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3 yrs ago
Current Acquire child.


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"Oh Rosie! You know," Ana chirped back, "Just a bit of fun with a ton of grease and four lads sprawled on the floor."

The youth locked another bolt into place and took aim at the bandit who was bullying a poor one-eyed man. Unfortunately Ana missed, thus becoming yet another cog in the machine of Odin's misfortunes.


Ana looked down at Kesal and Gascon as they began loading their crossbow. "Lads, I have come to an executive decision," the youth announced, pressing a bolt into place, "I will leave fire management to your capable hands."

With crossbow loaded, Ana brought the sights to their eye, searching for his next target. The crosshair centered on the retreating form of the female bandit that Rosie had apparently been engaging earlier.

A bandit getting out to tell their friends all about what happened here? Not on Ana's watch.

"Oy! Miss! Where do you think you're headed off to?" Ana called out, squeezing down on the trigger to loose a bolt in her direction.


The bandits came. The bandits saw. Now it was the team's job to make sure they didn't conquer 'cause that was their job. With a shark-like grin, Ana brought the sights of their crossbow to their eye and began to take aim.

Meanwhile, Kesel struck.

Ana aimed. They would line this up perfectly, and take one bandit with a well-placed bolt soon enough.

Odin missed.

Ana continued to aim, the grisly results of a critical hit already forming in their mind's eye.

The bandits moved.

'...Damn it. These guys really had to do that, huh?'

Ana had a target all sorted out and everything! This turn of events was truly disappointing. Ana sighed, then reconfigured their aim to fit the changing battlefield. From his vantage point, they only had a good sight on two opponents: the cloaked bandit and the bandit on the roof coming after Odin. Unfortunately, only one had a javelin stuck through him, and Ana wanted that one alive.

After all, the only person wearing a cloak is clearly the superior one on the social hierarchy.

Their target, then, was clear: Ana sighted the target and loosed an arrow at the bandit creeping on the rooftop sniper...!


"Oh Mr. Oleg, if it's robbers and thugs you're expecting through that gate, then 'Good' King Nole may very well be leading the lot," Ana laughed, "At any rate--"

Ana considered the scenario had just been presented. Would they fight bandits here and now for free room and board, or would they leave these people in order to fight bandits later, elsewhere, for no immediate reward? All things considered, the answer to this question was obvious:


"--I wholeheartedly support cleaning up around here," Ana shrugged off their pack and haphazardly tossed it aside after withdrawing a light crossbow, "I would be remiss in my duties otherwise. And it does seem like this place needs it."

They turned on their heel and brought a hand to shade their eyes. scanning the area with wide, green eyes. There were plenty of options around, but unlike the others, Ana generally didn't make a habit of roughness. At least not this kind of roughness.

"I think that I..." Ana pointed to the platform next to gates and the unfortunately unusable catapults. "...will go up there."


A whistled tune, a leisurely stroll, and the morning sun beaming across the fields.

This was how the journey ought to start: not with a marching pace and a grim look. Of course, everyone and their mother started off with a marching pace and a grim look. What was even the big rush? The goal wasn't to race across the Stolen Lands; it was extermination, subjugation, and ministration. And not necessarily in that order, either.

Regardless, their duties sounded like tiresome work and that meant they probably were. Which meant that they were better off conserving their energy than rushing headlong into the wilderness. What was the saying again? "Haste makes waste"? If they wanted to keep hurrying around, by the end of it they'd just be tired and irritated and easy prey for enterprising highwaymen.

But more importantly, they'd be tired and irritated, which wasn't fun for anyone.

Anatoliy Medvyed arrived at the palisades of one Oleg's Trading Post not long after the group started their preparations for battle. Their arrival was hearkened only by a whistled tune as they ambled along the well-worn path and through the wooden gate.

"Wonderful! The whole party is together again." Ana clapped upon sighting the rest of the crew. In other circumstances, they may have left their arms open for a hug. However, it was clear by the hustle that something was up... and not just the economic deficit of running an outpost with nobody in it but their group.

"I see we've met the hosts already," Ana commented, eyes settling on the form of Oleg and Svetlana. The youth strode towards them and extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oleg and... Mr. Oleg's daughter, I presume? Ana of House Medvyed at your service,"

Then Ana looked over their shoulder and asked the party: "What's all this then?"

This was sickening.

Not the upperclassmen, mind you (although many certainly were annoying), but the ride. Ochre had never been good with boats or planes, and the combination of heat, must, and body odor didn't help matters either. Though it looked as if his arms were crossed as an indication of attitude, it was really just him hugging his sides, enduring the ride as well as he could.

It was unfortunate; because he'd much rather have taken this golden opportunity to expand his social network than sit in this cramped shuttle, combating nausea stronger than any of these upper years. Speaking of which, if he didn't want to come off as unsocial, he would have to answer their greeting in kind. Another unfortunate reality.

"...Name's Ochre," he seethed, "And I cannot wait 'till we get there..."

An expression similar to a wry grin (but not at all dissimilar to a grimace) formed on his face. His next words went out to the grey-haired dog: "'Specially cause I..."

He paused. This was not for dramatic purposes. His throat shifted ever so slightly, almost like he was swallowing something. Ochre coughed, and continued in a voice slightly hoarser than before: "...'Cause I gotta show that old man over there what a 'greenhorn' can do."

Ochre leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
>Background skills

yes yes yes yes yes

also think i might nab me some Bastardry

is mythweavers fine for a sheet or do you have an alternate preference
I am here for it.

I’m interested in playing a mostly or completely non-casting Charisma class

Also PB or Roll Stats?
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