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Recent Statuses

12 days ago
Current I don't know where to even start when it comes to just how ruined my weekend has just become.
1 like
15 days ago
Having jaw ache due to a lymphatic node swelling ain't fun.
2 likes
16 days ago
How you can help me today ? Quite simple: I need permit to enter A39. You should have been notified about it just recently.
19 days ago
I go to bed in search of sleep, but my cat is always quicker to find it there. Correlation or causality ?
21 days ago
I can confirm the ads issue. I suddenly got them in my own status, in the PMs list, in the status bar... Normally I keep adblock off in support of RPG, but this is unbearable at the moment.
4 likes

Bio


Welcome to my profile page!


Who the hell is this person behind those many miles of fiber optics and copper cable ?

  • I'm a 34 year old guy.
  • ... who's working as a software developer
  • ... and enjoys roleplaying as a casual hobby to distract himself from ongoing stress


And into which hell will I descend with you participating in one of my roleplays?

  • I'm a fantasy addict: medieval high and low!
  • I'd consider myself to be a low casual roleplayer, 3 paragraphs per post on average.
  • My schedule varies. It might happen that I won't be able to post at all for a week, but then again it might happen that I'll reach a sweet spot inside which I can go on a posting rampage. I'd say one can expect 1-2 posts a week from me, depending on the lengths involved.
  • English is not my native language, but so far I've not encountered anyone who had had trouble with me over that :)


Want to RP with me ? Shoot me a PM, but don't shoot me!



Thanks for visiting!

Most Recent Posts

Welcome! If you have any questions, feel free to ask!
Consider me interested :)
Collab between DB, Ferris & Týfurkh
@Jerkchicken@Typical@Pezz570@HokumPocus@13org




Things started to become really weird. Týfurkh remembered that a mere two, three days ago he had been nothing but a somewhat simple traveler on his way through the city. Had he decided to make a stop somewhere else -- maybe nothing would have happened and by now he'd be far away. He had not however, so now he found himself called 'pact-maker', the very word pact already implying that there was some kind of deal he would have to do something for.

Well one really couldn't say that he had not done anything the past bunch of hours. While his message from the top of the belltower might very well have reached its intended recipient those madmen around the sightless had been disturbingly fast when it came to finding them. And now he and the other pact-makers had effectively sought temporary refuge in... what was this ? It must have taken many months, if not years and a quite large workforce to dig and fortify these underground tunnels and chambers, so why did he feel rather uneasy about those Kharu-Natjer ? If anything the space they were living in indicated that they were not some kind of organization that had happened to form just with the appearance of crazy sightless and cultists, but probably had been here for much longer and had found themselves sucked into the stream of events just like he himself had.

Maybe it was the fact that warm water and fresh food seemed to be available in abundance, or maybe it were the slaves. Slavery was not something he was fond of and pretty much the only reason that had made him indirectly use their services by allowing the healers to inspect him was that any untreated injury wouldn't help them either. Týfurkh felt sorry for them and that wasn't only just because they had to get a stool to stand on in order to do the job in his case.

The man arranged priorities: Getting clean first, then eat. His long hair had degraded into a mess that was held together by dried sweat, fat and dust clinging to the previous two things. He made it quick though, merely spending a bunch of minutes on a basic cleanup using the warm water at hand before wrapping himself in simple cloth again. The fact that the wool was clinging to his prominent muscles just as much as his hair told a story about how much of a shortcut Týfurkh had taken in terms of drying himself again afterwards. At least the water wasn't dripping and he had put on the full set of clothing again. Not wearing any armor or weapon felt so refreshing given the recent events... but would he still have found that to be appropriate if he had known everything about those Kharu-Natjer ?

Still somewhat stuck in his own thoughts, Týfurkh wandered back into the dining area. With his eye focused on the delicious looking food he almost bumped into DB who appeared to have other plans than eating.

"Aren't you hungry ?"

Just as the man was preparing to leave, a semi-familiar voice made itself known. He'd turn around and look at the literal giant of a man speaking to him. "Týfurkh? I didn't notice you here. Good thing we all managed to get out together. I was worried we'd lose you to the cult after the floor gave out." He'd reply rather cordially. He'd then continue, "As for the food? I've gone without eating before and I'll endure it again. Just as I endured that cold rain. Now excuse me, I'm going to take my chances in the wilderness outside town."

"I've been lucky. By the time the bell came down I wasn't on the top level anymore, but in the staircase on my way down. Otherwise... I probably wouldn't be here."

Týfurkh seemed a little thoughtful and he indeed was. First about himself and the past events DB had just reminded him about, then about the man's statement about 'taking his chances'.

"Outside town ?" he started, his voice indicating a slight degree of bewilderment. "As far as we can know the town is still sprawling with cultists. We actually have tried to call some friends outside of the city wall to come in, so..." He sighed a little. "Don't you think that's a quite dangerous idea for a single person ? I think we should keep working together."

"Yeah you're right, you are lucky to have made it out. If you've been captured, breaking you out would've been rough after this fight." The man replied.

When Týfurkh asked him if he meant that he wanted to leave, he shot him a look. It was a mix of curiosity and incredulity. He'd reply, "Yes, I think I'll take my chances there. They're strong, but not nearly as much they want you to think. As much as I agree with you, there's no need to be here. The only use was to ally with the watch and they're destroyed. And his allies? The seasoning is a bit too heavy-handed."

The man's words ended in a curious Nation of Taste idiom whose literal meaning is how a dish with less than fresh ingredients may be heavily spiced to cover it up. But is used to refer to something being untrustworthy or suspicious. While an outsider may find the dishes of the country to be heavy in spices and seasoning, the natives make a distinction between good application of heavy seasoning and that which isn't.

Týfurkh paused for a brief, but noticeable moment as he tried to understand the meaning of the last bunch of words. He was a far cry from well versed in the Nation of Taste's specific language and oddities, but given the fact that DB did not seem to have eaten anything the phrase could impossibly refer to any actual food. The latter circumstances allowed Týfurkh to get a careful hunch.

"You don't trust them ? Well... I can't say that I'd be particularly fond of how things went either. They have slaves and a few things are astonishingly well adapted to defending against the cult. Look at all the jade candles for instance..."

The giant wasn't entirely sure if it would actually be appropriate to give DB any advices, however his conscience convinced him otherwise: He couldn't let DB go into such great peril without having told the man his own thoughts first.

"I feel uneasy as well, but for me the alternatives are the following: Either go outside and take the risk of being caught by crazy cultists or not being able to escape the magical madness they have engulfed the city in, or stay here and take the risk of being backstabbed by any ulterior motives the people here might have. I doubt though that any of those could be worse than what the cultists want to do with us, otherwise these Kharu-Natjer would already have had plenty of opportunity to either kill us or subjugate our minds. So... for me the worst thing that can happen is that we don't win, but be certainly can't lose."

Týfurkh's facial expression almost became sarcastic.

"Even if it's basically only because we're already at rock bottom."

From a side door to the dining room emerged Ferris, who’d only dropped by to keep up appearances, having all but lost his appetite the moment he’d seen the messenger. Though he’d seen worse, and though he wasn’t going to do anything to help free them, Ferris still disliked the notion. The young girl who’d delivered the message looked only a few years older than Ferris had been when he lost his father, and though she didn’t look malnourished or mistreated, she was still young enough to unsettle him. Who was to say where he’d be if he hadn’t escaped back then? There were worse fates than death, and though the Kharu-Natjer might be a fair man, Ferris figured a life of servitude to another to be more similar to death than not.

Speaking up, however, was a foolish thought he didn’t bother to entertain. Slaves existed, and the Kharu-Natjer would neither be the first nor the last person to own another. It was simply that the situation put him on edge. He’d allowed the slaves to tend to his wounds, yes, and he’d even come to see the offered food, thinking perhaps he could stomach something simple, but the sheer luxury waiting in the dining room had been enough to fully put him off.

At the main door down the hall, he spotted DB and Týfurkh, who looked to be conversing. He hadn’t spoken much to either of them, hadn’t spoken with Týfurkh at all, really, but what happened earlier in the tower had shown that both could pull their weight on the battlefield, and Ferris respected that.

“Is something the matter?” Ferris asked, approaching. He’d left his scarf in his room, leaving his face feeling a bit bare, but it made for easier conversation when others could see the entirety of his face, even if he usually kept his emotions off his face. As far as he was concerned, though, it seemed like he’d caught the beginning of some sort of discussion. ‘Heated’ was a bit strong of a descriptor, considering what he’d seen of Týfurkh's disposition, but the expression on the Hearing man’s face left room for doubt.

The man would reply to Týfurkh, “Then we’re on the same page then. I wish to do nothing for them and avoid anything that will be needed to be paid in ‘favors’. They will inconvenience us once they find our usefulness gone. And that is why I wish to leave.” It would seem that their discussion would draw the attention of the newest member of the group, Ferris.

“Not really. I’m just discussing how I plan to leave from here.” He’d say to Ferris. At this point he wondered who else was listening. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were listening in to this conversation. Frankly it didn’t bother him, as he distrust was at the level he anticipated some sort of treachery from them. And additionally, he was being much more diplomatic in how he spoke compared to how he really felt.

Týfurkh took notice of Ferris with quite significant interest. He hardly knew the man -- pretty much just like everyone else --, but he looked peculiar for a reason the giant couldn't even isolate himself right away. Then DB continued, still insisting on leaving rather sooner than later.

"Well... holding any of you back from leaving might very well be an exceedance of my competency, but I feel obliged to remind you about a few things: We went to that clocktower with the intent of sending out a message and Karina can confirm that I and her have actually succeeded in doing so just prior to the attack. This means that there's a solid chance that a lot of soldiers are on a move risking their lives in order to rescue us. What do you think you'll do to those men if they find out that those they were sent to rescue have decided to try and get out themselves not as a group, but one by one and into different directions ? In the best case any of their losses will have been unnecessary because you and whoever else decides to make a run for it now will have survived happily. In the worst case any of their losses will have been in vain because you are dead and maybe they will have spent even more lives searching for you."

Týfurkh refilled his lungs, then continued with a voice even slightly more serious than before.

"And now to 'they're weaker as you think'... Did you foresee that the cult would be in that clocktower a mere bunch of minutes after us ? Can you provide me with an explanation about how they found out about us there so quickly ? Can you give me a number about how many sightless are out there or how much more damage we would have had to inflict on that single one in order to defeat him ? And, finally, what makes you think that they'd be less capable of detecting you than they apparently were capable of detecting us as we did everything to remain hidden ? And no, 'hope' doesn't count because it can be applied to everything."

Ferris listened to Týfurkh with some amount of surprise. It seemed that DB had hit some sort of nerve, but Ferris couldn’t fault Týfurkh. He’d been the one closest to the Sightless, and he knew better than any of the group how dangerous they were. And his points were valid; the Sightless were known for their visions, and thinking they’d pass up a moment to strike was rather naive.

“I was planning on heading out too, but you’re right. The Sightless would be waiting.” Ferris looked to DB. “How about scouting the tunnels instead?” He’d passed on a guide and continued to pass on the candle holders, preferring instead to ask for the candle and walk himself to where he needed to go. However, he didn’t know the lay of the tunnels yet, and he’d been looking to rectify that.

"This rescue is going to be more of a battle with the town likely being destroyed in the process. Again, I don't want anything to do in aiding these people should there be a reconstruction. Besides look at me, you think they’re gonna about someone like me? In fact, that’s one of the reasons I think can sneak away with no one caring. A beggar like me sticks out less than someone like you or say, Karina." He’d reply.

He’d take a pause as he listened to Ferris speak. He’d then continue, “I’m not surprised they attacked us so readily. We did walk through public to a less than hidden location. And for all we know they could be launching an attack right now. Still, just because of their numbers and ability doesn’t make them all powerful. However, the illusion that they do is something they’ll wish to maintain as it gives them control without using too much effort.”

Another pause. He’d then continue looking at Ferris “Still, I think I might be getting a little ahead of myself. Perhaps there’s something to be gained here. Besides, not like I won’t be wandering them in search of an exit.”

Ferris considered DB’s point about the Sightless getting control from their caution. It was true, but he didn’t feel that he was being too cautious at the moment. Currently the group was worn out and injured, so avoiding trouble was a priority. In the future, though, he’d have to keep his caution in check since only using defensive tactics and strategies would make them easier to predict, visions or not.

“It’s settled then,” he said, nodding, then turned to Týfurkh. “Are you coming as well?” Though Ferris cared little for company, there was the matter of getting acquainted with the group. Currently, he had only made the acquaintance of Chres and Octavio, if speaking more than a few sentences counted. But, considering that the group would likely take a few more days to nurse their wounds, Ferris figured he had some time.

”I think it can’t hurt to become a little more familiar with the place we are in. I’d be eager to find out how they do some of the things they do here. And just in case things should go utterly wrong indeed…” Týfurkh didn’t actually finish his sentence, believing that it was all too obvious that he was talking about any potential escape route anyway.

”Let me just snatch up some of that food, please. I’m hungry to say the least.”
Vadymc was not fond of Miles' approach on things. For him, words like '"The sooner we get to fightin' the sooner you folks can see just how useful each of you are.' could only come out of a hot-headed fool's mouth. His approach was and had always been to try and avoid any real fight by doing his job properly with the first attack, but that required that the party would not enter this tomb like a hoard of rampaging elefants. Unfortunately Miles seemed to behave just like one already...

Aynway, he would keep his mouth shut and avoid making a conflict out of it. If they'd reach their destination in distrust of each other their chances would not be marginal, but nonexistent altogether. So it was better to give reality a chance to demonstrate what kind of approach was the best one.

Vadymc, at first glance, might have looked like a lumbering beast incapable of any elegant move. As he began walking however long legs indeed started to correlate with significant speed so the assassin, in spite of not having been the first one to get moving, was able to catch up quickly without making too much of an effort out of it. As he was in a close enough range to speak without much volume, Vadymc joined the ongoing conversation:

"You seem to be worried more about us getting backstabbed by our employer than by whatever ancient magic, sophisticated traps or just restless ghosts might roam in any old tomb of significant size and unclear origin. How does it come, Miles ?"
Vadymc looked at the piece of parchment he had been handed -- and tried to understand it. A tiefling's language was quite different from what was common, and while he could read, write and speak the common tongue he was a far cry from an expert in it. In the end he trusted more on what he had heard than what he could read and decided to sign. For the sake of simplicitly and for the sake of not extending the sound of a scratching pen unnecessarily he opted to do so with an exaggerated 'V'.

As the tiefling was about to return the contract he was able to listen in on Miles' statements though. Vadymc could see a point in them, but it wasn't the 'murder for scrolls' part. He was a killer for profit himself and therefore had no concerns with regard to that. But what about the other part, the one about those deciding not to sign ? Miles dismissed it himself and while Vadymc spent another few moments thinking about it he too could not find anything extraordinary in it. Shrugging his enormous shoulders his own contract landed on top of the others.
Talic felt tired, but he certainly would have wished for the opposite to be the case or for never having to rest at all anymore. For him there were not one, but two monsters out there: An unknown in front of them, and one he knew all too well behind them -- or rather behind him alone. The overall situation allowed to question once more the wisdom behind remaining silent about his true story: What if any silent killers came at night, but because they were only behind him none of the others would recognize them as a threat until it was too late ? It was a gamble, but on the other hand a gamble no greater than it had been all those previous nights.

He would have wished for a tree. Something high to climb on as it would not only offer additional protection, but also allow to see much further in the morning. Despite the fact that Talic looked as if him climbing up a tree would rather tear down the latter instead of himself going upwards he actually was quite adept at that kind of stuff. One of the few hobbies he had been able to choose out of his own preference alone and therefore all the more precious.

Talic chose to rest on the grass. If he was going to sleep then he would do so with as much comfort as possible, everything else would be a contradiction. He pulled out the large piece of fur and cloth he had taken with him for that kind of purpose, put it on the ground and warpped himself into it subsequently. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep and it even seemed to be a deep one.
I feel my roleplaying motivation coming back. I have to admit there has been a global and somewhat severe lack of it over the last one and half weeks and pretty much everyone I am in contact with can probably tell about my sloppyness. Once my headache this evening is over I'll get a post up. Apologies @everyone :/
I have to apologize for my lack of interaction. There isn't even much of an actual excuse I could bring forward in my favor aside from two, three days in between I had an excessive job workload. I simply have been experiencing a somewhat global lack of desire for roleplaying the last one and a half weeks and I guess pretty much everyone I am in contact with can tell that I've been quite sloppy :/

I feel its coming back slowly, but still it probably won't be until tomorrow until I actually start to deliver because headaches are a nasty thing.
Stagcross... the very name was an illusion. A deceit put up by the inhabitants of this place so no wary traveller could anticipate that this actually was not the place any stag would dare to cross, but instead a rat's filthy nest. Or was this too much of an insult against the species of rats ? Vadymc had seen rats much more cleaner than this village as he did not even want to know what kind of soft and muddy stuff his large feet were sinking into. At the very least there were shoes around them, even though the journey here had added a lot to their overall wear and tear.

The assassin had potential to stand out of the crowd and that did not change as he approached the tavern. Added to the smell of excrements came that of vomit and spilled drink, the latter probably being the least intolerable of the three. Unfortunately the conversation that hopefully was to come would take a lot longer than he could hold his breath, so he would have to try and keep his own stomach at bay so not to add to the carnage already unfolded.

He shoved past a few people clogging up the entrace, having to duck in order not to bang his head against several supporting crossbeams. The tiefling's eyes looking out not for the counter and the drinks that were sold there, but for the one that might have made the anonymous call. A woman of magic, a sorceress. Someone who had potential to be well distinguishable from the drunken crowd. He found her in the midst of a few other people that had already gathered around her and approached them.

"I'd like to apologize for interrupting your conversation, but... are you Ana ?"
He hoped that if she was then she could already guess why he approached her.
Tyrvariél is way too much of a cutie to just abandon him!
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