Fetzen

The Sunday Group - Bumps in the Night

Boss: Deeply concerned about how much of the supernatural mess has already been caught on cameras and the public outrage that must be prevented.

Also boss: Scatter!

Maël: Erm, boss ? How am I supposed to 'scatter' ? Do you think I can just shift back and put on my nice suit and tie right here in the airport hall in front of all those people and then walk away like a Mr. Smith ? I'm sure someone would try to follow me to the next toilet as well!

To Face Tomorrow - A Fantasy RP where you don't know the other characters!

That sounds quite interesting. I'm intrigued :)

Portals to the Nether (Fetzen x AutumnFrost)

Othen couldn't help but just started to grin as he heard Branna's words. It seemed she had profoundly bought his cover story, even so much that a part of himself started to feel very sad to have come up with it in the first place. If they'd become friends, what would happen once she'd find out the truth or he'd just have to tell her ? Yet this wasn't the reason why he was grinning slightly. That was caused by nothing but the bubbly light-heartedness the woman displayed.

Othen put his lower arms onto the desk in front if him, gently interlocking his fingers with each others. One could truly say that his arms were at least as thick as other people's thighs, probably even more. "A warrior ? No, not me. You'd be surprised to hear that I wouldn't deem myself particularly suited for a warrior, neither do many of the people around me. I guess I'm too sluggish, but maybe I'm just in the need for the right kind of enemy others can't fight ? Who knows!" He laughed, the intensive sound triggering some of the other patron's attention again for a brief moment.

The man decided to approach the pile of meat, picking out one of the larger pieces in order to start shoving it right into his mouth. There was never anything wrong with fresh meat, but Othen was known for eating a lot of each and pretty much anything anyway. Probably one of the other things Branna would be able to guess easily ?

"I'm trying to get the materials for a special kind of sword. You know... the steel you can get accross the kingdom isn't bad, not at all. However there is steel even better than that, a compound so good that you can slam a freshly sharpened edge against a piece of rock and you won't have a visible dent in it. Of course it's extremely expensive, but I have a customer whom I hope will be worth all the effort. You don't get these kinds of materials in some small village with limited means of processing."

Othen hoped that he didn't overcook it with this statement, but at least it would be a good explanation for his presence here. Branna mentioning her adventures outside of any settlements did trigger his interest though. "So you're coming around a lot, including the wilderness ?" Othen's eyes became brighter than before, perhaps even full of hope. "You... wouldn't mind some company, would you ? I've always wanted to break out of my box and go on some exploration myself, finding some of those minerals and materials they sell you myself. I normally just never have enough time to make a long journey through the land myself, but this time it would count to my job because I have to get back anyway! And you look like someone who indeed might have a lot of experience!"

Of course him not having had much to do with the wilderness was quite a bit of a lie, but the interest to spend some time with her together was real. Branna was attractive and seemed to be on a level of wit that he liked.

Greetings! Candy Cane Service!

<Snipped quote by Fetzen>
I’m pretty certain you sent me on earlier but I could be wrong

@POOHEAD189

You're right! The question is... Which one was it?

Greetings! Candy Cane Service!

I tried to include some hidden hints those people I sent the canes to hopefully would understand. Apparently it didn't work, but everyone can feel free to guess!

The Prince's Royal Guard

To put things short, the overall situation wasn't looking good. By now the constant barrage of arrows and bullets from the defenders had left behind a tremendous number of dead goblins on the ground with demolished corpses being added on top of those by Manald's actions, but it was obvious to everyone that just more and more kept coming. The lycan had no idea what was happening behind him on the wall and he simply had no time to deal with any siege ladders from his position on the ground as well. Most importantly however the two trolls appeared to be next to unstoppable as even punching right into their flesh only had very temporary effect.

The werewolf thought about his options: Trying to bite his way through just anywhere and dealing as much damage as possible was bound to be not a good idea, simply because there was too much armor to crack through beforehand. Hoping that some skilled marksmen would put a few projectils into the beast's head and end its life this way sounded like a good and easy to execute plan at first, but what if the trolls would have reached and broken the gate before that happened ? And what if their skulls were too thick for anything to get through with enough impact ? Maybe the defenders could stack up some explosies behind the gate, wait for the trolls to break through and then blow them up ? If executed with enough haste this might work and maybe even the stream of goblins could be halted as they had to crawl through a crater afterwards, but again this was risky and there was no way to explain this plan to those 30 feet upwards in this mess in the first place.

Yet there was one weak spot on those trolls where rigid armor could impossibly be in place, neither on top nor underneath the skin, simply because flexibility was needed: the throat. Human ingenuity had developed a number of measures against attacks there: Chain mail, large spauldrons with additional, more vertically attached plates to defend against various weapons, shields... But had anything of this been designed with the intelligence and capabilities of a predator just jumping at oneself in mind ? Definitely not. The 'only' troublesome thing was that big, nasty axe that he'd need to avoid at all cost.

Manald reached for one of the dead goblins shot by the defenders. Unlike those killed by himself these still contained the vast majority of their bodily fluids and that was what he needed along with some means to deliver momentum over some distance. He used his claws to punch a bunch of additional holes into the body, then aimed for the axe-troll's head. He threw the goblin as hard as he could, but of course this was no real threat to this kind of foe at all. The impact merely stunned the troll briefly, but it also covered its face in a large amount of blood and thereby impaired its vision until it could use its hand to clear things up again.

Manald had not even waited for the impact to happen, but had started running right after throwing. As the troll was trying to stop things from flowing downwards from his forehead into his eyes, Manald jumped and opened his maw to welcome all the nerves and blood vessels he intended to sever. The crash caused the troll to topple over backwards, but Manald didn't let go but instead tried to dig his deeth as deep as possible into his prey. So... if one destroyed a troll's brain, would even that regrow ? And if so would it regrow including all the knowledge and experience gained over a lifetime or would it regrow as an empty book, reverting its host into the state of utter infancy ?

The lycan was not looking forward to the prospect of oversized troll babies crying for mommy on the battlefield, so he kept digging and tearing until he could feel the hard surface of a spine. In an attempt to defend against any troll axe coming in from behind, he decided to put his feet onto the trolls arms so to pin them down with his weight. Then there it was, finally, that satisfying cracking sound that hopefully would put an end to this monstrosity.

Yet at the same time Manald could feel something else... a sharp pain running through his back. He did not know what it was and could only suspect a goblin, but the reality was a little different: When one was so focused on something and filled to the brim with adrenaline, time seemed to slow down in one's perception as one's reflexes sped up. Manald had not paid much attention to how fast his attack actually happened to any outstanding observer and thus how little to no advance warning it had provided to anyone fighting for his own side as well. He had quite literally charged into the tunnel vision of one of the defenders who had indeed aimed for the troll's head with his trigger finger already moving.

And of course there was a hammer troll still on the move towards the gate...

The Prince's Royal Guard

"I know!" Manald replied, having to halfway yell at Faira in order to overcome the ubiquitous sound of firearms, arrows, arms and armor. It was an environment that would do no good to his ears, that was for sure. If they'd survive this day he'd likely end up with one hell of an headache and a ringing tone that only existed in his sensation.

So far the lycanthrope had decided not to transform. It was a trait that could only be maintained for so long and thus an asset not to be wasted like the day before. Manald knew that his use on the wall was somewhat limited due to the necessity to use ranged weapons. However, now that the first siege ladders were put into place and the goblins started to reach the top of the wall here and there, this was about to change.

"Give me a moment, and then try to keep the green critters away from me!"

Having said this not only to Faira, but addressing all of the soliders around them as well, Manald did not retreat into some closed room where nobody could see him. Instead he merely stepped as far back as he could before starting to shift, so from down below he could probably not be seen anymore. The intent was to reappear with the element of surprise on his side.

"Don't destroy that ladder! I need it!" he added with an already distorted voice, the arm he used to point at the object in question already bulging and being overgrown with even more hair. He put off his set or armor pretty much at the last moment possible before it would have become jammed around his growing body and subsequently burst. A brief moment followed where the transformation reached its climax and every soldier would be able to see Manald naked while he couldn't do anything. Then, somewhat crouching so not to reveal himself to the trolls and goblins openly, he put on his other leather armor as fast as possible.

With a loud, smacking sound, Manald's claws dug into the throat of the goblin that had just reached the top of the ladder. Blood was pouring out of it and moments later the body was clearly devoid of life. Good. Manald knew he had not much experience in handling a sword, but even an idiot could use a club... And every bit of metal and other armor on that dead goblin now would only make it more useful for wiping its successors on the ladder off the latter.

The wood made more than one cracking sound as Manald climbed it from above. That thing was designed for green critters, not for him in his current state. However, as long as it would hold together somehow until he was down far enough to jump everything would be fine. He now held the dead goblin at one of its ankles, trying to get as much range out of his makeshift weapon as possible before thrashing those who continued to climb upwards as he came downwards.

Whether this would work out as planned ? Of course Manald couldn't tell for sure, but only hope. Unlike certain drows he had no magical ability to just disapper and reappear on top of the wall again, but maybe the soldiers there would be able to help him clear a way towards the first of the trolls. They simply could not be allowed to reach the gate and do their work. At least Manald now was at least as monstrous as they were, if not even worse.

The Blackwood

Arden slowly turned his head leftways and downwards towards Dyla, modifying his facial expression in a rather desperate attempt to just tell her: 'Don't try again!'. The female tavern owner clearly had a point about logic, but in the Skayleigh's opinion she lacked that bit of friendliness that would've been greatly welcomed. They had merely asked, hadn't they ? There was plenty of reason to give that woman a snappy reply, maybe something along the lines of 'I'll reconsider my need for ale these days...' just to give her a not so subtle hint, but all in all being on bad terms with the individual owning the place one intended to sleep at could only be a very bad thing. There were priorities.

All of these internal considerations were shattered though when Horace appeared. As the big man dumped a large portion of hot water onto the street Arden merely wondered whether he was Valarie's husband and why he had committed to such a significant waste of warmth, but then he started talking about there actually being an empty room left. The Skayleigh was certain it would prove to be like oil being poured into the fire that was his companion's tongue! And, if he was honest, now he was much more eager to join Dyla's efforts. He'd just take... a bit of a different approach to it. It was a decision that felt particularly good now that Valarie started to treat them like a bunch of annoying toddlers ruining her garden.

The sound of cloth and leather rubbing against each other and giving way to bulging muscle beneath it could be heard as Arden crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked at Valarie, then at the door Horace had taken to get back inside, then back towards her again. Each time his level of skepticism seemed to rise. "So here we have what looks like a couple of tavern owners: One prefers not renting unused rooms to guests and the other apparently has one hell of an attitude against bards. You know what that sounds like to me ?"

Arden leaned forward, trying to get his staring eyes closer to her face as he moved his hands onto the desk in order to support his upper body. Things smelled badly here, and inside his mind the suspicion of Valarie and her husband having something against them for some very stupid and generic reason arose quickly. For the moment however Arden did his best to hold it back and decided to try and challenge her with something else first.

"Contradictory! So...didn't we just have a lecture about logic from you ? How about the next one ?" After all, if the room had simply already been booked by some other individual who'd come in later she just could have told that instead of making a myth about it.

Roll

Intimidation attempt: rolled a 5.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Manald suddenly made a gaping maw out of his mouth and gasped for air. That bucket of water had come in as quite a shock and forced his consciousness to come back to life in an instant. His heart was pounding and going very fast as he craned his neck and stared at Rudolph. Or at least he tried to stare since his optics were still configured for infinity and, quote obviously, refused to change much about that. The lycan blinked repeadetly in order to get the excess water off his eyeballs, but it took more than just one moment for his sight to become sharp again.

He heard another man speak up, addressing him by his full name including any titles, and... What ? His hearing, having been knocked out the day prior due to a cannon shot, now felt like being hypersensitive. The guard's voice sounded like that of a Banshee, loud and with some of the syllables being so high pitched that it almost hurt. Of course that wasn't true in reality, but reality was something Manald was just trying to get back into. So: Something about having to be in the keep in one hour ?

A quick thought about it later, Manald decided to get up. Maybe a little bit too fast for his still impaired sense of balance as Rudolph repeatedly found himself confronted with the lycan being on the verge of collapsing onto him. Only with one of his hands borrowing some additional stability from the tavern's wall behind him Manald's situation finally stabilized.

"Please tell me this is not true!" he muttered, more to himself than Rudolph initially but still clearly audible. One hour ? For eating, cleaning, getting dry again, dressing himself up properly and getting there ? Sounded like a rush. At least for someone who struggled with going in a straight line. "Alright, food. Let's go!" Manald detached from the wall the way someone learning swimming lets go of the wall and starts to float freely for the first time -- and he wobbled around pretty much the same.

A quite slow and for Manald perhaps a little embarassing bit of a walk later the two men found themselves in a more calm inn. Manald ordered a few slices of meat, raw meat, and some bread. The latter served a more decorative purpose than anything else as the lycan was not in the condition to answer many stupid questions asked by anonymous people. He got better slowly, but still the smell of liquor wasn't entirely gone from his breathing and neither were many items of his to-do list. Only half an hour left until the meeting...

It was a rather short breakfast because of that. Manald really would have liked to talk more, but given the current time constraints he and Rudolph would have to postpone that until... whatever would happen this day. He still needed to redress himself and then find the way of course. Berkhoff was not that a small place, so he'd have to rely on people giving him some hints in order to make fast progress.

---------------------------

Manald joined the strategy meeting a little late, so he tried to enter the room as silently as possible and nudged the massive door back into its closed position very gently. He had no interest in attracting a lot of attention right now. His clothes were fine again and so was his fur, but there still was that easily recognizable stench of beer emanating from his mouth with each of his breaths. He therefore tried to stay at a distance to the others and more to the corner of the room so hopefully nobody would notice.

Then it came to the question of where each of them should be placed. The day before Manald had not been able to do much more than to throw some stones and to linger around otherwise, so it felt like an open invitiation he just couldn't resist accepting: "I want to be where I can mess around with hostile intestines. Also, if I may suggest, we should prohibit every non-fighting citizen from having a good shit today. If the goblins manage to blow up the sewers I'd prefer that happening with as little poo as possible raining down upon us. Everybody got me ?"

That was right, right ? Manald's head ached still and, if he was honest, not all of his cognitive functionality felt like being in perfect order this morning...

The Witcher: Under the Shadow

I'd love to do this again.