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Lette Lette pursed her lips thoughtfully, turning her gaze down to the floor. With the same expression, she removed and carefully retied her headwrap, silent through the entire activity. Finished, she looked back up and shrugged, finally giving up. "Sorry. Unless you're after a library or a museum, you've stumped me. And I don't know where either of those are. Or if this city even has a museum. Nearest one I know of for sure is Aegina."
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Mar 28, 2012 00:22
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Lette - Market "I don't know much about armor-smithing, except that it takes time. If you need to be measured and fitted, it may not leave us-... well, we can ask before we jump to conclusions. I had hoped to catch a glimpse of whatever Mr. Dolan was doing, too. If the smith needs very much of your time, I hope you won't mind if I go on ahead." Lette - The "Palace" "Garage" Rounding a bend, Lette spies the dwarven mage, absorbed in scribbling some notes and looking none too happy. Before she could offer a greeting, she was treated to a charming medley of sights and sounds: increasingly furious grumbling, a voluminous spitfall, and a sequence of oaths she wasn't even sure were in a language she understood. She cleared her throat, wincing. "Hello. Have you found anything?" Through NARRATIVE WIZARDRY I have displaced Lette in time. She is interacting with Dolan later on, while still hanging out with the others. Past Lette will vanish when the timelines align. Circle-circle, dot-dot, paradox shot, etc. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 02:01 on Mar 28, 2012 |
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Mar 28, 2012 01:35
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Lette - Market "Um... the past?" Libraries and museums still sounded like the ticket to Lette. Unless... Lette followed him in. Lette - Tavern (née Market) Walking up behind Alec, she taps him on the shoulder, signalling him to lean in. Cupping a hand, she whispers: "I don't know if this city has a university, but that's where scholars tend to gather. Maybe ask about that? If Noah has one, it may have a historian. Or at least someone who knows one." Aeolius fucked around with this message at 03:00 on Mar 28, 2012 |
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Mar 28, 2012 02:58
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Lette - Tavern Lette nodded encouragingly. "That's exactly right." Whispering again: "Just remember: the first is a place, the second is a person."
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Mar 28, 2012 03:10
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Lette - Ye Greate Royale Garage (pronounced g'aiv-lof-nretun) "I was just wondering how you were, er, if you were using magic, that sort of thing? I mean, you must have — how else would you have known that?" She glanced at his notes. "I don't know much about it, but it's all very interesting!"
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Mar 28, 2012 03:30
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Lette - The Hansomcraft Dock "Specialty? Um, no, not r-... well, at least I don't think I'm one of those. I really don't know. It's just this," she said, patting the lyre. "Sometimes, things happen while I play. Made a campfire on damp wood, once. Made clean water rise the ground, another — little spring, sort of. Even kept my camp clear on a buggy night, one time." She raised the instrument, plucking a single string. "My gramma made it. I never really knew her, but you think she might've... bewitched it?" [Bookkeeping edit: immediately after above CP award, spent 2 on Fast-Draw: Arrow, 1 on Fast-Draw: Knife Aeolius fucked around with this message at 07:32 on Jun 11, 2012 |
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Mar 28, 2012 04:27
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Lette - Moonbase Alpha, Craft Hangar A Wilder? "I've never heard of it." She lifts the lyre's strap over her head and passes it to the dwarf. "Is that what you are?" Aeolius fucked around with this message at 05:03 on Mar 28, 2012 |
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Mar 28, 2012 04:56
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(Prior) Lette - Tavern Lette shrugs and follows Alec back out. Isit had already gone off, perhaps seeking her witch elsewhere. "Alright Lo'el," she says, watching Alec walk off back towards the palace. "Let's try our luck with that armor."
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Mar 28, 2012 05:21
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Lette - A Twilit Grotto Under Aldebaran's Gaze Low-born peasants. Her face fell at hearing a description of her theorized condition that came neatly bundled with all the baggage so few words could convey. "Well, it's not something I ever did before... before a few weeks ago, really. If it's a talent, it took its time to bloom. Is it something that can, um, run out?" She had been careful in the device's use, but it was never clear to her whether this was a limited quantity or something that, like a muscle, needed to be worked. "Rune, like the symbol things? How does that work? Are they a focus, too? Or... are the symbols themselves magical?" Aeolius fucked around with this message at 05:49 on Mar 28, 2012 |
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Mar 28, 2012 05:45
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(Prior) Lette - Market "Oh. Very well, then." She walked with the faun as far as the smith, then bid him farewell, turning instead to see how Dolan's investigation was faring. And that concludes the trans-temporal narrative. Stable time loop created.
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Mar 28, 2012 19:18
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Lette - The place what with them horse-drawns "That makes sense enough," Lette nodded. "The symbols change the rules of the game. But it's not enough just to make them, or else every child drawing with a stick in dirt would be painting magic on the world as much as on her own imagination." She paused, piecing together her thoughts. "On the other hand, you say 'change the symbols that are there,' so I guess they had to already be there. So they have their own existence — their own essence, I guess. I think that's what ma would say. "When we lived out east — I was real young back then — we did this thing that the locals were all doing, a tradition: we'd paint the eggs of chickens and geese using dyes. And if you wanted to make patterns, you'd use a sharp, hollow reed to draw with wax on it, so the dye only touched certain parts. I would always lose patience and just scribble around a bit for fun. The real masters, though, they would inscribe the most breathtaking figures and patterns. Some even made a living as artisans by doing that, though that usually meant they'd go off to live in the city after a time. "Anyway, the legend said that eggs were special because birds fly closer to the sun, and the sun is the 'exultant beacon' of Livny. Um, that part was weird, to me, because they had a different view of him over there than the place we were at before. But then, a farm doesn't go anywhere, and different folks'll start to get their own opinions, and time can make opinions into... cultures, I guess. Like, this place thought that the sun was the babe of Livny and Plyussa, though they didn't mention her often. Plyussa, I mean. I thought that was weird, too. "Anyway, the eggs were different things in different places. Left in the nest, an egg was as good as a bird. Taken out, it was a sort of talisman. The kind it was depended on what you drew; different symbols had different sorts of significance, but only when you put them on the egg. The egg was a different thing in different places, and so were the signs. "So, that's how I'm thinking of the runes. They're maybe not magic magic, but they're significant. In different places, I mean. And runepriests can touch into the place where they're different, where they change things. Does that make sense? "So, asking if the symbols are magic themselves is kind of the wrong question. Right?" Lette grinned, satisfied that she had articulated her thought as well as she could have. She looked to Dolan expectantly for his response.
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Mar 29, 2012 14:39
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Lette - that selfsame magical place Lette nodded, taking Dolan's modification to her stated theory and chewing it over. "The interpretation," she repeated. Was the music an interpretation of her intent? It fit with what her da had said about what made the lyre special — not magical, but special nonetheless. She owned it, and thus it was a part of her very self, holding a place on the tapestry of her life and acting not just as an instrument of music, but one of her will. "Yes," she began to agree with his suggestion that they return, but cut off any incipient thought she may have added when Dolan began to draw in the dirt. A demonstration? She looked closely at the rune, trying to put it into the context of what they had just discussed. The figure was no doubt highly precise, since something as carefully studied and practiced surely allowed little in the way of imprecision. As she stared at the edges and curves of the thing, the word 'interpretation' lingered in her mind. Each portion of it was exact, and related exactly to each other portion. The whole thing had coherence, while each angle or segment conveyed some ineffable aspect of its sum information. Line, angle, line, curve. Taken as a whole, it was independent; an atemporal and discrete unit. But visually tracing it in the order he had created it revealed a phrase structure of sorts, and even relative ranges. There was an unquestionable order to it, and one that increasingly seemed familiar. She plucked one string without tearing her gaze away from the symbol, then another, then another. Each part made more sense as she gradually extracted the correct notes from amid the messy discord of her manual guesswork. Up a fourth, down a whole step, sweep down a minor third from a position a major tenth — no, that's not right, a perfect eleventh — above... The pattern was there. It all made sense. The only information missing was what note the damned thing started on. And then Dolan Channelled. And she Heard. A single, ringing tone seemed to emanate from the reaction, and she matched it. And then she played. As she completed the full melody once, the whole performance seemed to resonate within her own head, echoing and sustaining a mild dissonance that she found draining, but not unpleasant in the least. EDIT: Actually, now that I am able to read the books, it looks like there are prereqs I am missing. So, I guess call it a use of Wild Talent, and effective skill is actually 14. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 23:21 on Mar 29, 2012 |
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Mar 29, 2012 19:11
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Lette Unused to having empathic scenes projected into her mind, Lette gasps and nearly drops her instrument. "I saw them! I saw... ooh," she sighs, rubs her temple. "Yes, it was hard to see. Like having my eyes crossed. And foggy. But there were people, and then they were forced off, and then there was Kat — uh, I think — hiding." She blinks, feeling as if she needed to adjust to the light level again, even though her vision was fine at that moment. Odd effect, that. "I wouldn't say I learned it; I can barely remember what I played, now-... "Blocked?" She bit her lip, eyeing the cart. Something else she hadn't the first clue about, but she watched Dolan's actions carefully. "Maybe. I'll try to remember what I play this time." Musical Comp 13 to figure out a melody to associate with the rune. If I succeed, I will blow 1 CP (yay no prereq) on it and use it as is [IQ 12 -2 (1cp hard) +2 (magery) = 12] If I can, I will use my second WT/day to do an ON-THE-FLY reversal of the song, simulating knowledge of it for this action at ES 14. Since my counterspell is lower, that's my roll. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 02:47 on Mar 30, 2012 |
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Mar 30, 2012 02:41
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Lette - The Unfortunate Garage Her fingertips tingled as she rushed to match the notes she heard, but in the end it was a puzzle too complicated for her. At the very least, her effort to recall the melody of Dolan's final rune succeeded. She plucked it again with no investment of will; she simply wished to hear it once more. The magic had taken its toll; this was the most she had ever used it at once, and to what may be the most complicated end. The girl found herself mentally exhausted, doubtful she could call it forth again if she had to. For the moment, she needed to rest, in every respect. "Yes, I think I've done all I can. Nearly nothing, at that." She smirked, regardless; her failure had not dulled her excitement at learning from one more experienced — and mayhap even a new friend, at that. Sheet updated. Lette - Tavern "Hi, hi!" She settled down near the others. "Mr. Dolan was showing me some runes. They're a bit different from what I saw Mr. Alec carving, earlier." Her gaze was drawn to something Alec held — something emitting light, despite his efforts to conceal it. "What've you got there?"
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Mar 31, 2012 03:24
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Lette Lette nodded dumbly to Isit's question, then glanced again at the door through which the stranger had vanished. "Um. Should we...?" She indicated vaguely in its direction, then shrugged. There was probably some reason why not, or else someone would have risen by now.
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Mar 31, 2012 21:39
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Lette Whereas the others seemed of a mind not to raise a fuss over that character, Lette busied herself focusing on her stew — and all the more intently when Alec and Lo'el shared their joke, her cheeks taking on a passing color. "I haven't any intimacy with that, but you both make it sound horrifying," she says. When she looks up, it becomes clear that she is addressing Martin and Isit. "No stranger to knives, mind, but never in a fight. Are either of you speaking from experience?" Aeolius fucked around with this message at 06:07 on Apr 1, 2012 |
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Apr 1, 2012 06:04
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Lette Wide-eyed, the girl looked askance at Alec. She had no idea what manner of tale he was seeking to press from Lo'el, after that. Lette resolved to give Martin her full attention. "Well, it may be that I'd be better left to whittle branches than throats, but if our course is taking us into danger — well, more danger — then I may need to practice." Archery, fencing and spear combat, magic and music; it was looking more and more as though Lette would have something to learn from each of her traveling companions. She hoped she could be as helpful to them, in turn.
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Apr 1, 2012 06:41
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Lette Not one to turn down so genteel an invitation, Lette shoveled down the remainder of her stew. She wiped her mouth with her bread and folded the entire slice into her mouth, to work on as she played. Though a fun, rollicking song, she could tell that Lo'el was utterly lost in it, far more than last time. A few moments into his spirited performance, she decided that it was well enough to pluck simple chords and the occasional supporting harmony where she could predict the melody's next turn. Even though she had been invited, she wouldn't presume to tell the faun's story for him. also passed check, etc. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 04:18 on Apr 2, 2012 |
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Apr 2, 2012 03:40
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Lette "Brief night to you," she replies to the retiring Lo'el. She made a mental note to ask, when time permitted, about the style of song he had just performed. The last of her ragtag party to turn in, Lette sat down at the bar, suddenly feeling acutely forlorn. It was as much that the others had gone as it was... well, everything. As much as she did not wish to dwell on it, there was precious little else to occupy her thoughts. Until she decided to make something else. "Excuse me," she said to the barkeep, pointing, "what kind of wine is that? I'll have a glass, please." Never were big drinkers, back home, but it was said that a glass here and there could even be a healthy thing. Anyway, even after such a physically and emotionally draining day, her mind was running a mile a minute; word had it that this could help with that. Lette downed the red in one deep pull, earning a look from the bartender and a chuckle from another patron. She winced, finding the pleasant flavor overpowered, at the end, by the bullish onslaught of its proof. It was from a southern vineyard, so maybe it was a regional distinction? How else might she explain that her first southern wine is also the first that under no circumstances could ever be mistaken for grape juice? ...Or might her father have been in the habit of watering down the one bottle he kept around? Ever the frugal one, that man. And thus her thoughts had come full circle, once more focusing on her perplexing situation. With a sigh, she rose and turned in for the night. Sleep would come; she just needed to be patient. As with a great many circumstances. OK fine, have a goodnight post after all.
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Apr 2, 2012 14:17
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Lette Closing the door behind her, Lette trundled to the staircase and waved to the others from the summit. "Hello! Anyone else famished?" At the foot of the steps, she caught a fleeting glimpse of Dolan taking his leave before the door swung shut once more. "Where's he gone? Ahead to speak to Lord Roland? 'Morning, by the way, Ms. Isit, Mr. Lo'el. Did I hear you just discussing the plan?" She paused beside Martin, whose grip on consciousness appeared tenuous at best. "You should clear the sleep from your eyes. It's called that for a reason, you know," she concluded with a knowing nod. After most of a minute, she finally recognizes Alec. She gapes at him for the remainder of said minute. "...goodness, Mr. Alec! What inspired that?" Aeolius fucked around with this message at 00:41 on Apr 4, 2012 |
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Apr 4, 2012 00:39
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Lette At her suggestion that they refrain from chatting needlessly, Lette regarded Isit for a moment, then shrugged in acquiescence. And what better way to block off discussion... The girl grabbed a roll from the foodstuffs, ripped it open and gutted its soft innards. Grabbing a healthy (or not) quantity of cooked bacon, she stuffed the roll completely and set upon it as though starving. She paused to listen to Alec's explanation. Nodding in acknowledgment, she wiped grease from her mouth with the still-pristine breadguts before continuing her campaign of breakfast carnage. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 04:09 on Apr 4, 2012 |
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Apr 4, 2012 01:58
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Lette "Leaves?"
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Apr 4, 2012 04:11
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Lette "Oh! That kind of leaf. Silly of me." She broke the awkward silence by digging back into her breakfast.
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Apr 4, 2012 04:19
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Lette "Thinking beasts... I don't know, isn't it all the same thing? Follow a trail, set traps, flush out, ambush, that sort of thing, right?" She steadies Martin and guides him around an exposed root that nearly intercepted one foot. "Think we should get some tea in this one?"
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Apr 5, 2012 03:04
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Lette Though tempted to respond to Isit by recounting what had turned into the most dangerous rabbit hunt of her life, Lette withheld the thrilling tale. She was certain that camouflaged pit was the work of some other hunter, anyway. "As long as we don't have to cook what we catch," she muttered. "Oh! Captain, sir," Lette nudges Martin, as this concerned him, "Mr. de Mignolet says he had asked if we could access the armory. May I have a look?" whats we gots, i need to rearrange my heavystuffs
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Apr 5, 2012 09:20
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Lette Lette observed the discussion on camouflage, considering. "It's odd that we'd merit this sort of watchfulness. Still, I can't help but think that any group with enough manpower for spies won't be fooled by a hood and a bundle. No harm in trying, but it seems to me that the safest assumption is that they'll know when we leave."
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Apr 6, 2012 05:11
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Lette "I'm at home on the plains, and more or less woodlands as well," Lette responds to Isit's earlier query. She left out the part about them essentially being her home for a time before she reached Noah. "I expect I'm not the only one," she adds, glancing at Lo'el. "Should we need to part with the road, I think we'll manage alright."
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Apr 6, 2012 12:15
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Lette As they marched across the lea, some of the tension of their mission seemed to recede to the background. At the fore, fresh air and the sound of stalks rustling in the breeze were comforting in their familiarity. It was only in glancing back to gauge the distance covered that Lette rediscovered unease. And then some. "By the gods!" she blurts out, nearly stumbling as the dragon takes shape. It was the first she'd ever seen — and, mercifully, still quite distant — but one hardly needed a manual to make a positive identification. This much was true even before murmurs that they'd returned in the wake of the succession war. "Dragon, that's... is that a dragon?! Cover!" Assuming it was headed straight for them, it was bound to pass over Noah, first. The city was no doubt on high alert. Hopefully, the bustle of activity would make it seem too costly a target. But that left them, further along. Without further deliberation, Lette dropped to the ground. If they needed to move, they could crawl. But for the time being, she was quite content not even to take that small chance of drawing attention. "Try not to disturb any stalks!" Losing sight of the beast only made her terror all the more acute. She clutched her pack in front of her, covering any exposed metal with plant matter off the ground and casting a wide eye up through the swaying foliage for any brief glimpse the breeze might grant her. Stealth 12, Camouflage 12, probably a heavily penalized Perception 13 to keep an eye on it. [Bookkeeping edit: a 1 CP was added to Camouflage here.] Aeolius fucked around with this message at 07:14 on Jun 11, 2012 |
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Apr 8, 2012 06:35
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Lette As carefully and stealthily as she can manage, Lette crawls to the mule to help Alec unbuckle the packs. Same stats. Crawling over as slowly as needed not to penalize my stealth.
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Apr 8, 2012 07:41
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Lette Lette shed her pack as she rose. In the throes of mortal terror, it presented itself as nothing more than needless weight, not to be tolerated. She couldn't muster a word of her own, but those of her comrades seemed sensible enough. Scatter. Confuse it. Wait, is that right? Her thoughts were confused, tripping over themselves. Wouldn't that leave one of them to suffer whatever unthinkable fate came bundled up in scales and teeth, ensconced in the abyss's living handbag? No, that was as far as the thought would go. For the moment, there was only motion. What space remained in her mind, she packed tightly with incoherent prayers to any god within earshot. Abandoning my pack, just running running running away in a random direction away from the mule.
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Apr 9, 2012 10:52
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Lette Lette picked herself up and brushed off her garments. At some point her mad dash found her face down in a small ditch. It was quite a bit better an outcome than any she had envisaged. In another small, auspicious twist of fate, the gale-force winds the dragon had generated flattened the corn where they had been gathered; finding her pack was no great effort. "Gla-" her first attempt to speak came out as a barely audible squeak. She cleared her throat. "Glad you're all okay. Even you, Fenton," she cooed, patting the mule on the nose. Addressing the group again, Lette tried in vain to keep the quiver out of her voice. "Let's load him back up, on the quick." She offered Alec a wan smile as he did the same. "Never been so eager to get clear of open lands."
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Apr 11, 2012 04:09
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Lette Lette shrugs in response to questions about the mule's name. "It just seemed to fit. Like I said, a name is important. Makes things significant. Long-lived livestock — cows and such — we'd always name them. Maybe some folks believe differently, but I know from growing up: named ones stayed healthier longer. Happier, too." As they settle into camp, Lette follows the lead of several of her comrades, pulling out her journal and making her briefest entry yet, detailing the encounter with the dragon. In place of an elaborate description, she takes charcoal and sets to work on a rudimentary sketch of the beast, pouring the scene from her memory as best she is able before sleep can begin its work of chipping away at it. In time, she had been taught, the line between dreams and a memories can blur. That's what makes history into mythology. Her ma's da's cousin — according to the family lore — was some kind of scholar who may have suggested that dreams not only muck up the truth of history but, in fact, shape it. Almost like the distant past has no existence independent from dreams. Her ma had said that you'd have to live in a university to cook up a fool notion like that. As others drift off to slumber, Lette continues to sketch. Too focused to sleep just yet, she peers over her notebook and addresses Martin: "Guess we're up first, then." Here's how I'm piecing the schedule together so far, based on what's been said here (and a little IRC clarification): pre:| 1st | 2nd | 3rd Alec | Sleep | Watch | Sleep Dolan | Sleep | Sleep | Watch Isit | Sleep | Sleep | Watch Lette | Watch | Sleep | Sleep Lo'el | Sleep | Watch | Sleep Martin | Watch | Sleep | Sleep Possible relevant stats: Per 13, Survival (plains 13, woodlands 12), Camouflage 12, Traps 11 (I also have rope!) Aeolius fucked around with this message at 16:56 on Apr 12, 2012 |
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Apr 12, 2012 11:17
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Lette The fading light forced her to surrender her efforts, barely half finished. She folded her journal, felt around for her pack, and replaced it. The susurrus of her comrades' sleeping breaths gradually blended in with the other faint noises of the night. Distant birdsong, sparse cricket chirps, the breeze through the flora; it was all one continuous song — one she associated with bedsheets, perhaps the instrument whose absence was felt most acutely. Her gaze gradually drifted up to the endless sea of stars, glittering like bubbles in the deep that somehow catch light too faint for the naked eye and transform, exalt it; delicate and elusive, but still as brilliant as any gem. And there, among them, were the familiar shapes and patterns that she had seen so many nights before. The heavens had a certain comforting fixity to them; no matter how significant the events befalling those lowly creatures of the land, they remain impassive, carrying on their celestial course, set in motion by nothing she could guess at. "Hey," she whispers. "Mr. de Mignolet, are you still awake?" She squinted, barely able to see his eyes from across their tiny encampment. "Good summer sky tonight. Hardly a cloud." She turned back to the sky, idly tracing constellations she recognized with her fingertip.
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Apr 13, 2012 03:14
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Lette The girl looks back down, nodding sympathetically in response to Martin's reminiscence. "I know what you mean," she whispers in reply. "My family was... everything. Even farms came and went, but..." The final few words are barely audible, and after this Lette falls silent for a time. On seeing Alec shudder, Lette reaches into her pack and procures her own blanket, gently adding it to the northerner's own covers. He'd be finished with it just as she would have need of it, anyway. She hesitates at the sound of the distant wolf, then finishes pulling them up to his bearded chin. "Hear that? Wolves' howls are unique, though it's sometimes hard to tell. Listen for others. If the next one you hear sounds the same as that one, it could be lone." A miserable condition, to be sure. If it weren't almost certainly set in its feral ways — to say nothing of the ravenous and desperate state of most lone wolves — she might be tempted to try to bring it into the fold of their newfound camaraderie; gods know, making new friends has proved no small comfort to her. When silence sets back in, she returns to the stars. "The summer dragon is out, tonight," she offers, pointing to an array of stars closer to the horizon. "Do you smell cinnamon?" she jokes. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 18:33 on Apr 13, 2012 |
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Apr 13, 2012 16:35
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Lette She listens in silence. "Fool people? Why is that something you'd have to learn? You don't strike me as a scoundrel." ...Which, she recognizes, could also mean he's excellent at it. "I can't help but take the other view, I suppose. I really enjoyed my time in the city, but the rest of it — the fighting, the intrigue — worries me. This part? This is comfortable. This part I know." She paused to listen to their surroundings again, tracing more constellations. "Look," she whispers after a time, pointing again. "The next-to-highest point on the Dragon of Summer is part of the Dry Path, which is not a constellation, but I don't remember word for it. Across the Dry Path is Philo, carrying his two jars. Water and... something with a v. Oh! Vitriol." She wasn't totally sure what that was; just a vague impression it was something alchemists argued about. "So, where did you live that was so apart from the wilds? You must have had stars, at least?" Aeolius fucked around with this message at 21:01 on Apr 13, 2012 |
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Apr 13, 2012 20:57
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Lette "I'm so sorry, I must have missed you mentioning it. Southeast...? Near Bainsbridge? Or County Coase? Those are the only two I know. We were only over there for a year. But I'm getting ahead of myself. "It sounds exciting, though; disguises and charity, I mean." Though the issue begged a good pressing, it was his own wish not to delve further. Lette respected his boundaries, though held hope that perhaps he'd be more willing to elaborate at a later time. "As I mentioned, my family moved around a lot. Not all landowners need — or want — to employ sharecroppers, so we stayed or went according to demand... or leases. The process often set us back much of what we'd saved in that time, but-..." she trailed off at the second howl. "Sounds like the same wolf. Poor thing." But the birds — were they on the road? Had someone dropped bread? "Hold. Listen." Lette closed her eyes, trying to identify bird by song. Feeling suddenly exposed, she reached for her spear and rose to a high crouch, trying to peer over the foliage at the road. Naturalist 13: can I identify it as actual birdsong and not some fool mimicking them? Perception 13 and Stealth 12, also. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 10:14 on Apr 14, 2012 |
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Apr 14, 2012 10:08
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Lette Lette held back a gasp, they had but scant seconds before the first of them arrived. "Ambush," she whispered sharply at Martin. The others must be roused. No time for a gentle shaking. There was a rule amongst hunters — so her father had said — that there could be no hard feelings for rude awakenings. In the grand scheme, a bruise on the chest or shoulder is preferable to being gashed up by a bear. Some hunters made this into a sport, itself; going further than was strictly necessary to awaken the other, knowing there could be no reprisal. That wasn't Lette's style, but she drat sure wasn't about to don the kid gloves just here. Hell, she'd never even owned a pair. "Up! Up! Someone's coming!" She swatted, thwacked and jabbed with the butt of her spear at the legs and sides of anyone lying asleep. "On your feet!"
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Apr 15, 2012 01:20
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Lette "Yes, do that; someone's coming!" Lette hisses at Dolan and the still-rising Isit, then takes up a position near Martin, spear readied. Wait action, preparing to respond to whatever comes bargin' on in. Aeolius fucked around with this message at 05:04 on Apr 15, 2012 |
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Apr 15, 2012 04:44
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Lette "Fake birdcalls, coming this way." As much as she was not eager to turn this into a battle, there was still a chance they could turn the tables on whomever was trying to surprise them, and demand some answers. If not, their stalkers might have the chance to fall back and try again. This could become a very long night.
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Apr 15, 2012 07:42
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| # ¿ May 10, 2024 14:07 |
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Lette When the birdcalls ceased, Lette wasted no time. They'd probably retreat; best make your point while they're still as close as they're liable to be. "What do you want?" she calls across the corn. "I know you're right there, and I know you're not birds! If you come in peace, you have nothing to fear from us." She once more peeks over the stalks, hoping for a better glimpse of their visitors. Per 13 agin.
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Apr 15, 2012 18:38
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