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Mal smacks the urchin in the head with the back of his hand, not hard to hurt him but hard enough to be convincing. Bugger off, lad. Ye still in time to not get a proper beating. Then, turning towards the other ragtags, I am talking about ye there as well. Mind yer own business and nobody gets hurt.
I will take point. You best be followin' me. Mal starts to go towards Arbroath, carefully trying to orient himself in the forest.
'right, we need to be going now. No sense in standin' in this cave. I think we should press to Arbroath, it's the closest, we can be there before nightfall.
Caileachs are a creepy lot. If we are going to found them, they'll be in cursed places where death took its toll.
Aye, aye, I'll be alright... Mal thanks Kirsteen for the assistance and gets up. I am so sorry 'bout that. We could have the woman interrogated, and I let her slip away.
Can't climb up with a lady on my back, 'm 'fraid says Mal, still carrying the tied witch on his shoulder. Specially when the lady in question is a treacherous viper. Guess I'll be goin' to test my feet near the sea.
Agreed, let us go away from 'ere. Mal puts his sword away and grabs the prisoner, carrying her on his shoulder and heading back to the castle.
Mal starts inspecting their bodies, his sword still in hand just in case they are not dead yet. Have any idea of what was goin' to happen here? Drest? Kirsteen?
Mal waits and observes what the witches are doing. If anyone attacks first, he will strike on them charging with his sword.
Mal follows Razo, trying to be a little more quieter than him...
I do not like the looks of this... Mal peeks inside the cove, sword ready
Let us go then. I be sick ot this fog already.
Do anyone have a torch? Let's go inside.
That was it? No old cronie in disguise? Mal looks a little disappointed. Well, be better start gettin' this boar skinned and quart'red. No use in letting it go to waste... he says as he draws his hunting knife.
Mal charges at the wild animal, hoping to put him at rest with a single swing of his sword.
Mal steps in the front of the group, ready to attack the boar as soon as he comes near.
Mal readies his sword, and follows Drest from a distance. If it's really a pig and not a witch, at least they will have some roasted meat for lunch.
Look around to see if something catches Mal attention. He won't speak to anyone to avoid further attentions. If there's nothing worth noticing, he will head for the forest with the others.
Allright. We shall be going first thing in the morrow. But Drest is right, this place ain't good. I'll be taking first watch, not too tired now.
Goin' through the fog? In the middle of the forest and cailleach? I dunno 'bout this. What do you have to say, Drest? Kirsteen?
Mal is still wandering around the castle, trying to talk to the few and suspicious people here. He doesn't like this place. There is an eerie atmosphere, something is not quite right. And when he asked for something strong to drink to warm himself up and forgot the bad feeling, and they told him there wasn't any, his jaw dropped in disbelief.
Mal looks conviced by Drest, Razo and Guy's words. Alright, I see. We shall rest here, then. Perhaps my judgement be less clouded after a good nite sleep. He then goes ask an attendant where they could stay for the rest of the day, and if he has something hot to eat for all the group.
Mal ponders Kirsteen's words, then speaks. I'm afraid you're right, lady. I still think somethin's not right here, but I'd rather travel halway through the Ocean before I get called coward and traitor by anyone. He seems very upset, but determined. We rest here, then it's off to France. Unless some of you doesn't want to.
Goin' to France? That was never part of the plan! Something is not right. Mal scowls as he expresses his dissatisfaction with the task handed. I was promised a new land for my people. What do Frenchmen have to do with this now?
Mal does nothing, because for all he knows this is just a rider in a hurry.
Aye, some horses would be fine. Mal will ask an attendant if he can provide a horse each.
Mal observes in silence the quarrel between Drest and Razo. After Drest's words he simply says: Glad that this thing has smoothed out. I'm ready to leave first thing in the morning. He refuses the weapons from the armory, since he believes to be well equipped enough.
Mal bends the knee and bows deeply this time. Thank ye, your Majesty. I shall be honored to accept this task. My sword is yours. Perhaps this would finally repair not only the misfortunes of his people, but also Kirsteen's and Guy's. As for the Druid, the witch hunter and the other noble Frenchman, they seem to know what they are doing, and he couldn't certainly desire for other travel companions at the moment. But what about the Stone? Shall I reveal my doubts to the King, if he's even the rightful one? Mal is very conflicted about the whole situation, and almost decides to speak up his concern. Good times come to those who wait, my uncle said. I will wait for the right times then.
I speak about the members of the Orrock Clan. They swore to protect ye as well, but their protection apparently involved slaughtering the warriors of our clan. Mal's tone of voice suddenly darkens. My father, Dersten, was beheaded. My uncle and brother died too, and my brother was no more than a lad at the time. They took part of our lands and possession, and we have been left with nothing but deirt and our women's lamentations. Mal then lowers his head more, his eyes to the ground. I'm not askin' for justice. What I long for is advicement. What shall be done with my people?
My name is Malhasturian, son of Dersten, of the Clan McBrayne, if it pleases yer Grace of course. He puts his hand on the sword handle and bows, not as deeply as Razo though. I have come from the Wester Ross lands to seek advicement from yer Highness. Our clan swore lealtie to the King of Scots, and to protect the Stone of Destiny. A fight with those twice damned Orrock numpties took many of our proud kemps, and I've come to ask what shall be done in this times of disgrace.
The tattoed man has a point. This doesn't look right.
Mal will stand in silence, letting the others do the talk, as he has yet to undestand what kind of character this new king is.
Mal leaves the room and get to the others. He woke up in a hurry, but managed to find the time to put his kilt on and grab is sword. He as a puzzled look on his face: In the name of my granpa's beard, what is goin' on here? What was that noise? Who was that fellow? And where do this dog came from?
Mal wakes up in a hurry, grabbing his sword and trying to understand to what in heavens is going on.
Mal had some more small talk during the journey, introducing himself to Kirsteen, Drest, Razo and Guy and asking their name. He is still interested in the Pict's true intentions, but he decides to wait and see rather than start asking questions. He also talks a little more to Alain, mostly about the weather and the witches.
Mal has some more small talk with Alain, mostly about how Normandy is like. He then wishes goodnight to him and to the other travelers, leaving the actual introductions to the following morning. He then goes to sleep on the straw, his sword close to his hand, falling soon into a deep slumber. He dreams about hills and clouds. The hills are his own, green and windy. The clouds are moving estremely fast, making the sunlight flicker over the grass, like it's the shimmering sea he's actually in.
Lightning stike me if I'm tellin' a lie, I'm off to see the King too. Of course, no one is getting outwith the monastery 'till this blasted weather lasts says Mal, still chewing the bread. So, Frenchman, uh? May I also ask why you'll be seeing the King? If that's not much of an hassle.
Not much, really replies the Scot to Alain's questions. Right, what do I know about this new fellow? he starts to wonder. He was crowned over the fake Stone for all I know. Could he even be considered a true King? I guess time be tellin' if his reign was born under a good star or not. Say, you look like you've come a long way. he says to the French while sitting near him to get some of the bread. What matters bring you here? You'll be going to the King's court? he asks while taking a good bite at the hardened meal.
This fog doesn't bode well. No sleeping under the stars for me. Let those blasted cailleach enjoy the night themselves. Mal enters the monastery on steady foot. He takes a little time to warm himself up and take a good look around, then he goes for the dining room following the priest's invitations. Aye, aye, praised be God. he replies distractedly to Francis's blessing. Name's Mal, if it pleases. Thanks for the supper, suppose you don't mind I'll be stayin' here tonight. At Jen: This is my first attempt at writing something "scottish" sounding. I am Italian and you have no idea how strange it is for me. Let me know if I'm messing it up too much.
How's this for a background? Please comment and suggest.
Spoiler: A Scottish Highlander from the belligerant clan MacBrayne, Malasthurian (often called Mal the Red due to his hair colour) is the youngest son of the Clan chieftain. The MacBrayne clan lives in a group of small village in the Wester Ross region, and has a strong tradition of druidism. According to the clan history, the first warriors of the clan were the ones to bring the famous Stone of Destiny to Scotland, aided by a group of Irish drow treasure hunters.
The Stone was magical and was used during the coronations of the Scottish monarchs. The MacBrayne declared themselves protectors of the Stone and servants of the Scots king for many years. Then, during a recent druidic ceremony to renew the nature's blessings to the Stone, the druids of the MacBrayne clan discovered that the real Stone had been stolen, and swapped with a fake one. The MacBrayne decided not to reveal this to the King of the Scots, giving him the fake Stone, while at the same time investigating on the theft. They started accusing other clans that swore to protect it, and the accusation eventually became acts of war. The Clan fought with who were once their brothers, taking and losing many lives, but accomplishing nothing. This blood feud degenerated up until four fighter were left in the whole Clan: the chief, his brother, and his two sons. Mal was one of them. They decided to set the last controversy with the clan Orrock with a fight to the death. Only Mal returned from the duel, his companions and relatives dead. But the exact whereabouts of the Stone were still unknown. The last warrior of his clan, Mal was ordered by the MacBrayne druids to keep investigating. According to their augury, "the Kings holds the truth", so Mal was sent to the royal court. While he is doubtful that a joung highlander will manage to learn much there, he's still committed to get to the bottom of this. He donned his uncle's armor, wore his brother's kilt and grabbed his father's sword, headed to the capital. Mal is a tall, muscular human with short red hair and beard. He isn't very talkative, as he rather prefers to observe a situation in silence before acting. He is fond of cards, dice and other tavern's games. He respects dwarfs for their martial prowess, and drows for their role in the Clan's history. In fights he is ruthless and focused on his opponent, trying to end the combat fast and clean.
Presenting Mal the Red. I originally made him for another pbp that isn't probably going to start anymore. He's basically a Scottish Highlander. Ignore his current background as it was made for the other campaign: I will rework it as soon as I have time.
I decided to go with the fighter, here's his sheet and background. Background: A veteran of war from the northern regions of Armina, Malhasturian is the second born of a small family of farmers that lives near the borders with Kassar. Life is harsh up there, and the war made things worse. When his older brother Tellrah was sent to fight, he decided to join him even if that would mean leave his family alone: risking your life to save the land is better than growing turnips. During the war, he fought alongside dwarves and people from Kassar, and he learned to respect their prowess in battle. He is usually suspicious about the people from Surdok and Pelona, as he never considered them of too much use. He really doesn't have much of an opinion about elves and halforcs. At the end of the war, he went back home, expecting his family to have disappeared. They were alright, but the lands nearby had been scorched by the fires of war, and all their possessions were lost. His brother wasn't lucky enough: an arrow killed him during a battle. Seeing that there was nothing for him at home anymore, Malhasturian turned into a soldier of fortune, travelling along the realm, living in taverns, trying to find some work. Malhasturian (often called Mal the Red due to his hair colour and his bloodied past) is tall and muscular. He wears an armored red kilt over the armor, as it is the fashion of the family clans of the north of Armina. He is ruthless in battle, trying to kill his opponent as fast as he can. He is not very talkative, and when confronted with a new situation he prefers to stay silent before deciding what needs to be done.
Is there a place for a two-handed weapon fighter? I can rework this character up to level 5 if necessary. |
