Trent Walker's page

Ugh. Still feeling pretty lousy. But I think I'm coherent enough to get some posts together. Been taking care of sick toddlers while sick doesn't leave much energy (physical or mental) to catch up on PbP. I've fallen asleep while crafting posts several times, only to have the situations change by the time I wake. Hope to have something up soon.

"I'll agree with the Doc. We should head towards Narv. We can see what occupied territory looks like. Then either report back with our findings or do what we can to sabotage their supply lines."

"Fine, they live. For now." Trent sheathes his sword and moves to pick up Beck. As he gets closer he spots the man's rank insignia. What's this? He reaches out and wipes away a chunk of mud and blood. I was wrong. He doesn't outrank us.

He gets close to Ganterra as he lifts the unconscious soldier. "My apologies, I was mistaken. It looks like no-one is in command. I don't know how to make do with that."

"Since when did soldiers demand a vote?" Trent looks at Ganterra with suspicion. "That man is the ranking officer here and he says they die."

Trent has watched all this silently hoping to glean further information from their predicament, now he speaks. "That's as close to an order as we're going to get for a while." He points to the captives. "They die. Quickly. Then we move."

He turns to Ganterra. "Ok Doc, get him prepped to move. We're going to have to carry him, and it won't be gentle." He draws his blade and prepares to strike the closer prisoner.

"Well, if we're going to be hiding, we'd best head to one of those areas already cleared. If we can."

IIRC Beck was still unconscious.

"Vesper, what are they saying? Do they know anything of the invasion?"

Trent nervously looks around at the fallen Odish. I begin to mistrust this man. How do I know he isn't some Odish agent passing messages to these "scouts"?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

"Did we get them all?" Trent looks around, somewhat surprised that the fight is over with captives.

Trent slashes his big sword at the fallen opponent. "Doc, get under cover!"

Bastard Sword attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
Bastard Sword damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Trent turns to the enemy behind him J10, taking advantage of his likely prone state.

Bastard Sword attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Bastard Sword damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

And misses horribly.

Seeing that their hiding place is no longer secret, Trent moves forward at the nearest Odish soldier while drawing his bastard sword and readying his shield. Surprise Round

Blasted tree, they almost passed us by.

He moves forward to attack, swinging his mighty blade.

Bastard Sword attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Bastard Sword damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

"We must stay hidden. If any of them escape a fight to return to Odish forces with our position, we're done for. We only fight if we must and we make sure none return if we do fight."

By the way, I'm assuming I can take 10, and that Trent doesn't actually outrank Riley. Otherwise that post'll need changing. Lemme know if other wise.

Heh, didn't think about taking ten. Not like our skills are all that different (the whole group has a Survival skill between 5 and 7).

Rank doesn't mean much in this situation, Trent is just doing what comes naturally, or at least ingrained at home (noble born and bred). He'll gladly step aside for someone with more interest or experience. He doesn't tend to be an outside-the-box thinker.

Trent stops walking. "A woodsman as well as an archer? Good, go."

With a sigh Trent looks over the group. "We make camp. Camouflage it the best we can, put our best eyes in the trees. Vesper, Robert, you're archers, can you climb to get a lookout? Not too high that you can't get back down in a hurry if need be."

"I'll take a look around and see if I can find us some fresh water and maybe some food. Everyone try to stay in earshot. Otherwise we'll never know if you go missing."

Someone's gotta do it. All I wanted was to be a simple soldier. Now it looks like I'm in command. BAH!

He sets down his pack with Ganterra and Beck, and stalks off into the woods looking for food and water.

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

Trent marches through the forest with the ease of a man familiar with armor. His youth belied by his attitude, he acts like a man twice his age. Even in this disorganized rout, his gear is neatly stowed and his pack ready for inspection.

His close cropped hair is hidden by his helm, but the face visible shows the scars of many a battle where he stood and refused to fall. On his shield are the arms of a minor house from Clabbereton. He holds his chin up and back straight, even in this disheartening slog.

"That wasn't the way that battle should have gone. Where did those reinforcements come from?" He keeps his voice quiet. "Good to have a sawbones, I'll do what I can to keep you on your feet."

I'm all good to go.

I'm going away on a family vacation. I don't know what my Internet access will be like. I'll be back on Wednesday. Feel free to bot me if needed.

We should gather intel and then either harry their flanks, or find a way to rejoin the main battle. But that us just the career soldier talking, he can probably be convinced that other courses of action are just as valid.

Alias created and up to date.