Instinct takes the half-elf, and he follows suit the pack with which he's grown one with.
After his flail lobs into one of the figures, Vorelloex spits on his enemy.
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Vorelloex climbs into the room, giving no heed to subtlety, scanning it for any unwanted wizards.
With the hook of his axe and the ardor of his arm Vorelloex tries to rip the lock apart.
"I will go forth. Help me break the lock." His eyes burn with a golden fire. So close to what he deems exaction. He feels invincible, almost ancient. But Vorelloex knows not the depths of his subjectivity or the omens it brings. He just wants to break a necromancer's skull in. Vorelloex pulls his axe out of his beltloop and begins to try and break the lock with brute force.
"Chisok..." Vorelloex mutters under his breath as the group huddles around a useless scaled vermin.
"We are hunting for vile mages, and we are in haste. Follow suit if you will, but impede us or trick us and we'll gut you." Vorelloex had his mind on one thing: vengeance, however misplaced.
Vorelloex nods in agreement to the plots of his companions, and stands by, flail at the ready, prepared to destroy anything they cross.
The half-elf unwinds his flail, gives it a good twirl, and heaves the club-heads over his shoulder. "No. I'm thirsty." Vorelloex's dull eyes begin to flicker their usual shine again, not with his normal brute valor, but with a flash of rabid madness. He struts aloof into the cave.
"There." Vorelloex points to the blood trail curving behind the tree. Why didn't I see this at first... Chisohk. It's been too long since my last hunt... He follows the track behind the tree portal into wherever it would lead him. He doesn't wait for anyone.
The mountain man grunts out of fatigued frustration, and begins to wander back towards where he surmises the blood trail was left. "Come on, then..."
"You got this bro. Think of them like mammoths... wrassle 'em, hunt them down, slit their throats, drink the blood, victory mosh."
"Chisok! ...Let us leave this cursed place and find some beer. The hunt is fruitless." Vorelloex feels tired, which is an unusual place for him to be. He thinks of his brother and their younger days, when he never felt tired. It disturbs him.
The Tusk mountains were void of civil institutions, but not of tricksters. The glacial wastes gave many thieves places to hide, and one would be wise to keep a watch for those who strode above the frost without path. Ledir knew this well, and the scene before him brought him back to one such moment in his life where he did not heed the pathless walkers, and was slighted for it. Vorelloex sees the patch of mess beyond the last drop of blood, but scans farther out, near the horizon.
"This one is a trickster. The trail has not yet run cold, but where it rests I could not know... Chisohk!" Frustrated, Vorelloex darts in the direction he most thinks the sorcerer would go. He still does not like this portal'd place.
"If this is the same who has brought those we have met their ruin, then he must be a sorcerer. If he has the power to cleave a sap into a door like this, he may have other tricks... Beware." He sniffles.
Waiting for Hailey to react to us coming in lol I'm just kinda protecting her, and being superstitious, because barbarian am spookd.
"Chisohk... Hofibai zhaan ekess kothar grovisv ekess loreat..." Draconic:
"Damn... Fools running to die inside demon woods..." With a sort of annoyed countenance, Vorelloex decides to go into the tree after the girl, before anything witchy took place. He draws his flail, and scans the new realm before him.
"Was it everything you hoped for, Hailey? Let's go back now, before this tree steals our souls."
Vorelloex is stymied by the alien sight before him. It is something he has never seen before, and he does not like it. "This is... unsafe. We should leave it be and move on... and burn this tree down." The half-elf Kellid spits on the devil tree.
While they're talking, Vorelloex does what needs to be, severing head from spine in as subtle a manner as that could be done. He then awaits for the talking two to make their course of action set. He sniffles.
The half-elf pulls out his handaxe from its beltloop, ready to end the pained fellow below them.
Vorelloex nods, takes his flail out from behind his waist, and stands alert in silence.
"What are we looking for?" Vorelloex scans the darkness for any details or movements he can find.
"We've wasted enough time already. Let us move."
Back in the northern town wherever the group once was, Vorelloex ponders aloud of the others' travails. "Hailey, do you think that holy man has any chance? He'll turn into one of those we faced in the cave, right? It seemed a waste of time to me, not simply ending him before anything got out of hand..." Hanging around her as she researches her own tasks, Vorelloex who was once so accustomed to the silence of the hunt now finds chatter's absence slightly unnerving. His thoughts drift to the rumored forest of demons and fell things. It makes him tense, but not from fear. He feels ready.
Is the suffering priest making the venture with Calistria or is he gonna stay at home? I am confused.
Vorelloex has been silent, listening to the business, staying out of what he does not know. He does however, respond to Voryn's hunt offer with pointed eagerness. "Abominations will pay for their sins, sane or not." Vorelloex is wholly inspired by the loss of his brother to bring justice to this matter.
...or three
"As you wish. Relthas will be redeemed in the right war sooner or later." Vorelloex helps carry whatever's around to carry, and puts up no childish quarrels. As the troupe travels, his thoughts begin to wander to hunts past, of mammoth, mastodon, blood, meat, ice, victory, and family. And as his mind proceeds through the years gone by, Vorelloex begins to remember the most recent times. The faces and forms of those new memories were all different, but their souls were the same. Blood, glory, and kin. New days were ahead indeed.
Vorelloex bundles up and stows away his flail behind his waist after cleaning it up, and watches Voryn as he skins the pelts from the flesh. He veers his vision to the northwest, near the far-off peaks of his home. "Chisok. ...Back in the mountains my brother and I would go on hunting trips and not come home for months on end, and we brought back great hauls. I think it would be clever to make camp and draw them closer to us... It certainly wouldn't be hard for us... Save some time and resources. We can eat the meats." Vorelloex shrugs. He's not used to civility or the luxuries it ensnares people with.
I also donated 19gp and change. It's on pg 23 of the gameplay tyres thread. I was wondering about our xp, how much do we have post wolves?
Vorelloex dances not among, but through the wolves, thrashing one of them with an upwards sweep from his cruel iron flail.
He whistles at them like pups and boys at play as he aims to smash in their skulls. "Kwiip tsil kwiip rhyaex! Come 'n get 'em!"
"WELL ALRIGHT!" Vorelloex grins as he feels again the rushes he had learned as a small boy atop great mountain peaks. The hunt was on. He unravels his hefty flail as he advances towards his prey, baiting them out with his slightly 'inept' positioning. But it was a clear bait to the eyes of a hunter. He makes the fuss needed to make the hounds hunger.
Hey guise I might not post that regularly, I'm traveling in foreign lands until the 12th. But I'll be trying my darndest to.
Vorelloex whispers. "That's alright mate, we'll teach you to take 'em down. Like fish if you know how what they like... We should find a few rabbits actually. Bleed 'em and watch the hounds come running. Funny to watch, when it all goes down..." He stops rambling eventually and follows Voryn's lead.
Vorelloex looks at length into the stone slab, tracing his hand on the edge until his fingers slip from its corner as he walks around it, listening to the issues of his friends. Pondering the living and the dead. He speaks into both conversations with a sort of ancient wisdom, far beyond his years or normal manners. "Balance is bought with violence, it seems..." He sighs, and his deep eyes flicker from the gravestone to each face he has come to know. "The road ahead of us may not leave us without scars. Are you all prepared to face the demons beyond... ...and within?"
Vorelloex pulls a pouch from his belt, holds it in his hands, and looks at Rois. "Funds? Oh, yeah... By the way, aren't you the master of coins now?" He tosses the pouch at the soldier casually. "You can add that to our shared stores. I don't have much need for gold these days..." His eyes shimmer with the same substance of which he speaks.
Excited about the meager hunting job as well, Vorelloex slaps Garekk on the back and exclaims; "Ha! Let's make your clan proud of you! I'm sure we could bag 20 of these wee houndlings in our journey over to those demon woods... You think that sign'd pay for demon hides?"
Vorelloex does his thing, following Rois' lead... "Let us be off."
Vorelloex knows Voryn's mannerisms all too well. Being a man of wilds as well, however, he also understands that wounds should be left to heal on their own, rather than sticking fingers inside. He responds to him and Garekk in kind. "Let's go. It's too stuffy in here, and there's too much to destroy before us. For Relthas." He almost says his brother's name as if it were the name of an elder deity, pouring a brittle, formal blessing on his words and the tone of the situation. Vorelloex is poised today. His expectation is brimming, but not with the rash fury of before. Now, with a sort of crucibled vehemence, being refined. Purified. He finishes his plate of food, burps obnoxiously, then pays the shrewd owner for his dues, and is ready to go.
Vorelloex scans the little settlement with the eyes of a wolf in a pasture. He seems disheartened as he finds no sheep to play with...
"This one looks quaint. I don't think our demons, lycans OR wizards might be around here though... too silent." He then mutters to himself in draconic as he so often does... As if he were talking to someone invisible that understood him.
"What does that mean for our venture? Is this Tapis one of knightly code? Do you think he will get in our way?" Vorelloex' eyes seem a shade brighter today. Maybe not brighter per se, but perhaps with more luster. More edge.
With his white-gray woolen cloak hood covering his head, he paces around the cart making sure everything is in check, his boots squishing the damp muddy ground. This rain country... It's nothing like the Tusks. Vorelloex misses the hard crunched alabaster snow-littered gravel of his home, but is looking forward to hunting again. And in his experience, wretched men are wholly more fulfilling prey than the humble mastodon.
With the studious busy as bees, Vorelloex takes his day of rest behind the tavern the motley crew met up in, far and deep into the surrounding wood, thinking about the events which have passed, contemplating the future, blending with nature. Just as he achieves a state of full silence, full tranquility, he loses its grasp, and the sound of cracking trees is only the background of the cacophony of his thoughts and spirit breaking, growing, and stretching. He begins to mutter words in the tongue of his mother, uttering things he does not know. Words of rage, words of glory. Words of power.
Vorelloex didn't understand many things in this life, but today he felt as though he began to learn... To know. ...but what he knew not was that he would never be the same.
Vorelloex feels the gnome's furor and pain, and gives her a pat on the head. It's what he thought was the right thing to do at the time, and is moved by her story. Afterwards, he follows Rois, and in passing to and fro the Baron's, he strikes up ponderous conversation: "So, what is life like on your wall? Is there any hunting trade to be had there?"
Vorelloex understands the weight of what Rois says, and responds in turn. "Sthyr... Perhaps... Perhaps this is not a flash of death, but the beginning of a river. Let us make it flow with their red waters, and not our own." He doesn't necessarily like the sound of civil life, and all that that entails, or the idea of not returning to his frozen mountains, but a large part of Vorelloex knows that his life there that once was died with his brother and his pack. Maybe we can rest there... Drink and rest in it... After so long. ...BROTHER!!! I WILL MAKE YOU PROUD! LOOK DOWN FROM YOUR STARS AND SEE WHAT WE WILL BECOME! With a heaved sigh, and a grim yet hope-filled countenance the Kellid Elf-blood puts his hand on Rois to match.
Concerning the general speech and the talk of fighting and hunting tales of Garekk: "I have shared much of the same joys, friend. The wild is in us, bred through us. These articulated could never appreciate it..."
"In the Tusks we would learn from the mastodon before we took them. It was often said to 'not waste the wisdom of the meat' you partook in. Otherwise, you'd be cursed to lose the future hunt, and the strength of the mastodon would not be with you when facing adversaries..." Vorelloex finds great comfort in this conversation, and begins to consider Garekk as one much closer to kin than he did previously, however subconsciously. He then turns to his beloved soldier-man.
Even though he may come off as somewhat over-pious, this is a big tell that Vorelloex is much more vulnerable, and perhaps even desperate for someone to fill the void his brother left. If anything, most certainly he is searching for something he can move forward to.
"Indeed." For Relthas.
"Chisohk..." Vorelloex curses under his breath. This is going nowhere... What if they come while we are away? Relthas, I swear to you. I'll find her, and I'll make this whole damned country pay for your blood if I have to. He turns to Swift and Rois. "I don't think we're going to be gaining any information here. If we're going to protect the town, we should be there. He clearly isn't one of them." Vorelloex sniffles.
"Kii shilta ti si vdri drongilt..." Vorelloex is a bit strained from the late night of merry-making, and as he is kissed on the cheek, he is almost stunned! He just can't seem to process a lot lately. He scratches the crust off of his eyes, grabs some breakfast, and prepares for the day. He calls out to whichever of his companions is present; "So, now that we've cavorted and slept for ages, what are we going to do about the impending dead?" Obviously oblivious to the superstition and fear of the townsfolk...
Cool. What would you have the party do?
We should have a concise consensus on what everybody's character thinks that the party should do/is doing. Partially because... I am completely clueless.
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