Lugaid yells incoherently and swings his club at the moving vegetation.
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Lugaid splits off from Harroc, staying within sight of the group, and begins scouting ahead. His movements are jerky and birdlike, though quiet and inhumanly quick, especially for a man so large.
After Eyarwen leaves, Lugaid looks around, perplexed. "Who this Ludwig he talk?" He shrugs and moves to keep pace with Harroc.
"Lugaid make own godspeed!"
Lugaid bangs his club on the floor once more. "We not wait, talking. We hunt!"
Lugaid thumps his chest and bangs the head of his club on the stone floor. "I find this man. I best tracker alive."
"So long as you do not smash my target, then we should have no trouble." Lugaid gives Harroc a playful shove. "Two hunt, one kill." He mimes smashing an imaginary beast with his club. "I win!" The big man gives a deep, booming laugh. "Harroc friend."
Lugaid raises his club, banging it on the ceiling as he does, showering the group with bits of mortar and dust. "You hunt! I hunt! I smash, kill!"
A truly massive man, nearly eight feet tall, stands by the door. His appearance is primitive and ragged, and tiny spiraling marks cover every inch of exposed skin. The man's hands rest on the handle of a club made from a six-foot-long darkwood branch. The man aims a thousand-yard stare at everyone in turn, his wild eyes scanning the room. He states, matter-of-factly, to no one in particular in a loud, rough voice; "I am Lugaid. I am warrior. I greatest." He lowers his gaze dramatically, peering out at the assembled companions from under a heavy brow ridge.
Almost done.
Stats are done. |