"What of the box Giant?" Gorosk asked now that the violence had ended and they were left once more among the broken corpses of the vermin. The chest looked old, worn, rusted, but intact. This struck Gorosk as odd, that amidst all the damage the rats had done this chest would remain untouched. Perhaps it was not as untouched as it first appeared. Gorosk would investigate it further.
He wanted to be done with this venture as much as the others, it was dark, dangerous, and Gorosk was eager to step into the light once more. He also however wanted to find out precisely what had happened here, if it were anything more than a pit these rats were particularly fond of. That would be somewhat reassuring, as worrying as it might be that something darker were afoot it would bring some small measure of relief to know that this loss was caused by something unusual. More unusual than vermin deciding they liked their home just fine.
The giantess had seriously wounded the second of the larger rats and Gorosk meant to finish it off. The smaller rats were bad enough, but the party had proven quite capable of stopping them. These bigger rats were more dangerous and perhaps even more so now that they were wounded and near death. An angry scared animal can be a very dangerous thing. Best to send it from this world before it does any serious damage.
Gorosk let the quarterstaff fall to ground and swung a hard overhand fist at the Dire Rat.
I'm with you on lack of communication and add on to that the avalanche effect that Kuro hinted at. One person disappear, someone else is "waiting for them to post" someone else says "well like half the party isn't posting right now so i feel like we should wait" and then yeah the last guy says "oh, that's still going on?"
Gorosk was thankful the attack had not begun until they were outside of the close quarters of the tunnel and in to the body of this cavern. There was no telling when the rats would come, the large ones looked like trouble. Had they rushed the party when they were lined up single file things may have turned out far worse. Granted, this had only just begun, they may still not survive the next ten minutes, but at least they had a fighting chance.
In the midst of the fight it was hard to tell precisely what was going on but it was simple enough to see that both of the bigger rats were still alive, though one was injured. Best to start there.
Gorosk grabbed his quarterstaff tightly in two hands and swung down on the beast.
Gorosk followed behind the others, happy to be wearing only his Monk robes. At times the added protection of armor would be lovely, perhaps that filthy rat would not have drawn his blood had he been wearing something thicker or more solid, but he enjoyed the mobility and lightness the robes granted him. Now, venturing beneath the Earth, more than ever he was happy to be able to move without added weight pulling his body about. Still, his mobility would do him little good trapped behind others in so small an area.
Gorosk would have preferred to be either in the front, scouting stealthily, the head of the arrow so to speak, or in the very rear, but the Elf would need the space, it made sense. With her at the back, in touch as she seemed with nature, perhaps they would get a warning should the vermin attempt to rush them from behind. It would not be easy for them to all turn about in the small tunnel should they be ambushed, but with a slight heads up they may be fine.
He followed behind, ready to be leaving the dark dank confines of the tunnel almost as soon as he entered them, and hoped that the tunnel would soon open in to a chamber. He did not wish to die under the Earth, hidden from the light of the sun, lost and forgotten.
I came here for a similar reason, board I used to RP switched styles to something more conducive to sharing fan art and YouTube videos rather than long form back and forth RPs. It took me awhile to find the part of the site I fit in with okay but it can be a pretty welcoming place. Perhaps I'll see you in a fantasy RP, you'll know it's me because I'll probably be RPing a Halfling. And then also by the username.
Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.): Roald is small in stature, not surprising for a Ratling, and hairy, also not surprising. He's tan and oddly fit for a race commonly known for their pot bellies. He has wild overgrown eyebrows and an up turned nose scrunched up with a large forehead. He has thick messy dark brown hair which is gradually going gray and sideburns as well as a neigh permanent five o' clock shadow. His default facial expression is a frown.
Attire: Light Brown/Grey Head Wrap Climbing Ropes Wrapped Up Around Shoulder Green Cameleoline Cloak Militarum Auxilia Chest Strap with Two Pockets and Skull Emblem Standard Olive Drab Uniform Shirt and Pants Thick Belt with a Canteen Holder Attached on One Side and an Ammo Box on the other Bandaging Wraps Around Wrists/Hands and Ankles/Feet
Personality: With his fellow Rogue Traders, whether alone with them or peacefully exploring a town with them, he is loud, crude, coarse, obnoxious, drunken, lecherous, gluttonous, and yet somehow still charming. He takes full advantage of his small nonthreatening stature and large eyes so that even when he presses things too far and gets a well deserved slap or shove the conversations generally keep on. He is easy to talk to, easy not to take seriously, and somehow despite how offensive he can be he rarely actually offends. He wants the things everyone wants, he's just more open about wanting them and generally wants more of them.
Aboard the ship he serves as the mechanic. His small size allows him to get around the moving parts more easily and to attend to them from angles that many wouldn't be able to. His curiosity, persistence, and ample application of grease, oil, lubricant, or whatever other fluid he thinks likely to help him solve a problem have served the ship well in keeping things moving. Often times the smell of oil and muffled sound of incoherent swearing echo from the oddest sections of the ship.
In the field, when out on a mission, he is much more professional and quiet during the scouting and traveling phases. Given an order he will quickly find a way to escape even his fellow Trader's view and then pop up again some time later having ventured ahead far afield. When the rifles start cracking his loud whoops tend to accompany his return fire and often, immediately after one of his traps goes off, his barking laughter can be heard from somewhere or other in the battlefield.
One of his goals is to become influential/powerful/wealthy enough to improve his peoples standing in the Empire. After the many slaughters and near genocide at Ornsworld he wants to secure a future for his people and be remembered for doing so. His secondary goal is to get laid, get paid, and repeat that cycle over and over as much as possible until he drops dead. It is often not at all clear which is the priority for Roald.
He is a drunken lecherous loud mouth, but also a sneaky, half mad, mean, little bugger. He works for a paycheck, the notoriety, and to get his hands on booze, drugs, tech, and women from across the universe.
History: Roald's professional life began in the Militarum Auxilia. With his fellow Abhumans he served in this specialist division of the Astra Militarum as a member of a crew of Ratlings. He didn't manage to fit in quite as well as he had hoped. While his combat capabilities were exemplary his personality didn't do him many favors. Certain things are expected among a company of Ratlings but even then there are limits. Roald's inability to exist within these bounds led to his exile from the Militarum Auxilia.
He had served well as a Trailblazer. His confidence, restlessness and some tendencies toward solitude made him a perfect fit for the primary responsibilities of the role, and his penchant for explosions and sometimes rather disturbing exuberance when sending rounds into the general cranium region of unsuspecting enemy troops served him well. He'd joined them in enough campaigns and saw them through enough tight spots that when his general debauchery and penchant for "borrowing" stuff from adjacent units and the populace in general got him in trouble he was assigned to stay on Bakka, participating in repairs and maintenance of the Imperial battlefleets docked there.
He figured out fairly quickly that the whole damn place was hot and smokey, the company wasn't much to look at, and there was no one and nothing fun to shoot. Though he enjoyed the work at first the sedate life of a full time mechanic would never fit him and so sought to join on with the first Rogue Trader to make a stop on Bakka and begin his new life.
Skills: Roald is the consummate Trailblazer, having found a role that fits his natural abilities and inclinations rather well.
In town or, during his Auxilia days, around camp he is quite proficient at procuring near anything he or his unit need or want. When he chooses to he can be very outgoing and friendly, while he is almost always obnoxious and coarse. He is fairly good at disarming hostile but not yet violent strangers due to his diminutive size in the hope to gain useful information about nearby likely hostile areas or the location of fun toys to play with.
Despite his often loud and obnoxious nature among his crewmates when he is on the job he is eerily capable of evading detection and remaining undetected while moving through hostile areas at a relatively high rate of speed. He can swiftly move up the sheerest cliffs and wiggle through the smallest of openings due to his small stature and considerable proportionate strength. Having moved unseen through these areas he is then able to help others navigate their dangers with minimal risk utilizing freshly made trails or old trails freshly uncovered.
When things inevitably wind their way toward some folks he is fond of shooting a lot of folks he doesn't particularly care for he utilizes some of the tech has has managed to "acquire" over the years to harass, distract, and slow down the enemy. Stealth cloaks, combat webbing, ropes, hooks, all manner of traps, and his small size and fondness for finding crevices to stick himself into (hee hee) allow him to create opportunities for himself to engage the enemy when they are at their weakest.
When it comes down to the actual shooting he uses those traps, his small size, his speed, and his accuracy with his Long-Las to confound the enemy and attempt to set them up to be ambushed by his fellow Traders or caught in their own crossfire. He has the uncanny and sometimes downright unsettling ability to set traps up in the most devious of places to inflict grievous wounds and sew discord.
Equipment and Weapons: -Vox-Caster -Monocular Telescope -Canteen on Belt -Cameleoline Cloak -Climbing Gear
-Long-Las Rifle -Combat Knife (attached to waist) -Various traps and trap making materials