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Wild scratches his bald head for a moment, then snaps his fingers when a brilliant plan begins to form in his mind. Hmmm... Tricky. Tricky. Tricky. How would a strong, mighty warrior handle this? Ah ha! Yes! That's it! He quickly shoves the bed aside and suddenly jumps up to kick through the door as hard as he can. "Ah HAH HAH!
I don't have any strong opinions one way or the other. I've never used Discord for pbp before so I'd need to learn it also if we decided to switch.
Wild points out the hidden trapdoor under the bed to the others. "Look. Look. Look! A floor door! Lots of killers go deep down underground to hide. This one must be a very sneaky killer..." He squats down near the bed and begins to examine underneath it.
Along with the groups' festive musings, Wild smiles when he remembers the bottle of healing liquid hidden away in his dirty kilt pockets. He takes it out and quaffs it sloppily. "A little drink. A drink. A drink to help me think."
A moment later, he steps up to where Robin is positioned and sniffs the air. "Smells like a good door to me." He opens the door casually...
"No. No. No. Runes are not art." Pointing at the wall. "Runes are messages. This one says "Skreed". Probably a great big orc... or a tribe... or a warning... or a latrine. Orcs use words for all kinds of things. Whatever it is, we should still eat their snakes." Wild stands up and collects the serpentine remains as best he can. He hands the juiciest morsels to Purg. "You can cook these, yes? Meat makes might."
Wild adds to the conversation with Robin and Ranhild's speculations. "Yes! The killer thief is here waiting to be killed. We must bring to them the End. Take the knife. Take the life..." He sort of rambles off to himself, then sits down near the rock wall covered in jagged runes and begins to tend to his bizarre, mechanical weapon. "Eat the snakes. Eat the poison. Poison the weapon. Poison the killer..."
Feeling reinvigorated, Wild steps back into the fray alongside his companions but with far less fervor than before.
The blade of his weapon churns to a halt as it fetches nothing but air.
A flash of clarity and despair appears on Wild's face as he recognizes his companions. Thanks to Vethorm and Robin's words of warning, Wild reverts his stance toward the enemy and strikes.
It is clear that his wounds and the poison coursing through his veins are beginning to take their toll. He steps back toward the rock wall to brace himself after an off-balance attack. His rage fades...
Wild stares at his own blood dripping down his arm for a split second, then attacks the large snake with a garbled roar. He yanks the cord on his crafted glaive forcing it to sing its rusty tune. "BLAOR!! GAWARRAW!!"
Blinded by his uncontrolled rage, he swings far too wide and ends up facing the other direction toward his companions.
Wild raises his fist and cheers loudly at the poor snake's demise. Unfortunately, he fails to notice the greater danger before it's too late. "AROOO!!... OWW!"
"Purg is right! Don't let lunch get away!" Wild turns and chases after the runaway snake, stabbing far in hopes to skewer it.
Wild cackles in response to the slithering onslaught and just keeps swinging. AHA HAHAH!"
Wild takes the cue from Vethorm and rushes through the door with violent intent, growling in orcish as well. „Přijdu blíž a teď tě vykuchám! Roar!“ Orc:
"I'll come closer and gut you now! Rawr!"
He swings his glaive "wildly" at the nearest not-dog.
Suddenly pulled from his thoughts as if struck by an epiphany, Wild beams with joy at the old man's suggestion to go to the Plague House. "Yes! That's it! To the trolls and giants is the way we must go!" He looks up at Ranhild. "It is good that you know these creatures. I've seen them too. Very strong. We need strength."
Does he know of the great calamity? Is that why he hides? I know what's coming too!! Excitement builds within Wild as he prepares to launch into a big speech about the end of the world... but instead he pauses with his mouth agape. No... That's not it. It's not time yet. Is it? Lost in a war of thought with himself, Wild only manages a silent tirade of confused facial expressions.
"Plague House! Yes! We should go to the place NO ONE goes! The god shamans here say I have a plague leg now so I am ready!" Wild nods excitedly at Purg's suggestion. He then looks at Vethorm and smiles. "We made promises to go to there during yesterday's darkness, remember? Today is good too. If Katrezra oracle is old and smart, looking for truths like us, he will be there. Talking is not seeing."
"As you say. Some kind of disease... Good for a new scar maybe. That happens sometimes." Wilds smiles at the concerned priest. "Do not fear. I will not die from disease! AH HA HA!"
Wild nods at Purg. He slaps his now healed bruise but winces slightly in pain. "Right. Got me right in the leg, stinking wolf pup! Got any good medicines here?"
Wild was unsure of what to do after everyone departed to their respective lodgings in silent contemplation of the day's events. His own thoughts raced through the length of his past up to the present. This wasn't his home and he felt starkly alone. The others didn't seem to understand how empty it becomes, to lose one home after the next. One family after another. Or maybe they did understand? Rodrick clearly meant a lot to the townsfolk here. Enough to fight and die for. He was as good as kin to all it seemed. But Groetus teaches that nothingness is the ultimate goal of life. It must end. We must all die... His vision clouds with ash and smoke, rivers of lava washing across the lands above and below. Suddenly, he finds himself screaming inside the halls of the Ramblehouse as if suffering a lifetime of pain all at once. But somehow still alone. Was it just in his head? He looks around in a panic and sees the door to Purg's room. He thinks to knock but hesitates. Madness has a cost, he thinks. He's lost his key. His leg hurts but he cannot stay here. He keeps walking until he's outside once again and feels the warm night air on his skin. To the Stones! We must go to the Barterstones. The guards at the gate don't question his desire to leave town and happily oblige his somber request to open up. Laying upon the cold, hard stones beyond the walls, Wild finds some measure of peace in his solitude before the dawn breaks. Gently nudged awake by a merchant wanting his stall space, Wild hops up in a jolt. Without a word, he wanders around until he finds his companions gathered and talking. "All not dead? Back to the killer finding, yes!?"
Wild nods in agreement at the drunken man's hopelessness. He whispers softly, almost like a prayer. "We all find salvation in nothingness. Those that know the End Times and those that don't." After several moments, he looks up at Robin an offers a suggestion. "If nobody seen the murder-maker, maybe somebody smelled the stinky tattoo-faced, yellow-haired half-orc? We need a smell tracker!"
"Bah! Freedom Town is not free!" Wild balks loudly at the mention of the place, having recovered most of his strength. "Full of thieveses and fail takers better off dead. Shattered Moon Clan have nothing worth taking. We made some dead and then run. Run. Run. Run..."
Wild shambles slowly over to Hilde, dripping with blood and dragging his spinning glaive in the dirt along the way until it stops. "I feel... pain. The green blade stings. Did we kill the killer?" He looks at Hilde then around at the bodies of the fallen.
Wild hops up and down hooting and hollering nonsense, even more profoundly than usual. It quickly becomes clear that he has lost control of himself completely. He pounds his chest violently with the business end of his cestus while howling in the orcish tongue. Orcish Rants:
"Red blood spills green blades! Silver shines the path of failure toward DOOM! Death smiles at the wet ground!"
As suddenly as the madness erupted, Wild then stands silent. He gazes blankly forward without noticing the flood of crimson pouring from his freshly opened wounds.
Wild continues yelling and begins to laugh maniacally. "Madness! The fools bring green blades to a red fight and they call us mads!?"
He yanks the cord on his weapon, causing the serrated blade to sing a rusty melody. Then launches a reckless spinning attack on the thug who slipped by Ranhild, narrowly avoiding his adjacent allies.
Wild comes barreling around the corner after Vethorm, into combat. He draws his ripsaw glaive with smooth instinct and charges at the nearest thug, yelling as he runs.
Rabus checks on Wild. "You know," he says to the strange gnome. "In your excitement, your wound seems to have opened. You're bleeding."
Wild stares intensely at Rabus for a moment then down at his wound and cackles loudly. He suddenly splashes the entire mug of ale all over his bitten flesh, making a crimson-tinted pool of alcohol on the floor. " Now there's blood on the ground!" Mere seconds later, Wild jumps off the stool and bolts for the door. "VETHORM! WAIT FOR ME! The signs have spoken! We still have revenge to do!"
Wild inhales deeply before delivering his rebuttal to Vethorm in an equally raised voice.
He takes a second to breathe and lowers his tone.
Sharing his signature crooked-toothed smile momentarily for dramatic effect, Wild then plops down onto the seat properly and faces Rabus in a sheepish voice. ”Got any mushroom brew?”
"Not the killer say you? Hmph!" Wilds huffs at Robin and relaxes his offensive stance. It seems the old guard and Vethorm will not be bloodying themselves over harsh conversation this evening. I do not understand the townsfolk here. If these were full blooded orcs or hryngar, we'd all be knee deep in gore for slinging words like that... Perhaps the undrunk man will know more. He slowly retreats to the counter and climbs onto a stool, standing on its seat to match eye height with Rabus. "Hail Drink Keeper! We seek the Inn-Killer for revenging. What killers passed through these grounds this day?" He looks around from side to side. "And where are your blood pits?"
Wild beams at hearing Vethorm's story. "Yes! House like that is sacred. Walls and locked rooms do not keep you safe from doom. Scary place!? Yes.. but sacred. We will take our guts and go after together. All the bravest are welcome." Blah! Can't try to blame me for the human's death if I don't stay at that Ramblehouse anymore. Lost my room key anyway... He stays close to the half-orc for the rest of the walk to The Killin' Ground, even all the way up to the bar. When the drunken man lashes out at Vethorm with insults, Wild interjects with raised fists ready to strike but looks back for confirmation. "AH HA! We have you at last! This IS the killer we kill now?"
Scratching his bald head for a moment, Wild responds to Robin. "Hmm. Don't know town dwelling here. So much light... but empty, dark places are best. Old places. Lost places. Places no one goes. Groetus shows seekers of respite to seek ruins." He looks up at the dainty human inquisitively. "Know you these places?"
Disheartened and slightly confused by all that is happening, Wild resolves to move on with the others toward their next destination. "Cannot fight sadness here. Killing Grounds will be better: Stew food and vengeance." He speaks with Purg and Robin along the walk, but not quietly enough that others cannot hear. "No need for me to rest yet with the Ramblehouse not safe to us now and a killer loosed and uncaught, stabbing sleepers. If we do not deal out death before dark, we could hide somewhere unknown. Secret is safer."
Wild grins widely and applauds Purg's oratory performance, starting off with a slow clap in hopes that others will join in.
"Killin' Grounds sound like a right place to find a killer to me. I will go to there." Wild responds to Vethorm with a bit more of his usual enthusiasm. "And if a fight on the ground, the killer wants! I will give it!"
Wild finishes up his thorough investigation of Urnsul's belongings before departing Clamor with the group. He snatches up the leftover rations for a snack along the way. "Killers are harder to hunt with a grumble belly." He offers to share the rations with the others. "Food?"
Wild follows along with the group, arriving at Clamor. Without much to contribute to the conversation, he simply listens for a time. When Magin nods at Urnsul's unused bedroll, Wild begins poking around behind the forge to investigate.
He unfurls the bedding and gives it an olfactory inspection.
Just so you know, Trisane_Imphawke, I, Archpaladin Zousha, the player, find Wild's antics hilarious, even though it seems he and Vethorm are off to a rough start (more due to Vethorm's baggage than anything Wild's actually done). ;) Awesome! I'm having a blast with the character and our interactions so far as well. Looking forward to unearthing more of everyone's backstories together. I know I'm walking the fine line between comic relief and chaos so if anyone ever feels it too disruptive to the game, please let me know and I can reel it in.
Wild looks up at Vethorm and replies as if it should be obvious. "Old orc medicine. Learned from High Prophet Hakzug of Shattered Moon clan. You don't know it?"
Wild paces around mumbling apocalyptic nonsense to himself while the tall folk do the talking. "Days... weeks... months... years..." He then plops down unceremoniously onto a nearby rock and attempts to cover up his wounds with a mixture of mud and grass. He clearly has no idea what he's doing, having generally relied only on his natural fortitude to survive in the past.
Wild is momentarily stunned by Vethorm's sudden outburst. He stares in awe of the half-orc's commanding presence but soon joins in the ruckus himself, still bloodied from the encounter.
When more authoritative figures arrive on the scene, he tones down the volume to whispered mumblings. What's all this about rabies?
"Rabies will not kill me... only rivers of fire... smoke and stone..."
As the last wolf drops to the ground, Wild takes a moment to wave around the apocalyptic banner attached to his glaive in defiant celebration. "Hoo ha ha! We do not die today!" He then joins Hilde in examining the fallen creatures, giving the nearest wolf a forceful kick to ensure it's dead. He is also clearly wounded and has no idea what he's looking for.
"Babies? YES! Very small biting babies. Bites me they did! But only on the outside."
After enduring a few bites and reddened with blood, Wild gets back on his feet again. This time he howls at one of the remaining wolves, gnashing his crooked teeth while stepping over its fallen packmate. "AROOO!!"
Seeing only a threat to his new clan in the form of ravenous wolves, Wild forgoes the opportunity to identify them. He removes his ripsaw glaive from its binding and charges into danger with a loud growl. "Grrr... Aaarrgghh!"
After arriving with the group in the stranger's room and fruitlessly searching around a bit, Wild exclaims his prophecy. "See!? Empty! Glorious nothing! Groetus shows us the way. Ah ha ha!"
Somehow managing to glean their next destination from the group conversation, Wild pipes up abruptly. "Clamour house! Yes! Orcs make good weapons. Big weapons. It is good that you know weapons. Good makers mark their weapons. I know weapons too!" He shows the others some weapons from his arsenal that he crafted recently. Though made in haste, they do appear sturdy enough. "If clan-friend Purg wants a hopeknife for his age day, I will make one. Maybe someday we all share bond stones too. Ah ha!" Wild will then happily join the group on a trip to the local blacksmith. He waves to Cham before departing. "Collected enough questions here, I did. Time to make death meet clan-killer."
I'll be here for as long as it takes. Get well soon, my friend.
Having no real experience at solving crimes, Wild waits patiently while the others try to fit the pieces together. He scratches his bald head and silently thinks to himself in a moment of uncharacteristic calmness. Clearly, Rodrik was an important person to so many... If I help them find the answers, they will surely help me! So many questions to answer: Missing hopeknife? Missing journal? Missing key? Missing mystery human? Where do we find them?"
Wild points at the ledger with reassured confidence and no small amount of relief that someone else is more likely to blame for the crime. "That's it! Nameless human man's done it! Truth is spoken!" He looks back and forth between Robin, Ranhild and Cham. He is certain they have more pertinent questions pending to prove the next course of action, hopefully agreeing to his allegation. "Yes. Tell us all details so we gets revenges!"
The rooms are supposed to be locked?! Uh oh... Uncertain that he was even in the right room last night, Wild secretly hopes that he was not absent-mindedly responsible for the foul deed himself. He quickly mimics Robin's enthusiasm and tries to plead with Cham for an alibi. "AH! We need the truths! Many places, locks have keys. Many keys are very very very small trinkets. Easy to miss. Easy to take. Easy to mistake. Rodrik have room key? Maybe killer have room key now?" Wild turns out the pouch pockets of his kilt but only dirt and other meaningless nonsense falls out. "See!? Have no keys!"
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