Fetzen

Ignore this

Calit

So this was the party, right ? Yes, right. Each and everyone of them matched their respective visual appearance in the strange dream, so this could simply not be a mere coincidence. What the vision had not told Calit though was anything about those strangers' personalities. Unfortunately what they had revealed so far was anything but encouraging when it came to the task of slaying a dragon which had a very long-lasting and nasty sounding prophecy behind it...

There was a male with hair brighter and whiter than that of most elderly and a scar that looked even more nasty than his own. As if this hadn't been unusual enough, the man's body appeared smaller than everybody else's, but taller than that of the dwarf nearby. The latter found Calit's silent approval when openly calling out scar-man's pomposity, but the accent and overall way of talking was bound to give a headache! Still... Odran, as he called himself, gave the first impression of being a friendly lad. It could never hurt to have someone around who was well versed with what little technology the world could muster. And he seemed strong!

The same, albeit to a lesser degree of course, seemed to hold true for the female elf. To Calit, Rosarine appeared more curvy than the typical representative of her race, but in the sense of having more muscle and not fat. The assassin glanced at her hands, noting that they looked different than the rest of her skin while she did not seem to have a problem with that at all. At least there were no bandages or other measures that could be expected when dealing with a severe burn wound, so: Was she a fire mage ? Calit couldn't tell for sure, but it was a suspicion he put great confidence in.

The next in the bunch appeared to be the least capable of all of them. Her body, quite obviously, was coated with a significant amount of fat which told a potential story about a lack of fitness. However, in a world filled with shifters and magic, this could very well just be a very first and evenly wrong impression. If the prophecy was right she just had to have some potential, too, and he merely lacked the means to discover them right away. And the last one ? Exotic to say the least with silver hair and eyes. She could not be 'just' an elf, but there had to be more. A shifter ? Calit could only wonder how she'd look like in any different form.

"So I am Calit, a former member of the royal special forces and working on my own since then. In case anyone of you happens to break a bone instead of anything else I might be the one to ask for fixing it, but otherwise I'm more on the opposite side of healing." He said this with an almost monotonous tone, not putting any emphasis on any of his words and with his facial expression not changing over the course of the two sentences.

And then Lalei appeared. If any further proof of this dream not being just a dream had been necessary, this was it. One did not see a spirit every day, let alone a spirit who could present so many scenes of... Wait! Polis ? Calit just stared at what had felt like one giant, comforting home to him for many years. All gone ? The thought about his parents crossed the assassin's mind, or at least about his mother for his father had found a natural death some years ago already. She did not live in Polis itself, but in a village nearby. If that was gone, too... or no. It probably was gone even more likely than Polis itself because it didn't have a fancy king to deliver the words of surrender!

Anybody looking very closely could see Calit clenching his teeth behind closed lips and his face being in turmoil as many opposing muscles built up tension simultaneously. When the spirit reached him and asked for any further questions, Calit only had one: "Are we allowed to choke him using his own guts ?" This time the assassin's voice wasn't neutral, but dripping with sarcasm. If they would succeed, he'd certainly do it!

Ignore this

I will get my post out tomorrow. The work-week has killed me, that's all ;)

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 ?