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TANGLEFOOT BAGS
Ynghildr began the process of scanning the creature with detect magic. Would this be evidence that their actual prey was still near?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6BAd7xJuU0 Insights into my private creative processes.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MqD6gHLDqYc Just waiting to see which way the wind blows, at this point.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aX2CcrsxLcQ Stay prepared.
Too bad, we have a good crew. I have it on the highest authority that Kelne intends to return. Thats too bad :/ For now I am going to withdraw from this game. Apologies but need to start minimizing to maintain my schedules with more active games. It was fun though and I hope to have a chance to play again. :/ Unfortunate, but understandable.
Statistically speaking, every game I've been in with Kelne has ended, so...
Actually it's the year of the ram
We live for the GM, we die for the GM.
Ynghildr quietly puts distance between himself and the group, scanning the canopy.
Ynghildr regards the frayed edges of his cloak for a moment. "It does its job well enough."
"Not quite, though such a talent is nearly required in these lands."
Ynghildr says nothing about his brother's incident, and picks up his pace to match Vaynard's bearing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBKkDnNYi54
Ynghildr slowed down to match the speed of his associates, who seemed intent on picking two separate paths through the terrain.
Ynghildr trudges onwards, taking point a few paces ahead of Mathild.
At the mention of the portal, and the turmoil what surrounded it, Ynghildr stops and glances back towards Mathild for a moment. He casts a spell, the air around his armor taking on a nearly imperceptibly more rigid characteristic. "Fenian will not escape with the necklace." His tone is totally resolute.
Seeing his brother finishing the process of stitching himself up, Ynghildr abruptly stands and walks towards the lodge's entryway. He stops, momentarily, to turn back to the woman. "You can tell us more while we move." And then he slips outside.
Ynghildr scoops the changed bolts into a pocket of his backpack, along with the scrapings, perhaps to examine them further at some point in the future. He leans back against the wall on his stool, arms folded, glaring down at the table.
Ynghildr raises an eyebrow suspiciously towards Vaynard as Niflheim is discussed, but continues on with his work silently.
Ynghildr lays the two bolts that had been changed and the one that had missed on the table. He grabs his anytool from his pack, and gets to work. He lines the bolts up neatly side by side. With the first bolt, he begins scraping away at the metallic inclusions, gathering them into a small pile. The second bolt, and the one that did not sustain direct contact with the bear, he leaves alone. He studiously compares all three, as well as the scrape samples. And then he begins the usage of the same spell he had used prior, and re-examines them each closely.
Returning to the lodge, Ynghildr re-attains his seat and begins eying the bolts closely, turning them between his fingers, and holding them straight away from his eye to measure their straightness. Then he begins feeling the tips with his fingernail before wiping them down with a cloth.
Ynghildr collects what bolts he can and begins trudging back up the hill.
Seeing the bear that mauled his brother dealt with sufficiently, Ynghildr reloads and takes aim at the last foe, the bolt's tip glinting occasionally through the bearmist.
Ynghildr slams a fresh bolt into place, hooks the stirrup of the crossbow around the tip of his boot and rams it back in a rapid flurry of practiced motions. Tilting the crossbow up, he pulls the the trigger, hoping to send the bolt between the creature's ribs. It manages only to skitter across the bear's hide.
Alas, now the weekend is over, and again I must grind away until Friday
As the odd bear draws near, Ynghildr realizes he is well within clawing distance. He digs his boot in behind the root and steadies himself upon the hill. He slides the crossbow sight across his field of vision, lining up his shot into the bear's rapidly approaching body. He squeezes the trigger of the crossbow, sending the bolt towards the glimmering mass.
The momentum of Ynghildr's skidding runs out as he clamps his boot down on a large root, holding his crossbow poised at the bear nearest the elf. He glares down the sights as the smoke dances around his target.
Grinding away until Friday
The puff of glitter, if noticed by Ynghildr, does nothing to alter his course. He skids down the edge of the hill, incanting a spell as he goes.
Mysterious Spell: Detect magic, pointed dead right. Will expect a ping when they enter range!
Ynghildr radidly begins the task of closing the distance between himself and the woman, his small hardwood crossbow already in his hand. The curious nature of the bears existing, or even traveling in such a pack, was secondary to ensuring they did not have an easy time of picking off a lone target.
Ynghildr trudges out as well, not too surprised by the sudden activity.
"A militia." Ynghildr chimes in, matter of factly.
Ynghildr continued his task while glancing at the newcomer briefly. What really snagged his attention, though it only showed for a moment, was Hedrick's missing time. Pulling the internal section of the valve and placing it, along with the rest of the valve and pipe back into his haversack. He leaned against the wall on his stool. "The insects this heat breeds are the true problem. I met a man who had the blood drained from his face by one that was essentially a flying horsehair brush. He could not speak for several days."
Ynghildr unfolds a small spike from the handle of the tool and begins scraping out more rust and debris from valve's interior, his focus shifting entirely to his task.
He makes a few adjustments, the wrench being replaced with two thick blades and unfolding the handle itself into two, the tool quickly changing into a large pair of cutting pliers. "It's an anytool." His tone signals that the demonstration should be more than sufficient to answer any questions.
Ynghildr withdrew a four foot long section of iron pipe with a valve attached to it from his pack, its magical nature made obvious. He laid it down on the table, lining it up square with the edge. He then pulled a curious tool from the pack; an overgrown mallet looking thing, with numerous clasps and grooves and prongs dug into the sides of the shaft. With a few twists and folds, performed too quickly to quite comprehend, the head of the device was now a wrench of the correct size to begin separating the valve from the pipe. He began working away at it. "My understanding of the gods is separate from that of my brother." The valve pops off of the pipe easily, and a small amount of rust and grime shakes out. He holds up the valve, the internal mechanism corroded to the point that the wheel used to open or close it is wobbling loosely with no resistance. "Entirely useless."
As those in the hunting lodge made small talk, the occasional brushing noise could be heard from the exterior. Beams of light spearing their way through cracks between the planks of the wall were vanishing, one after another, leaving the motes of dust to travel unseen. The pungent, mineral scent of tar was slowly presenting itself. The perpetrator of the scuffling entered, casting the door open and revealing the dust's laziness once more. Wrapped in a dull orange cloak, and topped with a shoulder length mop of straw colored hair, the man made efficient strides towards Yudra carrying a small wooden bucket and brush. He set the bucket down next to a stool, and placed the brush across its top as he sat down. His boots were thick leather, oiled deeply and polished well, with steel shinguards matching the simple plate adorning his left shoulder. "One more coat after this cures should keep the rain and insects out." His expression was stern as he immediately began digging through his backpack for something.
Says the guy whose character is a hobo, actually
Yudra's just like, this guy, you know?
Sheet complete, no you can't look at it!! |