Yosiah Crint's page

Hey folks. I just logged on for the first time in almost two months. I've been dealing with some addiction stuff, mental health stuff, and general life stuff. I don't think I'll be able to continue with the various games I've committed to online, but wanted to jump on and say that I appreciate all of you for reaching out and trying to work with me.

Thank you and good luck in your future adventures!

Richard

Yosiah sits with Mogwai, listening to Murob relaying information about Sorala. He clenches his fist, staring into the distant horizon, watching the waves of the sea crash upon the shore. "There is nothing we can do for Sorala. These Blades, they have their own justice. We cannot fight them. For now, we must save Breddaric. Perhaps he can owe us a favor."

"No, Sulan, I fear you have misunderstood me. The Mngwa is a creature born of vengeance. I do not believe it related to the now-dead Druidess. I believe, as Lares come to bless homes, this Mngwa comes to exact its revenge. Breddaric and his Blades must face it. They must die or kill it. It is the law of nature."

Yosiah sighs, shoulders slumping at the news of the murdered Druidess. "This is bad news, friend. I am concerned that this Mngwa will demand retribution for your actions. I am as curious as Ehiz about the whereabouts of Breddaric and the others..."

Yosiah mutters under his breath, swearing in his native language. "What were you doing in the woods, and why were you wounded? Is Breddaric still out there?" The woodsman glances at his farmer companion, tending to the Blade's wounds. "Friend, I think you know as well as I that these people are not receptive to the teachings of Erastil, just as they have no use for the lessons taught by Kofusachi. They are men living by the teachings and laws of men, which leads to troubles such as these. Make sure he is cared after, and I will fetch Murob and the others."

Yosiah departed the clearing, heading into town to collect Murob, Mogwai, and Sorala.

Yosiah, standing near the forest edge with an armload of roots and berries, drops the food at the sound of the panting Blade's approach. He draws his hatchet reflexively, approaching the man and clasping his shoulder. "What has happened? Who were you with? Is anyone else hurt?"

The flurry of questions spill from the woodsman's mouth as he reaches for the waterskin hanging from his belt, popping the cap off and handing it to the Blade.

Yosiah is waiting to discuss a plan with Mogwai, to have the Mngwa kill Breddaric. That seems like a solution to two problems at once.

Sorala, it sounds like your mind is made up, but for what it's worth, I think your character's realism and gritty determination make her the most interesting one of us, by a long shot. I was really looking forward to spending the next (hopefully) years playing alongside her, and watching her grow.

It'll be sad to see you go, although I hope you reconsider, and stick around as things seem to be picking up a little bit, I hope?

As far as downtime activities, Yosiah's more than happy to help harvest lumber and forage as necessary. He's not exactly great at the latter, but also has some spells that he can burn on Abstemiousness, etc.

I'm back, folks. Feeling better, or maybe just numb, as the hits keep coming.

I didn't necessarily have it in me to write responses to all of the activities of the past ~50 posts, so I just sort of jumped back in and wrote myself a 24-hour flu. I hope that works, Leinathan?

Yosiah emerges from his tent, still looking a bit green around the gills. He'd spent the past short while writhing and groaning in his bedroll, fighting the urge to purge the contents of his stomach in one way or another.

He reconvenes with the others as Mogwai is drawing his circles in the sand, listening to the idea with careful consideration. "Mogwai, you are a good, kind man. You consider...diplomatie, even when it is not easy. For this, you are a better man than I am. If these rumors are true, about the Blades, and what they have done, perhaps the Mngwa needs Breddaric to answer? Maybe, mes amies, we solve one problem with the other?"

Hey folks. I'm writing to all of my games to let you know that I'm going through some stuff right now. A dear friend of mine just passed away, and the past few days have been rather hectic, with friends and family visiting from out of town, a memorial service this afternoon, etc.

I'm not abandoning anyone, but I do appreciate your patience and understanding while I take a couple of days to get things sorted. I estimate I'll be back sometime before the end of this week.

Thank you.

Yosiah gives the briefest hint of a nod at Sorala's words, holding his own hands a fraction of an inch closer to the fire than the Irrisenian woman - he is too competitive to do anything else. He considers her words for a moment, frowning. "A hunting accident, then? Perhaps outright challenge? I hate these...politique."

Yosiah sneers at Breddaric's question, curling his lip in disgust. He is covered in dirt, soot, and sweat, and has no patience for the crass, bloodthirsty man. "No. We did not keel her, crétin." His Arcadian accent becomes more pronounced as his words accelerate from his mouth. "She had good reason to be scared. She wants to protect this forest, and now we have Mngwa! Go away, we will handle this without keeling her, because we are not sauvages" He brushes past Breddaric without another word, to sit near the cooking fire and stew.

WOOO! Combat Reflexes!!

"Tsk." Yosiah removes his helmet, wiping sweat from his forehead as he listens to Murob's explanation of the Mngwa.

"This sounds....bad. I do not like anything about this beast. We must lay a trap for it."

He calls after the Druidess as she retreats. "Si nous le tuons, nous croirons-nous? Voulez-vous vous joindre à nous et nous enseigner?"

Yosiah continues working, listening in on the conversation as best he can, side-by-side with the Druidess. The two work in silence, their heavy breaths and dripping sweat a universal language.

Copied from the character's profile:

Corporal Yosiah Crint stands tall above most of his fellow Arcadians. His broad shoulders and lanky, wiry arms belie his warm smile, hidden beneath a thick, bushy beard. His dark hair is tousled and matted, as he does little to maintain it, but somehow it gives him a certain unkempt-handsome quality when it's visible - which is not often, as he is rarely without his helmet, which affords a full view of Yosiah's face, but protects the soldier's skull, ears, and neck.
His body is similarly armored, nearly always. A thick sheet of chain links protects the gangly torso beneath, and a drab, green tunic is barely visible peeking from beneath the armor. Gloves protect his arms and hands, both of which are scarred and calloused beneath the rough leather.
He's prone to tap on his buckler as he speaks, and his axe hangs from his waist, never far from his dominant left hand.

"Oh, and my name's Sulan, by the way," he remarks to the other colonists..."Anyone know what the hell she is sayin'?"

Yosiah fights back the urge to laugh at the newcomer's visible annoyance with the Druidess. "She is complaining at us about you, and the possibility of starting a forest fire."

Yosiah claps his hand on Mogwai's shoulder, pursing his lips in a solemn nod before the group departs. "Yes. Angry. Maybe danger still. We will act with care."

Upon reaching the site of the fire after a short jog, Yosiah's jaw drops, surveying the scene to determine the possibility of the fire spreading, and the best course of action to prevent such a thing.

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Profession(Woodsman): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

After no more than an instant, he begins pointing and directing his comrades to assist him and the Druidess, cutting away overhanging branches, digging fire-lines, and creating water gallons at a time, to saturate the ground and prevent any further damage. He does not even seem to notice the Half-orc - that problem will be handled later. For now, the fire has demanded his attention.

"Il y a des centaines d'entre nous. Combien de noix devrions-nous prendre? Combien d'animaux devrions-nous chasser? Est-il préférable pour la terre si nous ne laissons aucun fruit pour que de nouveaux arbres poussent?

Nous devons exploiter le sol, cultiver de la nourriture pour que la terre puisse prospérer. Cela ne nous rend pas faibles. Cueillir des fruits jusqu'à ce qu'il ne reste plus rien est faible. C'est idiot. Il est difficile de faire pousser des cultures chaque année. Pour planter des graines et nourrir de petits semis et récolter de la nourriture. Il faut de la force et de la chance pour créer une prime."

The words spill from Yosiah's mouth as a look of surprise grows in his eyes, as if he was unaware of his own passion on the subject. His words are soft, smooth, his tone level, but there is no doubt that he has conviction behind what he says.

Yosiah clears his throat, shying his eyes away from the nude woman and staring at the ground as if the soil itself was in the middle of telling him some very important secret. "Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle. Nous ne sommes pas des esclavagistes. Nous sommes ici pour régler ces terres. Pour attirer un Lares et apporter la paix dans ce pays sauvage. Nous voulons seulement la paix. D'où êtes-vous? Je viens de Kansai. Le savez-vous? Peut-être Haidao?"

After, he mutters in a low voice, such that only his colleagues can hear. "She is from the North. My home. She is human."

...quite impressed with how quickly Yosiah had picked up the Common tongue. Certainly he had more eloquence with it than Mogwai did...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVVURiaVgG8

This is exactly what I imagine has happened during our traipsing through the woods.

Earlier:
Yosiah frowns at Mogwai's four-word question, the insightful goblin forcing him to think hard about the road ahead. "No. Must is too strong a word. Angry, yes. Want to kill, yes. Must kill? No. We will speak. We will try to save, we will pray for good luck and bounty in the form of new hunter. But if this woman is no good, we must protect colony."

Yosiah rests his hand on Ehiz's shoulder, nodding. "Yes. We are prey now, for this pack. I have this suspicion as well."

Perception to Aid Ehiz: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

Yosiah squeezes the leather grip on his hatchet, grimacing as he surveys the scene. "There is too much good food here. Too many bad plants, for so short time. I agree, she tries to kill us like this. Slow death, with starving. We have children. This is not right."

The ACDF Corporal wipes a tear from his eye as he considers the idea of starving children - a deeply sacrilegious concept, for a worshipper of the God of Prosperity.

"Enough talk. Her heart is rotten, if she does this."

Yosiah catches a glimpse of Mogwai and Murob departing First Landing, and rushes to catch up to them. As he approaches, he draws his hatchet from his belt, twirling it idly in his right hand. "It is good that we are going. Too much talk. Now is the time for doing. We go to the farm?"

Agreed - Yosiah wants to hunt the cat under the assumption that it is connected to the Druid. Is that the case, or are they two separate situations?

Same. Also happening when I try to use Safari on my phone.

Yosiah nods, cracking his knuckles and flashing an almost-maniacal grin. "Oh yes, please. All of this...talking, is hard. Hunting cats? This, I know how to do. It is easier now, we have a home to return to. Luck will be with us, and we will eat good meat from it. A feast!"

Yosiah considers the young man's words, tracing the forest line with his gaze as he taps his foot. "If the creature is making a hunt, maybe it is time we make a hunt for him. This will help people to feel safe, and we need the supplies?" He asks the idea as a question, shrugging as he turns to Sorala for validation. "It would also perhaps be good to have a lodge outside this place, I think."

I'm inclined to say Sulan Kator is a good choice, because Peet is great. I sort of wish I'd recruited him in my Hell's Rebels game awhile back, because I'm consistently impressed by his writing.

Xomec did a lot of the legwork and asked questions, etc. which lets me know that they're invested in the game, which is also a plus.

I love Jon Anthony's John-Wayne sensibilities, and think it could be a fun contrast to all of our complex questions of morality.

Yosiah, still confused and somewhat perturbed by the presence of a gillman in their midst, leaves the boat prison during Murob's conversation. "I'm sure they'll tell me if something important happens..." he mutters to himself as he finds the White Squire and joins her. "This is a good land. I think it will be better if we build un palissade here, to keep bad people away. You have made friends with these people?"

Yosiah sleeps, the deep, hard sleep of a military man in a safe place after days in the wilderness.

In the morning, he wakes, stiff and sore. After his prayers, and the ritual cleaning of his body and his weapon, he returns from the water to the settlement. He finds Murob, Ehiz, and Breddaric just in time to hear Murob mention her magic. "I can do this too, if we need. We have been traveling for...some time. I think I will not need for speaking with you now." His voice is halting, uncertain, but the words are correct. "We should get the others. The day is short, the work is long."

Yosiah follows Sorala's gaze to Mogwai, nodding. "You wish to talk with the prêtre forestier? He is...irritè, because we chop the trees for homes, no?"

Yosiah catches snippets of what is being said - the language is difficult, but not impossible - and asks Breddaric in broken Common, "Pardon moi, monsieur. Seems like many troubles, but also we are very...fatiguè?" He asks the word, rather than saying it confidently, as if unsure of how to say it in the common tongue. "Etre sleep first, and then we make the plan, no?"

He looks at each of his allies, hopeful they'll agree with him.

"Outre, I need to go ask for these words I do not know. 'Dru-eed' and 'resentful' and the other words are too big."

Level four:

Attribute Advancement: +1 Dexterity (Total 17)
BAB: +1
HP: +8 (1d8 + 2 Con + 1 FCB)
Reflex: +1

Skills (+2/2 Background): +1 Profession (Sailor), Linguistics (to learn Common), Perception, Sense Motive

Spells: +1 L0/L1 Spell Per Day.

Bonus Feat: Two-Weapon Fighting

Is Mogwai gone? That's a shame, I like him a bunch

Yosiah shakes his head. "Non monsieur, seulement moi. Ces personnes viennent de loin et recherchent First Landing. Est-ce ceci?

As the clearing becomes visible, Yosiah, sweaty and caked in grime after the days of marching, begins to laugh. It is a small chuckle at first, but grows quickly into a booming, echoing guffaw. He points at the settlement, glee in his eye. "C'est réel! On a réussi! Je pensais qu'on mourrait après ce qu'on a enduré!"

A few minutes later, upon arriving at the settlement and being confronted by the guards, the jovial Corporal raises his hands in the universal sign for surrender, asking hopefully, "Parlez-vous ma langue, mon ami?

Corporal Crint sneers at the protective hand Murob had placed on the Gillman's shoulder.

[b]"Cette créature est diabolique. Il doit être posé comme un chien."[b]

His words drip with disdain, his eyes narrowing to glare at the humanoid. His hand rests idly on the hatchet in his belt, and while he doesn't make any overt moves during the group's travels, he is eager to arrive at First Landing so he can rest, and communicate with his allies once again.

Ready to move on!

Yes, good luck, and congratulations!

Yosiah sighs in relief as the bizarre happenings of the past few minutes seem to be coming to an end. He chuckles at the old man swigging seawater, and though he can't understand the words, he knew exactly what the man had said.

The Arcadian soldier glances at Ehiz and Sorala, shrugging noncommittally as he points in the direction of First Landing.

Yosiah grins, reaching down to pick up the small statuette. He points at it, his teeth flashing in the sunlight as he gestures to Ehiz. "LAR!"

His voice is giddy as he contemplates the ramifications of the group's newfound boon.

I'm still here, just struggling with my new schedule, and also 100% not sure what's going on in-character with the Attic Whisperer, since I don't understand her, nor do the other peoples' ramblings and wanderings seem to make any semblance of sense :D

Yosiah hangs back, letting his foreign comrades investigate the ship. These are not my people, and I do not wish to be rude. He examines the wreckage, a low whistle escaping his lips as he takes in the sight of chaos. He shakes his head, looking out over the water, in the futile hope of spotting the Gillmen and their ship.

He is wary, but does not make any move to push his friends - it is important to care for the dead, after all.

Yosiah sighs, staring at the cliff-face and understanding the situation, if not the words being used. After a moment, he unpacks a coiled length of rope from his pack. He ties one end around his waist, and tosses the other end up over the stoutest looking tree branch he can find.

His precautions in place, he begins to climb the wall carefully, using his hatchet and folding shovel to dig into the muddy cliff-face with his hands, and finding purchase wherever he can with his feet.

Climb: 1d20 ⇒ 6

"I've not heard of Erastil, but if you serve him, I am sure he must be a good God. Kofusachi is a joyful god. One of luck, abundance, and happiness. Service to him can be as simple as drinking wine with new friends near a campfire, or exploring a strange, new world with hopes of colonizing." He waggles his eyebrows, smirking. "It is as easy as breathing, and enjoying the fruitful pleasures of life in Arcadia. Mogwai is a strange creature, but he seems quite well-trained. Is he a slave? I do not condone slavery, so I pray such is not the case. Besides, he seems too...spirited, for such a life.

As to the Lares, they are spirits. There is a Lar in every home. They are called to visit the hearth, and bless the abode with peace and fortune. They are not Gods, per se, but we invoke them all the same. I hope this makes sense, and I can assure you that such practices will not conflict with your worship of Erastil. Assuming, of course, that Erastil is not a jealous God. I think that is a safe assumption, from what I know of you. I do not know much of the Gods and Spirits above and below, but I know plenty of the Gods and Spirits inside and out!" Yosiah cackles, a bright flush on his cheeks at his own barely-clever joke. After a moment, his expression turns serious again, a dour, stony face replacing the ebullient countenance of a moment ago.

"Now then, I must ask, as an Ambassador.How many others are on your expedition? And what diplomatic goals do your people have, with regards to mine? I want to be certain you are not an invading band of scouts, of course. I hope you understand my trepidation. As to the question of getting to your friends, I will guide you through the jungle back to the coastline. It is easier to travel with the sea to guide us, and we will have the natural protection of open beach preventing ambush from one side."

After the spell duration
Yosiah smiles and waves, a boyish grin on his face as he learns the names of the other colonists, repeating each of them with a thick Arcadian French accent. "C'est un plaisir"

Later, during the travel.
Upon encountering the ravine, Yosiah stops and holds up his hand, to silence the others. He listens intently, his eyes darting up to the treetops and down the side of the steep crevasse. He surveys the surroundings for a minute or more before finally pointing towards the ocean.

Are there any other questions the others would like to ask me?

Yosiah wakes in the morning, his whole body aching from the exertion of the previous day. As Ehiz approaches him, he nods his understanding, but holds his hand up in the universal sign for "wait." He is emphatic in his acceptance and agreement to Ehiz's gestures, but immediately leaves to tend to his morning ablutions.

After a few minutes of thoughtful prayer, recounting his recent trials and begging for additional fortune, he washes his face with a bit of fresh water from his canteen, and performs a handful of stretches and calisthenic exercises.

All of this completed, he returns to the farmer, some 20 or 30 minutes later. He holds up his own pinch of salt and soot, pointing at Ehiz and then at himself, as if to say he will cast his spell when he is done speaking. When this is properly conveyed, he will wait for Ehiz to cast the spell before speaking.

The words come tumbling out of his mouth, slowly at first, but becoming almost manic as he continues, the look of comprehension and understanding on the other man's face bringing him a sense of joyful urgency.

"I am Corporal Yosiah Crint of the Arcadian Central Defense Force. I am an Ambassador from Kansai, sent to man my post at the Eastern Fortress. It was luck that brought me to you and your friends. I was patrolling with my comrade, Baldric, when we were attacked by the lizard you saw yesterday. I don't know what happened to him.

Haidao is the nation to the northeast of Kansai. They used to be our allies, but recently have taken a liking to our fertile ground. We grow grapes and other fruits, grow huge, strong trees, and appreciate the beauty of our little country. Haidao has nothing but cold mountains and rocky beaches. They're fishermen, mostly. Which makes them hard, and cruel."

After vomiting words at both Ehiz and Sorala, who joined the conversation midway, Yosiah seems almost winded. He takes a few deep breaths before casting his own version of the spell, grinning in delight as the words coming from Sorala's mouth rearrange themselves in his mind to make sense. After she is done asking her questions, Yosiah sighs and begins speaking again.

"My home is north of here, in Kansai. I don't know what First Landing is, though I'm not sure I could promise much guidance if it is south of here. As I mentioned before, this land is wild, untamed, and unwarded. It's dangerous for anyone, let alone new colonists with fresh supplies, ripe for plunder and piracy. However, I know the land better than you, and know of the creatures that live here. So I will do what I can to guide you. It is my duty as an Ambassador of Kansai, and likely the mission that Kofusachi has given me, by virtue of the circumstances that led to our meeting. The slavers are...not uncommon. They come mostly to strike those weak or susceptible to raids. For what purpose they capture humans, I do not know. Only that the threat of their return is not to be taken lightly."

After answering the questions, Yosiah clears his throat, takes a healthy swig of water, and begins asking his own. They come out quickly.

"Who are you all? Why colonize here? What is the little green man? How did you come to find this place? Was Arcadia your intent, or were you headed for different waters? What are your names? Do you have families? Are you hostile? Do you bring Lares with you to protect your homes? Have you heard of Kofusachi or his teachings? Do you think he has sent me to you? Do you wish to visit my people and come live among us, instead? I would welcome you all into my home."

Hey folks! Sorry, it's been an INSANE week at the new job. My old gig gave me plenty of free time to post throughout the day, so I'm adjusting :)

I'll be posting tomorrow, for sure.

Congratulations, friend!

After a bit of deliberation and incomprehensible conversation, Yosiah unpacks his bag, unrolls is bedroll, and kneels on it to pray for a few minutes before sleeping.

His prayers completed, he turns in for the night, falling quickly into sleep.