weapon at the ready and tries to discern if someone or something is inside.
"I vouch for Spears idea, I'm ready." Lorilon leans forward, solid in his stance and ready to be tossed inside.
"Are you suggesting I'm too short to actually see them from here, longshanks?" Lorilon looks up at Spears, still grining.
Lorilon takes a step forward, reaching Spears' side - and readies his Bastard Sword to strike at any enemy approaching.
"It's not so much overcoming for me, Carrion. It's the thrill of battle is all, the blood pumping, chairs splintering, teeth shattering and groins properly introduced to knees. I don't mind getting myself a good beating, no sir - I've had quite a few - you learn more getting your posterior handed to you than you do from bashing your skull into everyone and everything you see. So, I don't know about the whole heroic stand thing, I just want to hit people with chairs and take it from there." His grin widens as he speaks, clearly depicting his love for brawling as he rants on.
Lorilon unsheathes his Bastard Sword, wielding it with both hands as Bedlam looks around. He takes his time to let everyone know that he is hoping for a fight by wearing a large grin. "You guys think there's more goblins inside?"
Looking over at Spears, Lorilon gives him half a bow and speaks: "Want me to bring me your cane, old man? Haha! I'm just kidding, let's go!" Lorilon pursues the Sheriff.
I have to say, I'll always have a special place in my heart for Spears & Lorilon.
"Come on Sheriff, you already know me don't 'cha. Lorilon Minkmasher, erhem, I mean.. to be world famous brawler and smasher of chairs!" Lorilon leaps off his chair and smiles broadly, extending his arm towards Spears, introducing him. "And this old man is Spears, my bodyguard - and famous ringer of helms! Now, I don't know what you wanna hear, but we're looking to set out and smash whomever is responsible for unleashing those watermelon-like creatures on this mighty fine town of yours!" Feeling confident, he places his hands on his hips and assumes an heroic posture - obviously lost in a dream-like state where wind is blowing through his hair and people chant his name.
Lorilon stares at Sacerdos with big eyes - trying to discern whether the man is completely nuts or not. "Eheherm, well.. As long as we beat up whatever comes after us in due fashion - there's no need to be frightened! Tell you what, this is the perfect opportunity to smash chairs and throw mugs of ale at monsters. The way I see it; we've got this man or woman evil-person after the city and now probably us as well - and if he or she sends monsters after us on a regular basis henceforth, that means we get to brawl on a regular basis as well." The gnome looks up at Spears with a broad smile on his face and his eyes all teary-like. "It's a dream come true, old man!"
Once Spears catches up to him, Lorilon notices the stern look on the man's face. He lowers his arms and stares at Spears all puppy-eyed. "No brawling? Oh, ok. Well that's fine too! I'm sure we'll find us a good old fashioned brawl, someday - huh? Don't you think?" his broad smile returns, and he strides onward at Spears' side.
"Hey. Hey Spears. Do you think we should surprise the Sheriff with a brawl at the Dragon? I'm sure he'll appreciate it. I mean, get his mind off the whole tragedy, you know? Or, ! How about I smash a chair over his head as he enters the tavern? That would be hilarious! I bet he'll forget the whole thing! Hahaha!" Lorilon strides off ahead of Spears, his eyes almost closed as he marches on towards the tavern, clenching his fists and swinging his arms almost comically - his broad smile apparent for all to see.
"Maybe they got into a brawl, those lucky.. Good plan old man, lets get a move on boys!" Lorilon marches off in a random direction, trying to take point but is obviously not sure as to what he is doing.
Haha, Spears! I don't think Lorilon would give up his chair to neither Kate nor Will, to be perfectly honest.
"I've never been tossed into combat before.. I.. Like it! We should try that sometime!" Lorilon giggles, clearly in a good mood as the four leave for the sheriff's office.
Lorilon stands up from his chair and wipes his foam-covered mouth, before grasping his beltbuckle with both hands. "If Spears is going, I am going. This weary old guardsman might need a crutch at some point, and I'm thinking only Lorilon Minkmasher can provide the strength!" His smile turns into a grin as Katrin leaves. "Besides, the half-ogre lady can take care of herself!"
Still smiling broadly, Lorilon leans over towards Carrion - his big brown eyes staring upwards towards the sorcerer. "I have an idea, how about I get up out of this chair - pick it up and raise it over my head - if you manage to cast a spell before I smack you over the head with it - you are right! If you can't, then I win!" Lorilon quickly shakes his head for a second, then bursts into laughter - tears rolling down his chin as he hits his thigh with the palm of his hand. "I'm just kidding, Carrion - bwa-haha! No offence ment, friend-o - just trying to get that twig out of your posterior!" Lorilon proceeds to wipe his tears on his bracer, attempting to evade the stain of drool already there - then get a swig of ale, deeming it about time to start drinking.
While still smirking, Lorilon leans over towards Spears. "Potato, tomato - it's all the same! But I hear you, sir - coins sure brighten up one's day, don't they." Smiling at Anders' responce, Lorilon stands up and grabs his own chair from the back. "I really don't see the complexity of just smashing it over someones head. I tell you, once it splinters good and well over the back of a wizard, you'll be sure he wont be casting any spells for a while!" He laughs heartily before sitting back down, clearly enjoying himself.
That doesn't really sound like how a perfect day starts, Spears! Haha, glad I could give you a chuckle - I guess Lorilon's gnomish heritage is beginning to shine through!
Haha, glad you feel better - it's how I feel pretty much every day. I'm probably the cruelest man in the world after I get out of bed. I hate people in general before I have my food and coffee, and can't seem to control myself. I'm a wreck. Thought I'd just weave my typical morning into Lorilon's character.
Lorilon looks over at Katrin, smirking as he speaks.
With the mention of his name, Lorilon's head (which at this point had sunk quite close to the ground, nearly tipping him out of his chair) returns to an upright position, and his eyes open widely - making him appear like he had fallen asleep during a lecture, trying to determine if anyone noticed him doing so. As he spots Spears' glare, he smiles broadly. "Hah! If there's anyone in this room that knows how to hold his ale, it's Lorilon Minkmasher!" As he ends his sentence, his eyes go groggy once more, but with a slap to his own face or two, he resumes. "Just need some grub in my belly, usually wakes me up good and proper! Oh, and I do like sharp objects, I'll be sure to admit that! So where's this.. Foxface, was it? We're waiting for?"
Stumbling down the stairway leading into the common room, Lorilon's hair reaches out in all directions, and one can quite easily notice how the gnome looks quite similar to a zombie this early in the morning. A stream of drool hangs down his chin, and he wipes it off on his bracer at the bottom of the stairs. He walks over to the bar and mumbles something half-hazy to the proprietor; "Hrmgu.. me one of those... callit! Breakfast? I'll be.. over yonder, stupid bunch of nimglets.." before he nods heavily at Anders and Bedlam and crashes down on a chair.
Lorilon stares for a second at Spears, as if trying to understand why a man of his build would shy away from the delightfulness of a tavern-brawl. As the other adventurers arrive, Lorilon nods in greeting towards them and empties and refills his flagon a few times before he wishes his companions a good night. The gnome leaves the table and finds his way to one of the rooms reserved for the party, retiring for the night.
Lorilon waves the man over, raising his flagon in greeting. "I don't know what skills you posses, Spears - but I'm quite handy as a bowyer. Then again, Gorum doesn't really favor those of that trade, so here's to hoping the good sheriff will at least hire some of us for some scouting missions or tracking. Seeing as how the buggers dared to assault the town head-on, I'm assuming there's a large tribe somewhere nearby. Now, scouting missions don't really pay that much - but it's a hell-of-a-lot better than crafting bows." Lorilon leans backwards in his chair, the flagon firmly placed in his hand and his stare fleeting - looking at the other patrons. "Maybe a good old-fashioned brawl will cheer you up?!" Quickly rising to his feet, Lorilon tries to find someone worthy of getting his chair smashed over their head - a wicked grin manifesting on his face.
Lorilon watches the others carryi the goblin off to the sheriff's, deeming it unnecessary for so many to cramp his office, instead moves towards the Rusty Dragon. "I will see the lot of you back at the tavern, I'm sure Hemlock wont mind my absence!" Once at the tavern, Lorilon will order a flagon of Ale and wait for the others.
"You're telling me none of us speak Goblin? Damn, we'd better find someone that does then. Not sure if we can move the creature without killing it." Lorilon scratches his head after sheathing his sword, trying to remember who might be able to help them get information from the Goblin.
Plus, I would rather roleplay the loot-distribution than handle it in the discussion section. You might have noticed that I hate min/maxing and would rather pick feats and skills that make sence to the character, instead of what is condidered "best" or "mandatory". It's what ruins modern gaming, as there is less room for roleplaying different characters with completely different skill-sets and instead you are ridiculed for making "gimped" choices. Sorry about the rant, but this is to me what kills modern rpgs.
I really don't like rolling at all, so I wont participate in such - as it kills the immersion of the game. Items should go to whomever needs it the most, that fit the character and their role. If a small Bastard Sword is found, Lorilon will assume it belongs to him, and will roleplay it as such. I don't really care about items at all, so I wouldn't want to spend too much time on it. If per say, a Great Sword +1 and 350 GP is found in a treasury - I would assume it goes to the Barbarian great-sword user and that he relinquishes his cut in taking the blade. We're not loot-crazed children, are we.
Lorilon pokes the Goblin with his Bastard Sword, unable to comprehend the gibberish-chatter it produces - he speaks to it in common with a harsh tone in his voice.
Lorilon, having seen the damage done to the goblins by Katrin alone - draws a fresh arrow from his quiver and let's another arrow fly towards the riderless beast.
"Thank you, Sacerdos! Remind me to buy you a drink, once this is over!"
Lorilon quickly jumps to, the sight of the goblins makes his blood burn - even more so as they slay the poor hound. He makes a few quick steps forward, swiftly retrieves an arrow from his quiver, places it upon the string and halts as he draws it and releases.
His form is solid, his aim true - the arrow pierces through the air, aimed dead center at the monstrosity responsible for the dog's death.
Lorilon proceeds around the corner on the opposite side of the stall Sacerdos went to. He sheathes his Bastard Sword and equips his Shortbow once more - aiming to both give ranged support and hold off any would-be attackers seeking to assault the more fragile members of the group.
Standing proud over the corpse of his fresh kill, Lorilon almost gains a few feet in stature with pride. "Victory is surely ours, friends! Well done Bedlam, and you as well Katrin!" He retrives a piece of cloth from his pocket and cleans the blood from his blade. "Well then, who's next?" Lorilon smirks while looking around, trying to spot more of the foul creatures.
Lorilon moves off to the side, then forwards toward the goblin standing closest to the Warchanter - hoping both to flank the goblin and defend his allies from the meanest looking goblin. "Hold fast Bedlam, Gorum is watching us!"
He brings his blade high, then follows through with a swift arcing strike - aimed straight for the goblin's torso.
Strapping his shortbow over his body, Lorilon proceeds to unsheathe the massive bastard sword on his back and wields it with both hands.
"I agree, Katrin! We should make haste towards the sound, if left alone to long - this city will undoubtedly be put to the torch!" Lorilon swiftly follows Katrin as she takes the lead.
Lorilon releases the arrow, aiming straight for the poor goblin.
Lorilon readies his shortbow as he tries to locate where the song is coming from.
He swiftly pulls an arrow from the quiver on his left hip, his stance solid and his bow-string drawn. "At the ready, friends - underestimate a goblin, and you'll soon find yourself one gut less open!"
Lorilon proceeds to smash his mug on the table, some of the contents spilling in the process - while keeping his eye on Bedlam as he does so - obviously trying to mimic the dwarf. "It's settled then! In the morning, we go talk to that ol' coot Hemlock and set off on glorious adventure!" He raises his mug and bellows: "A toast, my new friends! To adventure, to glory - to treasure, more than we can possibly carry!"
"It would seem that Lorilon wins by default! Ha-ha!" Lorilon concludes that there aren't anyone willing to challenge his drinking-skills and instead gathers with the other adventurers. "So, Ulfen-lady! I hear that you're quite the shot with the bow? We should compete some time, I've been known to shoot pretty straight myself." He smiles, tapping his hand on his shortbow. "And monster hunting, now that's something I wouldn't mind spending a few days and nights doing. I know there are quite a few goblins around, especially down at Junker's Edge - scavenging for Gorum know's what. But me, I'd rather fight something noteworthy.. something big. Something that would make the people of Sandpoint look up to me, or well.. you get the idea."
Lorilon jumps to as he sees the woman behind the bar. He puts his hand in front of his mouth, then scratches the back of his head. "We-hehe-hehehell! OH! Look, there's good old Saul! SAUL!! Excuse me.. um.. miss!" Lorilon quickly grabs his mug of ale, spilling at least half of the contents, as he runs towards some of the patrons sitting at a table. "Alright gents, does anyone here reckon he can empty his mug before Lorilon Minkmasher can!? I've got five pretty little coins in my pocket; that says none of you got what it takes!"
Upon entry to the Rusty Dragon, Lorilon claps and rubs his hands together - a broad smile firmly placed upon his face. He glances around the room for a second, trying to see if anyone he knows is present. Particularly looking out for Jubrayl Vhiski or one of his 'friends'.
He then proceeds to head over to the tavern-keep, boisterously greeting him as a familiar face.
"Well, hello there old friend! How's your missus been treating you lately? So, how about those coins you owe me - about time you paid your debt, huh. Let's see, about 20 coins for services rendered. Those rats in your basement sure did put up a good fight though!" Ordering a tall mug of ale and some free salmon, Lorilon swings cheerfully from side to side, doing his best to follow the tunes played forth by the entertainment.
"They sure do, Anders!" Lorilon quickly ends his stride, gazing up at the towering cloud of butterflies. His eyes rooted, his mind adrift. Home. Friends. Family. Honor. Gorum. "I do understand why Desna is so popular, that much is certain." As the butterflies fade away, Lorilon retains his stride - the promise of ale a lingering enchantment he feels determined to abide.
"Never said I was local, Trelassion - but I've been around. I don't know much about ruins though. But, if you've got the coin, you might get some information down at Fatman's Feedbag - the town's finest tavern." Lorilon smirks broadly as he overhears Spear's comment. "Don't worry, Spears. Once we get them a mug of ale or three and smash a chair over their heads, I'm sure we can get a nice conversation going!"
"I've been around Sandpoint for a while, Sacerdos. Nice place for a fight or two - if I'm honest. What brings you to this particular town?" Priest or preacher, I wonder.. Lorilon eyes the fortuneteller up an down, clearly unimpressed. I don't know much about destiny, stranger - but I'm pretty sure Gorum just wants me to brawl. And don't worry too much about Ameiko, as long as you don't throw the first punch. Plus, I've got some leverage in this town." He smiles broadly, eagerly following the others. |
