Fetzen

Winds of Fate - A Thieves' Adventure (Semi Tabletop, Extensive Campaign)

Hello everyone!

I would definitely like to try and get into this thing again :)

The Prince's Royal Guard

I'm still in :)

The Blackwood

"The best helper in the village ?" Arden asked, an honest smile already appearing on his face. "You could be damn right about that!" This young boy, after all, actually had been the first one to welcome him with true friendlyness and curiosity instead of anything more stonewalling or outright prejudicative -- or at least these aspects had been part of the Skayleigh's first impression of the owners of this place. He was glad to have a reason to leave it now.

So the two persons in question were brothers and indeed they seemed to be missing. If Arden was honest this wasn't a good sign for brothers had a tendency to take much greater care of each other and to go ahead with a better plan and more significant motivation than individuals who had been randomly assigned to a certain task. His feeling told him that something very serious, if not outright nasty, must have happened, but of course he needed to investigate. Not without weapons and armor though, that was for sure by now!

"Thank you, Leder!"

The village had a mayor ? Ah yes, the ubiquitous urge to build up hierarchy. It wasn't like his own people would have been spared from such by nature, but still the fact had come in as a little surprise for the place really didn't seem to be that big and, at least for the Skayleigh, 'mayor' had always sounded like it involved something larger. Anyway, if a certain Mr. Falsted was the one in charge here and also the one potentially holding some more information that was the guy to go to. Arden turned around and back towards the haystack in order to pick up his posessions, then hit the road. Before turning around the corner and thus getting out of Leder's sight, he twisted his head around briefly and looked back at the young boy. He tried to memorize his face and appearance, just in case he'd need to find Leder again.

A few minutes later, the half-giant stood in front of yet another door too small and with the statue of Dragonsbane in view behind him. Hopefully Mr. Falsted was not some remote relative tied into Mrs. Richardson's family tree somehow, otherwise this was an endeavour doomed from the start! Carefully, Arden knocked at the wooden door.

Random roll for a warm welcome

1x d8 = 4

Ignore this

Calit

Calit's eyes only opened as his upper body was already on the move out of bed. Never before in his life had he encountered a desire to leave the comfort of pillow and blanket so utterly irresistible, so completely filling out his mind. It felt so strong that his body was acting faster than his consciousness, the latter only realizing there was a thick wooden beam in the way of his head when it was already too late. A loud bang, a surge of pain and a few moments of almost toppling over again and yet another mark had been stamped onto his scalp. One that would decorate him in a blue-yellow-ish color and tell everybody that most buildings weren't built for someone like him.

And yet this was not what worried him. He had had plenty of nightmares before, in fact nightly escapades of his mind had been a part of his life since his training days, but this had not been one of them. It had felt much stronger, much more... real. And it had actually made sense and had not been the kind of random arrangement of brutal, bloody situations his nightmares usually were about. How could his mind have just made up a location like The Forsaken Grove all on itself anyway ? Let alone no less than five other names with fully fledged figures tied to them.

So, in other words: He had to get there. Any news of ravaged towns and cities had not reached him yet, but since there was no important assignment going on right now he could just make the journey and try to find out more, try either to confirm that this dream had been, in fact, not just a dream, or to confirm that it had merely been a one-in-a-million kind of dream. If he'd come out completely empty handed he'd have had a few days worth of fresh air at least. This little village with its lousy tavern started to stink...

One and an half hours, a good breakfast and a swift change of clothes later, Garmr had been saddled and packed. It was a steed featuring as much of an almost ridiculous enormity as did is owner. It was, in fact, a former plough horse and not anything a knight or even a more wealthy traveler would use and thus neither particularly fast nor very comfortable, but it was strong and sturdy and in Calit's case, that was all that counted. He could sit on it without his feet dragging on the ground or with his mount just giving up after a few miles. Also, once they sam Garmr coming at them, nobody dared to ask whether the animal was capable of doing any tricks or not. They had a tendency to run away instead.

The journey itself did not feature any noteworthy events, although the weather had turned for the worse and by the time Calit arrived at the destination and rendezvous point, his leather clothes were still dripping a little from all the humidity they had had to endure the days prior. Carefully, the assassin picked a thick tree to tie his horse to, then proceeded towards the actual location. Now that he was here skepticism started to rise a bit, but only until he could spot the shapes of four other individuals through the bushes. They seemed to match the dream to a quite disturbingly high degree!

"Hello ?" Calit openly called out now. His voice was dark and chesty just as could be expected from someone of his size, but at least he tried to give it as much of a friendly and curious tone as he could for he did not want to be recognized as a potential threat by anyone. "I suppose we're all here for the same reason ?" he added while coming closer.

Ignore this

Calit Morvayn

Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Human


Appearance:
Calit's face is of a type one could forget very soon if it wasn't for a long and thin scar running vertically along its right side. His eyes are of a dirty mixture of brown and grey, his nose quite average-ish and his otherwise rather flawless skin clearly leans towards the more pale side of things. A beard decorates his jawline and upper lip and looks like it's shaven on a more irregular basis than anything else. His hair features mild locks and a dark brown color.

There is muscle, but it's not as abundant as would be necessary for considering him to be bulked up. There's also enough fat to keep him away from ripped. What is there however is sheer size: Calit grew up with the medical condition of giantism and is an inch shy of eight feet. So, in absolute terms, he's big. Damn big.

Visual reference

Personality:
Calit is a man of continuous self-containment. While he neither hesitates to put his own opinion onto the table nor struggles with outright telling people what he thinks of them, he only very rarely does so with a fit of rage being his method. Also he knows the art of keeping one's own mouth shut, even to a point where those coversing with him might get the impression of him holding back information about himself and his activities. That is... if he doesn't tell you a lie or, more positively formulated, a heavily modified cover story. Years of professional disposal of unwanted subjects might have made him a little... cold hearted. However he still knows what loyalty is and values those who actually beat the difficult path towards his friendship.


Strengths:
At first glance he's not suited for an assassin, however being big and slow doesn't mean you can't pick a lock, scale a wall, break a door, hide in the shadows or end someone's life in silence. In fact his preferred method of utilizing his superior strength for wrestling, choking and breaking necks can sometimes do so even better than a dagger for the lack of a blood spill. Quickly identifying relevant properties of both people and environments has become his second nature, allowing him to move along in relative silence -- one just has to know where to place one's big feet.

His training included a basic lecture of anatomy. It has been for the sake proper torturing, but that doesn't mean that he can't put that to some good use in terms of first aid or simple procedures, too.


Weaknesses:
Calit's set of skills and equipment naturally does not make him much of an offensive in open fights and his lightweight armor is not suited for defending himself against swords, arrows or blunt weapons. Also, while he can reach very high speeds due to his long legs, he's not particularly fast at changing his speed or stance. His huge size makes him a prominent target once seen and there might be occasions when his weight becomes an actual problem. Perhaps the most important thing however is that he can't use magic due to being a mere human.


Brief bio:
Calit was born in a village whose only noteworthy feature probably was being close to the kingdom's border. His parents were simple peasants taking care of the fertile ground around their house, so Calit's own future seemed pretty much predetermined initially. From early on however it became apparent that something was 'different' with the young child as he soon started to stick out of the crowd quite literally. Maybe, if it hadn't been for this, the king's recruiters would never have take notice of him.

The way things went however they did and someone like Calit looked like a worthy candidate for a soldier. It was only during training that two things were noticed about him: First or all his size actually didn't make for that good of a soldier because it was just too much out of the ordinary, and secondly he seemed to be extraordinarily intelligent and tolerant towards killing. Therefore they didn't want to just let go of him, but instead gave him a try at the... more special forces so to speak. It wasn't like Calit, or his parents, would have had much of a choice anyway. Of course the latter were told a bit of a different story about the wellbeing of their son.

He was trained as an agent, a silent killer not meant for the battlefield but for the scenes in the villages, towns and cities behind it. There always was enough work to do, so over the years of service he had enough opportunty to gain experience. Now his time in the king's ranks is over, but he has decided to stick to the job in independence.

Ignore this

Calit Morvayn

Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Human


Appearance:
Calit's face is of a type one could forget very soon if it wasn't for a long and thin scar running vertically along its right side. His eyes are of a dirty mixture of brown and grey, his nose quite average-ish and his otherwise rather flawless skin clearly leans towards the more pale side of things. A beard decorates his jawline and upper lip and looks like it's shaven on a more irregular basis than anything else. His hair features mild locks and a dark brown color.

There is muscle, but it's not as abundant as would be necessary for considering him to be bulked up. There's also enough fat to keep him away from ripped. What is there however is sheer size: Calit grew up with the medical condition of giantism and is an inch shy of eight feet. So, in absolute terms, he's big. Damn big.

Visual reference

Personality:
Calit is a man of continuous self-containment. While he neither hesitates to put his own opinion onto the table nor struggles with outright telling people what he thinks of them, he only very rarely does so with a fit of rage being his method. Also he knows the art of keeping one's own mouth shut, even to a point where those coversing with him might get the impression of him holding back information about himself and his activities. That is... if he doesn't tell you a lie or, more positively formulated, a heavily modified cover story. Years of professional disposal of unwanted subjects might have made him a little... cold hearted. However he still knows what loyalty is and values those who actually beat the difficult path towards his friendship.


Strengths:
At first glance he's not suited for an assassin, however being big and slow doesn't mean you can't pick a lock, scale a wall, break a door, hide in the shadows or end someone's life in silence. In fact his preferred method of utilizing his superior strength for wrestling, choking and breaking necks can sometimes do so even better than a dagger for the lack of a blood spill. Quickly identifying relevant properties of both people and environments has become his second nature, allowing him to move along in relative silence -- one just has to know where to place one's big feet.

His training included a basic lecture of anatomy. It has been for the sake proper torturing, but that doesn't mean that he can't put that to some good use in terms of first aid or simple procedures, too.


Weaknesses:
Calit's set of skills and equipment naturally does not make him much of an offensive in open fights and his lightweight armor is not suited for defending himself against swords, arrows or blunt weapons. Also, while he can reach very high speeds due to his long legs, he's not particularly fast at changing his speed or stance. His huge size makes him a prominent target once seen and there might be occasions when his weight becomes an actual problem. Perhaps the most important thing however is that he can't use magic due to being a mere human.


Brief bio:
Calit was born in a village whose only noteworthy feature probably was being close to the kingdom's border. His parents were simple peasants taking care of the fertile ground around their house, so Calit's own future seemed pretty much predetermined initially. From early on however it became apparent that something was 'different' with the young child as he soon started to stick out of the crowd quite literally. Maybe, if it hadn't been for this, the king's recruiters would never have take notice of him.

The way things went however they did and someone like Calit looked like a worthy candidate for a soldier. It was only during training that two things were noticed about him: First or all his size actually didn't make for that good of a soldier because it was just too much out of the ordinary, and secondly he seemed to be extraordinarily intelligent and tolerant towards killing. Therefore they didn't want to just let go of him, but instead gave him a try at the... more special forces so to speak. It wasn't like Calit, or his parents, would have had much of a choice anyway. Of course the latter were told a bit of a different story about the wellbeing of their son.

He was trained as an agent, a silent killer not meant for the battlefield but for the scenes in the villages, towns and cities behind it. There always was enough work to do, so over the years of service he had enough opportunty to gain experience. Now his time in the king's ranks is over, but he has decided to stick to the job in independence.

Ignore this

Life's been pretty hectic for me, expect my CS within the next 24 hours.

The Prince's Royal Guard

Manald

Manald was taking in huge amounts of air, trying to restore the usual levels of oxygen in the vast amounts of blood inside his body. He couldn't continue fighting properly while still halfway suffering from suffocation, so the lycan's intention was to buy at a few seconds of time by just walking around the troll. He kept watching his enemy very closely for even a primitive mind could come up with a surprising move once in a while, but the troll seemed a little busy too for he had to figure out how to continue fighting with only one functioning hand. Of course this brief moment of mutual waiting would mean it would start healing, but that was a drawback Manald just had to accept given his own, current state. He hoped to be able to re-engage well before said healing process would have reached completion though.

In the meantime, Manald took little notice of what was happening on the wall. His hearing had been saturated by the steady stream of loud bandgs and screams pretty much from the very beginning of the battle anyway and his eyes had to keep looking at different things in front of him. No goblins appeared to come close enough to engage in a melee, that was all that mattered for the moment. As the blackness in the corners of his eyesight started to disappear and Manald regained both his full field of view and overall ability to think properly, he glanced at the troll's hand: Not fully healed yet! The beast was still effectively one-armed!

Manald jumped forward, charing at the troll in the most violent manner he could muster. If things would work out now the troll would be the one lying in the mud with a giant lycan on top of him. Also Manald aimed his claws at the troll's eyes, intending to take away the monster's eyesight in order to gain a lot of a further advantage. He doubted that a troll's hearing was good enough to locate his enemies very well given the overall noise of battle surrounding them, so blinding the beast was just bound to make things a lot easier for him. Of course that would by no means kill the troll, but success would mean that he could attack his throat more easily. At least that had worked for ultimately disabling axe-troll, hadn't it ?

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

Vaught

_{Early spring of 315 P.F.}

The last time Vaught had paid a visit to the small village of Motis, it had been the middle of the day and the weather calm and clear. People had obeyed to the unspoken, but blatantly visible 'get out of my way'-attitude of the gray giant who had towered far over their heads, but neither had they run away in fear nor had any of them reached for a pitchfork or any other sharp peasant's utensil. Yet if they'd see Vaught now they certainly would, but that was also why he had chosen this particular day for his second approach.

The sun had already sunk below the horizon, not even leaving as much of a reddish glow behind by now, and clouds had gathered to pour themselves out down onto the ground far below. It was the perfect time for people to retreat into their individual houses or, if the need for socialization was too much of an urge, into the local tavern. The latter could count on a steady base of recurring patrons, but also on the occasional bunch of traders and other foreign people making a visit. Vaught's primary interest were the hunters, but if any other individuals would find their end in the occasion that was acceptable, too. Hopefully said bunch of misfits was still present there, maybe even preparing for yet another expedition into The Greatwood...

The rain was cold and dripping down from the large areas of leathery skin that were his wings in large quantities. He still had not managed to put them to any actual and prolonged use, but the clawed hands protruding from their primary bones made for an excellent aid when walking. They allowed him to move forward on four instead of two limbs, thereby greatly lowering his profile as he crawled over the fields. Vaught had not the slightest interest in any attentive eye noticing an inhumanly large, bipedal silhouette against any dim background moonlight in advance. There was a thin line between being quite confident in oneself and being too daring. This body, after all, was still somewhat experimental.

Motis was a place small and unimportant enough for its tavern not to have any particular, fancy name like many of those in the sprawling cities of Outremer. In fact there was only one tavern at all, so identifying it had never been an issue for anyone coming into the village. So neither was it for Vaught as he came closer, clearly seeing the difference between a building intended for humans and many buildings mainly existing for the sake of crops, cattle and the storage of other miscellaneous items. He was small enough not to cause any tremor in his vicinity, but large enough for a dog or two left outside to notice his presence. They started barking with growing intensity, but Vaught wasn't disturbed. He held no grudge against dogs and by the time they'd have managed to truly alert anyone it would be too late anyway, so why should he care ?

The hunters were indeed still in the village -- and they were good drinkers! The men, distinguishing themselves from the simple peasants primarily by the array of weaponry they had brought with them and which they had a tendecy to carry around all the time, made for an excellent exchange of coins against many, many tankards full of very average-ish liquor. The place was filled to the brim, every single room rented and with the owner and his single barmaiden having their hands full keeping up with the demand for food and drinks. The air had become stale from wet leather, smoke, spilled beer, sweat and general human exhaust. Nobody cared to open a window though due to the rain.

And yet, just as a few men around a large table had chosen to play a game of cards, a new opportunity to vent the smell opened up in the wall right behind them. A loud bang tossed the players off their chairs and exposed them to the rain of wooden debris bursting into the room, but still the patrons kept their eyes open because they couldn't believe what they saw: A head, or at least something with large, red eyes and a gaping mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, was filling the new hole in the wall. It turned left and right, staring at them as if deciding whom to pick first.

Now that had been surprisingly easy... This thick layer of bone on his forehead appeared to make for an excellent battering ram, even though he had been clever enough not to go for one of the supporting pillars, but for the much more soft section of mere wooden boards in between them. Vaught lunged forward, ramming his shoulders against the outside wall so it gave way a bit further and allowed him to get inside at least partially. Now that man in front of him, the one frantically using his feet to try and push himself away from the wall: Was that a hunter ? Vaught's mind tried to imagine his face without all the panic -- and yes, this athletic-looking fellow was one of those who had bothered him days before!

Vaught pushed himself in the furthest and fastest he could in order to get a hold onto one of the man's feet. He tried to bite into it and the most prominent of his teeth punched through the leather boot, resuling in a scream of pain from someone who had just been impaled a little. Not wanting to wait until the others would have recollected themselves and readied their weapons, Vaught pulled his victim outside leg-first. Then, out of the rainy darkness, a crack could be heard along with more screams. The taste of human blood was nothing unfamiliar for Vaught, but the taste of actual flesh came accross almost revolting at first. He couldn't consume the hunter, at least not with the speed required for the current situation. So he pinned the man's chest down using the hand-like protrusion of his left wing while taking another bite, now severing the limb completely.

That comparably small chunk didn't scream and therefore wouldn't give away his position, but it would serve as a means to get accustomed with the taste of his new prey. Vaught now trampled over the one-legged man, crushing him in the process, and made a run for it. By the time the hunters had recovered and rushed outside to look after their now dead companion, he had already disappeared in the dark night surrounding Motis.

Fantasy Save the world interest check- The Fight for Valeroma

<Snipped quote by Fetzen>

Awesome! Would you like me to reserve a CO for you? You could go ahead and get the CS filled out if you’d like

@Bitterblue111

Yeah, that would be cool! :)

I'll probably go for either a human or an elf. Still gathering ideas.