Sigil

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp

Interacting With: Cyneburg, Satilla, Downed attackers (dead and unconscious)

While roughly cleaning and putting away his knives, Keystone listened to Cyneburg's chatter with the Orc, Five Thirty. He didn't speak Orc, never really cared to learn. But considering their greater situation (out in hostile territory in the middle of an Orc/Human war) he wished he had taken some time to learn at least a few phrases. At word that the last living/conscious adversary had agreed to surrender, Keystone decided to put his two coppers in.

"Oi, ask that pisser wha..." Keystone paused for a second, his glance in Cyneburg's direction now a fully formed double-take. He stared at her more obvious features, telltale signs of her mixed blood. Keystone gave her a shrug, continuing, "Ask that pisser what assurance we got, him and his ain't followin' us to finish the job, eh?"

Keystone had not used lethal force, except on the one with the axe going after Cremwise. Granted, that Goblin might wish he was dead after he woke, not to mention speak in a glaring falsetto until the 'nad swelling went down, but he would live. If you call that living. After a few minutes, they would regain themselves and have a decision to make. The large man was not fond of executions. He had killed, granted, but he was no killer. Perhaps it was stupid, naive, what have you, but Keystone really hoped there was a third, feasible option.

Well, regardless of their status (living or dead), the decision-torn Pugilist didn't want them armed or provisioned. Further, he had no desire for others to come across the scene and re-equip, before running full tilt up the road and stomping roughshod upon them as they slept. With this in mind, Keystone began looting the bodies.

He started with the two he took out first; Alchemist and Monk types (Six and Six Fifteen). He had his eyes on the spikey gloves, his large hands the equal of most Orc's. Either as a weapon or souvenir, he didn't have anything Orc-craft in his Monkly equipment. While Keystone poured over their equipment, he heard a strange sound coming from Six. It sounded like the groan of a man waking with a colossal hangover, except it was pitched more like a Halfling child with its fingers caught in an oven door.

With a stunning act of mercy, Keystone rolled the poor bastard to its side and delivered a quick jab to the base of its skull. It went ragdoll and lasped into silence yet again.

"Right then, he'll be out a while. I recommend we see what these buggers've got, tie up the ones that're still suckin' air, and be on our merry."

As if an afterthought, "And um... White Lady?" he began, clearly forgetting Satilla's name, "If'n you have any more of that healin' left after the ones what're really bad off get theirs, I got some ouchies might need some attention, if ya would."

It was true; ragged slashes opened the side of his head and part of his face, making him even prettier, there were holes in the side of his thick, hide coat, slowly oozing blood, and it looked like he was favoring his right hand, occasionally shaking his left as if it were numb and tingly. He wasn't in the best shape, not by far, but nothing was immediately life-threatening. Triage might put him on second tier. Regular drops of his blood fell upon the ground and more horizontal forms of his former adversaries, as he rummaged through their belongings for anything of note.

The Legend of Zelda: Fragments of Hope

@Sho Minazuki
I have a minor concern with Sigurd being able to auto grab two PCs, then wait until they "stop struggling" before letting them go. Further, you continued without regard to their actions to the situation. (Deku lady seems like the type that'd knife a guy for doing that.)

Now, if this was worked out with the other two via PM or the Titanpad, great. Otherwise, it's bunnying. I'd be careful about that, particularly when the group gets into an actual combat scenario.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

"The Adventures of Froggy & Dick"

or

"What They Did When The Zombies Attacked"

...best children's book EVER.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

@Salrynn

Interactions like Keystone tying ropes to her wrists and ankles and making her dance like a marionette? A little "Weekend at Bernie's" action, hmmm?

The Legend of Zelda: Fragments of Hope

A quick request to @Gowi and @Kafka Komedy, if you would, please put your CS in hiders. Makes it so much easier for reference. Thanks.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Charnobylisk
It will be mentioned in my "In Memoriam" post, after the emergency is over.

The Legend of Zelda: Fragments of Hope

The chill of the morning air in Oasis seemed the perfect time to work on weapon drills. At least, that seemed to be sincerely held belief of several Gerudo women, scimitars in hand. Their twirling, flowing style of fighting with two long blades held a great fascination for Cricket; his native method of combat insisted on utilitarian moves and economy of motion.

Still, the enigmatic Sheikah youth wanted to learn more. He stood parallel to, but apart from, the group of Gerudo soldiers as they went through their forms and footwork, drilling and sparring. The slender Cricket stood, mimicking their movements and approximating their stances, with a pair of his own Gerudo scimitars. Well, maybe not his own; the word of a Sheikah training with the women of the desert attracted the attention of a few natives. Just now, some three dark skinned, red haired girls sat with amused looks on their faces, each armed appropriately to their standing except for one - curved scabbards adorned her well-toned form, presumably the rightful resting spots of the weapons Cricket wielded now.

On the ground near the desert maidens lay a long, brown coat with two Sheikah blades atop it. Kodachi, they were called by most. Shorter than a long blade, larger than a dagger, designed for close work and variable fighting conditions. The youth himself, an odd young man who answered to Cricket, could have easily been mistaken for a knife merchant with the number of sharp implements on his person. He was garbed mostly in functional, tactical black and grey, the cut and fit not a common sight in this part of the world. A black half-mask covered the lower half of his face, giving feature to his bright, red eyes and the tattoo of his people's symbol around his left eye: Three triangles above and a teardrop below.

Were it not for the events which had unfolded elsewhere in the world, Cricket would never have been seen openly here. He surely wouldn't have been learning the techniques of the Desert Folk, and he sure as hell wouldn't be this up close and personal with a Gerudo woman. But it was a strange time for everyone. Strange, and very dangerous.

Cricket's stark white hair blew in the cool air as he looked up from his practice, noting a hawk descending from the sky in the distance. It was a message, certainly. Hopefully it was good news. There was a convoy expected soon, perhaps this was the Fortress confirming its arrival. At least, he hoped. Something inside of him told him that it wasn't. He had come to trust these flashes of intuition, be they fairly recent arrivals in his skill set.

No, he needed to stop what he was doing and go see if he was needed.

The out-of-place Sheikah gave his borrowed twin scimitars a quick twirl and backed out of the morning's exercises. He jogged up to the three Gerudo girls, knelt before the unarmed one, and presented her swords to her with a touch of dramatic motion. She stood and sheathed them, regarding the strange boy with interest and amusement. Cricket pulled down his mask, revealing pleasant features and a wide, genuine smile.

From the corner of his eye, Cricket noticed the other Sheikah rounding onto the thoroughfare near them. He glanced over toward the man, and returned his attention to the lady standing above him. He took her hand and traced a triangle pattern on it with his finger, gave it a quick kiss, and rose. Recovering his coat and swords, he winked at his new friend and moved to meet the other Shiekah in town.

A series of hand motions seemed to ask a question, it was responded to in kind by the other red-eyed man. A look of puzzled urgency came over Cricket, and he fell in line behind the messenger, following him to Resistance HQ as their first volunteer.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

Keystone

Location: Road North of Salarn, Camp

Interacting With: 7 - Orc: Fighter, 7:45 (corpse of), Sona, Cremwise

An arrow, originating from points unknown, appeared quivering in the skull of the Orc assisting the horizontally mounted Five Thirty. This led Keystone's train of thought toward more questions. Sadly, these questions could not be asked nor answered in the meantime. He was paid to protect a wagon and its owner, and that's precisely what he intended to do. Two targets left alive and/or conscious, only one standing. This last one standing was wearing one of his favorite knives in his kidney.

The actions of the Bard, Sona, did not go unnoticed. She was spry, that one. Then again, it seemed that most of her people were. The delicate musician was eager enough to hurl herself into a particularly vorpal piggy-back ride with Seven Forty-Five, though it came at a cost. The one standing Orc, Seven, was right next to her, clawing at Keystone's kunai in his lower back. It was a short matter of time before he got the blade free and turned his aggressive intentions on either Cremwise or the unconscious Bard. It was quite literally his job to make sure that did not happen.

Keystone's left hand was still ringing and numbish from his bracers deflecting that swordfall from Five Thirty. He needed every advantage in with his range attack if he was to close the distance before it was too late. The bulging Pugilist reached back with his steadier right, unsheathing his large, bone handled seax knife. It was a truly masterful piece of steel, catching the cold morning light as he flipped it in his hand to grasp it by the blade. He exhaled sharply and stepped his right foot forward, twisting slightly to involve as many muscle groups into the throw as he could.

While his form was not perfect, it was an adequate and powerful hurl of a lightly magicked blade, constructed for, among other things, just this purpose. It seemed to sing as it parted the air in front of it, traveling in a swift and direct path terminating in the ribcage of the Axe wielding Orc known to him as Seven. Blood gurgled through Seven's mouth, his hands reflexively grasping at the knife as his own weapon slipped from his hand. The Orc was slowing, winding down like some giant, greygreen fleshy clockwork. He collapsed, and embraced the eventual outcome of mortality. Goodnight, Seven.

Keystone ran after his blade full tilt, hopping over another fallen Orc along the way. The large man paused before retrieving his knives to roll Sona's kill, the Archer (Seven Forty-Five), off of her. Satisfied that she was still breathing, Keystone removed his knives from their present resting place and put them away. "Cremwise," he started, "You stay hid 'till we can sort this out, right? Not over just yet. Yeah, Sona ain't dead, by the by."

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Charnobylisk@Nallore@Aewin
Ok, I think we're good now. Thanks, guys!

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

@Charnobylisk@Nallore@Aewin

Per GM request, I'm editing my last post to account for GLARING continuity errors, and clarify a psychological issue. Please don't post until I'm done fixing it.

Will post in the OOC when we're good to go. Thanx.