• Graded • Cursed caravans [Noth]

Ryder comes to realise that him and caravans don't seem to go well

Rising from the stony plateau overlooking the rivers and plains of the western continent, and growing wealthy from the gem stones pulled from this same rocky soil, Etzos is a bastion of independence, eagerly spreading its belief that man should rule Idalos, not be servants of the vain Immortals who nearly destroyed it. But can the different factions set aside their agendas long enough to see this through?

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• Graded • Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Ryder » Wed Jan 03, 2018 9:54 am

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55th Zi'da, 717

Ryder walked alongside the caravan, knuckle dusters in his pockets. For a mercenary, his appearance at base seemed underwhelming. He didn't wear armor, or anything particularly fancy. This was partially because of the mobility he preferred, but primarily came down to the fact that his pockets were near to empty nowadays. If he could afford some lighter armor, he would buy himself some. However, for now he had to make do. Besides, although he didn't look the part, these employers didn't seem to have any quarrels with hiring him. He wasn't the best at his job, nor did he claim to be. But he'd sold himself well, and the weapons he had on him weren't cheap.
"You normally this cheerful?" Ryder teased, eyes glancing to the other mercenary that had been hired. He was a big guy, with a longsword to match. Glaring, the man looked at Ryder with a dull expression. "I normally don't have to work with idiots. You call those weapons?" the man replied with a deep growl. Looking away from Ryder, the man sighed and clenched his fist, evidently frustrated from having to even be near to a man of Ryder's sort.

Pausing for a few trills, Ryder glanced down at the knuckle dusters and dagger. "What would you call 'em?" he shrugged, not understanding the man's problem. "Guarantee you'd call them weapons too if you were on the receiving end of 'em. Everyone else I've hit with them have, assumin' they've been in a position to say anything".
Before the other mercenary could reply, the caravan started to slow. Stepping out of the caravan, the man that hired Ryder looked around at the two. "That's enough you two" he started, before patting the big guy on the shoulder. "We're taking a five minute break, then we're back on the move. You boys must be pretty hungry."

Ryder wasn't one to argue when a blessing showed itself. He sat against a tree, taking out the rations he'd been given and digging in. He glanced up and caught the bigger mercenary glaring at him, making him chuckle. He finished what was in his mouth, maintaining eye contact with the guy as he did. He used his sleeve to wipe his mouth, before sighing and putting his rations down carefully.
"Anyone ever told you it's rude to stare?" he taunted, smiling all the way through. He knew that the man was all talk, he'd seen guys like it before. Come down to it, most men were cowards. But Ryder was always one to take a fight if he had to - sometimes just for the hell of it. "Where I come from, you'd get beat for it. Besides, wouldn't want to get any blood on my weapons, would we? Might ruin 'em."
"The most dangerous people in the world are not the tiny minority instigating evil acts, but those who do the acts for them" ~ Suzy Kassem
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Noth » Sat Jan 06, 2018 2:36 pm

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Sometimes, it was the absence of something that revealed that there was a presence. That statement in itself was somewhat ironic in composition, but when one considered it in a truly practical sense it became something entirely feasible and obvious. For example, the twilight hybrid was capable of seeing the currents of the wind, and even when he wasn’t paying any particular attention towards them, he constantly had such pathways of air within his vision. He could see the wind as it curved around the trees, could see it as it parted due to interfering objects in its path; animals, vegetation, people. Potentially though, there could be something that was otherwise invisible to the mortal eye, but the wind would affect it nevertheless, and he would be able to notice the absence of a presence diverting the wind, and thereby be capable of determining that something of malicious intent stood within a certain spot regardless of its latent invisibility.

Another example would be the way that the birds suddenly ceased their constant chirping and singing whenever threatening persons came near. They acted the same whenever predatory animals were around, because they were attempting to avoid being located so that they could prevent any opportunity at demise from the hungering beasts. The twilight hybrid had long since come to familiarize himself with the sudden stilling and silence that followed the presence of Al’Angyryl in any given area. Perhaps it was his own presence that frightened the creatures of the world into silence, or perhaps it was the organized force of bandits and scum that radiated so much ill intent, a festering wound on the edge of morality, a bleeding cut of sanctified wickedness.

He could hear them, the gentle shuffle of footsteps behind him, the unnerving unsteadiness of their footfalls, the quiet raking of wind over vocal cords that had come to know only detritus and filth. Crimson eyes met those which had been tainted with necromantic power, and then slipped past the thralls to glare at their owner, the woman who exemplified the very nature of contrast with her creations. Whereas they were creatures of rot and ruin, she was clearly the sort who most would presume was vain; and perhaps that was not so inaccurate a statement.

“Go.” He spoke softly, arising from his crouched position, drawing the longbow upwards to its shooting position and sliding an arrow familiarly down the string until it had notched properly. He looked into the slight valley before them, observing as the caravan gradually came to a stop. It was fascinating that they had decided to take a break just when the attack was about to begin, because it meant that they must have seen the place and determined that it looked nothing at all like a prime location for an ambush. Clearly, the leaders of their venture were amateurish in their combative knowledge.

Predatory eyes gazed out, seeing the little figures scurry and move about as they went about their business, some resting, others looking over their products once again, all of them piteous beings. There was a rush of wind as the pair of thralls took off running beside him, the undead beings unworried with any prospect of danger. They were excellent shock troopers for that purpose, because they did not fear death as most did, though admittedly they thought of nothing whatsoever which could potentially be a problem should they not have a tactically sound commander. He drew back upon the taut string of his longbow, feeling it strain as his shoulder, his thumb twitching against his cheek with the tension. He saw the pattern of the wind, noted the way that it swayed, saw how it affected a loose conglomeration of leaves, and then he released.

The arrow slid through the air, a missile on a mission, and promptly buried itself directly through the back of his target’s throat, leaving a minor detonation of blood upon the tree in front of him and sending his dying form lumbering forward, needlessly grasping at the arrow with what could only be identified as a shocked expression.



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As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Ryder » Sun Jan 14, 2018 2:07 pm

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Ryder smirked as the man stood up, challenging him seemingly with his eyes. His smirk was quickly taken down by the arrow passing through his fellow mercs neck, dropping to the floor with his hands around his throat. Ryder ducked behind a tree, keeping his body unexposed to where the arrow had come from. His expression quickly turned serious.
Ryder watched as the men around him panicked, being charged from the trees alongside the fear of being taken down by the unknown archer in the valley ahead. But anyone with half a brain knew that running around like headless chickens was a certified death sentence, signed by yourself. No, right now Ryder had to stay calm and think about how to survive.
Ryder started by analyzing the threats. Soldiers rushing in, and potential arrows. His best bet was to fight somewhere closed, where he didn't have to try and dodge lightning fast projectiles that could tear out his unarmored neck in one blow. With the draw of his dagger, Ryder stayed hidden behind the tree, waiting for the approaching footsteps.

With a sharp jolt at the sound of rushing beside him, Ryder thrusted blindly with the dagger, the blade sinking in to whoever was in front of him - or whatever. An undead thrall stood before him with the blade in it's chest, looking at Ryder with hungry eyes. In a blind panic, Ryder let go, shoving the creature away from him. Now he had no blade and what he could only assume had once been a person before him. His eyes widened.
Quickly, Ryder slid his knuckle dusters on, taking a step back as the creatures cold stare pierced straight through him. Without hesitation, Ryder went in to a panicked assault. His body took it down to the floor and punches started slamming on to it's head. Under him the creature writhed and lashed out, but Ryder continued. Scratches covered his body, injuries starting to form, until finally the monster stopped moving.

In front of him, all Ryder heard was screams. Loud screams of terror and fear as a mix of people and creatures rushed in, taking people down. He froze with terror as his head rushed with memories. Screaming, blood, fear, all while a cart was raided. A group of young boys, taking him by the hand and telling him to run, using their weapons to fight back. Sprinting through ice cold woods as the screams of his only friends echoed behind him, then the uncomfortable silence of death.
Ryder stood up as he was surrounded, his only weapons being knuckle dusters. Glancing around, Ryder tried to hide his terror, but he couldn't. There was a chill that he couldn't shake off, from the memory of what had happened. It had been a long time since he'd thought about it, and now it burst to the forefront of his mind. He glanced around with erratic movements, knowing there was no point. But he couldn't let himself die, not like this. Yet when he tried to move nothing happened.

Nothing but fear.
"The most dangerous people in the world are not the tiny minority instigating evil acts, but those who do the acts for them" ~ Suzy Kassem
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Noth » Tue Jan 23, 2018 12:36 pm

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It was fascinating how quickly a situation could change. How quickly a good trial could turn into a nightmare the likes of which typically resided only in the dreams of the disturbed and the unfortunate. Of course, it was not as if though the quality of niceness had entirely vanished from the scenario, simply that it had attached itself to a new actor as opposed to its old one. What the one man saw as a tragedy playing out before his very eyes, the other noted as a success, a profitable one at that.

Crimson eyes observed for several trills as the mercenary clutched helplessly at his throat, as if though he might be capable of removing the projectile which now jutted through the flesh and somehow preserve his life. Theoretically, Noth assumed that it was in fact possible to survive the arrow, especially since the missile itself didn’t necessarily kill one so much as the blood loss which followed, but that would have required a trained and talented healer of a caliber seldom found traveling alongside simple merchants.

Mercenaries and guards who had offered their services for the protection of the caravan suddenly found themselves thrust into a situation where their skills were put to the test. Some of them fought with at least some semblance of valiance, driving back a couple of his soldiers well enough that they needed to await the arrival of reinforcements, and the twilight hybrid thought he might have even seen one of them manage to stick a blade through the thigh of one of his company. Nevertheless, they were outnumbered by a significant degree, outclassed with equipment and training that had been beaten into the minds of the soldiers at his command, and they were currently meandering about the place in shock, like rabbits who take to the field after they spot a hound, only to find that they have placed themselves further from safety in their panic.

One of the thralls caught his attention, its feasting ceased by a well-placed blade which now pierced directly through its other side, leaking black bile and blood which had long since begun to corrode with age into little more than a sappy substance of sticky viscosity and wicked stench. The man, contrary to what the hybrid would have presumed, promptly mounted atop the abomination, and began to deliver blow after blow upon it until finally, with a death rattle, the undead creature finally stilled, its head bashed into little more than a neat and chunky paste.

The twilight hybrid observed as one of his soldiers struggled to fight off a far larger opponent, and he casually notched another arrow, sending it flying within the span of a few trills directly into the hip of the warrior. The pain must certainly have been intense, because he shrieked with an unnatural yelp of agony, and collapsed unto his side where he was promptly put to death with the slash of a blade. It always struck him as fascinating that someone would choose to offer their services in a life and death situation intentionally whilst seemingly possessing almost no talent whatsoever in the martial arts? Did it never click to them that there were terrible things that wandered through the woods and that might want to prey upon a relatively helpless caravan? Perhaps, but he had seen no evidence of such forward thinking as of yet.

There were only a trio left now, the merchants having already been dealt with by the remaining thrall, and they were gradually being corralled into a circle by a line of soldiers at all sides. The twilight hybrid stepped slowly down from his perch atop the hill, crimson eyes glaring at the remaining few who now awaited his judgement.

“Enough. Surrender your weapons, or die.” It was a simple order, one growled from behind an armet of metal by a monster far worse than any simple undead.
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As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Ryder » Thu Jan 25, 2018 4:29 pm

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Ryder watched as men were slain, taken down one by one. He tried to focus, snapping himself back to reality, but all he could bring himself to do was move. He'd seen fights, but this was no fight, this was a slaughter. It looked like he was the only one that had done any damage to any of the enemy, by all appearances. His morale had gone, all of his anger fading as his head wondered. Was this what fate had come to his friends all those years ago? Slaughtered like animals. More importantly, was he next?
Ryder brought himself to stand as a few surrounded him, edging him closer to the last few survivors. He took a deep breath to stop his shaking, his eyes rapidly going between all of his attackers until he was fully surrounded, trapped in a small area by a large group of men. A few of them he could handle, perhaps, but this many was impossible. Ryder was confident, but he wasn't stupid. He knew when the fight was over. He'd already admitted defeat - then the creature arrived.

Whatever it was, it was inhuman. Ryder had just beat an undead to death, a gruesome puss coated beast. But whatever this thing was trumped anything he could imagine in his nightmares. It wasn't often Ryder felt fear, but this was terror. A creature of nightmare, ordering he surrendered his weapons. All Ryder had to be thankful for here was his life was still here, which was enough for him. Ryder quite liked living, and had no intention of becoming one of those snarling, fleshy creatures.
Slowly, to show he had no intention of fighting, Ryder slid his knuckle dusters off and dropped them to the floor. "There's a blade up m' sleeve" he announced, cautiously looking at only the creature as he slowly lowered his sleeve. Carefully, Ryder undid the buckle and dropped the bracer to the floor, his hidden blade now gone - the last weapon he had. Fortunately, his blessing allowed him steel feathers should he need them, but he prayed it wouldn't come to that.

He then stood back and looked around, finally able to avert his eyes from Noth. He watched cautiously as all of the men waited, seemingly staring at one man who refused to let go of a small dagger. Ryder knew he had near to no talent with the blade, he'd seen the man fight before they set off. If anything, this man was risking all of them. It didn't surprise Ryder that the boy was young.
"Put the blade down, son" Ryder muttered to the boy, watching as he stayed frozen. Ryder then glanced to the creature with careful eyes. He knew what would happen if that kid didn't put the weapon down, and Ryder wasn't about to risk his life for some stubborn, proud little shit with something to prove to mummy and daddy. This was a Mercenary job, and he was a Mercenary. He was paid to protect the caravan and the caravan had been compromised. That meant his job was over.

Without a second thought, Ryder carefully took a step away from the terrified boy, eyes not leaving the beast in front of him.
"The most dangerous people in the world are not the tiny minority instigating evil acts, but those who do the acts for them" ~ Suzy Kassem
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Noth » Tue Jan 30, 2018 11:11 am

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There was always a compulsion to move in the midst of a battle. Something about the very nature of combat seemed to demand that a person constantly be moving, whether that was the simple shifting of footing, or whether it was the delicate parry and counters of swordplay, or perhaps even those instances when the morale of an opposing force had been shattered completely and they fled into the woods in hopes of merely saving their lives instead of holding out for any hope whatsoever of victory or honorable endings. Regardless of the assorted movements, there was always that nagging sensation that seemed to speak to each and every soldier which told them that if they simply stood, then they would die.

Perhaps that was partially the reason that one of the youngest of the group of remaining survivors still clutched at a dagger with apparent fear. It could well be that the mere presence of both the undead and the terrifying visage of the Prince of Eternal Mercies had effectively burned out that portion of his brain which demanded that he heed their demands, or perhaps the intense terror of the scenario had managed to inflict him with some form of shock which had restrained his hand from releasing like a fear-inspired rigor mortis taking control of his body.

There were four of them now, considered the hybrid as he began to encircle them, a hungering vulture gazing upon meat that was already as good as dead should they refuse to comply with his demands. It was good that a majority of those around had complied, because it meant that he might not need to slay them, and could potentially instead simply induct them into his ranks as he had many mercenaries in the past. In the end, these were simply men and women who felt confident in their combat abilities, and who were attempting to earn enough coin to support whatever hedonistic lifestyles pertained to them, and the fact that they might be fighting against the law as opposed to for it typically didn’t enter into their minds as often as a more morally upright and less violent citizen.

One of those in the group spoke, advising that the boy allow the blade to fall to the ground as the others had done, and the twilight hybrid examined him in particular with several trills with predatory analysis. He had seen that one during the battle, had observed as he had stricken down one of Divinya’s thralls with relative ease. That was impressive given that none of his companions had managed to inflict any genuine casualties upon their number, and whilst it was true that another had wounded one of his own, it seemed likely that that particular injury would recover whereas the ones inflicted upon the thrall would certainly never be reversed.

With a slow step, the twilight hybrid approached the boy who dare still brandish his knife, staring into his eyes from only about a foot away, as if daring him to action. He shook with the tremors indicative of intense stress and terror, and for an instant it looked as though he might swing with the blade, attempting to drive it between the visor of Noth’s armet. Rather anti-climactically, he simply stood, his hand clenched tightly around the blade as he continued to stare with anxiety at the monstrous being before him.

“Very well.” He growled, and suddenly he was active, his hand launching forward and wrapping around that of the boy, pressing inwards until it seemed quite possible that one or more of his fingers were broken by the pressure. There was a shriek of pain which was cut short as the hand and it’s bladed companion were driven upwards, lodging themselves into the throat of their owner who began to choke and gurgle almost immediately, still shaking, albeit now with the throes of death. The Avriel let him fall to the ground like a piece of trash, not even bothering to remove the knife from his gullet as he strode away to review the remainder.

“Your obedience and desire to live is noteworthy. Many others have made far poorer decisions in scenarios such as these, and so your choice to simply surrender is commendable.” A wicked smile curled underneath the armet, reaching his eyes which still blazed with a crimson fire. “Beyond that, some of you have displayed talent in your combative abilities.” He spoke, pausing directly in front of Ryder, glaring at him with what might have been some semblance of respect for how he had done given the gauntlet he had faced, and then he continued on his rounds, encircling the trio.

“I am the Prince of Eternal Mercies. It is quite possible that you have heard of me, and, if so, you are likely aware of what I am capable of. That said, I treat my own fairly, and they are paid well for their services.” He raised a hand, dismissing a vast majority of the circle to begin scouring the bodies of the dead. “You are mercenaries, aren’t you?” He chuckled mirthlessly to himself. “Come, put your talents to use in my service. Fight with these others who are like you, who have seen for themselves what goods I bring. Join me, and you may have your choice of the armors and armaments scattered here, and a share of the golden coins which we take.”

“Of course, the alternative is rather… messy.”
He glanced towards the still body of the young man, and then towards the remaining thrall, directing a gauntleted finger towards the corpse. The undead abomination shambled forward obediently, listening to the orders it was given by the hidden necromancer in the woods, and promptly began to tear into and consume the flesh of the corpse, hungrily tearing away at it.

“Your answer?”
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As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Ryder » Wed Jan 31, 2018 9:23 am

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Death wasn't something uncommon to a mercenary, and after seeing what had happened here Ryder felt a level of nothingness he was unfamiliar with. It was as if all the emotion his body had to offer was spent, and now nothing could phase or surprise him. Only the slightest ounce of fear from the monster in front of him went through his head, and even that was the slightest bit muffled by the empty feeling of this much death surrounding him. So when the boy refused to let go, Ryder did nothing but watch as he got what was coming to him. If he wasn't smart enough to try and survive, Ryder had no sympathy for him. Nor should he. As far as he was concerned, it meant the boy was a fool.
Watching carefully, Ryder's eyes followed the feathered beast as he walked and spoke. He never once let his gaze slip from what he could only assume was a 'him' from his title of Prince, including when the beast stood directly before him. His eyes showed nothing but the slightest ounce of fear, and the display that what panic had overthrown him before was gone. This thing was analyzing, and Ryder would not show himself as weak. His strength might be the one thing he needed to survive.

Ryder took note of everything the beast said, and how he said it. There was no doubt he was powerful, beyond Ryder's level, and the offers he made he evidently meant. He controlled undead, he had a small army loyally following his side, all of which overpowered the caravan with ease. As far as this battle had gone, Ryder was lucky to be alive, and lucky enough to be offered the chance to keep on living. So what was stopping him?
Behind him, it was almost as though the remainders were too scared to answer. They wanted life over a grizzly and painful death, who didn't? But perhaps it was the idea of what they might have to do for that life. Morals were a crucial part of most people, and Ryder was lucky enough to not be in that group. He'd seen it all, and done a lot of it. He'd held a man by his hair and told him that if he did just one task Ryder would let him live, only to slit his throat as soon as he did the task. Morals didn't prove an issue.

Without once moving his gaze from the creature, Ryder took a single step towards him. "I'm in" he said simply, with a small nod. He then turned around to face the others and see their answer. He felt a hand pat his shoulder with a steady amount of force. It was a reassuring pat, Ryder assumed, telling him he'd done the right thing. Ryder glanced back to the man doing it and gave a small nod, before looking back to the others again.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Ryder glanced to Noth, seeing him a slightly new light now that he wasn't in his gaze as a threat. This creature, or perhaps man, was powerful. Whatever he was, he was now an ally, one that could prove incredibly useful to Ryder. With that thought, Ryder used his foot to slide his weapons back to his feet, not picking them up in case someone saw it as a potential attack.

To not surprise, another man stepped up after a few trills of silence and said he would join. Yet the last seemed hesitant. What could possible make this choice a difficult one? Perhaps he felt he wasn't of any use, and was worried he would be disposed of? It was evident the man, although he could fight, was in no way confident in his ability. But did it matter? He now stood alone, in front of an army as someone else in his position prior was being feasted on in front of him.
He took a small step forward and nodded, words not seeming to form in his mouth as he joined the others. Ryder then glanced to Noth expectantly, waiting for what to do next, keeping his weapons safely in front of him.
"The most dangerous people in the world are not the tiny minority instigating evil acts, but those who do the acts for them" ~ Suzy Kassem
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Noth » Tue Feb 06, 2018 11:37 am

Image


The twilight hybrid had shown little mercy to the young man who had refused to put away his weapon. He had offered him life, but his insistence on grasping at a tool which he could barely operate had more than sealed his fate, it had promised him a simultaneous demonstration of how that particular instrument could be used most effectively, though it became evident that he would never have the opportunity to use any of the knowledge that was granted to him.

Afterward, he continued strutting around the group, laying bare the situation to them so that they all knew what was to occur, and how they might preserve their lives. He was not so wicked nor cruel that he would slaughter all of the mercenaries for performing their work, but instead he was giving them a chance at both survival and reparations for the pain that they had endured. Even those who might have suffered wounds were not simply tossed away as trash, because rent flesh could heal, and torn muscle could repair, and those who endured much became those capable of enduring far more than their peers. One such presented himself with his calmed appearance, and the hybrid took note of how well he had conducted himself both in regards to the battle and its subsequent aftermath.

He further displayed his prowess by volunteering first out of all the survivors; the catalyst to their decision, leading the others to enlist as well to the prospect of life over death. The twilight hybrid did not shift his demeanor so greatly, especially since these were still very much unknown quantities, but he did spin about his heel, talons slashing through the dirt with ease, and promptly spoke to them as he observed his minions scouring the battlefield.

“Splendid. Take a set of armor and a weapon if you desire it. If not, search the pockets of the others. You will present any funds you find to me, and I will distribute them afterwards.” His tone was serious, but congratulatory, as though they had managed to accomplish something grandiose for choosing to live instead of choosing to face a fate like that of their ignorant comrade, and, perhaps they had, because it was an unfortunate truth that there were often casualties in the recruitment process.

“You’ve chosen wisely.” He uttered with finality, before stalking away from the messy scene to a nearby hillock where he could observe the process in earnest. Soon after he had departed, a red-headed and large fellow would approach with bandages and medical equipment, and take to healing any wounds among the mercenaries to the best of his ability, focusing more upon those that were serious as opposed to simple bruises or cuts.

Image

Credit to Pegasus

As a note: Noth is a Grandmaster in Intimidation. That means that he's at least as scary as the Count from Sesame Street. Beware.

"The tyrant confuses those he can't convince, corrupts those he can't confuse, and crushes those he can't corrupt." - Anonymous
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Pegasus » Sun Feb 11, 2018 12:22 pm

Test Review Pending!
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Cursed caravans [Noth]

Postby Sephira » Mon Feb 12, 2018 8:57 am

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Ryder
Overview : I really enjoyed your description of Ryder's memories and their relation to the events of this thread. I truly felt his fear and dread as the caravan and it's guards were decimated. An excellent and fast paced read, thank you!
Points :  XP: 15 XP (This may NOT be used for magic)
Fame :  -10 Joining Al'Angyryl
- 5 Allowing an ally to die
Loot :  Acceptance into Al'Angyryl
Knowledge : Unarmed: Caving in a head
Unarmed: Repeated strikes cause mass damage
Unarmed: Tackling to the floor
Strength: The Weight of a body
Leadership: Moving Others to act to save lives
Leadership: Maintaining confidence in the face of fear
Endurance: Ignoring pain in a fight
Endurance: Withstanding a writhing undead





Noth

Overview : Wow, I really loved your constant attention to Noth's inner thoughts. I can get an immediate impression of his worldview from a single paragraph. Noth's narrative voice oozes villainy. Well done, I can't wait to read more!
Points :  XP:15 This may NOT be used for magic
Fame :  -15 for Forcibly Recruiting Caravan Survivors/Slaughtering a Caravan
Loot : +3 new recruits to Al'Angyryl
100GN (Caravan Loot)
1 Full Set of Leather Armor (Normal)
1 Longsword (Normal)
1 Round Shield (Normal)
A Case of Medicine: 10 Pots of The Raft :
The Raft was recently developed for use as a replacement for stitches. It is a liquid gel bandage that seals wounds and helps prevent infection Each pot contains roughly three uses depending on the amount used. Be aware that the Order of the Adunih will have been expecting the delivery of this medicine and will likely set bounties for it to be found.

Knowledge : Unarmed: Reversing a Knife
Unarmed: Clamp on a Hand to Prevent Attack
Ranged: Best before a Fight
Ranged: Targeting Officers
Ranged: Striking from Behind
Intimidation: Slaying with a Person's Own Weapon


ImageSephira Blackwood

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"Inside each of us, there is the seed of both good and evil. It's a constant struggle as to which one will win.
And one cannot exist without the other."

Dancing Write-Up | Jewelry Crafting Write-Up | Da'Riya (Unarmed Combat) Write-Up
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