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Marcus happy submits to the compress and massage. He practices his gratitude. "Thank you. These are...not muscles often used at that level of ferocity." He takes a little time to rest, but then commits to finishing up cleaning and maintaining his equipment.
Marcus begins stoically, but by the end his face is flushed red and his face and shoulders are twitching as his teeth snarl with defiance. It was like trying to control the rampage of an angered warhorse with his bare hands. After more than a full minute he was lost to the outside world and focused on his mental discipline, ignoring the pain, understanding that to lose is to die. A bit dramatic given the circumstances, but he was drawn in by the man's raw ferociousness. He loses track of time, and within a few moments after Krojun hits the ground, Marcus does as well. With a long breath he does his best to calm his protesting muscles and comes to his feet, taking Yazi's arm. The man was physically superior to him and it was only his stubbornness and discipline that edged out a victory, and he was sure to pay for it the next morning. He nods an acknowledgement to the huge man's approval, making eye contact with eyes that are still sharp but no longer piercing with jaded contempt. "And you...pull like you're used to reigning such beasts in." He gets out, trying not to raise a hand to his trembling neck muscles. When Yazi whispers to him he considers dismissing her concern. He's unbreakable, he's The Dog, he's The Wall. But then he pauses and reflects on some of his previous interactions with the women in his life and how poorly he had been managing the pain he was going through. He takes another deep breath, this time actually calming somewhat, and in a low and even voice he says back. "Bad. I'll need your help once we're done here."
Marcus strides over, watching how Krojun wraps the loop around his own head, and matching it in kind. Krojun's malevolent grin is mirrored by Marcus's stony frown. As the larger man bends down, Marcus meets his gaze, looking through his eyes. He does not snarl or growl in response. His eyes are solid and unwavering. In them there is a certain respect, but also a level of...ease. Yes this was to be a contest of brute strength and fortitude. But the man looking up at Krojun had seen, and faced, and triumphed over, much much dangerous situations. The leveled frown and piercing gaze was not one to rile up a crowd by putting on a performance...but to make a deep and intimate connection with the one he was staring into the soul of. As Krojun started to gleam the meaning of his gaze, it almost manifested in the air between them. Marcus had already gone through a dozen ways how a fight could break out, and how he could have killed Krojun before it threatened the rest of the party. This game was a convenient burden to lower the chance of bloodshed. The cold calculating gaze was...unsettling.
As soon as Marcus is aware of the overview of the game, he breaks his silence and steps forward. He hands his oiling tools to Magda and takes off his leather apron that he uses to keep the stains off his skin. He faces Krojun with his heavy frown, then arcs an eyebrow. "Well? We gonna get started, or do you just talk?"
Marcus heard the lowering of voices and the increased footsteps long before anybody started talking. He grumbles about his armor still drying, but nothing to be done for it now. He quickly dons his under chain shirt level and grabs the more important weaponry, then comes out to see what the tension is about. Marcus looks up... Wait, that can't be right. F!*@ing hells, and they say I'm a big bastard. Yes he looks up at the newcomer and his frown is leveled. This man's blood was hot. Marcus's stance was quiet, coiled, like a viper ready to act. But the situation was appropriately checked by the elder and the slightest increased sway to his stance showed his relaxation. He also smothers a snort at Jolistina's quip, the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement. As the leather pack is opened up Marcus restrains himself from rolling his eyes, knowing exactly where this is going and precisely who's going to be the one involved in it. He turns his frown to Yazi and Aru, raising an inquiring eyebrow.
Marcus nods in acknowledgement to Thousand-Bones, happy to see a familiar face. It seems negotiations had gone well. When he comments on Marcus's lack of metal, he gives a short exhale of amusement, but covers it and makes a slight head jerk towards the ones who disarmed them. "Cautious about strangers, protecting their people. No offense taken." He does gladly take his weapons back, carefully affixing each in their spot, and his normal light clanging upon moving returns. An oddly comforting sound that his companions may come to find a new appreciation for after having missed it, or perhaps realized their full annoyance at with how much quieter he could be, depending on perspective. Marcus nods to Jolistina with a grunt of affirmation. The talk of bones does get him thinking. His philosophy had always been We return to mud. Preserved, bones could last a long, long time. Did that matter more than memories and impact, or was it just a tangible reminder of them? Perhaps it was more about the way people remember others rather than how they are remembered. Marcus does not join Yazi in exploring the rest of the village. He knew what he looked like and his lack of decorum and cultural sensitivity, so he kept where he had been invited to, and spends his time doing maintenance on his equipment. He was more than a little sick of the bits of sand that had been grinding against his flesh. He sets out his tools in an organized layout and begins warming some oil, performing his own ritual, getting into a smooth and calm rhythm. In moments of quiet he can even be heard humming some sort of song, although it is so low and slightly off-tune so it's a bit hard to follow.
Marcus plays the part of a leashed dog, keeping his nose to himself to not scare the locals. Even sans-weapons, a man his size made only larger by his armor could strike an intimidating figure. Marcus keeps his silence while Yazi talks, his gaze subtly sweeping the village and counting the warriors. He can't help his mind from making a slight wander at the odd naming conventions though. What would I be, Quiet Hound? He exhales very quietly to himself in a moment of brief humor, which likely appears as no more than a calming breath to onlookers.
"That's quite the collection, Marcus," she comments. "Can never have too many knives." He mumbles absentmindedly with a shrug. It sounded less like an excuse and more like a piece of wisdom somebody else had given him, which he had clearly taken to heart.
Marcus nods, not looking particularly surprised at the request. He looks at Yazi and raises a brow, the question clear without needing to be asked aloud. Do you trust them? It was clear he was relying on her judgement in this manner.
Marcus inhales, then dismounts his magic horse and starts disarming. The large falchion and longbow on his upper back, the jangling collection of chakram's on his lower back, two morningstars on his hips, three daggers on his belt. Then the rest of the daggers. One in each boot, one on each thigh, two strapped to his chest, another two in the small of his back, one hidden up a sleeve...he was like a bad magician at a kid's party, continuing to pull them out after it seemed obvious he should have been long done. After a few minutes he pauses, taking inventory, then nods in a mixture of satisfaction and unease. As he moved he was...well quiet isn't the right word, but much less loud than typical.
Marcus reigns his horse to a slow halt and keeps his posture relaxed. He did not sense danger here, only justified wariness. He absentmindedly scans the horizon, trying to appear at ease and patient, while actually keeping an eye for any further surprises.
Marcus has made a new habit of executing downed enemies and makes two heart chops into the necks of the creatures. "I'll walk." He grunts, handing over his miraculously alive if nearly shredded phantom horse.
While Marcus would like a flank, he is positioned well to keep them away from the backline. He stands his ground and unleashes a series of chops, trying to remove some of the multiple heads chomping at Yazi!
Marcus spurs his mount with old instincts, dodging the worst of the blast. For the barest second he hesitates, then remembering the mounts are magic conjurations, spurs his forward to charge the creature!
"Now, who are we out here to kill? " Marcus exhales sharply at the comment. "Nobody, if we can help it. Doing a little research." He offers vaguely.
"Vera thinks we can trust her... enough to tell her where we were." Mags tells the wall. She knows the wall has to come to this decision himself, walls don't move easy, but nudging helps. "Torture victims give up allied locations too." Marcus says coldly. But there is no edge to the words, just a resigned wariness.
Marcus narrows his eyes, not confident on his read on her. But still, help being offered on such a large mission, hard to turn down. He grunts in displeasure, turning to examine where the monster left to ensure it wasn't coming back, a clear dismissal to his companions to handle this how they saw fit.
Marcus stays ever vigilant, ever wary, keeping his eyes narrowed on the newcomer. He takes his eyes off briefly and scans over the letter. ...even Marcus... What the f@@! is THAT supposed to mean? He frowns, pushing back the letter and scowling at Jolistina. "Not sure why we would trust you." He says flatly.
Marcus gets close to what could almost be considered a smirk at Mags' jab. Might be the first time somebody's made a joke at my expense for talking too much.
Marcus weighs Laori's words. "Mhmm, maybe." He admits, rapping his fingers on the table. He mumbles quietly for a moment. "But a man that unwilling to bend? Don't see getting involved with him going well. I've worked with those kinds before. End up drawing steel over nothing." He gestures around the room. "Like those chains of his. Krovax knew it wasn't a threat, you see him move at all? Dangerous man with a fragile ego. I say good riddance." Although Krovax was not high on Marcus's list, he still respected him for the man of violence that he is; a quiet burden shared by those who have their flesh mangled for the sake of others. Marcus shakes his head, clearing his mind of Sial. "The honest assessment was all I wanted. The vow is even better." He stands, looking out the window with a thoughtful frown. "I'm cautious about the idea of bringing them all together, since that sounds similar to what would be done to resurrect the old bastard. But yeah, your interests and ours are aligned." He turns, offering his mailed hand to her. "I vow to do everything in my power to bring about the destruction of the Fangs of Kazavon." He says with a heavy air of finality. He seals the vow and nods approvingly.
Marcus scoffs at Sial's instant dismissal. "That's all it takes for you Kuthanites to give up? You must have had your backbone removed in one of your rituals." He shakes his head and makes no move to leave. "If you're being honest, than our causes do align and you're being a stubborn a+&*%*$." He steps closer to Sial, towering over him with a sneer. "Your pride is not as important as your mission. Get it together." Marcus steps away before Krovax can get any more bristly than he already is, grabbing a chair and making it groan in protestation at his weight as he settles himself into it. "I said explanation or guarantees. You have some reason to uphold secrecy. We can respect that. But we can't just hand over such a relic and have no idea what's done with it afterwards. You say you want to destroy them. You were very specific." He lets that hang in the air for a moment, tapping his finger on the table. "Than make us a guarantee the relic will not leave our sight and that we will be witness to it's destruction. That should be hardly a compromise at all for you. In exchange we have mutual cooperation, and we take the queen down."
Sial doesn’t miss much of a beat, and his eyes flick back to Marcus, ”she - and I will speak freely, now that we are in this room - says you believe that Queen Illeosa has the Fangs of Kazavon?” Marcus nods silently to their question about the Fangs. ”Our reasons for wanting that are our own, but we would aid you, at some point, in retrieving the fangs for that purpose.” He folds his arms and leans all the way back. Marcus snorts derisively, making his displeasure with their secrecy obvious. As if they expect them to just hand over a relic that could be part of reviving an ancient evil to the very religious zealots that said evil was an avatar of without explaining themselves. As Krovax starts into the others, Marcus huffs through his nose. Hasn't changed much. As they end Marcus takes a deep inhale. What a disorganized s*@+show. He pinches the bridge of his nose, tempering his own emotions, and focuses on Laori. "We need more. Asking the Shoanti to divulge secrets under false pretenses so we can bring them to the religious they won't talk to for reasons we can't explain because you won't divulge them?" He shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it. "I won't be an ignorant pawn. And allowing the Kuthanites to gather these relics? Based on what I know now I would expect to be betrayed. No, we either need an explanation, or some guarantees."
Marcus was preemptively ready to defend himself against underage pickpockets, a solution easily fixed by putting his coinage in a strap under his upper arm. They would have to jump down from the roofs to reach it. Marcus continues to shepherd from the rear of the group, ensuring all are within his line of sight and that he keeps a wary eye for pickpockets, or anything worse. He seems unhappy about the dense crowd and lack of any regulations on some of the more...unsettling goods and services being offered. As the kid leads them around Marcus starts building his mental map of the city, using landmark and vendors and businesses and streets so that when the time comes, he can navigate it with more self reliance. But even he is surprised when he has to look up to make eye contact at the trolls guarding a temple. Marcus's frown sharpens and his nose twitches at the open slave trade, but he has other obligations in the city. As they land at the Canary House, Marcus grips the boys shoulder for a moment. Enough to make their separation of strength clear, but not enough to cause pain. After a long stare, making it clear he is studying the boy's features, Marcus fishes out a few extra coins. "Never saw us. Got it?"
After some sort of affirmation, Marcus nods and pats the boy's shoulder, handing over the coins and sending him on his way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once inside the Canary House, Marcus practically gags on the onslaught of his senses. He had been on high alert in the city and wasn't prepared for the sudden opulence of the building. He quickly adjusts, putting the luxury into the background of his mind, and works with Alaeh on locating Laori. The corners of his lips twitch in the faintest hint of amusement at the man's facade slipping. He was surprised Laori hadn't been kicked out, money or no. Means this place is still run by coin, not reputation. He tucks away that nugget of information for later use. In the levitating box, Marcus suddenly drops a solid six inches, widening his stance. Once it's apparent how slow it's moving she shrugs off any looks of alarm or annoyance from the others. "Just...wasn't expecting it." He wasn't used to being off balance, and this was a new sensation, not dissimilar to getting used to a boat for the first time. Marcus doesn't mind the spikes as Laori embraces him, returning it all the fiercer. His frown eases into something of a...neutral expression, the hard lines relaxing. "I am better." He had long ago given up on trying to read her subtleties. If she wanted him to know something, she would be intentional about it, and if she did not want him to know something, it was beyond his capabilities to deduce. Marcus appraises the chelaxian coldly, takes a moment to size up outsider who he quickly ascertains would be the deadliest hand-to-hand threat if it came to it and gives her the expected respectful dead eye assessment, but his brows shoot up when he sees Krovax. "Been a while." He lets the silence stretch after that. He had a short but complicated history with the man. He nods respectfully to Shadowcount Sial, and makes a mental note that the oustider is an eidolon, meaning Sial would be a formidable arcane caster in all likelihood. He gives a respectful shake of his head at the offered seats, not wanting to crowd the others, and taking a spot leaned against the wall where he can see all the exits and the full sweep of people, settling into a guard dog routine as the others begin.
Marcus is on the edge of threatening the man himself when their guide goes a step further and hogties him. Marcus nods approvingly, casually steadying the wagon as the man is thrown in. On the opened path, Marcus takes the word of their guide seriously and keeps his eyes driven forward and down. When he hears the luring utterances make their way to him he frowns in disapproval. Seems a bit on the nose. A slight hesitation was inevitable, the oddness of the communication was enough to ensure that. But the rhythmic thumping gets his attention back, and he obediently keeps his eyes forward and continues his stride. As the doors start opening and their guide gets more on edge, Marcus slowly drops to the back of the pack, intent on being the wall between them and any pursuing party. Luckily they manage to outrun it. When the spoiled brat is untied Marcus audibly snorts in derision, but he seems satisfied with the temporary banning. As Shale collects the pendants, Marcus slows to show him a sign of respect. There were no words that the man would want to hear. He knows the kind of work he does. But as Marcus hands over the pendant he extends a hand, giving Shale direct eye contact and a firm nod of respect, silently passing along the message between quiet men of violence of the acknowledgement of their burden. Then without further ceremony he turns and moves with the party to the city.
Marcus volunteers to take on a great deal of the packs, while also being reasonable enough to not make himself a liability. He also ensures he can easily drop them if the time comes for it. Marcus is liking the structure of this path. Clear rules and leadership. However he does raise an eyebrow at one point. "Don't listen to anything?" He inquires.
Marcus lowers his bow with an arched brow, but once he recognizes what's going on he lets up on the string and returns the arrow to it's place in his quiver.
Marcus keeps an eye on all the passerby's, but keeps his silence, adding to the "not aggressive nor friendly" crowd. He's all to happy to accept Magda's heading on the shorter route. No need to delay.
Trinia looks up and seems surprised, ”that’s interesting- what are they doing?” "Sizing us up." Marcus casually reaches into a side pocket of his backpack, pulling out a whistle. He places it in his lips, then draws his bow and knocks an arrow. "If you've got flashy magic, now's the time. See if we can make them reconsider us as worth fighting." He draws back, aiming high, and holds the string, eyes following the flying creatures.
Marcus retrieves his carved onyx gem, then pauses and frowns. "I've got a cleric of Zon-Kuthon I can contact, but I don't know if the magic will work in this room, and I don't know if we want to risk talking about it outside this room." He looks to the others for their thoughts.
Marcus starts to partly zone out as the more educated members of the party begin considering their approach, but then his eyes sharpen and his brows furrows in confusion. "I...I think I know where we should go. I'm pretty sure I saw Laori have a painting of some humanoid with blue scales. If this is Zon-Kuthon related, she might know more." He looks as surprised as anybody that he was the one with the insight to start unraveling this mystery.
Marcus grunts in approval of Trinia's handling of the situation. There are more important things at stake here. Hell the woman Marcus is seeing now has stabbed him on more than one occasion, so these two can at least be cordial.
Marcus almost considers the vague idea of possibly a faint smile upon hearing the information. "Well, this has just gotten real simple. Power corrupts. Take the crown. If it was controlling her, we're done. If not, take her head too." However when Neolandus mentions invulnerability his frown returns in full force. "Less simple. Sounds like we have some reading to do." He pauses. "Invulnerable, do we know if we can just take it off or not though? Any magic b$+@#!~~ about making it impossible to take off?"
Marcus shakes his head at the tenseness between Kali and Trinia. He's had men plot his death that he now works with. Does take time though. And Trinia already seem unbothered; judging by the new collection of scars she's had more attempts at opening her flesh lately so Kali's transgression may not even be in her recent memory anymore. "Looks like you've got some extra scars here and there, uh? Don't advise being hit in the first place." Marcus's frown turns into a sneer. "We don't all have the luxury of occupying the back line."
Marcus Level 10! HP: 6 (base) +2 (con) +1 (FC) = +9hp
Could use some advice on feats, posted in discord.
Marcus, in disguise, awkwardly pats Magda's shoulder like a dog, with a pained grimace that is his attempt at a lover's smile. It would have perhaps been a better disguise to simply throw a tarp over him. Once at the safe room, Marcus nods to his bride-to-be's handing over of the money. He was sick of all the subterfuge and would happily pay for a safe room at this point.
Marcus cocks his head at Aru's words. After a moment he nods. It was a good point. He never had thought too deeply about this harrow business, but it had impacted him previously. After the barge runs aground, Marcus hops over the edge and hauls it up to a stable position. Once the others are out he helps Vera, keeping his hold after her feet are on solid ground. "Trust in your strength, you have more of it than you realize." He squeezes her shoulder reassuringly, his face full of confidence for her future.
Marcus's harrow was fairly simple this team. He nods in acknowledgement to it but there isn't much to process. He does, however, respond to Vera's plight. His frown turns to a scowl as she cries. He throws his card back into the pile with distaste. "F&%# fate, you do what you want Vera. We can secure him against the queen and you can stay with us. The choice is yours."
"Yes... I'm a rock" she answers her friend, though her voice does not sound like stability, instead like sinking. Marcus has largely descended into solitude and silence as they retreat, but he grunts when Magda speaks. "Rocks become weathered. Steel rusts. Both require maintenance." He gives her a hollow look for a moment, then turns back to the water. "Keep an eye out. We're not safe yet."
When she suggests the other Marcus is alivd, Marcus swears. "F&+$ing magic." It was the only explanation. Why have expectations anymore? He is happy to accept the barge, and suggests they talk while on it to ensure a bit more privacy.
Marcus looks at Vimanda with a twinge of annoyance; although it does not seem directed at her, rather the implication of a betrayal. "A deal was made. The deal will hold." He states firmly. Marcus considers her words carefully. "There will always be leaders in society. A nature to dominate need not be destructive, if well tempered and guarded. I am...cautiously optimistic. If you need manpower-" He hands her a business card. "-my doors are open, Meliya." He offers a handshake, and then their business is done. As they sort through the spoils with Yazi, Marcus nods gravely. "We should visit, ask their current needs, then plan accordingly."
Pure Liquid Wealth
Possible to Argue About
Items to Claim or Sell of Half
Return to Vencarlo
Marcus, breathing heavily, sheathes his sword. "A deal was struck, the deal will hold. We would take our spoils though, for it was paid in blood at least twice over."
Marcus's eyes practically bulge out of his head for a moment, then he catches what's going on. He slowly and casually walks closer to the conversation to close the gap, letting his weapon relax for the moment.
Marcus growls, throwing off the magic and continuing his pursuit.
Marcus immediately charged, blade swinging high and chopping down! [Ooc]Charge! Hopefully a hit and should be overcoming DR.[/dice]
Marcus attempts to shove through some of the hidden spots of the courtyard to blindly find Bahor.
Marcus takes a swing but the monster is incredibly difficult to strike.
Marcus grimaces at the chaotic nature of the combat. Knowing his magically enchanted weapon is one of the few ways to cause sure progress, he continues his chopping, having few other options, knowing his maneuvers would be difficult and at best only inconveniencing.
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