Sorry for the part I had to play in this game's demise! But it was unavoidable.
Too bad...but I had fun while it lasted.
Search Posts
Mark, too, watches with a fascinated look on his face. Despite his newfound druidic powers, the lad is little more than an alchemist's assistant, and has never heard of magic that is effected through poetry.
Mark glances at the demon-infested humans doubtfully. "Looks like a powerful magic put the demons in there...think yours is strong enough to undo the enchantment? I don't mean to doubt you, I just don't see how monsters like those could go back to normal people." "And if that fails...we have her ice." he comments, gesturing at Adishana.
"Poor bastards," Mark comments, the druid staring at the men chained to the wall without blinking. "We ought to put them out of their misery, yeah? Kill them while they're still chained so they may get some measure of peace..." he glances over his companions, wondering if any of them could do the job while remaining out of arm's reach.
I'm here, I'm sorry, I'm really overwhelmed at work (still behind at this very moment,) and when I get home I have a newborn to look after plus I'm still exhausted from my work day. Generally when I get home I've been napping/trying to sleep in between feedings and changings of my baby boy. Posting in all my campaigns - I want to get on top of things again, hopefully this Memorial Day weekend will let me do that.
Mark yowls and pounces on the rats attacking Adishana!
Mark the cat dances among the rats, knowing them to be worthy opponents due to their size. Spending another Hold over his cat form, Mark lets his predatory instincts come to the fore, and his claws extend for their bloody work.
As a housecat, Mark feels perfectly suited for this enemy! MREOWWRRRR-HISSS! he cries, as he leaps among the swarm of his favorite prey animal! Spending 1 Hold to kill as many rats as you'll allow, DM!
Mark sits patiently on his hindquarters and watches Gregor force open the door, thankful that he's along for the trip.
Mark will signal with a meow when the room looks to be safe from danger.
The cat makes this face as he makes off toward the cave entrance.
The young druid speaks up. "I could change into a small and sneaky animal to scout ahead for us." Mark smiles a little hopefully, trying to make himself seem useful for the new group he finds himself with.
Gain hold 3 and Mark shapeshifts into a housecat.
Adishana's fascination with unfeeling machines is understandable, but it is a mistake. Caleb has a dark past. I find myself fascinated with what exactly it could be. Gregor and I are kindred spirits, in a way. We both wish to prove ourselves in battle against the enemy. I am concerned that he may not care whether or not his enemies are righteously slain, however... Vanessa looks clumsy. I wonder how she will handle herself in combat.
Mark Talbot didn't imagine that he would be selected to become a druid. For most of his seventeen years of life, he was raised among civilization's trappings, as an assistant to an alchemist. One day, while ranging far afield gathering ingredients for his master's latest crazy experiment, he came upon a druid battling a group of illegal poachers. Not knowing anything about the conflict, Mark nonetheless saw one man versus three, and knew who needed help more. He stepped in, and with his help, the druid was able to triumph over the poachers. However, in the struggle, the druid himself was mortally wounded. With his last moments, the druid, who called himself Malun of the Wastes, implored the Earth Spirits to pass on the knowledge of nature's magic to this altruistic young man. Malun passed away within moments of making his plea, and Mark, not understanding what had happened, went back home to think. Before he did, though, he set loose the creature that was being held captive by the poachers - a stag of tremendous size with an impressive crown of antlers. Without a second glance backward, the stag bounded away into the forest as soon as he was freed. The spirits came to Mark that evening in a dream while he slept, in the shape of the stag he rescued. The spirit told him that the lands needed a protector in Malun's absence. Since Malun had no protege, Mark would take his place; having already shown his strength of character. Mark had been searching for a purpose all his life, and this coincidental encounter in the forest provided the drive he had always been looking for. He left his master the very next morning to live among the rocky plains and steep slopes of Ere Fallopa, his homeland. This was two years ago. Now, having mastered the basics of shapeshifting and living off the land, Mark has found a true test of his skills - Chiesa the Unspeakable. Little was known about the mysterious hermit who lived in the caves near the sea's shores; but one thing was for certain, the animals and plants - all life, in fact - shunned the area. It was for this reason - and the advice of the animals he spoke to - that Mark sought out a group of mercenaries who were after plunder in the Unspeakable's cave. Their motives were selfish, but they would do. Mark would have intercepted your group when you were on your way leaving the nearest town to Chiesa the Unspeakable's Caverns, and offered his assistance as a guide and protector. Living in the wild has made the human's hair wild, and his practical leathers weather-beaten and dirty; but he commanded an air of seriousness that belied his appearance. He also has shoulder armor that is fashioned from the petrified antlers of a mature stag. His constant companion from when he became a druid is with him also - a tall stag he calls Windhoof. It provides no combat advantages - yet.
I had fun while it lasted, thanks for letting us know.
Mark is the first to hop down off his horse and help the druid to move the horse's carcass off the road and into the forest. He even closes his eyes for a few moments of silent, personal prayer over the fallen animal, before returning to the caravan to proceed onward. Mark likes animals.
Mark rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, see, I thought you meant the whole animal...makes sense.." he falls quiet, internally berating himself for not seeing the logic of it sooner. He focuses on unloading his gear from the back of his horse, preparing to help make camp.
It's Mark's turn to drop his jaw. "Listen, I'm all for giving the poor beast a fair treatment, but we don't have time to butcher all...several hundred pounds of horseflesh," Mark says, waving a hand vaguely to gloss over his lack of knowledge about the weight of horses. "It'd take too long to properly butcher and salt all that meat. Let the scavengers have a free meal, I say."
Mark has seen animals being slaughtered before, even horses, but he has never grown used to it or grown to like it. Mark doesn't even enjoy eating meat, actually. Killed because of a wealthy man's impatience to wait a few seconds. Goes to show how much he values the lives of others, the fighter thinks to himself, not bothering to mask his contempt for the man as he rides past.
Mark nods quietly in acknowledgement and checks the others' reactions.
Mark doesn't even know what fair compensation for a horse would be, except that it would be likely more money than the young man had ever seen in one place in his life. He glances over at Kenn inquisitively. "What do we need more, gold or horseflesh?" he asks. "If we decide the gold's a fair trade, I'd be willing to trade away Silkie, she's been a good horse in the limited time I've known her." the young fighter taps his palm against the neck of his horse a few times, affectionately, and with a slightly wistful expression on his face.
Mark just pulls his horse up short and lets his hands rest easily on his thighs, keeping a wary eye on the men. In his experience, anyone who could afford to buy a full set of armor was too wealthy to be trusted.
Oh yeah...I should have probably considered that Mark has no ranks in Ride at all...maybe I should've ridden in the wagon, but screw it, I like horses.
I'll ride a horse, and take either a first or last watch. Not having darkvision, it's best if I have some light to see by, at dawn or dusk.
Mark grins widely as he holds up the coat he was given for inspection. "Ooooh...I like how many pockets this thing has." he chuckles as he swings it around over his shoulders, marveling at the feel. "Real fur!" he says, still chuckling, and with a faint tone of amazement in his voice. "Call me...Lord Talbot," he says, mockingly affecting a deeper, more distinguished voice, better suited for nobility. He makes a frou-frou hand gesture as he speaks. Once he finishes messing around he'll load up his gear. His clothing and sturdy equipment he puts into a large backpack, cunningly designed to distribute weight evenly; he also bears a huge, heavy suitcase marked FRAGILE and keeps it within arms' reach when he boards the caravan.
As the fighter, it's going to be most expensive to get me kitted out. I'm not the best at min/maxing equipment choices in Pathfinder, though...I'll try to find something heavier for myself.
Mark slowly raises one eyebrow at Kara's "I'm-just-a-silly-girl" routine, wondering if anyone was fooled. He tries not to show his reaction to Stanes, but he knows that Stanes can read him like a book. Mark has never had a good poker face.
Mark is listening carefully to Kara's astute questions. He's glad that the halfling is so ready and willing to display her knowledge of such things. In Mark's experience, letting other people know you were smart just made them hate you. "Better to be thought of as a dumb lout, so that the endeavors of the mind that you undertake may be done in secret, away from prying eyes of nosy neighbors." He could remember every word his mother told him as if it were yesterday. The fighter gives a shake of his head and puts a grin back on his face, pulling from his mug briefly. "War, yeah," he says, after finishing the ale, "What is it good for?"
Mark brightens. "When I was apprenticing under Master Alabar, he would send me to Restov's Central Park quite often, to gather material components for the alchemy he was always performing. It's not far from here, I can take you!"
Mark gives a wave and squints in the bright sunlight. Blinking a little, he says, "We're with the Mayor...he said you're to provide us passage on your caravan? Who's got the papers from the Mayor's assistant dude?" The fighter glances over his shoulder at everyone else.
My wisdom is fairly low, but I hit things real hard.
Mark smirks right back at the half-elf and affects a princely bow. "At your service, milord," he says, in a jesting tone. He holds the front door of the Ruby Guesthouse open for the druid, sweeping one hand outside as if to say "after you." He spares a wink for Brynwyrdd as he walks past. He chuckles as he follows his party out and leads them toward the front gates of Restov.
Mark grins a pained grin at his friends as he finishes putting his tunic on. "Ahhh, I'll miss this place," he comments in a ribald tone. If he sees the proprietor anywhere, he'll flash him a thankful smile and a wink, saluting him with the wine bottle he brought down from upstairs. He takes another swig, feeling a little lightheaded; he's sure the feeling will pass. Just need to come down gradually. "My head feels like it's been trampled underfoot by the entire Market District at once, but I'm still ready to get going! Shall we begin our adventure?" the fighter asks his traveling companions, glancing from one to the other.
Thanks, it's appreciated. I should be fully up to speed again soon - tonight is the carpet installation, we move back in tomorrow morning.
My apartment flooded at 2 AM this morning...I'm beyond overwhelmed right now :'( Please don't expect anything of me today and possibly tomorrow. I will get back up to speed ASAP.
Nobody has to teach me the rules for the games the girls and I are playing! Oh ho ho ho ho!
The door to Talbot's room upstairs opens briefly, and one of the serving girls exits, giggling. You can hear a man's voice shouting "Fetch more pillows! Quickly, or I'll set my switch on..." - it's cut off when the door closes again.
Mark sets down his ale and stands. He feels a huge belch coming, but remembers (at the last minute) that he's in polite company, and manages to keep his mouth closed over his burp. He pats his chest with his fist a moment, and grins widely at Alam. "I'd like to see the girls, upstairs, sir Belesis. I'm about to risk my life in a grand adventure, and I'd like to have some memories to remind me why! Ahahah!" he winks at the dusky brunette.
"Never let a halfling play matchmaker for you, Doc Schwartzer always said!" Mark comments, smirking at the pair. "That table looks open. Barmaid! Some honeyed ale!" "I heard their honeyed ale is famous," the fighter confesses to his friends.
Talbot elbows Brynwydd. "D'you think that ruby you gave them covered a few rounds of ale on the Swordlords' tab?" he gestures at the bar to the left with a grin.
Mark grins, exposing his teeth, and nods enthusiastically. "Too expensive to even allow me in the front door, before. I can't wait to see the luxury for myself; it's famous in this area of Restov."
"This is where my expertise ends," Mark confesses as they stand before the Guesthouse. He glances sidelong at Brynwydd. "That big red rock the Mayor gave you should come in handy to get us past the bouncer, if we tell him it's for the proprietor. What did the Mayor say his name was, Alam?"
Mark can't help but smirk at the arrogance of the half-elf, but doesn't comment. Sometimes arrogance is well-deserved. Time would tell. "C'mon guys, it's a few blocks this way to the main thoroughfare, that'll take us to the Ruby Guesthouse fastest. We can leave our heavier traveling gear there while we take care of whatever last-minute errands we need to handle." With a wave over his shoulder, the young human will lead the way through the city, navigating the crowds with confidence born of a lifetime of living here.
Mark nods willingly and sets off into the streets, holding the door open for the others and nodding goodbye to their benefactor.
Mark's eyebrows go up at the mention of the Ruby Guesthouse. He nods in appreciation. This assignment is already paying dividends.. he thinks to himself, turning to Brynwyrdd. "Let's be off, shall we? I want to drop off some stuff at our room and then buy some last-minute things before we go."
|