Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Uncovered Destinies : A Witcher RP

To say that Pint was disappointed would be an understatement. All excitement seemed to drain from him when the reaction from the apparent leader of the villagers was to put her hands up in the air like she was being robbed. The dwarf's shoulders sank and he lowered his head a little. "Odsblood.." He cursed under his breath-- this was no angry mob, these were scared to death villagers on some fool's errand. That they were armed made little difference to an experienced fighter like Pint, they were definitely not the challenge he was looking for.

"Drowners, aye?" The now visibly less agitated dwarf lowered his spear axe, setting the spear head end on the ground whilst keeping a grip on the bardiche looking axe head. "Yer lad is probably already dead if that's the case. Don't recall of drowners ever playing with their food."

The talk of killing drowners was a pleasant idea however and he offered a vicious grin to the apparent leader of the group; Alma. "But.. I ain't got nothing better to do. If yer off to kill wee beasties I wouldn't mind helping ya out. I got a mighty need to get me axe wet, ya know what I mean? Heheh!" Yep, this dwarf was definitely insane. Probably why he was out here wandering aimlessly rather than doing something productive with his kin.

Aribald surveyed the scene. The new arrival, the dwarf, seemed brimming with confidence.

At least somebody is...

He'd only seen a handful of dwarves before, usually merchants selling goods and materials from Mahakam. Makaham mead was only available in the days or, optimistically, weeks after they came through. Sure beat Sodden mead, though, there's no doubt about that.

And then there was the time last year when a pair of dwarves were marched through town in irons, further on up the road, undoubtedly for what might conceivably pass as a trial before a speedy execution. Squirrels, the guards escorting them said. Two squirrels, nothing more, nothing to see, leave them alone.

Aribald turned to the boy, hoping he hadn't heard the dwarf say his friend is likely dead, although they were all thinking along the same lines.

"Thank you. You're very brave coming back here to this spot. Now run back home, go!"

He was still unsure if this dwarf is someone he wanted to be around in a tense situation, given the way he'd first approached.

All the same, he's the only one that looks like he knows what he's doing here... is this a sign of Melitele's favor?

He relaxed the grip on his knife, accepting that he probably - probably - wouldn't have to fight this dwarf.

"They don't play, you're right. But then where are they now? There's no body, and they usually feed here ashore when they make a kill on land. Might've dragged him out, but the river isn't deep for quite a ways..."

He trailed off, stopping himself before he specified that he meant too deep for a human.

(Hey, I'm going to be out of the house for a while and might not have time to reply. If you guys want to continue until I can get back on, it's fine with me. I just wanted to let you guys know.)

(No worries! Weekends are often pretty hit-or-miss for availability for me, too)

(Same)

(Thanks for understanding guys. Anyways, I'm back way earlier than I expected. It started pouring buckets and it's still going.)

'He couldn't have taken the hint?' Reproachfully, Alma narrowed her eyes at the stranger, refraining from commenting. It was already too late, what use was picking a fight over it. Especially with what was already going on. Instead, Alma turned her head towards the boy, wondering if there was anything she could do to help. However the crushed expression on his round face only made her want to hug him. Not that she was going to; hugs weren't her thing and anyways, she didn't want to seem weak. She was grateful when the local spoke up, nodding thankfully at him before watching the boy turn away. As he ran down the path, she wondered what would become of him.

'Maybe he'll grow up to fight monsters. Would make an interesting story, but it's unlikely. It'll probably just be a story he'll tell to his kids,' She nearly grimaced at the thought. The life of a villager seemed too mundane to even consider at this very moment.

Instead she glanced at the river, her face contemplative. Maybe she could try to sense for drowners. It was only as easy as tuning her othersight to register moving energies. But why waste the energy she would need later in the fight to do so? It didn't seem necessary, not when the other solution seemed so simple.

"We can investigate," Taking a few steps towards the scene, she stared at it before glancing back at them and shrugging, "Drowners can't disappear into thin air, but they can hide." Pointedly looking at the dwarf, she spoke before turning back to the little deer path that led to the bank, "Let's be careful."

Tact wasn't something that this dwarf did nor was he proficient in it by any means. The glare Alma shot at him was met with a perplexed raised eyebrow, clearly not understanding what was the problem with telling the truth.

Still, he wouldn't say no to some killing, and the girl raised a good point. There would be remains of the boy if he had been taken by the drowners. "Aye, suppose we can. Let's see what we find." Nodded the dwarf before pointing to himself. "I'm Pint, by the way. Might as well introduce ourselves if we're gonna work together."

The point of the river being too deep for him on account to his height was not lost on him, however. He may not do tact but he'd been the butt of short jokes around humans for too long to not notice it. Still, it'd be pointless to get angry about facts, because let's face it, at 5 feet he was an inch shorter than Alma. "Maybe so, but even if yer waist is over the water the blighters can still grab ya by the ankles. Personally; I rather fight em in land if its all the same to ya." Pint then moved to follow Alma through the path.

"Alma," Softly she said her own name before hurriedly adding awkwardly, "That's my name, I mean." She had almost forgotten that it was something normal people did. Reflecting on her travels, she realized maybe a handful of people had asked her who she was. Not that she was upset or anything, just coming to the realization of how much her life had changed in the last few weeks. 'No time to think about that now,' Brushing off the thought, she pulled some wavy strands of hair away from her face.

"Fighting in the water would be terrifying," Admitting this, she wondered if she sounded too vulnerable. Immediately regretting how weak the statement sounded, she sighed and tried to brush it from her mind.

Looking around the foliage on either side of the path, she didn't note anything out of the ordinary. Maybe a few broken stems and half-prints probably made when the boy ran from the scene, but nothing indicating monsters as of yet. This wasn't enough to calm her. Instead she walked as softly as she spoke, putting one leather boot in front of the other cautiously before stopping and listening.

Nothing but the lapping of the water on the bank and the rustle of leaves around her. Humming a bit to herself in what was almost frustration, she continued their descent to the bank. The dirt path changed to dirt and small smooth stones under their feet as they reached the break in the sparse amount of trees. The bushes and grass lightened substantially, unable to grow between the smooth white and grey stones of the riverbank. Immediately Alma took notice of the huge streaks of blood to her left, indicating the victim's attempted escape. The boot which she had spotted earlier was shredded. The fur and hide of the shoe was darkened and coarse with the liquid. Around the scene, stones were carved into with telltale scratches.

Examining the water, Alma noticed the telltale glimmer of the fish beneath it. It seemed like darker shadows played towards the deeper middle of the river. Pulling more loose strands of hair out of her eyes, she looked again and saw nothing. 'Maybe a drowner, too lazy to fight after eating. Ugh, that sounded weird. More likely my imagination, they don't disappear into shadows underwater.'

"Seems like he tried to fight back as he ran," Alma spoke, oddly more numb than anything. Striding forward to follow the blood path she added, "Where could he have gone?" The last part was directed towards Aribald. She figured if anyone out of the group could provide some useful information, he could with his knowledge of the landscape.

"Down the way a couple miles there are a few fishing huts."

Home. Saying it would be even worse than living in the village itself, though...

"He might've made for it, thinking the drowners won't follow him that far. Maybe..."

He trailed off again, looking at the scratches on the ground.

"If they went that way, there'll be tracks. The path is muddy today."

I would know. My shoulders still hurt from pushing that damned wheelbarrow.

He turned to the dwarf.

"Aribald, by the way. Now, pleasantries aside..."

Gripping his knife, he turned to look down the path, wishing again that he had something more to defend himself with.

"The undergrowth runs close to the path up ahead. It's not very well maintained. If we go that way, mind yourself. Don't want anything reaching a claw out towards you..."

It sounded just as silly aloud as it had in his head.

Of course nobody wants to let anything grab them. Don't be an idiot, Aribald.

"They're not exactly sneaky on shore, shouldn't be able to sneak up on us unless we're raising too much of a ruckus to hear them. If they are... well... feeding... they'll be even louder, probably about as distracted as they'll ever be, too."

"You blokes have done yer homework." The dwarf chuckled at the humans' detailed explanation of where the boy might have gone if he survived and other possible outcomes of the drowner encounter. Sure, they may not look like much as far as fighting prowess went, but at least they knew what they were dealing with and they had the courage to face it-- sometimes even that was too much to ask of villagers.

"Let me go first." Pint volunteered himself and took the lead. "If any beasties want more man flesh they'll have to get past me Urgrosh first."

Fortunately the dwarf was an accomplished tracker as well and with the mud it'd be easy to follow any leads from either human boy or drowner chasing after him. Also the blood trail, that was easy to track by itself.

"Hey lad," The dwarf suddenly said to Aribald, "ye confident enough with that knife of yers? I can at least give ya a proper dwarven tomahawk to defend yerself with."

(woops, I accidentally double posted. Not sure how to delete this one.)

( No worries.)

Damn, the fisherman knew more than she did. 'That's what I get for always having my nose in a book instead of actually experiencing the world,' Berating herself, she made a mental note to maybe buy a beastiary instead of her usual histories. She was feeling much better about their chances with all these people in tow. In fact, she was even feeling a bit better about leading them on earlier. Though, she had to admit, maybe it was just the numbing of her nerves.

Hesitantly, she paused until Pint had passed her. She liked being the first to see things, the first to know. But she acknowledged that he probably could defend himself better than she could. Fiddling with one of her bracelets, she glanced at Aribald's knife. Slightly surprised at Pint's seemingly kind act she shamefully realized that she hadn't been all that perceptive to his plight. Being armed with only a simple knife would most likely get him killed. Here she was worrying that she would make a mistake with her own weapon while he was only armed with a knife. 'Rather brave to do that,' She thought, doubting that she would do the same if she was in his position. Inwardly she hoped he would accept the tomahawk. She didn't want to think about another death.

Letting go of her wrist, she rolled her hand and placed it around her sword's hilt before gliding to rub her neck, as if assuring herself it was there. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, she wondered what she'd do without it. She wasn't exactly proficient at her craft, but it had helped her in more ways than she could count. Rolling her shoulders, she dropped her hand to her side.

Aribald nodded warily to the dwarf.

"I'd appreciate it. I usually use a spear, when we've got to scare off dogs and anything else that comes for the fish. I can try my hand at that tomahawk. Sure beats the knife. Truth be told, only use it for cleaning the fish..."

He reached out gratefully for the new blade.

"You'll get it back, either when it's all done, or off my corpse, I suppose..."

Aribald stepped aside, happy to let the dwarf take the lead.

He's not lacking in confidence. That's good. But there's confident, and then there's foolhardy... We'll see what this is.

He nodded at Alma and kept an eye on the brush, trying to walk on the edge of the path so as to not obscure or trample any tracks in the road.

Worst case scenario, we can all run to my hut. There's not a lot of room, I don't think there's even space for three people to lay down, but there's clean linen if we need bandages, and some poultices for cuts and scratches...

"Right then, dwarf, we'll be right behind you. Nothing rash, though! This is a daunting enough task already. Let's all just make it out in one piece, alright?"

He hoped that didn't come across as too rude. In truth, he was terrified. He wanted nothing to do with this, not anymore, not after seeing the claw marks and torn up bank. He had hoped there'd be only one, hungry and desperate.

A fool's hope. They wouldn't attack like this with only one...

The dwarf reached for his belt and pulled a very strange looking hatchet. It looked like he had broken a spear head from a polearm and then attached it horizontally to a wooden handle. He spun it around expertly and handed it to Aribald handle first."'Ere ya go" Said the dwarf, his gaze lingering on Aribald to see how he gripped the axe before his gaze returned to the path. "Made it meself, I did. Treat 'er right and she'll see ye through what dangers may come."

Pint then chuckled when the fisherman promised to give it back. "Keep it, mate. It looks like ye need it more than I do. Just promise not to try and use it on me- I wouldn't wanna hafta shove it up yer arse. Hah!"

Leading the way, the mercurial dwarf turned rather serious when Aribald warned him not to do anything too rash. "Mate, I'll do whatever it takes to keep us alive. If they shove hard ye shove back harder and smarter, that's the way it goes with fighting, donna matter if yer facing off against beasties or men."

So far, Alma had been quiet and searching. Although she looked distant, she had been paying attention to their exchanges. She hadn't been around this many people in years, and she still hadn't gotten the hang of conversation. In fact, she was rather confused by Pint's resolve to keep them safe. Confused, she decided not to question it and kept to herself.

As they trod along, she tried to avoid the water's edge and the sting of the brambles that seemed to reach out specifically to grab at them. Also, and probably more importantly, the blood trail seemed to lighten in color, not as oxidized as the blood at the beginning of the trail. 'Must be getting closer...' She made a last attempt to bind her hair into a braid as they walked and wove it into a bun. She had learned from experience how painful it could be if someone decided to pull at her scalp. It was a lesson, she'd rather not repeat.

As they continued to follow the trail, strange sounds of scrapping and scuffling could be heard in the distance. Biting at her lip, she rolled her shoulders and grabbed the hilt of her sword, her other hand raising as if to cup the air.

Quietly, almost no louder than her own breath she whispered, "Do you hear that? Any suggestions on how we should manage?"

Aribald nodded gratefully to the dwarf, holding the tomahawk, getting a feel for its weight and balance.

Yes, this is much better...

Alma's question snapped him out of his thoughts.

Yes. There they are - that's them, no doubt. I've heard those sounds before...

"Well, it sure isn't a boar rooting around. Drowners, I'm sure of it. How many, though? We ought to get a closer look, try to see exactly where they are, how many there are, what they're doing..."

Don't be thick, Aribald, you know what they're doing. Having Isaiah as a nice dinner.

"If we can find a way to get them separated they'll be much less dangerous. Individually they're still tough and nasty but in a group... they're something altogether more formidable."

He sheathed his knife and turned to the other two.

"There are fishing huts down this road - er - path, a couple hours from here. I keep mine, I mean, I keep one stocked with linens and some poultices for cuts and scratches, along with food and ale. There's bedding there, too. If things get too hairy-"

He looked at Pint before hastily changing wording.

"-if things get too dangerous, we can make for that. It's not the safest or tidiest place, barely bigger than some wood sheds I've seen, but it'll keep us warm through the night if we absolutely must flee. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Taking note of Alma braiding her hair, he reached down and tucked his breeches into his boots, rolling up the sleeves of his tunic and tucking them in.

Good thought - the less loose stuff to get grabbed and ripped the better. Not like this tunic would stop their claws and teeth, anyways.

Pint didn't have time to feel offended by Aribald's accidental puns-- there was killing to be done!

The dwarf crouched behind some foliage, keeping his large spear axe hold close to his chest so it wouldn't stick out. "Good, least we got a place to fall back." He nodded to Aribald as he suggested that if things got dire they could high tail it somewhere else.

However, he wasn't really in the mood for running; he wanted to fight!

"Alright, let's do this. Here's the plan lads and lasses; I'll go in first while you two cover my flanks. Stay by my sides at all times and donna let those slimy bastards dog pile me."

"We ain't got the numbers to surround 'em but what we can do is break their center. Once we force 'em to fight individually they can't do pack tactics on us."

"Donna try to be a badass out there if yer not up fer it. Juss keep em at bay and lemme do the heavy lifting. That's what we dwarves are made fer."

He nodded to his companions and then shifted towards where the noise was coming from. He wanted to get a look on the Drowners first before charging them. Even though he wasn't against such tactics, Pint always preferred not to charge completely blindly if he didn't need to. Most of the time anyway-- there were plenty of occasions where he had done that, but normally he didn't do it if he had to look after other people instead of just himself.

"Ye two ready?" He gave one last look to his companions.

Suppressing a half smile at the joke, Alma slid her weapon from it's sheath. As she held out the weapon, with the blade's edge facing her, she actually let a smile play on her face. In her hand she held a broken sword made of only the hilt and a bit of iron leading to a jagged edge where it had split. Holding it up to the air, she admired the way the light shone off the designs in the handle. It didn't look like much, and to any other it would be simply trash to smelt down for the iron. But to Alma, it was everything. Her mentor had given it to her when she had reached her teens. At first, she didn't understand. What was a source to do with a broken weapon? It didn't take till years afterwards that Alma learned she could hone her craft with the sword.

Raising her left hand over the blunt part of the blade, she reached for the energies around her. There was no light, no dark. Only the flickering essences of herself, the foliage, and the strange whispers of the drowners. Muttering unfamiliar words in the Elder speech, chaotic fluctuations in the old spells cast on the sword began to stabilize. Sensing this, she carefully removed her hand from over it and made as if to circle the air around her with her arm. Light seemed to materialize around her arm and snaked around her wrist. The effect was strange, as if fluffy snowflakes had haphazardly landed on her arm. Testing out the flexibility in that arm, she held her arm as if it carried a shield.

Looking up at Pint, a slight smile on her lips, she nodded, "Yes, but... If we get all of their attention on me at one time, I can stun them with a spell. While I'm casting it, you may want to avert your eyes, else it might stun you guys too."

(Sorry for no post yesterday - probably won't be one today either, unexpected job stuff came up. Will definitely be able to post tomorrow, feel free to carry on without me until I jump back in!)

(Np m8s, I know how that be. I really need to get my hack and slash on though so forgive me if I jump the gun I little! )

A smile before battle was the most reassuring thing Pint could hope for from his companions. Though they may come from different paths and have different experiences, they were all at heart warriors, and the dwarf could not hope for better allies. He's learned that sometimes, having someone to not stab you in the back was too much to ask in the battlefield.

One last look over the bushes to confirm the Drowners' position and he gave a firm nod to his companions.

"Stick to the plan."

Then he was off, with surprising speed for a member of the stout folk. The dwarf emerged from behind the bush with Urgrosh poised for a charge.

"Khazukan Kazakit-HA!!!" Unleashing a dwarven warcry, Pint charged forth to the first unsuspecting Drowner, using the spear portion of his Urgrosh to impale it through its solar plexus, or whatever was the Drowner equivalent.