Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

One pesky outsider tries his luck at stealing a ravosala.

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Belugnir on September 5th, 2017, 12:11 pm

Fall 27th, 517 AV, One Bell Past Midnight, Docks South of the Silver Sliver:

Trevor this 'easy errand' of yours better set me up for the month or my boot is gonna be having words with your arse, so help me. Einar had been skulking about the narrow walkways for o'er a bell now, with a long bundle of linen strapped across his back, obscuring two short paddles from the glances of anyone who cared to look. His self-proclaimed friend from the Nyka caravan came out to be a smuggler, and the petcher apparently needed a spare boat, and wanted to get one for 'half the price'. Being no stranger to shady business, Ein was happy to go and 'help' the bastard, forgetting for the longest time that he'll have to row the bloody boat for at least four bells to get to the southern shore. Man was at least smart enough not to come and attempt theft with his armor buckled on, petch stealthiness, knowing his luck, he'd have ended up falling in the lake and drowning with all that steel dragging him down, no, he merely wore a coat o'er his shirt and trousers, and had a crude dagger stuck in his belt, hidden well enough by the overcoat. In his hand he dragged around a dull green flask, half filled with water, though the drunken act that he was putting up would have it pose as liquor. He'd assumed the city would give less odd glances to a drunken skulking outsider than to one who was obviously skulking about with a purpose. Meanwhile he was looking for a chance. For just one of their stupid boats to be left in a canal with less care than the others, somewhere where a bastard clad in black armor didn't pass through every other chime. And finally he found it.

A ravosala was just sitting there, tied to a dock in a shade, just out of the light cast from the windows of nearby taverns and houses... now only if this couple of lovebirds around the corner had any consideration for a man trying to earn for his bread, stopped making out literally three paces away, and sodded off, shyke'd be splendid. So Einar stuck about, walked up to a distance of perhaps ten feet away from the two, and leaned against the back of the building they stood next to, imitating the gestures of all those Sunberthian good-for-naught drunkards whose body language he had the chance to observe and study for twenty and some years now, positioned perfectly to be in view of the both of them. After about a chime he realized, however, that the couple wasn't really paying him much mind... either that or they weren't that uncomfortable with a filthy drunkard gawking at them while they looked as if they're trying to feed their own tongues to one another. So Einar decided to nonchalantly bring two fingers up to his mouth, and shove them into his throat, and with the sound of a choking vulture, present the walkway in front of him with a sizable portion of his late lunch. Finally they noticed him. Namely the man, who gave him a deathly glare of disgust. To which Ein shrugged, and replied with a careless smirk and a relaxed roll of his eyes, rising his bottle up toward the two. It wasn't a moment before they angrily strode off behind the corner. He could hear their steps as they hurried to get away from the belching outsider filth. Still got me wee charm, I do., the young mercenary choked back an urge to laugh as he wiped his hand off on his coat.

After a couple moments and a couple glances about the surrounding alleys, he decided that this is as good a chance as he'll get, seeing as there wasn't a soul in sight. So he proceeded to step into the boat, unmaking the bindings of the paddles he carried, he placed them down into the hull and turned to start undoing the knots that kept the ravosala in place as best as he could.
User avatar
Belugnir
Absolute Whoreson
 
Posts: 308
Words: 334032
Joined roleplay: January 4th, 2017, 10:15 pm
Location: Ravok
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Loken on September 29th, 2017, 8:35 am

Image

Fall 27th, 517 AV.

SPLASH!

The unexpected sound of a body hitting water caused him to focus his attention onto the canal. Loken stood and watched for a moment as a Ravosalman dove off their small vessel into Lake Ravok. Needless to say, the sight intrigued him enough to glance over the edge of the plaza. The lights that marked the waterways did not offer him much of a view, but he could see the vague shadow of a man vanish into the darkness of the water below. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven..." Loken began to count silently in his mind. He wondered how long a trained 'seafarer' could hold their breath underwater. Loken had little skill at swimming, so knew he could offer the man very little aid other than calling for another Ravosalman.

The guardsmen waited patiently as he continued to count. "Sixty. One, two.." Loken started to repeat his count after reaching a chime. As the second chime went on, Loken absently held his hands behind his back while shifting to sway on the heels of his boots. After what seemed to be a long moment of silence, the sound of a person gasping for air forced Loken to end his count.

"Got it!" The Ravonsalaman exclaimed while tossing the stick the man used to guide the Ravosala back into the vehicle in hand. "If you wish to know, you held your breath for one chime, and thirty ticks." His voice trailed off; his thoughts drifting to find any memory of the last time he was required to swim in order to survive. The Ravonsalaman apparently found his statement funny since it made the man laugh. "Ah, damn near a turtle... my record is a bell." The gruff looking old man nodded, a genuine look of appreciation in his eyes. Loken's on the other hand were curious. Although It was gone in an instant, locked away behind detached and professional eyes, but it had been there and he wasn't ashamed if it was noticed.

"Need a ride anywhere?" The old man offered, all the while pulling himself into the Ravosala. The Guardsman's mouth turned up a fraction of an inch into an amused smirk. "An appealing offer, but not one I require at the moment."
As Loken turned on his heels to walk away, he spoke out. "Maybe next time."

It was a nice autumn night, looking like something out of an artists landscape painting with endless amounts of stars in the perfect sky. He was a man who respected uniformity, so would have matched any other guardsmen in said painting. In fact, he was such a man of monochrome color that the only distinct color on his person was his Cherry red skullcap.

As he approached a corner, he took inventory of his body to make sure that all of his weapons were they should be. Tonight Loken decided against carrying his tiger hook sword while on duty, so that meant he only had a short sword on his left hip and an unloaded hand crossbow rented to him by the guard hanging from his right hip by the strap on its handle along with the hip; the tiny bolts for them located in his belt pouch.

Loken passed the irritated love-struck couple ten feet before he round the same corner. As he passed them he could over hear the male mutter an insult. The exact words used were 'Petching vagik'. The phrase caused him to stop at the corner in case they wished to ask for his assistance. When they made no effort to call out to him, he simply moved on with his night.

When he spotted the man untying the ravosala, Loken gave it no second thought. Because who would steal a ravosala? He continued to walk along the path, only offering the man in the canal a single glance. And it was at that moment when the most innocuous of thing led Loken to focus his attention on the assumed 'ravosalaman'. There was something was wrong with the entire scene.

"Paddles?"

He started to think back to the previous ravosalaman he had spoken to and every other ravosalamen he had ever seen. Not one of them had ever used a paddle to traverse the city. They always used long stave like tools to push off buildings.

But this man had paddles? Why?

He started to look more closely at the man, taking note of his attire. Every ragged piece of material, each visible inch of well worn cloth, end everything matched the style that seemed to fit his days in 'Sunberth' rather than people here in Ravok. When his eyes drifted from the man to the boat, it was clear profiling that the ownership of a ravosala did not match the mans 'outward' wealth.

"Please cease your activities and present your citizenship papers... please" The Guardsmen spoke out in a clear concise tone of voice, only deciding to say 'please' to remain civil. He stood tall to keep his poise, yet rested his palm onto the hilt of his short sword in case he needed to draw it.

Word count: 854/2500
User avatar
Loken
Balancing life on the edge of a blade
 
Posts: 209
Words: 151876
Joined roleplay: February 24th, 2013, 9:12 pm
Location: Lhavit
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Belugnir on September 29th, 2017, 11:16 am

Did they also worship the god of ungodly knots in this bloody city? Good petchin' gods above, this daft thing just wouldn't come loose, hell, Einar began reaching for the handle of the dagger stuck in his belt to just slice the bloody knot off... and then he heard a man speak out to him from the walkway above. Citizenship papers? Petchin' splendid. You pricks wouldn't give me twenty ticks, for Cheva's sake? He froze, leaning against the side of the ravosala for a breath, before raising his head upward to face the man whose figure radiated with the fact that he was some variation of a city guard.

'' 'scuse you, sir?'', he gave him a brief glance before pursing his lips into an irregular o shape and widening his eyes, as if he had only then realized that he was talking to a guardsman. Then his tone was brought several notches down, all the way to humbled.

''Look, good man, I've a drunken brother to get out of that filthy brothel.'', Einar spoke, gesturing to whatever direction eastward, a ways behind the man whose face he couldn't quite well see in the sparse light, assuming there was a brothel in that general direction. ''Me cousins came o'er to tell me in a rush so I left me papers at home, just over there.'', then his head gestured over to a building to the side nearby, having not the faintest idea that the facility was actually a portion of the slave market used for housing the 'merchandise'. ''Can't ye spare me the formality just this once, fore them whores rob the poor lad out his last Miza?''

It didn't rightly matter if the guardsman bought any of Einar's lies, which they probably wouldn't, considering the fact that he didn't know anything about the layout of the city, and that any long-dwelling citizen could've told as much from his words if they gave it a moment's thought. And that's to say nothing of the fact that his act, while fairly well put together in Ein's mind and the heat of the moment where he was forced to improvise, was shaken enough in it's execution to provide fine witness to the fact that the request for citizenship papers took him by surprise, as much as the man's sudden appearance did.

Really, all that mattered was that this bugger succumbs to a single reflex and glances off to either of the directions Einar gestured toward, for but a moment, and that'd provide ample opening for the thief to grab one of the paddles, whack his oppressor across any point of the head and bolt for the shadows. Matter of fact, that was pretty much guaranteed to be precisely what he attempts, no matter the guardsman's naivety one way or the other, for he was likely not going to talk his way out of this one, as he was fairly aware that this prick will probably see through him. If he could get the most minute distraction off prior to trying to break the wooden shaft over the man's neck, all the better.

The petch are citizenship papers?

OOC: You're free to assume Einar attempts to hit you on the head with a paddle at any point of your post.
User avatar
Belugnir
Absolute Whoreson
 
Posts: 308
Words: 334032
Joined roleplay: January 4th, 2017, 10:15 pm
Location: Ravok
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Loken on September 29th, 2017, 12:38 pm

Image

Loken was literally staring right at him. He watched the exact moment when the man's hand went towards something near his waist to deal with the rope. By process of elimination, he assumed the man was armed with a blade of some type.

Loken sighed internally. His body so sorely wished its could instinctively do so, but years of training to suppress such tedious emotional quirks forced him to know that doing so would be uncouth at the best of political times and this was about as far from ideal as was possible if he wanted to remain unbiased. As it were, the Ano Cultist kept his frustrations a personal and internal matter as he mentally began to process the barrage of idiotic responses. However, all of the mans answer were of a secondary priority given the nature of Loken's original question. The guardsmen needed to see the man's citizenship papers. Period. End of story.

Without that vital document, none of the persons answers were worth any of his time to consider. A non-citizen had no rights, so Loken could just assume he was a thief trying to steal the boat with no way for the person to combat his claim. Loken's eyes remained firmly focused on the thief. Loken knew enough about the city after having patrolled it for a quarter of a season.

"You are under arrest unless you bring forth your citizenship papers. Firstly, because you pointed towards the Merchant's Ring and Noble District. You'd find most brothels north. Secondly, if you live in that direction than its a high probability that must be an escaped slave." Loken spoke in a succinct way that expressed exactly why the man was being arrested. "To which your capture will result in your return to your owner. An amusing thought quickly flashed through Loken's mind. "And if not, then simply sold into slavery by me to profit off of your misfortune."

Lastly, it went unspoken that he'd never break formality. He was a man who reveled in the observance of the rules. He was literally marked by the goddess of order! He literally worshiped the greatest aspect of formality. Despite Belugnir's best efforts, Loken's piecing gaze only shifted to the side for a moment due to the fact that an actual Ravosalman's usin a guiding-stick, hit the side of the plaza to guide a Ravosal this way. Ironically, it made him lose focus for a moment.

His eyes quickly shifted back towards the thief, but just in time to see a paddle in the midst of swinging towards his face. Loken wasn't well trained in the use of a short sword, but he quickly drew the blade.

That was it, he used his right hand to draw it straight up with the hilt facing the sky and the blade pointing down, the tip still slightly in the scabbard.

The sword was on his left side, so he used the steel of his sword to protect his face. The force of the paddle hitting the flat side of the sword stunned him for a moment. All he could do was try to parry the paddle away by tilting the blade slightly to use it like a guiding ramp to divert it over sword his head.

It was in that moment that Loken instantly found himself agreeing with the two love birds he had passed. "You petching vagik."

Word Count: 566 (1420/2500)
User avatar
Loken
Balancing life on the edge of a blade
 
Posts: 209
Words: 151876
Joined roleplay: February 24th, 2013, 9:12 pm
Location: Lhavit
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Belugnir on September 29th, 2017, 3:54 pm

Yes. The petcher's eyes went to the side for an instant, and Einar wasted not a blink to exploit it, as the paddle swung, the man also attempted to continue his momentum and leap out of the wooden vessel back onto the walkway. Thankfully for him, the drop he had to cover wasn't nowhere near as long as in some parts of the city, with the upward distance between the water level and the dock standing at about two feet, unluckily for him, however, he didn't quite have a steady, flat surface to leap from, being stood in the middle of a slightly rocking boat, so his jump out of the ravosala ended in a brief stagger toward the building in front of him, aided a fair bit by the momentum of the guardsman pushing his sword at the paddle to which Ein managed to just barely hold onto with a single hand.

About the time Loken found himself agreeing with the enthusiastic love couple, Einar shoved his back into a wooden wall to regain his balance, and place his other hand onto the shaft of the paddle, trying to bring it between himself and his foe, with the wooden object's flat head pointing toward the guardsman. At that point he'd waste no time in an attempt to simply shove the paddle toward the man with all the strength he could muster without diving toward him, and go to bolt toward the nearest corner of the building. Even in the poor light, Einar managed to notice an outline about the guardsman that suggested some sort of armor, so he'd have to get rather crafty if he wanted to injure or kill the prick with his shoddy dagger... which he didn't want to begin with, well, at least the self-preserving lot of him didn't, though his sheer spite called out to him to go and bite this whoreson's throat out if he had to.

Wounded men harbor grudges, and dead and missing folk mean questions and investigations and retribution if the guilty is caught. Ein wasn't all too familiar with this place, but he knew well enough that this ain't Sunberth, and that a town guard going missing or being fished out of the lake with a knife in his neck come morning wouldn't just be written off as another unlucky prick who got into poor company. And to top that off, brawls 'tween men mean attention, in case of a couple southern bastards getting piss drunk and swinging at each other - probably a cheering crowd of just as drunk southern bastards... in Einar's current case, and considering his rotten luck, however - probably the attention of every petchin' guard this side of town.

So he would run, first turn to the left, behind the corner of the wooden building, on the far end away from the guardsman, and afterward, the first turn at which he'd not see a straight backed human shape.
User avatar
Belugnir
Absolute Whoreson
 
Posts: 308
Words: 334032
Joined roleplay: January 4th, 2017, 10:15 pm
Location: Ravok
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Loken on October 16th, 2017, 2:07 pm

Image

As Einar found his balance against the wooden wall, Loken quickly adjusted his own posture into an aggressive one. He wanted to display an aura of confidence, because even though he had no proper skill with the short blade, he knew that the thief did not know that fact. Loken’s fingers tightened to hold the sword in a proper hammer grip.

The cultist’s natural muscle memory caused his body to bend slightly at the knees on instinct, positioning the blade out at an upwards angle with his grip set at his waist level. It was how he usually held his hook sword, so went with what felt comfortable.

When the man pointed the wooden paddle at him, Loken’s boots started to slowly grind against the ground. He refrained from making any by movements which led him to shuffle across the ground towards Einar. Loken had no intention of attacking the man with the shortsword, but instead use it as a defensive tool as he tried to close the distance between them to engage the man in extremely close combat.

When the boat thief lashed out with the paddle, Loken raised his right hand to strike out at the the side of the opposing paddle head. With time he would eventually come to learn the grace and finesse of a proper shortswords swordsmen, but for now he used the blade more like a one handed club. The obnoxiously loud sound of steel bashing against wood with extreme force echoed out across the immediate area.

Once Einar took off running, Loken gave chase. However, not before taking a few seconds to sheath the sword back into its scabbed to replace it with the hand crossbow the City Guard allowed him to use when on duty. Loken cocked the bow with his free hand, pulling the crossbow string back until it locked into place. Then he removed one of the ten bolts he had in his belt pouch, placing the vane of the arrow snuggly against the base of the firing channel where it was securely tucked into place.

He started running in the direction the man had gone. The hand without a weapon pressed back and forth, swinging with a runners momentum. His other held the hand crossbow close to his body to keep from shaking it around. All he needed was a clean shot. A straightaway to shoot the man in the back, or just wing him; maybe kill him if he got lucky... Anything to keep the man from escaping.

Loken had no real practice with the hand crossbow, in fact when the guard offered it to him, he simply took it because it was just another tool to use. His main goal was just to keep the mans back in his sights. And then there it was. A straight away.

He immediately stopped in place to raise his right arm up. There were no people ahead of him, so he did not need to worry about unwanted casualties. He closed one eye to look down the small sight pin along the top of the trigger mechanism, his hand drifted from the rapid breaths he made due to the intense strain of running.

To fix that, he instantly held his breathe.

And as the thief neared the far corner, Loken squeezed the trigger.

The hand crossbow emitted a thudding sound that was quickly proceeded by the launching of its bolt. It was the first time the guardsman had actually fired it in real combat, so his arm noticeably shifted to the side quite a bit given that he was not comfortable with the slight recoil.


OOCObviously, the bolt is going to miss. So describe your dramatic escape in anyway you see fit.

Word Count: 605 (2025/2500)
User avatar
Loken
Balancing life on the edge of a blade
 
Posts: 209
Words: 151876
Joined roleplay: February 24th, 2013, 9:12 pm
Location: Lhavit
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Belugnir on October 17th, 2017, 8:28 pm

Just as he was moving to turn past another corner, he heard a whistle fly him by, thudding into a wooden building in front of him and to his right, and before he bolted into the next alleyway by the canal, a corner of Ein's eye caught the dark silhouette of his pursuer, and the weapon he held. Sure, it wasn't the first time he'd been shot at from a crossbow, but it'd been the first time in a long while.

Cockin' bastard just tried to put a bolt in me!, he had to fight off the urge to stop, draw his dagger, and try pouncing on the guardsman from behind the corner. Honest to the gods, the dirty prick just tried to off him, and the idea of going from an arrow in the back of his head really didn't appeal to the would-be boat thief... the idea of being pounced upon by half a dozen other guards almost equally so, so he continued his flight. Just the fact that this bastard likely had to stop for even an instant to fire or reload his bow meant all the more ground that Ein would cover ahead of him.

Not two paces further, and the runaway saw an obstacle for his pursuer, grabbing onto the side of a stack of wooden crates that stood outside of a warehouse, it took one fluent movement to fell the whole thing, some six or seven large wooden crates petch knows what... He just barely slowed his sprint to tip the things over, hardly having the luxury of time to inspect the contents, although in the next moment, the sound of breaking glass, along with that of splintering wood, graced his ears. Perfect! the glassy remains of a dozen broken bottles upon the walkway ought to buy him at least a step over the guardsman who chased him.

Though as he was nearing his next corner, Ein's worries moved from the man who was no doubt running after him, to the figure who appeared in front of him, with a similar outline of leather armor. Ein was barely three paces away when the new threat pointed what could only have been another crossbow at him. They probably just heard the noise and bolted around the corner, not realizing that the offender will be so close by the time they got to the scene.

''Hal--'', this town guard didn't rightly get to finish their warning. The Sunberthian acted faster by a single breath, a reflex of countless childhood flights through the streets of his home city, ducking under the opponent's extended arm, just barely before he would have received a point blank crossbow bolt to the throat. And before Ein had any time to see the brown curls of hair or the pale skin of a female, both rather concealed by the skullcap she wore, his elbow was already shoving itself against the guard's belly, and his shoulder into her chest, pushing her thoughtlessly into the canal behind her in one swift motion, the recoil of which allowed Einar to continue his flight into the dark streets with but a minor stagger. It wasn't his first time mistreating a woman... and gods help him, it won't be the last. Hopefully this one could swim or at least had the wits to grab onto a nearby post or boat and not drown like a clumsy child... Ein didn't feel too comfortable killing anyone in this town just yet, especially not a city guard, but he hadn't exactly the time to stop and make sure they make it out of that petchin' lake. Hopefully, she at least makes a distraction for the first prick that was chasing him.

Thankfully there were no more people in the street that followed the canal, and Cheva's tits be blessed, there was a bridge leading to a neighboring district. Ein felt a layer shave off the sole of his boots as he took the turn across the bridge and into the soggy alleyways of the new district. The moment he thought he'd be out of sight of the guards who crossed him, he began to frantically collect his scattered hair into a loose tail, and would proceed to take his coat off and tie it around his waist by the sleeves... anything just to shift from the appearance by which that daft bastard who discovered him could have remembered him by... From there he'd continue to drift through the darker alleys, hoping to avoid sighting any new leather clad shape, and make an effort to leave this district for the next one as well, to make sure he'd lost his pursuers for good. Surely they wouldn't start an uproar over a single boat thief... C'mon, not even my luck is that rotten.

Had he indeed managed to loose the guards, Ein would begin to make his way to the eastern side of town, where the bugger to whom he was supposed to hand the boat over to would wait to take him back coast side.
User avatar
Belugnir
Absolute Whoreson
 
Posts: 308
Words: 334032
Joined roleplay: January 4th, 2017, 10:15 pm
Location: Ravok
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 2
Featured Character (1) Overlored (1)

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Loken on November 2nd, 2017, 8:55 am

Image

His aim was off, but Loken hardly spent anytime whining over it. He simply erupted from where he stood, making an explosive push off with both legs as he entered into a short sprint to try shorten the distance between himself and the criminal. "Take a deep breath. Don’t lose him." The Guardsman thought to himself as he managed to reach the corner where his previously fired bolt had penetrated. He dashed around the bend, happy that the thief's back was still within view.

As his forward momentum began to send him into the acceleration phase of his sprint along the straight path, but quickly spotted the various toppled crates scattered along his path. As he got a foot away from one of them, he pressed off of the ground to propel himself into the air to jump over two of them. His boots landed on the ground beyond them with a heavy thud as he completely stopped, then erupted into another sprint as he guided himself around a few more crates.

His posture remain steady, keeping his elbows flexed at a ninety degree angle, keeping them close to his body; his grip on the crossbow handle like a vice to keep from dropping it. It helped his forward movement to keep shifting his arms as if he were truculent fight while holding imaginary hammers. Not being a runner, he did have some amount of fatigue show as he quickly inhaled and exhaled to keep his body motivated to run.

He watched as the thief knocked one of his fellow colleagues in the city guard into the canal, once he made it to that corner of this plaza. Loken immediately stopped to see if the person was alright. All he could see was the flailing of arms as a woman yelled for some amount of help. “I can’t swim.” She called out to Loken as he glanced towards the bridge. Everything within him wanted to keep chasing the man until he caught the person who tried to assault him. However, he could not let the woman drown. Not because he cared about her, but simply because it would be a waste of a life to let the woman drown when he could easily aid her, and allow the woman to continue being a city guard. In the long run, it would aid him to have more guards rather than fewer.

Loken started to take off his belt, pulling the shortsword from the scabbard, then holding his scabbard with it still attached to the belt. He held it out as if a odd type of fishing pole, using it to give him another arms length so she could grab the end of the belt. The woman’s squirming gave off the odd sensation like he was actually going fishing, tugging on the scabbard to help pull her closer to the side of the plaza. Once she was close enough, he used one hand to reach down to take hold of her outstretched arm to pull her onto the landing.

It had taken several chimes to help the woman, as he looked towards the direction the man had run. Loken was a man of minimal or maximum effort, meaning that once he knew the man was long gone that it would take maximum effort to find him. Meaning it was a waste of energy given that the end result wasn't worth it. No one was murdered, no one was 'truly' injuries, and he did in fact stop a theft from occurring.

As he stared down at a drenched, whining, and slightly panicked woman laying down on the ground, he took a deep breath then proceeded to give a minimal amount of effort into finding the man by informing all the guards in the area about what just happened so the guards would keep an eye out for anyone matching the the thief's appearance. Letting other people search for unknown person that Loken didn't know was named Belugnir.

Nano WC: 667
Job Word Count: 667 (2692/2500)
User avatar
Loken
Balancing life on the edge of a blade
 
Posts: 209
Words: 151876
Joined roleplay: February 24th, 2013, 9:12 pm
Location: Lhavit
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Fool Upon The Waters (Loken)

Postby Madeira Dusk on February 19th, 2018, 10:31 pm

Image
Grades Awarded!

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request!


Belugnir

Skills
  • Stealth: 1xp
  • Planning: 2xp
  • Acting: 1xp
  • Subterfuge: 1xp
  • Observation: 3xp
  • Acrobatics: 1xp
  • Tactics: 2xp
  • Brawling: 2xp
  • Running: 2xp

Lores
  • Acting: how to fake drunkeness
  • Acrobatics: leaping from a boat

Awards & Retribution


Notes


Loken

Skills
  • Observation: 2xp
  • Intimidation: 2xp
  • Weapon- Short Sword: 2xp
  • Leadership: 1xp
  • Running: 2xp
  • Weapon- Crossbow: 1xp
  • Acrobatics: 1xp
  • Logic: 2xp
  • Endurance: 1xp

Lores
  • Short sword: basic block
  • Intimidation: faking prowess

Awards & Retribution


Notes
User avatar
Madeira Dusk
long may she reign
 
Posts: 1774
Words: 1599220
Joined roleplay: October 11th, 2016, 7:45 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 11
Featured Contributor (1) Featured Thread (3)
Mizahar Grader (1) Overlored (1)
Donor (1) One Thousand Posts! (1)
One Million Words! (1) Lhavit Seasonal Challenge (1)
2018 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests