Ghetto Edit:

OOC:

So, back to the intrigue, then? Sir Oliver's scheme to put Alfred temporarily out of action with a duel has been foiled, a good time was had by all except the masonry- and the keener courtiers on Ridebert's side may have learned something from the treasurer's actions during the affair, though for myself, I know Larric didn't.

Hmm. I hope Larric doesn't get into too much trouble over all this...

OOC: Did I find a nice spot to change so I can finally tell the part about the hell hound?

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For the Crab Goddess

http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Crab_Truckers

(OOC: Yes, that does, which is why he prefers to have people he can trust to keep him in check most of the time. Also, let it be known that if Alfred wasn't able to talk down Oliver and he died, my next character would have been the evil necromancer and the first thing he will do is maul William with Zombie Alfred. I am only half-joking about it.)

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"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

That's ok - I know the ancient art of zombie killing. You've got to hit them in the head.

Oh, right. First the straightforward bit.

Eliska is waved to the log that the paladin- I think I introduced him as Caralus- is sitting on; interestingly there are scuff marks in the pile of twigs and mostly decomposed leaves behind the log that probably mean someone else was sitting with him not long ago- that someone is probably now covering him.

He looks impressed by her words, says 'You thought you had a vocation, once. Then you changed your mind- I think you were right the first time. That was an excellent guess.

Myself and my friends are a group from the north, and we are here to, hm, boost the fortunes of the faithful. In the broader scheme get back to normal, to small, intricate, honourable wars fought for purposes in place of this vast worship of death.

To that end certain things, certain people do have to change. We would be better off- closer to happiness, to fulfilment and to the gods- if certain people won, and took the barony down the path they favour, and if certain people lost.

Do you remember what it felt like, to want to change the world?' He says that nostagically, and carries on without waiting for the answer,

'Politics is a dirty game, yes; and so many of its' practitioners deserve so much less than they usually get. I think what we're doing is just, and probably overdue. I think you will too, once I explain fully, but before we get to names, I need to know- Can you not feel a touch of the old fire? Do you not want to change the world- am I not right? Are you with us?'

One hundred percent genuine, pure bred zealot- but not a hypocrite, he genuinely believes what he's saying as far as Eliska can tell.


The argument between Alfred and William- I assume all of that except the marked bits was in character and out loud? Assuming too that you started out away from anyone who could overhear- but that would have drawn attention, and fast, you wouldn't have stayed secluded.


Backtracking slightly, Alfred owes Andrea one, too, as she grabs Alfred's arm and steers him away before the treasurer can start adding zeros to the price, think of some way of tricking Alfred into paying for the main repairs to the south wall, add the rest of the miscellaneous damage to the bill, get him to mortgage his lands to a kinsman of the Owell extended family to pay for it, or all of the above.

'Yes- he'll hire a mason and have it done, you can have it inspected once it's finished.' she says over her shoulder as she moves Alfred away to where he and William start their argument. 'Sorry about that,' she does say, 'but I had to get you out of there before he took you for all you were worth, he's only generous to the people he thinks can help his sons and you're not one of them.'


Rohal can transform, and this time comes back into his own head, fully human, but with clogged fingernails and blood running down his chin, his shirt soaked in it- oh gods, what has...oh. A deer. Just a deer. (Quite a tasty one too, for this late in winter.) Sir Detrick's men cn't be far off, in fact he can smell them, and their banners are probably visible from the towers of the keep.


Oh, and you're wrong about zombies. Vital organs don't matter a damn- they're dead. The important part is to break them up badly enough that the magic animating them loses it's grasp, so lop bits, any bits, off, smash them up, do structural damage to them. It's going to be a few months in game time before this becomes a really generally relevant issue though.

He nods in appreciation and goes off to remove his armor.

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

OOC:

Even aside from what ECR says... That only works if the zombie actually uses their brains. This is zombie Alfred.

Argument?

I thought william put forth his offer, and alfred said no - but take care of yourself.

As far as I was aware the rest was a general OOC discussion whilst waiting for the next post from you.

OOC - don't spoil the fun of when we meet these things for the first time.

Rohal will find some spot to make himself look presentable before returning to town. Using his herbalist skills to find some cleansers and some nice smelling ones to get the smell of blood off him.

---

For the Crab Goddess

http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Crab_Truckers

Almost all of that happened out of character, then...bugger. You could probably have exploded several people's heads if that had all been said IC. Oh well. Why did all of that have to be out of character? (Well, so the heads you explode aren't each other's, probably.) It shouldn't have been, some of that should have been said and thrashed out IC.

Rohal can clean himself up without too much difficulty, and make it back to town just after the Verderer and his war party enter, and Sir Detrick's not in the gates two seconds before he has half a dozen people clustered aroud him trying to play politics, give him their version of events and get something from him, whatever they're after.

OOC:

Need to ride to the sound of the guns interesting things happening... Hmm, what would be convenient... ah!

IC:

After a few more gentle, prodding wisecracks from Verone about the damn lightning grenades, Larric decides he probably ought to make sure he can defuse the things safely. That means paraphernelia... which, again, is back at the boathouse. He's probably going to have to sort through there and see about making sure the apparatus he uses for magic-assisted experiments is somewhere closer to hand.

As he sets off through the streets of Qulan, he sees a bit of commotion and Brownian motion in the ongoing amateur street theater. A townsman himself, the intrigued alchemist finds himself gravitating toward the gate, where Sir Detrick is besieged by people with axes to grind...

(OOC: Well, Alfred had already walked away with a look that said, "That's my final word on the topic." Also, I just realized I could have just swiped Bryan's horse, bad feelings about notwithstanding.

Incidentally, I think I'll have Alfred's real father be Ridebert's father, making them half-brothers rather than cousins, instead of a commoner. Would rather not have the whole "you're only doing this because you're not fully of noble blood" accusation flung at him during his Florian Geyer stage. Guy seduced his brother's wife out of boredom during a visit or something similar.)

After Alfred is done changing out of his heavy armor, he heads out to see what the commotion is about. He nods when he sees Larric and attempts to hail Sir Detrick to discuss the Radulf situation.

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"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

"You speak of change, while at the same time ask if I feel the same old flame of interest. I have to answer in the strictest no the old flame can't be felt the same way. Maybe I just appreciate the sensation more now, not that it is gone." And maybe those flames burned from a different source, but hey he could always be a dangerous cats-paw. At least it is nice to be appreciated as a potential in this political game.

'So,' Caralus askes Eliska, after a second of trying and not quite succeeding to parse her words, 'what do you want to see? The old lord's dead, you have a succession made of hollow fools, are any of them truly worthy?

What are you going to work for, what are you going to make happen, then- what does your future look like?'


Back at the castle- Detrick has his strengths and failings, as is obvious by the first words out of his mouth- 'Will you all just shut up about the politics?'

Discourteous as all hell, but he can get away with it because he is an officer of court, a knight banneret, and has a lot of heavily armed men behind him. 'We've just come off a forced march made necessary by the news that the south is in flames;
We'll be moving on again as soon as we're ready to deal with the real problems none of you seem to give a damn about, your words are meaningless, your swords might matter so what are you all still doing standing here?

Where are Dame Tamarin and Sir Alfred?'

He steps forward. "Sir Detrick, I am Sir Alfred." He gestures for Larric to come forward. "And this is Larric Smith, one of my companions. We have Sir Radulf in custody. Shall we take you to him?"

---

"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

Detrick actually looks baffled for a second, wondering why you didn't just kill him, before saying 'You had better.' Makes arrangements for his men- tells his followers where to put them all, get them fed and watered but nobody to slack off, we'll be moving away in a few hours; man's a whirlwind, constantly busy, too tired to be really energetic but that just makes it worse, he's in no mood to be contradicted.

Tired enough to make mistakes? Probably. Frustrated and angry enough to do something pointy and painful and deeply unchivalrous to the people he's annoyed about- evidently the Treasurer and Constable think so, as their men appear to be heading for shelter rapidly.

'So what's your story then?' he asks Alfred and Larric on the way.

OOC:

OK, Panzer hasn't stepped up, so in hopes of getting this in before ECR goes to bed...

IC:

Sensing that Sir Detrick will get snappish if not answered immediately, Larric speaks up (in a posture of deference). "Milord, it's much as I said in the note- I'm the one who wrote it. We were all passing through Coroghan when the southron raiders rode into town, with Catarin tied up and making ready to burn her at the stake. The man you'd sent down, Sir- Boris?- got there in time, and so did about two dozen yeomen. There was a fight, mostly between the yeomanry and the southrons. The yeomen won- real fire-eaters they've got down there, milord, I must say. We- Sir Alfred, me, our fellows- took it upon ourselves to bring their leader here, thinking you might want to have words with him. It was Catarin's idea."

Larric pauses a moment, wanting to make sure Sir Detrick's got that part firmly in his mind before he breaks him any more news. Especially the news about the Countess, not because it's not more important, but because he figures that as soon as Lautern hears about that, if he hasn't already, he won't have much room in his head for anything else at all.
____

*I'm not actually sure how Larric would refer to Catarin- respectfully but not in terms used for nobility (such as 'Lady'); I'm at best partly knowledgeable about modes of address.

The first thing he's worried about is the woman. 'Catarin's all right- she's alive, she didn't- no, I would have known if she had.' he tries to convince himself, then asks anyway. 'She's well?'

Presumably he is told the truth, and says 'Good...she probably had a reason for sending him to me, she's perfectly capable of turning the tables and burning him. A trial'll take more time and I want to murder the bastard, but I'll have to do it properly.

Not that any of it'll matter if the worst does turn out to be true. People were shouting something about the countess at me- Riedell's daughter would be bad enough, but-'


Modes of address, generally it all sounds faintly absurd to the modern ear, so it's nice if it can be got right but don't sweat it too much. Generally some variant on miss or mistress will do.

Larric's answer is "Quite well when last I saw her, day before yesterday."

Larric nods mournfully. "We saw the proclamation ourselves- it's up at the castle now, somewhere..."

He waits for Alfred to speak up.

(OOC: This was what I had written when I hit preview and saw yours. "The last time I checked, she was alive. I would assume that is still the case. As for the Countess, it is true. It is Johanna Calvern. We both read the letter.")

He nods. "Aye. It's a bad situation for us all." He starts scratching his stubble. He thinks to talk about Ridebert's situation, too, but decides Sir Detrick has too much on his plate at the moment to care.

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"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

OOC: Sorry for not being responsive these last few days. ROTC has me on the grindstone planning our FTX. We execute tomorrow so Ill log back on on Sunday morning around 0900 Pacific time. In the mean time, Rohal will wait for an opportunity to dump more bad news on the party about the Hellhound and the Countesses troops passing through the are. He is no good at the political side of things (or dealing with a large amount of people) so he will continue to gather different useful plants and natural materials.

OOC mk II: [nod towards Jester] Rohal will stay very very close to the settlement. No more pheromone pouches for me! (oh god I hope not)

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For the Crab Goddess

http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Crab_Truckers

OOC:

Bear in mind that when you got nailed with that pheromone pouch, it was by an elf proficient in some of the magics that make manipulating the werewolf's cycle possible (Life? Shape? Animal?). Dleamthayaran was a very tricky, experienced warrior- I don't think it would be too far off the mark to imagine his training and modus operandi in terms of today's special forces.

Special forces aren't super-skilled soldiers, they represent an entirely different approach toward warfare (at least in theory). Fewer firefights, more "detonate the claymore from the other side of the hill, sniggering at them for walking into the trap." Much more in the way of exploiting little situational details of the environment to one's own advantage.

Normal foes wouldn't be able to do that to you. That said, it's probably just as well if you avoid transforming from man to beast too often (three times in roughly thirty-six hours already, time to stay clear of the wolf side for a while), and bear in mind that the transformation can be influenced by hostile magic-users. Or benevolent ones, in principle.

Although the encounters ECR thinks up for you when you're in wolf form are so... interesting. I'm hoping to chase after some of those plot hooks, if possible.

(OOC: Christ, I hated land nav. I once ended up a whole kilometer off the frigging map.)

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"I'm just reading through your formspring here, and your responses to many questions seem to indicate that you are ready and willing to sacrifice realism/believability for the sake of (sometimes) marginal increases in gameplay quality. Why is this?"
"Because until I see gamers sincerely demanding that if they get winged in the gut with a bullet that they spend the next three hours bleeding out on the ground before permanently dying, they probably are too." - J.E. Sawyer

OOC:

Oh my god you're like this in real life too?