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Tholan's eye turns to the torches licking at the roof, and he sighs heavily. "Trying to burn down a perfectly good tavern. Waste of good alcohol." His hand glows with force and energy and a torch flies from the roof into his hand. He turns to the innkeeper as he drops the torch to the stones. "We need water, quickly. Where can we get some to douse those flames?"
With a grin, Tholan trots up to stand looking down at the Octopus, power surging through his arms into his blade. His blade flashes down, striking at the Octopus. "What a vile human he was. We're all much better off without his kind of filth." He turns an assessing eye over to the surrendering soldier, looking at his brother and shrugging.
Tholan grunts as he hears the Mimic's shriek and the thuds of he torches. "Pathetic idiot. At least Gorum will have his due tonight." Tholan strides forward until he stands just inside the door, beginning to spin his blade into a whirring hum. As he reaches the door, he murmurs a final benediction over all present, a rippling light spreading out to envelop both allies and foes.
With a heavy yawn and a nod to his brother, the Drolleye begins chanting a prayer to Gorum, calling on his blessings as they prepare to bring another sacrifice to the Lord in Iron.
Tholan nods as the wizard takes his leave over the edge of the building, and strides down the stairs. "Aye, brother. But the old man wants this done quickly. We take the loud one, leave the rest unless they get in the way." Tholan grins, swinging his blade in fast arcs around his body. "It's like when we used to fight with an arm tied, or half a sword. The challenge makes it more interesting."
Tholan looks over his shoulder with a grin. "Kill everyone, eh? That always sounds good." He chuckles, hefting his blade up onto a shoulder as his other hands scratches at a heavy beard. "Hm. I hate to draw too much attention, but his prying is a significant threat. How likely do you think it is that we could kill him and steal away? I don't want us to get embattled here when we have more important work to do." Rolling his shoulders with a heavy sigh, Tholan turns to look at the old wizard. "I hate to walk away from a chance to spill blood, but you can't kill everyone you meet. Apparently."
Tholan nods to the wizard, eyes lingering on his skin which strikes him as a little paler than usual. Hm. Old man better not get himself killed going through that room. Settling himself at the top of the stairs, Tholan pulls War Dancer into his hand and swings it through a few quick spinning cadences to limber up his muscles.
Tholan furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head. And they dare call Thelkonlanders monsters. At least we raid for profit, instead of burn for pride. Quickly moving through the room to the front door, Tholan quietly cracks it open. Letting his voice blend with the sound of the crowd as he speaks the arcane words, he makes a gesture like an egg falling and cracking into his open palm, spreading his falling hand from a fist to cover the other. Grumbling, he walks to the barkeep. "I think the mimic might cause trouble for your patrons. It's suddenly cloudy out though, an a fog seems to have rolled in, if you want to send them home. He'd have a hard time spotting them through that bank." Tholan claps the man on the shoulder with a smile, and moves back into the crowd. After waiting a few moments, he slips upstairs in the confusion of the room.
Tholan looks around the room with a relaxed grin, letting his eyes linger for a moment on the Thelkonese scout. He raises his drink to his fellow raider and leans on his table. "Ach. These Southerners. Easily scared, eh? Still nice enough folk!" Tholan lowers his voice and leans in, letting the sounds of room cover his voice as he continues, "You may want to keep an eye on the old fool, to make sure he isn't grabbed by the pompous Mimic. Hate to lose such a funny friend," he says with a wink.
With a grin, the Telkonlander watches the Mimic retreat, chuckling at the petty man's bruised ego. He cheers along with the rest, adding his hearty roar to the din, and finishes his next drink in one long pull. He catches the old wizard's eye and Tholan nods to Thaegrin as if to say 'yes.' He turns back to his drink and the crowd, but keeps a cloudy eye and hairy ear open.
Tholan's huge from doubles up in laughter as Wizard carries on. He wipes a tear from his eye, a genuine grin spread across his face and laughter rocking his gut. As his chest rocks with laughter, Tholan turns a good-natured grin toward the Mimic. "Brilliant! The man's clearly an old jester, I'd hardly say he's a threat to you. Might be a threat to any local comedy shows though, he'll put them out of business." He throws back the rest of his ale, drinking it down in a large swallow.
Eh, we'll run with it, though I'd forgotten that. Bluff 25 in that case.
Tholan's eyebrows raise into his hairline, genuinely surprised. "The war is ending? This is news to me, and I'm glad to hear it. I meant that I think my people should look to a future with more than just reaving." Tholan is clearly on edge now, ready to defend himself, but does not adopt a hostile posture. "When I say unsanctioned, I mean that no one in Thelkon knows I'm here. I'm here to learn, and not about fortifications and defenses." Shaking his head, Tholan sighs to himself muttering, "I knew they'd jump to conclusions but this is ridiculous."
Tholan is slightly taken aback for a moment, then laughs. "Your culture is fascinating. Certainly far quieter than I am used to, but that's not bad. Very different from home. Your people are welcoming,
Tholan chuckles to himself with a smile and a little shake of his head. "I've seen enough battle to last most men a lifetime. The differences between Amerys and Thelkonland pique my curiosity. It occurs to me that there might be more to life for the Thelkonese than just battle." Tholan raises a mug to his mouth and takes a deep drink before continuing. "Though don't tell any other Thelkonlanders that I said as much." Tholan shrugs and stretches, muscles rippling beneath his skin as his joints crackle and pop, cloudy eyes wandering around the room. "I suppose it's a sort of scouting, though I'm not here to find battle. I'm more interested in the knowledge there is to be gained here."
Posting here so I don't delay pacing too much - Is the nationality of the man obvious? I can post in gameplay with rolls if needed, but will need to make at least a guess to know how Tholan responds.
Tholan smiles and gestures to the man to come closer. "Come now, we're not here to start a war. If you've fought with us before, you know that we're reavers. When we're looking for a war, we don't hang about in the tavern and chat with locals. Come, let me buy you a drink. There's more to the Thelkonlanders than battle." He turns to the innkeeper. "The next round in here is on me."
Tholan grins at his brother, debating a further contribution regarding the importance of sheep to the man's immediate future, then pauses to look around the room and gauge the atmosphere.
I think this is everything that we have to sell: +2 Shortsword (4155gp)
16815gp total = 3363gp/Person Anything I missed?
Tholan laughs a low raspy laugh and says with a grin, "I'm afraid I'm not as inquisitive as you, brother. But I should be able to strike a fair bargain if we learn how much they're worth." Tholan's grin doesn't falter, but he lowers his voice. "We may want to find somewhere discreet to sell these. Don't want to draw too much attention, though drawing attention is most of what I'm good at."
Tholan grunts and looks around the room. "I haven't shed blood in hours. What do we think? Do we have a next stop in our tour of violence?" He grins and pats the hilt of his blade. "I'm sure someone out there in the big wide world deserves to die. Or at least wouldn't be missed too much."
Iron incarnate, it spins and weaves through battle leaving seeping stillness in the midst of chaos. The holes cut in lines don't fill, they remain gaping, crimson, soldiers shying away from the fallen. Utter destruction, the mass of blade and plate moves unchecked through lines of steel and flesh and life, and leaves only torn steel and broken flesh in its wake. The few blades which rise to meet it, or fall to strike at it, find no purchase in flesh or blood. The arms tear from the bodies which wield them, and soon there is only silence. Tholan wakes with a song of war in his heart, his pulse beating the steady metronome's hammer of war. "A day to seek out the beginnings to new battles," he hums out in a low rumble. He find a seat in the room, and begins tending to his blade, cleaning and preparing it for the next battle. Power thrums beneath his fingers as he hones the blade, and the magic drained from the day before slowly flows back into his being. Blade tended and magic renewed, he looks to his armor and gear. This second set of armor... It served me well, but I can only wear one at a time. With a sigh, he resolves to sell it when possible, then stows and packs his equipment. Prepared for the day ahead, Tholan leaves his room, and finds himself meat and bread and another flagon of ale to welcome the day. Pack secure and belly full, Tholan moves to the wizard's quarters.
Seeing no objection, Tholan leaves the room, heading downstairs and toward the edge of town. Finding a spot reasonably clear as far as his clouded eyes can see, he stretches his shoulders and murmurs, "May this task be done quickly, and the ale be plentiful." He then digs a pit several feet deep, taking care to heap dirt on any nearby plants or flammables, then tosses the body in. After lining the edge of the pit with stone, he spits on the corpse. "May the flames consume your body, and our Lord in Iron consume your soul." Tholan stares into the flames for a minute, then turns away to let the flames die down and the pit cool, unslinging his blade from his shoulders and using the minute to let his blade dance in the light of the fire, then the embers, then finally the light of the moon. Kicking the rocks onto the ash, Tholan jumps down and uses his increased weight and the covering of stones to crush the remaining bones to fragments, then climbs out and heaps dirt onto the stone. Finally done, Tholan returns to town to find a large flagon of ale, then sleep.
Tholan pauses to look over the body to see if anything of value has been missed, then grabs the body under one arm, and slings it up over his shoulder with a quietly exhaled curse. "No reason for any ceremony for this one, is there? Easily enough burned to ash." He walks toward the doorway, then pauses, turning back to those in the room. "Does anyone need any mending or care? No serious injuries sustained I hope. And should I move my quarters close by in case of any further trouble?"
Breathing slowly through his nose, Tholan closes his eyes, the flames flickering and dying, his blade glimmering and glinting with reflected flames as it's spin slows. As the last of the flames gutters and dies, his blade spins one more slow, lazy turn before it slips into its normal home across his back. "Pathetic wretches. Hardly worth the time it would have taken to cut them down." He sighs heavily, then his brow furrows. "We should check on the old man. He finds far less joy in battle, and he may not have had quite the enjoyable experience we have." Grabbing his half-full tankard of ale, he downs it in a big gulp as he moves toward the door, setting it down on a table as he passes. His fingers drum on his chest, a quiet prayer of thanks to Gorum on his lips as a light tinted pink instead of it's normal while emanates from his hand. "Are you injured, brother? Finish your tankard, I don't know what we'll find when we visit the old man, but there's no sense in wasting good drink," Tholan chuckles as he stands in the doorway, waiting for his brother.
Seeing the brief hesitation in their actions, Tholan steps back and roars, "Burn with me, little ones! Burn in Gorum's glory!"
Tholan's blade swings quickly, his eyes darkening as War Dancer spins in arcs around his body, cutting out at the foe who had injured him.
I don't... Did I look at damage? Where the hell is my brain? My bad.
As the knives score his body, a noise somewhere between laugh and roar tears out of his body. "Finally found your spines, did you? I'm sure those spines will make a lovely decoration on my wall." He grins as his blade swings toward the foe to his right, a shimmer of power glowing through his blade. . He adjusts his stance on his second attack, stepping back with his customary bloody smile.
Tholan's blade continues to dance in his hands as his brows furrow. "Your hesitation is your destruction. Gorum's wrath comes quickly to those who hesitate." The blade spins faster, his hand growing ever more sure as a thirsty grin spreads across his face.
A grin spreads across Tholan's face, his hand sliding to War Dancer, swinging it down and around himself, beginning to spin it in the first dance. "May your blood be a pleasing offering to our lord in Iron, your bones a shattered altar for the sacrifice, your soul a torn testament to his power." As he speaks, the familiar rhythm and low hum of his spinning blade swings ever faster, the dancing blade glinting as it catches the firelight in the room.
Tholan's eyebrows raise as the two figures appear, his hand scratching a bearded cheek. Looking closely over the two figures, his hands ball to fists as he strikes his forearms together, a prayer to Gorum accompanying the motion. In common, his voice fills the room. "What is your business here, shadow walkers?"
I propose that the somatic and material component for invisibility be drinking a mug of ale.
Tholan shrugs his shoulders. "Bah. Ledgers. If you need us, we shouldn't be hard to find, Father Time." With a grin, Tholan turns to his brother and nods vaguely in a direction. "Perhaps we will be fortunate enough to find some reminder of home in drink and slaves."
Nearly missing the familiar scuff of shoe on stone, Tholan's brow knits for a moment, and he sets his mug down. He glances to his brother and gestures with a nod toward the window. Then his face turns to a smile. Cracking his knuckles, Tholan stands at the ready for an armed opponent.
Closing his eyes, Tholan muses over the presented options. Crippling their war effort without open war... Supply raids? Infiltration? Hm. The codger will share with us when he's ready. Rivers of blood follow us wherever we go, there will be endless opportunity for battle. Pausing to allow a few moments of silence, Tholan nods his agreement. "We've travelled and... worked together long enough to learn to compliment each other well. I'd say we're best working together." He pauses for a moment, thinking, then continues, "I'm not fond of avoiding battle, but someone needs to stay around to keep the Wizard alive. He's yet to lead us astray in pursuing Rudianos' best interests." Tholan unconsciously begins to tap out the rhythm of a dance on his thigh. I'll need to hone my blade before we travel to further danger. No use in having a blade if it's stuck in a man's shoulder. Shame we can't reallocate more skilled slaves to the forges. A good blade is hard to find.
Joining his brother, Tholan falls into step, walking alongside him. Greeting the Grand Confessor with a nod, Tholan waves vaguely behind himself. "He tends to the business of the Rudianos, I'm sure he'll come to speak to you shortly. Is there something we can help you with, Grand Confessor?"
Standing in the market square, Tholan passes the time practicing with War Dancer, the vicious blade spinning in his hands as he moves through the increasingly familiar and comfortable steps, blade ringing as it slices through the air, the buzz in the pommel guiding him, but loses the rhythm and missteps, the momentum of his blade pulling him off balance. He sighs, measured but frustrated breaths heaving in his chest. He turns as he notices a commotion and noise among the slaves, moving closer to the water to see what it is. His clouded eyes gaze out across the water, but the cause of the commotion is still too distant for his weak eyes. Warily, he moves over to a nearby slave, War Dancer still in hand. "What stirs this restless air? Why the commotion among you?"
"What flag do they fly? Are the Rudianos finally coming to join us?"
Oh, we can add Tholan's old armor, value 11500 (5750 sale value) to the list of things to sell. Also, he looks a lot scarier now that he's in FREAKING HELLKNIGHT PLATE COVERED IN MAGICAL SPIKES
War Dancer is the name of Tholan's +1 Falchion. Nothing actually changed, just named the weapon.
With a yawn and a grunt, Tholan rolls out of bed. His mind plays over the carnage of the day before, and he smiles. Strapping his gear on, he steps outside, letting the sun wash over him. The day is always more beautiful when it has been fed with blood. He draws his falchion, pausing to look at the reflection of light in the damascene metal. Entranced, he steps to the side, the shimmering in the metal dancing in the morning light. He steps and swings and his feet follow the dancing pattern in the light, but he misses a step and the reflected light vanishes. The light in the metal has a rhythm. There is a dance in the blade. This... I will learn your war-dance, Gorum. He raises his blade, searching it's reflection until he again catches the sun on the blade. He begins to move, swinging his blade and moving so that he keeps the reflected sun in his eyes, the pattern of ripples and waves in the blade leading his steps until he trips on the root of a nearby tree. He staggers, catching himself but loses the reflection of the sun and the rhythm in the blade. He sighs, murmuring, "Gorum aid me, may I learn your war-dance this day." He takes his stance once more, finding the light more quickly this time. He draws a deep breath and begins to swing the blade again / , this time cutting perfectly through the air, a quiet ringing hum starting from the blade as he steps, each reflected mote of light on the blade spinning in another step of the dance. The blade swirls around Tholan's head, his weakened eyes closing as he finds the rhythm through the handle of his weapon, the hum growing louder now, pulsing as each swing cuts through the peak and trough of it's arc. "Gorum be praised, thank you for giving me the War Dancer to guide my steps in battle." He falls silent, still spinning and cutting, the pulsing hum emanating from the blade as it resonates through the air for a few quiet minutes. Finally, he slows to a stop, his breath coming quickly but evenly. "Gorum be praised, may I ever continue to cut." He sits, leaning his back against a tree, closing his eyes to meditate on what he learned in his dance, War Dancer across his legs.
As the first soldier strikes him, a shimmering pulse emanates from the band around Tholan's head. A shimmering longsword appears and begins to slash visciously at the soldier.
Tholan steps so his back is to his brother, and swings his falchion at the nearest interlopers.
With a roar, Tholan shouts and a pulse of light ripples out from him. "Blood and battle, blade and bone, may the blood shed today be a beautiful sacrifice unto Gorum!" A bloody gleam in his eyes, Tholan turns to his brother. "Let us shatter them, brother."
Tholan roars with delight at the gore, and steps back with a gleam. A dark purple pulse of light emanates from his hands as he shouts, "Toate se încadrează înainte pumnul uriașului." A ripling of light covers his body as he grows larger. Thelkonese:
All fall before the giant's fist Towering over the soldiers, Tholan roars an incoherent, ear-rending roar, his falchion brandished high. "None stand before Gorum's wrath!" He thunders at the soldiers.
Tholan slaps his brother on the shoulder with a roaring laugh and a glowing hand. [ooc]Cast Enlarge Person "Let us revel in this battle, brother! May this be a glorious sacrifice to Gorum!" With those words, he charges toward his foes.
As he quickly moves to follow the wizard, Tholan grumbles as he muses over his wounds. "My blood is a worthy sacrifice to Gorum, but our foes blood is far better spilled on this day." He pounds a hand on his chest, his hand glowing white as he begins to chant a low, deep, growling chant, one of the rhythms for rowing in Thelkonese. "Lo there, do I see my father,
He pounds his hand against his chest again, another white glow pulsing out as he begins the chant again, louder now, in a strong voice, drawing closer to their foes.
Tholan claps a hand to his brother's shoulder. "Brother, bring them to their knees before Gorum. I shall stand behind you in support." Enlarge Person on Ezkal As the glow fades from his hand and his brother towers over him, Tholan moves up, a bloody gleam in his eye.
Ezkal, you rolled mythic CSW - I halved the healing.
Tholan steps toward the group, swinging his blade at the remaining foe twice with a loud roar.
Tholan groans as the blades dig into him, and mutters out a chant.
The spell fizzles, and he struggles to his feet, trying to get himself moving toward Thaegrin.
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