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  #31  
Old 11-11-2016, 03:47 PM
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Before Craig could tiptoe any further away the big boar slipped and fell, with the big cat on it quickly finishing it off in a gruesome beastly fashion, as natural predators are wont to do. "Every pig gets it's slaughter...Ugh!" the gnome says, rather disgusted at the whole bloody spectacle. He starts to think about what just happened, looking sort of confused as he twists his eyes around and squinches them. "Why does he call me lad? Who's Mr Sea Lion? Whaaat is goiiing on here?"

He looks at the big mother boar, then at the smaller boars, and then at the bag the giant human had brought the first pig with, as he begins to ponder the situation,"I think this is the little boar's family, why else would they have been so angry, unless Jack owed them some money or something....Hmmmmm, now I know why boar hunting isn't very popular back in Squirrel Woods. An angry pig is the worst kind of pig..."

The gnome walks around the camp stroking his beard, concentrated, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. "But wait, maybe these other boars have more family too. They probably do. I'm sure they have aunt boars, uncle boars, cousin boars, grandmother boars, grandfather boars, cousin once-removed boars, in-laws....Oh no! We're in danger!" The gnome starts zigzagging back and forth across the camp with a look of urgency on his face. "Quick! We have to do something before the rest of boar's family find out what happened! We're all in danger! Soon, dozens and dozens of angry boars will come! We have to...we have to hide the bodies..." The gnome gets an idea as he sees Meerkat feeding on the big boar. "Good idea! We have to eat them fast before the rest get here, then we can just tell the other boars that nothing happened. " He runs over to one of the smaller boars, sits down with his legs sprawled in front of him, and energetically starts gnawing on one of the pig's feet, his blood shot eyes wide open with anxiety.


 
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"But surely they have books, written by their wise ones, which speak of us, who we are, and our great men, towns and cities, lands and crops, flocks and literature, artefacts and warrior code?" "Up to a point, Sheikh Kirkuki", I said, and went to the bookshelf.
Oath of Sangus Sworn

Last edited by Alex1983; 11-11-2016 at 04:45 PM. Reason: grammer, details
  #32  
Old 11-11-2016, 11:29 PM
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Aftermath: Tenderloin FightersAs suddenly as the violence started, it was over. Malcom let loose a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. Looks like Jack's hurt pretty bad, but the rest of the group came out alright. Malcom thought, as he slowly lowers his bow. That's not too bad, considering how surprising this was. What in Oakbeard's soggy nostril caused them to attack, though? This is not rutting season.

Malcom walks over to where Jack left his arrow, then picks it up, absently. He glances the arrow over once, to see whether or not it remains true. Turning his attention to Jack, he says, "It's a lot harder to aim these when everyone's dancing around like that. I'm used to sneaking up on prey and shooting them, then sending in Meerkat, if whatever it was manages to flee. I'll get the hang of it eventually."

Malcom looks over and sees the leopard still happily feasting on the mother of all hogs. "Meerkat! Leave that alone and get over here," Malcom says, as he gestures towards himself. Meerkat lifts her head for a moment, revealing a somewhat bloody chin, before turning back to her evening meal.

Sighing, Malcom walks over near the boar, then reaches into his side pouch. Making a chk-CHK sound, he gently tosses a well-loved boot off to the side. Meerkat looks up at the nearby sound of worn leather plonking on dirt. She gets up, leisurely, and wanders over to the boot, then picks it up by the middle. She proudly trots away, causing the heel of the shoe to bounce as she carries it. A few moments later, she finds a spot to settle down and then begins to dig into the top of the boot with her hind legs.

Malcom, meanwhile, drags the boar to the edge of the camp with a grunt. Once near the edge of the camp light, he stands up from a crouch, pushing one hand against the small of his back. Once straightened, he lightly runs his forefingers on his tongue, then brushes his fingers across the leaves of a hanging leaf on a nearby tree.

""According to 'Kada's Folio of Woodlands and Magic,' druids and hunters who have gained woodland spirit awareness will undergo a lengthy ritual at a new moon, during which they consume certain grasses and mushrooms under the guidance of a more experienced woodsman. While each of these woodland masters come away from this ritual with the favor of different spirits' magic, one of the more common magics for them to gain is the unique ability to temporarily ignite their saliva with a cold light, requiring only a short call to the divine world to activate.

"Arcane experts suspect that the mixture of herbs and mushrooms are the root cause of this wellspring of magic. They also suggest that the types of grasses used influence which magics are imbued into the ritual's primary participant. It is theorized that increasing the variety of herbs could increase the number of magics granted by the ritual.

"However, divine heirophants and druids postulate that the emotional connection formed during the ceremony guides each druid to an aspect of the natural world that best fits them. They also strongly suggest that aspiring druids killed through overexposure to toxins have little use for Know Direction. Which magical theory is stronger, or even if a grand unifying Theory of Magic (ToM) might exist, remains hotly contested.(KFWM 374)"
nulo lumo
"
he murmurs. As his fingers cross down the leaf, they leave behind a budding pale-rose light, which illuminates the area.

Satisfied that he can now see, Malcom cuts off a thick slice of where the cat had been chewing, clearing away any stray tooth marks, then sets his hunting knife nearby. After setting up to dress the game, and making sure that Meerkat won't bother everyone else's meal, he heads back to check on how Jack is doing.


  #33  
Old 11-12-2016, 02:04 AM
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As the clearing slowly calms down, Caelion gives the group a bright smile, before settling back into the log seat he had chosen before, a spot he had not left during the brief attack of the boars. As Jack finishes slaughtering the animals, the half-elf gives a musical whistle which resembles the sound of a song bird, calling Tara to him. The donkey comes, though she brays noisily at everyone, as if she's irritated just to see them. The oracle gives her a pat of the flank, then observes the others with his ghostly eyes, listens to their concerns. After a moment, he speaks again in his pleasant voice, "I don't think others will come. Animals don't think like we do, and while a mother with defend her young with ferocity, retribution isn't in them. The biggest danger is the blood drawing scavengers, or even desperate predators."

As Jack finishes and comes over to sit, Caelion is aware that the others may think of him as lazy, though he doesn't suspect they'll hold those thoughts for very long. For as the young ranger sits, the oracle places his thin spindly fingers on his knees and Cure Light Wounds: Heals Jack completely.releases some of the power within his soul, speaking the traditional elven spell, "Using the site Mask linked, he said "Mend the Flesh."Tael si thaer." The reaction is immediate, and the wounds dealt by the boars is knitted back into fresh, pink skin.

With the spell spoken, the crippled half-elf stands and reaches into the pack saddle that Tara wears and extracts a fully equipped cooking kit with a smile, "I'm not much of a butcher, though Malcolm seems to have things in hand. I would be willing to cook, though I am no master. And perhaps, as we camp, it would be best to share our stories, so that we might understand each other." As he says the words, he sets up both his and Jack's pot and begins to prepare what he can, allowing one of the others to speak first, if anyone does.

 
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  #34  
Old 11-12-2016, 04:24 PM
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Jack had an affinity with nature, with the trees, the plants and the animals. It was nothing which gave him advantage in any particular skill but it might be argued it gave him an advantage in life. Perhaps it were the absence of noisy thoughts cluttering his sluggish mind which simply allowed him to hear and see the world a little more clearly. Whatever the reason Jack was one of the fortunate few who saw the beauty of the life and energy around him.

Sitting next to Mr Sea Lion he felt that now. A kindness and warm sensation of quiet power. He felt. Quite comfortable.

When the old man uttered his song-like words Jack felt the warmth in them, it flowed through him. The pain in his leg stopped. So abruptly as to be almost a new form of pain in itself. Looking down at where only a moment ago he'd been oozing blood and agony to find... nothing, just his leg. The shock hit him.

He leapt to his feet jaw slack and flapping about, the colour drained from his face. "Y...y.." His eyes wide and anxious, "you...y..." his finger rose of it's own accord to point at the old man. "You're a... a.." He was struggling with the concept, the word.

"Wizard!" He was finally able to say it.

The word held all sorts of connotations, all kinds of associations: "Powerful. Dangerous. Meddling in the ways of others. Terrible. Evil men. EVIL!" But even as Old Tom had spat his descriptions Jack had sensed another feeling entirely. Fear.

It was not what Jack was feeling right now. Confused, his mind reeled, he felt warm, safe, he felt peace. Most people would have flailed about trying to reconcile the difference between their thoughts and feelings. Jack was not most people, he had long ago accepted that thought was not the strong player in his world and his feelings were invariably more useful. This old man, this wizard, Jack knew him to be kind and caring. He cast aside his thoughts, Old Tom's thoughts and the awe flooded back in to replace them. A Wizard! Here was a wizard. Right here in front of his eyes, talking about cooking and stories. Patting a donkey for God's sake. This was why Jack had left the cabin, this...

He needed to say something. People were looking at him. He needed to say something profound, something momentous, something memorable. He looked down at his healed leg, the holes in his breeches, then back at the Wizard.

"Do you do trousers too?" He blurted.


~~~~*~~~~

Jack retrieved his hunting knife, cleaned his sword and helped cook dinner. There was certainly plenty to go around, enough pork for a farmers hoedown. Flavoured with his herbs and thickened with a little flour it hadn't been a bad stew at all. Delicious in fact.

Satisfied he dragged a large fallen branch over from the nearby tree and dropped the heavy end into the fire, enough to keep it alight till morning and their company warm. He didn't have many stories himself, he lived alone in the forest, well there was Pa but other than that he conversed mainly with trees and rabbits. He always enjoyed a good tale though, like a young child delighting at the magic of them. So he made himself comfortable, took out his whetstone and began to carefully sharpen the long silver blade Wwwshhhish, Wwwshhhish... while he waited to hear what magic the others might bring to the fire.


 

Last edited by Zany; 11-12-2016 at 04:48 PM.
  #35  
Old 11-13-2016, 03:36 PM
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The man who calls himself Ruslan cannot help but give a hearty laugh when he sees how quickly his acquaintances stop the threat of their ungulate aggressors. Sheathing his rapier, he claps his gloved hands together quietly as he grins at the others and says "Well then, well done, I must say! It seems the gods have given us a bit more for dinner, aye?"

Seeing the gnome gnawing on the pig, he approaches the little man and says "Don't you feel it might be a bit better in a stew there, Mr. Potz was it? Come, let's drag these over to our large friend over there getting the fire roaring." Ruslan helps bring the pigs over to the friendly fellow named Jack, and after making sure he's not badly hurt, he does his best to help dress the animals. The Garronus clan were never serious hunters, but Ruslan has helped clean small animals in the past and surmises it shouldn't be too difficult to at least assist.

As the others sit around the fire, Ruslan tries engaging them to see where they hail from. When it is his turn to speak, he shrugs his shoulders and modestly replies "I'm just a student of the sword, really. My father taught me and my brothers, and taught many others as well. It was time to leave home and go explore the world a bit, I guess you could say." He tries to keep the last part light, but for those astute enough it definitely seems as if there is more to the story. Eating his fill, he gives a toast of water to the cook Jack for his fine work at the meal.

 
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  #36  
Old 11-13-2016, 05:10 PM
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Elidyr They may be the strangest group of people I’ve ever encountered, but at least they are not without some skill. Elidyr looked down at this blacked blade, now dripping with the blood of the slain boar. Taking a silken kerchief from his side near his scabbard he cleans his blade, almost religiously. His time spent at the academy clearly shown in his near automatic machinations as he wipes the blade, cleans and polishes it, then gently replaces it by his side within it scabbard.

In the time it had taken to do this people had already begun to move about the camp, the humans making preparations to dine upon their quarry, the friendly yet deformed half breed had shown his abilities in the healing arts, and the gnome was… was… gnawing on the hoof of a boar? What an oddity this one is. Perhaps this one is…touched. Elidyr could hear the whispers in the dark recesses of his mind. You surround yourself with curs, cripples, madmen, and fools. Return to the tower. But Elidyr quickly pushed the thought from his mind.

Seeing the slain piglet still at his feet Elidyr gently takes to a knee and rests a hand on the poor creatures face. Glenn- na i menel Hén –o Rillifane Rallathil Looking at the slain mother nearby Elidyr shakes his head and whispers, You’re better off. Standing and taking his leave of the slauther to check on his pony, Elidyr rests a hand on the creature to calm her. The sight of the strange animals, strange people, and blood had upset her. Elidyr wanted to calm her mind and her spirit, lest she not sleep well.

Taking a seat upwind of the simmering pots Elidyr simply rests and picks at his remaining elven rations as the others rip at the flesh of the children of the forest. The juices of the innocent running down their chins and dripping to the ground. The flesh of the mother and the child mixed together in a single pot. Setting the small amount of food back into his pack, perhaps he will finish his ration in the morning, when his stomach is stronger.




 

Last edited by wodine; 11-13-2016 at 05:18 PM.
  #37  
Old 11-13-2016, 05:46 PM
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The gnome listens to the cripple express how he feels there is nothing to fear. Even so, his own feelings are not totally abated, although the learned half-elf's opinion seems reasonable enough. Craig insistently gnaws on one of the boar's feet until Ruslan comes and cajoles him into helping to drag the boars over to where they will be prepared. Physical strength is evidently not the little gnome's forte, especially compared to the stronger men around the camp, although relative to his size he is strong enough. He grunts, slips and stumbles as he helps to drag the boars. He doesn't speak now, absorbed in the physical efforts which are more than he is used to exerting obviously.

He observes with interest the magic of different types the others casually use. First the human archer with the big fierce cat swiftly uses his saliva to create some magical light, then the deformed half-elf calls upon his healing powers to mend the friendly human giant's bloody wounds instantaneously. He also notes the, in his eyes, exaggerated emotional reaction of the human. Some of the elders in squirrel woods could call upon healing powers given to them by the forces that be, although they normally did it in a highly ritualized, intimate, and secretive fashion. In his community open displays of powerful magic were reserved for when they were really needed, and such occasions were rare in their peaceful part of the woods. Although most gnomes had access to simple low-level magic, the elders warned that displays of powerful magic could create strong and unpredictable emotional reactions in those who did not understand these things. It was against the unspoken rules of the community to use powerful magic to influence others either directly, or indirectly such as by manipulating their base emotions of greed, awe, or fear. This was perhaps the first time this friendly human called Jack saw magic like that, and he would probably need some time to adjust. With a little luck, he would not have noticed how the grease the boar had slipped on had suddenly appeared.

From how he had seen these people deal with the boars, it is obvious they might be dangerous, or are at least to be considered with respect, if only because of their impressive combat skills. The gnome helps as best he can - he had never butchered boars before - so he brings his own pot over to the cripple and begins to chop the vegetables. He is rather disappointed that there are no onions, but he can wait. This meal would be better than what he had eaten in days.

He takes advantage of the occasion to study this curious mix of tall people - humans, elves, and half-elves - and chops the vegetables in a rather absent-minded fashion as he listens and follows his own trains of thought wherever they may lead him.

The human with the cat, named Malcolm, seems to be some kind of archer, curiously he can use some magic too. The other human, named Jack, looks unusually strong. Apparently he had never seen magic before, and he seems to be some kind of warrior as he sits there sharpening his blade. Both humans seem to be rather at ease with the whole hunting, butchering and spending time in the wild business.

The crippled half-elf named Caelion seems like less of a warrior type, being the only one of these tall people who didn't draw a blade to kill the boars when they attacked. He looks like a learned scholar of a kind, and notably he quickly intervened to cure the other human with his elvish magic. He obviously has very good taste in asses too, and apparently is an unusually calm character.

The remaining human called Ruslan also behaves in a very friendly manner, with an easy and hearty laugh. From what he says his father is a master swordsman of considerable skill, and had trained his son in the art as well.

Finally, the elf is the quietest and most mysterious of the bunch. He too seems to be a swordsman of some sort, but his black blade looks very strange and is unlike anything the gnome had seen before. Although he keeps to himself, the elf seems normal enough, although the gnome is a little bit surprised that the elf does not share in the meal the rest prepare together, as this was highly unusual where he was from. This might be due to some kind of elvish etiquette or observance, the gnome muses.

As the rest speak about themselves the gnome listens, and when it seems to be his turn to add something he talks a little bit about himself as well. He stands up before talking, as a polite gesture, and also just to assure they actually notice him given his small stature. "It's a pleasure to meet all of you. Like I said before, my name is Craig Potz and I'm from Squirrel Woods. I belong to the race you call gnome in the common tongue. We also go by many other names, such as Wichtelmännchen, Wichtel, or Zwerg, but we normally prefer to call ourselves Kabouter. Most of the gnomes I know from Squirrel Woods are shy and try to avoid contact with humans and most other races if they can. We usually run away, hide or otherwise escape if we are seen. We also live much longer than you human folk do. In fact, Ruslan, I bet my goat, wherever it has gotten to now, that I was dipping my beard in my mother's onion soup before the son of the father of your father's son was born, hehehe..." He pauses a moment and raises his eyebrows as he looks at his audience to gauge their response. "Anyway, where I'm from we try to avoid danger and commotion as much as we can. I hope you don't mind me saying this, and I don't know if being attacked by animals is normal for you people or whether this is some kind of special occasion, but where I grew up we usually try to eat food that can't ambush us and fight back." The gnome ends his little speech, grins at the rest through his beard, gives a little bow and sits back down again.

 
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"But surely they have books, written by their wise ones, which speak of us, who we are, and our great men, towns and cities, lands and crops, flocks and literature, artefacts and warrior code?" "Up to a point, Sheikh Kirkuki", I said, and went to the bookshelf.
Oath of Sangus Sworn

Last edited by Alex1983; 11-14-2016 at 04:01 PM. Reason: grammar, deatils
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