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 Freedom. The distant towers of emerald glittering on the horizon in Cymril. Vast swaths of parched, broken earth in the Wilderlands. Cruising over the ranging forests of the Western Lands. Trader. Merchant. Adventurer. Smuggler. All of these are yours, or perhaps none of them are. One thing is certain. You are a crew to the windship Alabaster Midnight and the world is yours.  The ground beneath the ship, far beneath the ship, is broken and rocky. Dracarta lies a short forty miles away. That would be great if the ship was not totally becalmed. No wind for the last twenty four hours. The ship eventually lost all momentum and ground to a halt, hanging in the air like a big wooden cloud. This would not be so bad if it weren't for the fact that a group of filthy sub-men had been tracking the craft for the last two days. They now make camp beneath it, occasionally shooting an arrow upwards. They should not be this close to Dracarta, yet here they were. gently caress. 
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Sep 15, 2014 02:30
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Hoplon The big Thrall was, to put it bluntly, in a foul mood. He was always in a foul mood though, his natural predisposition to smashing faces in often feeling a little bit pent up when he wasn't moving. He was standing in his cabin, big arms outstretched around the table in the middle of the room, desk covered in maps, sextants and compasses. He glanced over at the altimeter and smiled for a moment. Still at cruise height. Another arrow would maybe end out lodged in the keel today but so long as the sub men didn't get it into their heads to set the arrows aflame before firing them up into the sails, he had a feeling they'd be okay. Still, the fact that there hadn't been a single breath of wind for the last 24 hours was really starting to wrankle him. He grunted. Wind charts said there should be something along here unless he was reading it wrong. There was always a chance of that but... Maybe if instead of going to Drakarta they could see if there were better winds out to the east and then- He snorted and stood up, a crick forming in the base of his spine. He moved over to the door out of his cabin and swung it open, the leather gloved hand yanking so hard that the handle continued to come loose. He'd have to get someone to have a look at that. He stepped down the three stairs onto the deck and took in a deep breath, his tricorn hat and thick red coat pulled tight around him. "Well?" he asked, expectant. "I think I ken what the problem is," he said looking up at the sails. "Ain't no fuckin' wind." pre:Name: Hoplon Race: Thrall Height: 6'9" Weight: 300 lbs Age: 27 Paths: Rural, Warrior, Airman, Captain Attributes: INT: -3 CHA: +0 CON: +3 PER: +2 STR: +3 SPD: +1 WIL: +2 DEX: +2 CR: +6 (add this to DR) RC: +2 (Add this to ranged DR I guess also) MR: -4 HP: 33 Move: 100 feet Encumberance: 525 lbs Skills: Languages (Low Talislan, Tattoos) + INT Cultures (Thrall) +5 + INT Cultures (Seven Kingdoms) +3 + INT Brawling +6 + Combat Rating Weapon (Greatsword) +6 + Combat Rating Ride +2 + DEX Swim +2 + DEX Evade +2 + DEX Tactics (aerial combat) +3 + INT Pilot (wind-ship) +4 + PER Haggle +2 + CHA Artillerist +4 + RC Cartography +2 + INT Merchant +3 + CHA Command +3 + CHA Signal +1 + INT Specials: Int counts as +3 for tactical and combat matters. Unable to comprehend magic. Quirks Immune to Fear - Never need to roll against fear. Tazian Combat - Use Brawl. Requires target to roll con vs str or be stunned suffering -3 to all actions for 3 rounds. Lets you parry, attack, grapple and body slam. Body slamming means you can not dodge or parry that round. You can use Garde as armor. If you do, you get 1 free Parry attempt a round. If you succeed a parry while wearing Garde you disarm your oponent. Literate - You can read and write. Good job. Mighty Blow - Fighting with large weapons you suffer -2 penalty to defence but knock enemies to the ground. Quick Reflexes - Add 1 SPD when calculating reactions and initiative. Good Balance - +2 to remain standing. Commanding Voice - +2 CHA to command or inspire others. Equipment: Fine garments. High leather boots, shoulder scabbard and greatsword, heavy leather armor, Fur cloak, padded helmet, Flask of Tazian fire-ale; Waterskin. Backpack. Bedroll. Maps, charts. Chest with lock. Logbook. Pottery inkwell and quills. Greatsword - 10 DR | 15 WT | +2 STR Garde, Full- 4 DR | 40 WT | +1 | BR | 5 PR Garde - 4 DR | 10 WT | +1 | BR Iron Spear - 10 DR | 20 WT | +2 | P Dagger - 4 DR | 1 WT | --- | SB Crossbow / 20 bolts. - 6 DR | 2 WT | -3 STR | 150 range Hide shield. 201 gl in gold. Sion fucked around with this message at 22:04 on Sep 15, 2014 |
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Sep 15, 2014 13:41
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K'Shaial Home sweet home. Perched precariously on the rail rail of the windship, the Dracartan pilot gazes wistfully out over the vast expanse of the Red Desert. The glittering city of Dracarta rises up out of the desert like a shimmering jewel. But so far away. Too far away for help. Not that they would anyway. Wonder what this ship would be worth to a salvage crew. Another arrow floats up in the pilot's direction, almost lazily, but falls back to earth harmlessly. She doesn't bother moving. The sub-men don't seem to be the best shots. But then the Thrall emerges from his cabin, and the pilot hops down from the rail to greet him. The corner of her mouth twitches at his pronouncement. "Well put, sir. I only wish we'd had the foresight to bring one o' them fancy wizards from Phantas with us, to summon up a bit of wind."
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Sep 15, 2014 14:03
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Aabraz Emerging from the cargo hold with a fresh barrel of water, Aabraz shakes his head at the stillness. Could be worse - at least these things didn't crash when they ran out of wind. He heard stories from Sea-Sailors about ships being smashed to splinters when they were becalmed, snatched up by some sea creature or crushed by a wave. "Still got plenty of supplies down there - we can wait this stillness out awhile longer. It must pick up eventually." There was the issue of the Submen, however. "I wonder how long those beasts will wait for us. Even up here, you can smell their stench - no wind to carry it off."
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Sep 15, 2014 15:42
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K'Shaial The Dracartan leans over the rail to look down on their harriers. "How many do you think there are? I don't suppose you two feel like rappelling down and fighting them off... glory to Aa, and all that?"
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Sep 15, 2014 15:49
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Elgan Matavastros Elgan sniffs when he hears K'Shaial's quip. "You've got your 'fancy wizard from Phantas', what you lack is some dirty, nature-loving elementalist or the like to fling wind around willy-nilly. And for your information, I'm presently studying the magic of movement, but unless you feel like waiting around for a month or two for me to finish researching the proper incantations, I'm afraid it's not a practical solution. Were I an elementalist, I could just use a combat spell attuned to wind, though it would likely cost us most of the sail in the process, and perhaps the mast along with it. Regardless, this calm is most odd. The wind isn't like the ocean, it doesn't fall completely still for days on end under most circumstances, this is truly ill luck." To keep himself productive, Elgan moves to the door of the captain's cabin and begins tightening up the bolts on the handle, securing it more soundly. "You should be more gentle with the door, captain, there'll be naught I can do if you damage the wood, short of replacing the door entire." As he works Elgan thinks aloud about ways to deal with the Sub-men. "Hmm, maybe if we drop a barrel of lamp oil over the side, followed by a torch. drat waste if it doesn't work, though, and they might get the idea to ignite their arrows. My good spells are as likely to disintegrate the ship as the sub-men, probably best to save them for last resort. We could always start firing volleys right back at them, it's usually easier to hit while firing down than up, as gravity is on our side. The lack of wind presents a good opportunity in that regard, as no shots would be blown astray by an errant breeze, but the numbers difference...." He continues muttering half-formed ideas and strategies for dealing with the current situation, fixing the door handle almost on instinct.
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Sep 15, 2014 16:34
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Aabraz "At least four dozen, I think - it's hard to tell." Aabraz considers the offer, and then shakes his head. "No. Not now, at least. But if we're still here when it's dark, maybe we could go. Set fire to part of their camp, return quickly to the ship - that might scare them off to look for easier plunder." "We would be doing Dracarta a favor, clearing out their borders."
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Sep 15, 2014 16:35
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K'Shaial The pilot grins affably at the Phantasian's rebuke, raising her hands in a faux surrender. "Fair enough, I yield." The phrase ill luck causes heart to feel like it's constricted by an invisible hand -- is it me? Am I cursed? -- but she does what she can to keep her grin from flickering as Elgan prattles merrily on, as is his way. She glances back at the incredibly literal Aamanian, suddenly alarmed. "No, you were right the first time, Aabraz. Best to just wait for the wind." She glances over the rail again. "That lamp oil idea Elgan had doesn't sound half bad... but then again, like the man said, I'm not sure we want to give them any ideas about the many and varied uses o' fire." Soothing Vapors fucked around with this message at 16:50 on Sep 15, 2014 |
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Sep 15, 2014 16:47
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Hoplon Hoplon sighed a hot breath out and rolled his eyes at the talk of magic. You shouldn't need magic to get a ship from point A to B. He didn't like it, he didn't understand it and he didn't much care for it. The frippery and nonchalant use of magic was clearly something that would never sit right with him. "gently caress mages," he said; just another one of 'the good captains' personality traits. He was a big lunk and everyone knew that so there was a little bit of give when it came to big, blanket statements like that. There was the moment where Aabraz said that there was a favor in line. Huh. Scalps could be tended for coin. Every little helped. "IF I felt that this ship could go without a captain for more than a day I'd go down there in my gear and sort out the trumps down below in a heartbeat, but I reckon that waiting it out might make more sense," he said. "Still... they're far out," he said, moving over to the side of the ship and looking over, as if spying for anyone that looked like they might be in charge.
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Sep 15, 2014 17:57
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Severino Severino climbs up onto the deck from the under climb, having spent an enjoyable half hour tossing colorful insults down at the Sub-men. "I think the big one almost understands Low Talislan, he tried very hard to hit me after I made that comparison between his mother and a garderobe." He leans against the rail and looks around, surveying the situation. "I guess we could make a game out of dropping things on them, if we had the cargo to spare."
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Sep 15, 2014 18:12
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K'Shaial K'Shaial nods in amiable agreement with the general "gently caress mages" sentiment. "Present company excluded, o'course," she calls over to the still-mumbling Phantasian. She moves next to Severino, peering over with the Sarista and the captain. "It makes me wonder if they knew we were going to hit this dead air. Even those things must know that they could never have caught up to us without it... so why track us for two days?"
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Sep 15, 2014 18:33
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Hoplon "Dennae be giving out poo poo if you cannae be the one taking it," he said. "If we head down there an' I hear you shrieking like a dog with its bollocks caught in a mousetrap don't think that I'll be racing ahead to save your stupid rear end because they've pegged you as a special victim. Sub-men are thick as pig-poo poo and twice as ugly but they're good at holding a grudge," said Hoplon with a snort. He sucked up some spit before dropping it over the edge of the ship. He glanced over at K'shaial and grunted in agreement. "Could be," he said with another slow nod. "What'd you make of it, Kay? You're our pilot. You ever see some dead air like this? A day of nothin' ain't right. I'd give for a sparrow to drop a gust out of its arse over all this stillness."
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Sep 15, 2014 19:05
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K'Shaial Kay shakes her head. "I've seen lulls before but none quite like this. Not for a straight day. It's like something is set against us." She chucks her chin vaguely downward. "Can't be that lot below, either. The sand-rats aren't exactly big thinkers." I've already forgotten how to spell my dumb Dracartan name twice, why didn't I think of Kay
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Sep 15, 2014 19:31
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Hoplon Hoplon snorted once at the idea of something being set against them. Something that could control the winds. "Look," he said quietly. "If there was something that was able to pip the wind in its stockings then there's nout anyone of us can say or do for it. Sandies could be workin' with others," he said pondering, still looking for someone resembling a leader in the group. How organized were they? Was this a raiding party or was this just a few nomadic trackers that'd seen the wondrous thing in the sky, decided it was their new got and then tried to bring it crashing back down to solid ground as some sort of iconoclastic expression of self-determination in the face of the divine. "You just keep the mains and royals down and ready to go, I'll try and spy myself one 'uv their leader folk, go down there at night and send 'em a message." It's okay, I've got you, SV. I've got you...
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Sep 15, 2014 20:02
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The thrall eyeballs what is going on below. It looks like there is a small group of them at the center; the others are keeping a fair piece away from that center circle. It is a weird formation and he doesn't understand it at all. It makes little tactical sense. It looks like they have a big bonfire in the center, and there are two rings of dudes moving around that bonfire. There are a lot of them down there, at least twenty or so in the circles and maybe another fifty in the group nearby. He also knows, experienced airman that he is, that this is weird. The weather should not be doing this. Something is up.
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Sep 15, 2014 22:13
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Aabraz "Elgan, could they be, you know, casting some kind of spell on the ship?" He'd joined the Thrall in his observations, for lack of better things to do, becalmed as they were. "It looks like they're up to something. Unless they've decided to hold some kind of ceremony in the middle of nowhere."
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Sep 15, 2014 22:47
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Hoplon Hoplon looked down at the ring of dancing sub-men. That was a lousy spot for a bonfire if that's what it was. No room to really dance and have fun with the fire and it was too big to be something that you'd use to cook with. His palette wasn't exactly the most refined in the world (he liked his beef still mooing and his bread blackened) but even he knew that you didn't cook on a bonfire that was the size of a small house. He shifted his weight a moment and stood back up. "Oi," he called over to Elgan. "You wanna have a look at this? This looks like it's in your line of whoopin' around some fire rather more 'ahn it's in my line of doin' that selfsame."
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Sep 15, 2014 22:49
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Severino "Way too regular, that's not a happy dance for when the clover's in bloom and the blush is on the bride."
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Sep 15, 2014 23:12
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Hoplon Hoplon looked over at Severino. "The gently caress you say?" he said raising an eyebrow and looking like someone just tried to explain algebra to a monkey.
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Sep 15, 2014 23:34
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Elgan Finished with the door handle, at least until Hoplon next broke it, Elgan peered over the side of the ship. "I'm not familiar with the primitive monkey dances of savages, but even so, that's obviously some sort of ritual. Whether to still the wind or summon some form of livestock for them to fraternize with, however, I can't say. Regardless, breaking it up would likely represent some form of progress."
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Sep 16, 2014 00:03
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K'Shail The pilot squints down at the bonfire. Is it a ritual? "Maybe I was wrong about the desert rats. Where'd they learn to do something useful?" Kay pats Severino on the back sympathetically as the Thrall thralls it up, but addresses the mage instead. "How do you suggest we break it up? I'm all on board with dropping things on them, but that sure is a lot of them."
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Sep 16, 2014 00:22
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Hoplon Hoplon nodded his head sharply. "Smash it," he said with a nod as he stood up from the railing at the side of the ship and then slipped up the stairs past his cabin to the wheel. It was a magnificent thing, the wheel; all gold leaf and brass studs inlaid on oak and birch. The handles on it were firm and solid, strapped up with leather and worn with age and use. Hoplon liked to stand there as the ship was moving around sternly and quickly but knew that Kay was the finer pilot out of the two of them. Tactical steering, maneuvering and stuff that required one eye on your heading, another eye on your charts was all stuff that he left to Kay. "I'm thinkin' of droppin' the anchor on the little buggers. Coupla tonnes of iron should give 'em something to consider."
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Sep 16, 2014 00:40
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Aabraz "Still better to wait till dark, I think. They've got those fires going - we'll be able to see them, but they won't be able to see whatever we do coming."
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Sep 16, 2014 00:46
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Hoplon The Thrall looked over at Elgan. "You figure these trumps are gonna kip down for the night at some point or is this lookin' more like one of those all day things," he asked. See, you could tell with guards what they were going to do. They were going to cycle out after eight hours and you could do something during the changing of the guard but this magic nonsense was far harder to keep a lock on than that. This stuff had all sorts of guff floating around it; were they in a trance? Were they magically stimulated to keep them going? Hell, maybe they were golems or something. That's why Hoplon thinks 'gently caress mages' every day when he encounters magic. Ain't nothing straight about it. Nothing simple. Nothing is as it seems which is why he, and so many other Thrall, so strongly prefer the straight up approach of 'I don't like you, you don't like me, let's sock each other in the jaw until someone cries about it.' "I'm thinkin' either the anchor if we can get on a good spot for it," he said, aware that the ship wasn't moving any time soon and the whole anchor plan revolved around them being in a reasonable location for it to be able to land a strike, "or we can just use one of the ballistae on it. I love me some huge fuckin' oak beam with an iron tip to make your feelings on the matter known."
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Sep 16, 2014 00:57
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As the second sun sets, night comes to the desert. It is cold, and the clouds overhead sweep by obscuring the moons and stars. Darkness settles in, and it is evident from the motion of the clouds and the world observed that the desert winds continue to blow. This is no natural calm. Beneath the craft, fires dot the outer ring. They are low and banked, and the veterans in the small band realize they have banked them against being seen at night. To stay out in the open like this is suicide; the Dracartans are not kind to raiders on their territories. Yet the bonfire in the center of the twin circles blazes bright still. It is like a tiny sun with two rings of bodies orbiting. Close observation shows a third; they have pulled tarps and mounts around forming another ring to block the bonfire from observation on the plains as much as possible. Cunning bastards indeed. In the still silence of the night, ropes creak and slacken as the ship bobs a little on the thermal created by the fire below. It would be a lovely night, if not for that.
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Sep 16, 2014 04:47
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Elgan Elgan shrugged at the captain's question. "Fastest way to break up their dance would be to return to the idea of a barrel of lamp oil. One of those on that bonfire would create a fairly nasty explosion. At night, they might even miss the barrel, and take it as a bad omen from whatever mud spirit their underdeveloped brains worship as a god. If we're lucky, the exploding barrel could ignite some of their tarps and other items, spreading the fire. This would also be most useful at night, as a fire so spread out would be more obvious to any Dracartan lookouts or patrols in the vicinity. Though, if we're very lucky, all we need to do to free ourselves is cease their dancing long enough for a breeze to carry us away."
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Sep 16, 2014 05:29
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Kay Despite her ever-increasing sense of dread, Kay can't fight back her grin at the captain's stark declaration of intent. Thralls were blunt instruments, no question, but there was something genuinely refreshing about the simple elegance of Hoplon's plan. "The anchor, huh? I like it. Even if they try to clamber up it to get at us, we can pick em off." She nods toward the wizard. "They're definitely doing something to hide their fires from my people. If we start a blaze big enough to catch the Emerald City's attention... oh yes. They'll come. Whether that's an improvement on our current situation is a matter of debate." do we have a line to drop the anchor on them, or will we be firing the ballista? how many ballista do we have, they are not in your drawring
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Sep 16, 2014 15:01
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Hoplon "Let the wee dobbers try and climb it," grunted Hoplon over at Kay. "They do that, we drop the ballast on it and hook it back up and haul the chain back in quick like," he said with a grin spreading over his face. "You ever see a sub-man get hauled into gears big enough to shift that fuckin' chain at the speed it moves? I ain't but I reckon I will have done by the end of tonight. My money say's they'll rupture like overcooked blood sausage." He listened to Kay talk about the Emerald City folk and nodded. "We've got stuff to trade. Your folk are more likely to find a dark corner in a round room than welcome someone with open arms but... any reason that yed take unkindly to some tars like us?" I asked Paine and he said there were 2. We could strap an oil barrel to a ballista bolt and shoot it at the fire easy enough. That'd make a hell of a mess.
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Sep 16, 2014 17:40
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Kay The pilot moves to the nearest ballista as the captain speaks, checking over its combat readiness with a skilled airman's eye and chuckling faintly all the while. "Can't say as I've ever seen it, but can't say I would mind seein' a few o' em ground up a bit." She grins. "What think you, Severino? You in the mood to fry us up a mess o' desert-rat sausage?" Kay's joviality fades a bit at the captain's next question, but she continues focusing her energies on the ballista. "The desert folk are not a friendly lot, let's leave it at that. This crew's not up to any mischief, though --" the words at the moment hang in the air unsaid, "-- so it should go as well for us as it can."
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Sep 16, 2014 18:24
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Severino "Oh aye, and who'll be the one to clean those gears, then? It's nice to speak of sausage, but seeing it made's another matter!" Sev throws up his hands, but there's a twinkle in his eye and a laugh in his voice.
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Sep 17, 2014 16:20
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Hoplon The tattoos on Hoplon's arms stretched out over his biceps as he moved to fold them over that barrel of a chest. Some of the seams on his coat had burst over the shoulders but that was to be expected with a Thrall of his age. "Aye, well, first one of you that feels the need to complain about that can get the job when it happens," he said moving over to the hatch and crouching down, reaching a meaty hand out and pulling open one of the hatches and climbing down. "I'm aff fae some lamp oil. Kay, Severino you make the Ballista ready. Elgan," he said pausing. "You... do a thing that'll make the explosion bigger or make it so it doesn't not explode." Fuckin' mages.
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Sep 17, 2014 16:46
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It takes a bit of work, but the ballista is hauled down into the lower cargo area and the bottom cargo doors are opened. It is a little tricky, but soon the weapon can fire down at the ground. A small keg of oil is rigged to it, and things seem to be generally pretty well in hand. As the crew looks down at the fire, some strange shapes seem to dance in the flames. Nothing that anyone can get a handle on, but... strange, somehow.
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Sep 17, 2014 17:10
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Kay The pilot grins. "Cleaning gears sounds like Elgan work to me. Oi, Sev, help me load this damned thing. Make sure the arm's steady before we table the bolt. Gotta make sure this shot counts." Once the ballista is moved, loaded and primed, she calls out. "We're ready on your mark, cap. Wizard, you seein' this poo poo in the flames?" Artillerist total is +6 for all relevant purposes
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Sep 17, 2014 17:46
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Hoplon Hoplon looked down over the edge of the cargo gap and cleared his throat. He sniffed, snarled and curled his top lip up to the right before dragging back deeply on his throat. He coughed, cheeks puffing out, and dropped a mouthful of the most vile slime out of his maw. It fell through the air with the greatest of ease, its phlegm and biological refuse providing it with the perfect consistency to reach terminal velocity. He stopped tracking it, the brain of a Thrall able to track an arrow over a thousand yards. A single loogie should be no problem straight down. "gently caress seein' things in the flame," he said stepping back and putting his boot on the trigger of the ballista. He cleared his throat again, gritted his teeth. "Ready to bark, lads!"
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Sep 17, 2014 18:27
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Aabraz "I hope this takes. Be dangerous work to get down there and clear them out, and then get back up again." Aabraz is at ease with the fact that they were safe up here, even if they weren't going anywhere. They had enough supplies to last until the ones down there got bored or hungry - wasn't much forage in the area, they'd probably strip it in a few days.
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Sep 17, 2014 20:55
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Elgan Elgan nods. "I'm seeing it, but I think our need to get moving outpaces any curiosity pertaining to unusual shapes in a fire. And I doubt I've any magic that would effectively contribute to the explosion, my additions would be the metaphorical drop in the bucket. Not worth risking a magical mishap over, especially when it could result in the barrel going up here, on the wooden ship. And as to the gears, I'll repair them if they're knocked out of alignment, but swabbing, well, the first of us to complain was the ideal candidate."
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Sep 18, 2014 01:27
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Severino The Sarista throws up his hands again. "I shoulda been a shoemaker." Then he resumes watching through the cargo doors.
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Sep 18, 2014 08:53
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Hoplon The Captain didn't bother attempting to track where the chunk of spittle and phlegm landed. He's sure that it'll be a good, solid hit. He looked down the length of the ballista giving it a last check over to see everything was in line, his boot still on the chock. "Hands clear!" he shouted. "Fire!" He put his weight onto his right leg and slammed his foot down on the wooden block hard - far harder than was needed and letting the ballista bolt and lantern oil fly. The winch wheel spun with its block no longer in the way, the columnae shaking violently as columnae were want to do as the tense rope snapped forwards and projected the spear forwards. Artillery and Aerial combat tactics at +6.
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Sep 18, 2014 11:08
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The thrall kicks the chock holding the ballista in check hard, the flywheel spinning free as the whole vessel shudders with the thump of the thing firing. The keg trails in a long, long arc through the air. It is a good shot, a clean shot. A perfect shot. It hits the center of the bonfire and moments later that fire blazes up, a column of fire shooting perhaps one hundred feet in the air. The heat from it is intense, washing over the vessel and singeing the lower sails as it rolls up. The flash is brighter than the twin suns combined for a moment, and it totally destroys the night vision of all concerned. What is going on below is a mystery in the purplish black haze of afterflash, but the shouts and protests below pay mute tribute to the fact that something big happened and it was probably a pretty big deal to everyone below. Another thing happens as well. The spell, whatever it was, is broken. Sweet breezes come with it, and these are pleasant indeed. Already the ship begins to move, slowly and creakingly. Then something altogether different happens. Entire, the ship lists over hard. It nearly goes full sideways before the levitationals kick in and right the thing, and the thump and snap of lines and sails and masts on the deck above the hold where the crew has gathered is testimony to the truth of something landing on one of the upper spars. A hollow, bone chilling scream suggests perhaps it is unfriendly. Also large.
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Sep 18, 2014 15:17
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| # ? Apr 23, 2024 12:58 |
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Elgan The Phantasian scholar heaves a sigh as he starts toward the upper deck to help deal with whatever the hell was just unleashed. The explosion was far larger than it should have been, given that it was just a barrel of lamp oil. Obviously, the Sub-men ritual involved more than just stopping the wind. "Damned shamans."
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Sep 18, 2014 15:55
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