Destiny is a double-edged sword. You are one edge. What unknown lies on the other side?
Hello, this is my fantasy RP page for Uncovered Destinies: A Witcher RP. If you have any questions feel free to ask.
I will be RPing Alma Scarrow, feel free to check out her profile.
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The air bit at her skin despite being covered from head to toe in leathers and fur. It seemed that spring wasn't at all ready to show it's face that morning. It was content to chill the air and worry the budding greenery of the grasses and trees with rough winds. The sky, overcast with the promise of rain, loomed above them, as if it found chasing away the sunlight a favorable pastime. Sniffling a bit, Alma rubbed her reddening nose with the back of her right hand, the other gripping her mule's lead. Her weary feet, followed by the mule's hesitant steps, trod over the muddy road with little grace. They had been traveling for what seemed like days, following the tumultuous sound of a nearby river. This was in part because of her inability to follow directions on a map using a compass, and because her mentor's letter called for her to follow it till she reached a certain village. Thankfully it's wooden fence loomed just ahead of her. A sigh of relief fell between her lips, as she began to pick up the pace to meet it sooner. So far what was supposed to be her first real adventure was going rather horribly. It was nothing like the fairy tales she had read. Not that she had expected it to be, her pessimistic nature warded those thoughts away, but she had been hoping for some kind of fulfillment at this point.
During those last few days, it seemed that even all the grief she had felt after her mentor's death had disappeared along with the newfound pain in muscles she never knew she had and the rumbling of her stomach. Instead it seemed to be all the same tenuous routine everyday. When she first began, she had been weary of any and all strangers. She had debated camping out in the woods or by the river bank until she remembered horrid stories of drowners and other creatures that seemed to crawl about at night. So she decided that occasionally she would stop at a small village or homestead to rest. Unfortunately, her horrible social skills seemed hellbent on chasing any and all away from her. Thankfully, she had learned a few manners and tricks that made her seem like less of a freak and more of a boring stranger to be forgotten. At least she found that along the way she had become more adept with setting traps and and identifying edible plants. It had taken a few days of occasionally puking her guts out to finally grasp on to what precious skills her mentor had taught her.
Even now she could imagine her late mentor rolling their eyes at her stupidity and saying, "Oh to be young. Same as being blind, deaf, and drunk on ignorance." Biting her lip as she reminisced, she realized that she had finally reached the gates. Two guards glanced dully at her, taking in the sight of both her and her mule who pulled at Alma's hand, trying to wake her from her thoughts. For a couple seconds, she stood dumbstruck, staring at them with wide brown eyes, wondering if this was it. Had she finally reached her first destination?
"Gonna stand there all day?" A sour voice broke her from her trance, the grouchy face of a guard leaning against the fence leered at her as his neighbor opened up the gates. With a multitude of apologies and the fluttering of her eyes as if waking from a dream, she finally entered the sorry town. It was a tad bigger than the last town she'd been in. But aside from a marketplace and a rather large church, Alma could see nothing distinguishable. Already her thoughts began to berate this almost pointless mission as she walked with her mule through the marketplace towards the inn. Trying to push these thoughts away, Alma was too lost in her thoughts to notice much of anything that was going on around her.
Aribald muttered to himself as he trudged down the muddy road, straining to push his wheelbarrow through the ruts.
Of course the river is good to us after it rains, when you can't get the damned fish to the market without putting knots in your back that will take days to work out...
He hummed to himself, an old song his grandmother used to hum when she was tending to her herbs. Something about a drowner that wandered too far from the water and was attacked by a wolf. It was nonsensical, but the words were only half-remembered and helped break the monotony of wheeling his fish to town.
He had seen a drowner, once. A single drowner. An oddity - the legends always spoke of them moving in groups. His grandmother had seen it first, seen it or sensed the danger, he couldn't always tell with her. Another fisherman screamed and dropped the net he was mending, running towards the cluster of four huts along the riverbank that they called home. Three of the stronger boys cautiously walked out towards it, spears held tightly, going closer step-by-step.
Granny Berenice was having none of it. She hobbled out, screaming at the boys to get back inside, to bar the doors, that a single drowner on its own is either starving or confused - and still very dangerous. The boys heeded her warning, and come the morning, there was no sign of the drowner.
Aribald absentmindedly swatted at a fly before pausing to take a sip from his canteen. The town wasn't far, but the road was more worn from the plodding of feet the closer he got to the River Gate.
Great. They keep saying they'll work on the road, they'll lay sand and gravel, but I won't believe it until I see it. Next time I'll take the boat, damn the rocks and the shallows, it's worth the risk not to have to do this again.
The fresh fish would bring in more money than salted or smoked. That made it worth it to bring just a wheelbarrow full, rather than salting them and bringing a wagonload. Besides, he needed to go to the market anyways. Weevils, those damned little nightmares, had been into his wood planks again. There was always a store of wood in the little fishing outpost. You never knew when you might need to repair a wall in a hut or mend a boat. He needed more, well-cut and well-measured, beyond what he could do on his hand saw.
As he neared the town he muttered a greeting to the bored looking guard manning the River Gate. This was a lesser gate, leading only to the path onwards to the fishing outpost. Aribald guessed this guard must be in someone's bad graces, since this was the third straight time he'd seen him standing watch here.
He smiled as the roads turned firmer, better maintained, although still leaving much to be desired. Wheeling his load of yesterday's trout and shad towards the marketplace he continued to hum.
Of course the river is good to us after it rains, when you can't get the damned fish to the market without putting knots in your back that will take days to work out...
He hummed to himself, an old song his grandmother used to hum when she was tending to her herbs. Something about a drowner that wandered too far from the water and was attacked by a wolf. It was nonsensical, but the words were only half-remembered and helped break the monotony of wheeling his fish to town.
He had seen a drowner, once. A single drowner. An oddity - the legends always spoke of them moving in groups. His grandmother had seen it first, seen it or sensed the danger, he couldn't always tell with her. Another fisherman screamed and dropped the net he was mending, running towards the cluster of four huts along the riverbank that they called home. Three of the stronger boys cautiously walked out towards it, spears held tightly, going closer step-by-step.
Granny Berenice was having none of it. She hobbled out, screaming at the boys to get back inside, to bar the doors, that a single drowner on its own is either starving or confused - and still very dangerous. The boys heeded her warning, and come the morning, there was no sign of the drowner.
Aribald absentmindedly swatted at a fly before pausing to take a sip from his canteen. The town wasn't far, but the road was more worn from the plodding of feet the closer he got to the River Gate.
Great. They keep saying they'll work on the road, they'll lay sand and gravel, but I won't believe it until I see it. Next time I'll take the boat, damn the rocks and the shallows, it's worth the risk not to have to do this again.
The fresh fish would bring in more money than salted or smoked. That made it worth it to bring just a wheelbarrow full, rather than salting them and bringing a wagonload. Besides, he needed to go to the market anyways. Weevils, those damned little nightmares, had been into his wood planks again. There was always a store of wood in the little fishing outpost. You never knew when you might need to repair a wall in a hut or mend a boat. He needed more, well-cut and well-measured, beyond what he could do on his hand saw.
As he neared the town he muttered a greeting to the bored looking guard manning the River Gate. This was a lesser gate, leading only to the path onwards to the fishing outpost. Aribald guessed this guard must be in someone's bad graces, since this was the third straight time he'd seen him standing watch here.
He smiled as the roads turned firmer, better maintained, although still leaving much to be desired. Wheeling his load of yesterday's trout and shad towards the marketplace he continued to hum.
The awful scent of fish managed to wake her from her reverie, an uncomfortable hum rumbling deep in her throat as she brought an arm up to her nose in a weak attempt to ward off the smell. It was to little avail and with great disappointment she dropped her arm back at her side. Glancing around for the source of the smell, Alma glanced as a wheelbarrow rolled past. Despite the scent, her stomach seemed to remember how long ago she had eaten. Perhaps she could ask for a bit of smoked salmon. With a loud growl, her stomach agreed with that idea.
With something to look forward to, her gait seemed to increase in speed. At it's little master's sudden gusto, the mule grunted before pulling at its lead and following reluctantly.
With a face full of terror, it was at this moment a young boy pushed past her and various others in attempt to reach the village square. As he ran, his voice called out, "Help! Drowners took Isaiah!" With a sniffle conjured by the cold, she followed the kid as a small group of villagers began to emerge. Out of the crowd, a grey-maned elder took the boy by the shoulder, silencing him with a stare, "Slow down, boy. What happened?"
"Wh-well-ugh," Panting like mad, the child's nerves seemed to suppress his voice. However the elder was patient and firm. After a while, breath returned to the boy though fear never left his shaking shoulders. Rubbing away tears from reddening eyes, the boy answered shakily, "We was playing by th-the river. Isaiah saw something in the water and then the... These claws grabbed him and pulled him in!" Several gasps followed by the chattering of the villagers filled the silence. Raising her head from the boy to the villagers, Alma gazed at the shocked faces, wondering what was to be done about the situation. 'Surely someone will volunteer to kill it. I imagine the coin one could earn would be great... Wait,' Turning the idea over in her head, she considered all the horrible possibilities... And all the fun she could have if she won the bounty. Resolute in her decision, she stepped towards the boy.
Suddenly the stares of the people around her was stifling, but nevertheless she nodded at him, fighting the urge to leave, "I know the ways of beasts. I could rid you of this problem and gain some closure. F-for a price of course and uh-- board." She hurried the last part, almost forgetting to add the last few perks. Doubt clouded the elder's eyes as they took in the odd sight.
"You? Not likely. We'd rather wait for a job well done than-"
"Hold on! I've trained in the way of beasts and with the help of this," She motioned to the sword handle on her back before continuing, "and some locals, you'll be able to visit your river again." Trying to slow her cadence and appear with a look of confidence, she could feel herself failing. Glancing at the crowd, she hoped to find a friendly face. Something, anything to fight off the insecure thoughts that plagued her mind.
With something to look forward to, her gait seemed to increase in speed. At it's little master's sudden gusto, the mule grunted before pulling at its lead and following reluctantly.
With a face full of terror, it was at this moment a young boy pushed past her and various others in attempt to reach the village square. As he ran, his voice called out, "Help! Drowners took Isaiah!" With a sniffle conjured by the cold, she followed the kid as a small group of villagers began to emerge. Out of the crowd, a grey-maned elder took the boy by the shoulder, silencing him with a stare, "Slow down, boy. What happened?"
"Wh-well-ugh," Panting like mad, the child's nerves seemed to suppress his voice. However the elder was patient and firm. After a while, breath returned to the boy though fear never left his shaking shoulders. Rubbing away tears from reddening eyes, the boy answered shakily, "We was playing by th-the river. Isaiah saw something in the water and then the... These claws grabbed him and pulled him in!" Several gasps followed by the chattering of the villagers filled the silence. Raising her head from the boy to the villagers, Alma gazed at the shocked faces, wondering what was to be done about the situation. 'Surely someone will volunteer to kill it. I imagine the coin one could earn would be great... Wait,' Turning the idea over in her head, she considered all the horrible possibilities... And all the fun she could have if she won the bounty. Resolute in her decision, she stepped towards the boy.
Suddenly the stares of the people around her was stifling, but nevertheless she nodded at him, fighting the urge to leave, "I know the ways of beasts. I could rid you of this problem and gain some closure. F-for a price of course and uh-- board." She hurried the last part, almost forgetting to add the last few perks. Doubt clouded the elder's eyes as they took in the odd sight.
"You? Not likely. We'd rather wait for a job well done than-"
"Hold on! I've trained in the way of beasts and with the help of this," She motioned to the sword handle on her back before continuing, "and some locals, you'll be able to visit your river again." Trying to slow her cadence and appear with a look of confidence, she could feel herself failing. Glancing at the crowd, she hoped to find a friendly face. Something, anything to fight off the insecure thoughts that plagued her mind.
Aribald heard the cry of drowners as he wheeled his barrow into position, the familiar corner of the market, next to the young lady selling lilies and tulips and lilac sprigs.
Drowners? This far up river, and by day? Curious. This boy has quite the imagination.
He turned to the flower merchant and smiled, hoping to catch her attention.
"These villages boys, they're always dreaming up some kind of monster. In my day we played Dryads and Bandits. Now they play Drowners?"
Aribald's smiles and horrendous attempt at flirting faded quickly has he noticed the townsfolk in the market beginning to panic.
Maybe this isn't a game. Maybe this is serious.
He sighed and motioned to his fish, with the flower merchant nodding - she'd take care of it for now.
He'd at least seen a drowner, and heard many stories of them. More so than most of these villagers, at least. He grimaced and reached into his satchel for a knife.
It's not my spear, but it will do in a pinch. I don't plan on fighting a drowner, anyways, just keeping these idiot villagers from doing something rash and stupid.
Glancing over the crowd before heading to the river, Aribald noticed a brown eyed young women he'd not seen in town.
Curious time for a stranger to be in the market...
He nodded towards her apprehensively.
Look at her, talking about prices no doubt. And a sword? Who does she think she is? Some damned witcher?
Aribald headed over her way, towards the elder and the small crowd.
"Right then. Drowner? You're sure it's a drowner, boy? This isn't some fanciful game you were playing?"
The terror on the boy's face said it all. This was no game. Isaiah was in danger - real, palpable danger.
Turning to the elder, Aribald motioned towards the river.
"We know you don't have much coin. Trust me - I've sold in this village for years. I know how hard things can get here. But my god, this woman has a sword. Do any of you know how to wield an actual weapon? Even your guards can't truly fight! They can corner the occasional thief or highwayman or aggressive drunk, but a drowner is something different. Do something!"
With a frown, Aribald turned towards the river, yelling to anyone he passed to get inside and bar the door, much as his grandmother had told him to do years before.
Drowners? This far up river, and by day? Curious. This boy has quite the imagination.
He turned to the flower merchant and smiled, hoping to catch her attention.
"These villages boys, they're always dreaming up some kind of monster. In my day we played Dryads and Bandits. Now they play Drowners?"
Aribald's smiles and horrendous attempt at flirting faded quickly has he noticed the townsfolk in the market beginning to panic.
Maybe this isn't a game. Maybe this is serious.
He sighed and motioned to his fish, with the flower merchant nodding - she'd take care of it for now.
He'd at least seen a drowner, and heard many stories of them. More so than most of these villagers, at least. He grimaced and reached into his satchel for a knife.
It's not my spear, but it will do in a pinch. I don't plan on fighting a drowner, anyways, just keeping these idiot villagers from doing something rash and stupid.
Glancing over the crowd before heading to the river, Aribald noticed a brown eyed young women he'd not seen in town.
Curious time for a stranger to be in the market...
He nodded towards her apprehensively.
Look at her, talking about prices no doubt. And a sword? Who does she think she is? Some damned witcher?
Aribald headed over her way, towards the elder and the small crowd.
"Right then. Drowner? You're sure it's a drowner, boy? This isn't some fanciful game you were playing?"
The terror on the boy's face said it all. This was no game. Isaiah was in danger - real, palpable danger.
Turning to the elder, Aribald motioned towards the river.
"We know you don't have much coin. Trust me - I've sold in this village for years. I know how hard things can get here. But my god, this woman has a sword. Do any of you know how to wield an actual weapon? Even your guards can't truly fight! They can corner the occasional thief or highwayman or aggressive drunk, but a drowner is something different. Do something!"
With a frown, Aribald turned towards the river, yelling to anyone he passed to get inside and bar the door, much as his grandmother had told him to do years before.
Leaving the Assassin order required him to venture to a land foreign to him to root out templars. Including this village. The village seemed like any other to him. Smell of a common product and a busy market-place. A few lazy guards and so-on.
"We need to reach the village to the west before noon just in case templars are hiding there", he told a fellow assassin. "No need. We all ready have brothers and sisters in that village", the assassin exclaimed(exclaimed means to cry out suddenly, especially in surprise, anger, or pain jms;)
"Calm down brother", Ezio told his affiliate. "Sorry; I've just been on edge with this place. To believe this is normal now." Ezio grabbed his left-shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Have courage brother. We are only chasing templars here not the monsters....but do help deal with them once in a while."
"My apologies mentor", the assassin took a deep breath. "It is okay. We all have our moments", replied Ezio. With no current assignment they went on to take another one, but then they heard a voice call out. Ezios' entire body flicked towards the direction of the sound as if instinct. "I'm on my way!", he thought to himself looking towards his "brother" and then running towards the cry.
"Mentor!", the assassin shouted, but did not follow. His affiliate was shouting something at him about a beast, but he had all ready made the corner. He ran through the village until he came to a group of villagers gathered around a boy, an elder, and a woman. His eyes took notice of the woman.
He had seen people such as her fighting beasts. "Witchers". She can handle this"; he thought to himself.
After watching and listening closely to the elder and her he realized that she wasn't exactly the outgoing type and a life was on the line. He saw her eyes looking around and a nervous look drawn upon her face. Without thinking he acted. "I will go with her", he shouted and pointed at her while approaching the elder. "And what will you do exactly?", the elder questioned him.
"I will help save the boy rather than be a bystander." He fixed his eyes onto Almas's. -"and the witcher will help me." Everyone looked at her while he was waiting for her voice to pick up on his words.
"We need to reach the village to the west before noon just in case templars are hiding there", he told a fellow assassin. "No need. We all ready have brothers and sisters in that village", the assassin exclaimed(exclaimed means to cry out suddenly, especially in surprise, anger, or pain jms;)
"Calm down brother", Ezio told his affiliate. "Sorry; I've just been on edge with this place. To believe this is normal now." Ezio grabbed his left-shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "Have courage brother. We are only chasing templars here not the monsters....but do help deal with them once in a while."
"My apologies mentor", the assassin took a deep breath. "It is okay. We all have our moments", replied Ezio. With no current assignment they went on to take another one, but then they heard a voice call out. Ezios' entire body flicked towards the direction of the sound as if instinct. "I'm on my way!", he thought to himself looking towards his "brother" and then running towards the cry.
"Mentor!", the assassin shouted, but did not follow. His affiliate was shouting something at him about a beast, but he had all ready made the corner. He ran through the village until he came to a group of villagers gathered around a boy, an elder, and a woman. His eyes took notice of the woman.
He had seen people such as her fighting beasts. "Witchers". She can handle this"; he thought to himself.
After watching and listening closely to the elder and her he realized that she wasn't exactly the outgoing type and a life was on the line. He saw her eyes looking around and a nervous look drawn upon her face. Without thinking he acted. "I will go with her", he shouted and pointed at her while approaching the elder. "And what will you do exactly?", the elder questioned him.
"I will help save the boy rather than be a bystander." He fixed his eyes onto Almas's. -"and the witcher will help me." Everyone looked at her while he was waiting for her voice to pick up on his words.
OOC-Not sure if my reply was late. Lol.
(Ouch. Hadn't seen a new reply until after I finished editing. Of course you aren't too late and welcome to the RP.)
'A witcher?' She thought, a dazed expression on her face, 'That's what they think I am?' A brief thought flickered in her head: maybe she should tell them truthfully what she was. Almost immediately it was wiped from her mind. Someone was in trouble, such revelations now would only hinder the process and increase the chances of that poor boy... Shaking her head, she made up her mind.
"Then it's settled," She gave an appreciative smile before giving the elder a pointed look. He was the only loose thread.
"Fine! We'll discuss payment afterwards! Just ensure the village's safety! Take the boy with you. He can show you the way." With a quick nod, Alma suppressed another smile and offered him her mule's lead. Although he didn't seem too happy about it, he accepted with a grim set to his mouth. Giving it one last pat, she turned towards where the villager had headed off. The boy, staring at the strangers with wide glassy eyes was pushed forward almost into Alma herself. With a deep breath, Alma steadied the boy, not knowing what she could say to make it better other than, "You won't be harmed. Just show us where it happened." With this the boy shook a little more before giving a single nod. She glanced at the stranger and nodded towards the gate... This is the adventure she had been waiting for. This was her chance.
A thrill wove through her, chasing away her anxiety. Her mind already was hard at work overreacting to the situation. She hadn't even caught sight of drowners yet and already she could hear her heart beating. The crash of blood through her ventricles sounded in her ears as she imagined the oncoming slaughter... Hopefully she would be the perpetrator and not the victim.
Following the boy towards the village exit, she sized the stranger up, her eyes slightly narrowed. Not out of hostility but rather fear. She wasn't quite used to "other" yet. However, she could respect the effort he was making, though it didn't chase off all her questions.
'A witcher?' She thought, a dazed expression on her face, 'That's what they think I am?' A brief thought flickered in her head: maybe she should tell them truthfully what she was. Almost immediately it was wiped from her mind. Someone was in trouble, such revelations now would only hinder the process and increase the chances of that poor boy... Shaking her head, she made up her mind.
"Then it's settled," She gave an appreciative smile before giving the elder a pointed look. He was the only loose thread.
"Fine! We'll discuss payment afterwards! Just ensure the village's safety! Take the boy with you. He can show you the way." With a quick nod, Alma suppressed another smile and offered him her mule's lead. Although he didn't seem too happy about it, he accepted with a grim set to his mouth. Giving it one last pat, she turned towards where the villager had headed off. The boy, staring at the strangers with wide glassy eyes was pushed forward almost into Alma herself. With a deep breath, Alma steadied the boy, not knowing what she could say to make it better other than, "You won't be harmed. Just show us where it happened." With this the boy shook a little more before giving a single nod. She glanced at the stranger and nodded towards the gate... This is the adventure she had been waiting for. This was her chance.
A thrill wove through her, chasing away her anxiety. Her mind already was hard at work overreacting to the situation. She hadn't even caught sight of drowners yet and already she could hear her heart beating. The crash of blood through her ventricles sounded in her ears as she imagined the oncoming slaughter... Hopefully she would be the perpetrator and not the victim.
Following the boy towards the village exit, she sized the stranger up, her eyes slightly narrowed. Not out of hostility but rather fear. She wasn't quite used to "other" yet. However, she could respect the effort he was making, though it didn't chase off all her questions.
Boy is probably dead already. They're just going to give the drowners more of a feast. That'll keep them coming back. Best thing to do would be to get everyone inside and out of danger before the drowners start to think of this stretch of the river as a feeding ground...
Aribald gruffly told everyone he passed to get out of the streets. Ahead he saw the boy and two strangers heading down towards the river.
It's lucky this didn't happen a few hours ago. The washerwomen would've been done on the bank then, ringing their linens. And to think, not half an hour ago I passed this same way. Miletele must've smiled on me today. That could've been me, not some foolish boy.
Guilt immediately gripped him.
Yes, Aribald, that could've been you. It could've been anyone. Even if the boy is dead by now, giving the drowners a scare should be enough to keep them from coming back. It had worked the last time. But that was... ten years ago? Twelve? Might as well do what I can.
He clutched his knife tighter and again wished it was his spear. Not that the spear would be much better against a drowner - it was mostly for feral dogs or the occasional boar that wandered too close to the fishing outpost.
"You three!"
Aribald raised his voice enough to heard over the commotion in the village behind him.
"The drowners aren't the only dangers here. The river runs fast and swirls after the rains. It's only waist high until you get more than a stone's throw out, but the current will be running strong."
He knew this stretch of the river. Had it not rained he may very well have used it to get his fish to market, but it turned treacherous when swollen with the rain out of the hills. No sense risking the boat for a day's catch.
"Mind your footing, if they try to pull you in there'll be trouble."
Aribald gruffly told everyone he passed to get out of the streets. Ahead he saw the boy and two strangers heading down towards the river.
It's lucky this didn't happen a few hours ago. The washerwomen would've been done on the bank then, ringing their linens. And to think, not half an hour ago I passed this same way. Miletele must've smiled on me today. That could've been me, not some foolish boy.
Guilt immediately gripped him.
Yes, Aribald, that could've been you. It could've been anyone. Even if the boy is dead by now, giving the drowners a scare should be enough to keep them from coming back. It had worked the last time. But that was... ten years ago? Twelve? Might as well do what I can.
He clutched his knife tighter and again wished it was his spear. Not that the spear would be much better against a drowner - it was mostly for feral dogs or the occasional boar that wandered too close to the fishing outpost.
"You three!"
Aribald raised his voice enough to heard over the commotion in the village behind him.
"The drowners aren't the only dangers here. The river runs fast and swirls after the rains. It's only waist high until you get more than a stone's throw out, but the current will be running strong."
He knew this stretch of the river. Had it not rained he may very well have used it to get his fish to market, but it turned treacherous when swollen with the rain out of the hills. No sense risking the boat for a day's catch.
"Mind your footing, if they try to pull you in there'll be trouble."
(Sorry for the late reply. I just wanted to give Nate a chance to reply.)
Stopping in the little boy's tracks, Alma heard someone calling to them. Turning, she recognized the features of the villager as the one who had drove the town o action. Straining her ears to hear him, she listened patiently to see what he had to say.
"The drowners aren't the only dangers here. The river runs fast and swirls after the rains. It's only waist high until you get more than a stone's throw out, but the current will be running strong."
'By the powers that be,' Swearing silently in her head, she refused to let her frustration be noticed. Instead, she nodded at him and offered a hesitant smile. At least someone else was level-headed enough to offer information to them. Although she understood the fear and panic, a small part of her took issue with the local's behavior. 'As if acting like a chicken with it's head cut off ever helped anyone,' That ugly part of herself sniped. Ignoring it, she addressed him.
Fighting these drowners for the first time would be hard enough without any nasty surprises; thankfully, this villager had been there to warn them. "Thank you!" Shouting back at him, Alma awkwardly made as if to salute him, doubting he would be up to joining them in the hunt, "You wouldn't have any experience with drowners...? Would you?" Instead, she wondered if maybe she could pry more information out of him. They lived by a river and this boy had recognized a drowner by name; it was unlikely that they hadn't heard of these awful creatures before.
Stopping in the little boy's tracks, Alma heard someone calling to them. Turning, she recognized the features of the villager as the one who had drove the town o action. Straining her ears to hear him, she listened patiently to see what he had to say.
"The drowners aren't the only dangers here. The river runs fast and swirls after the rains. It's only waist high until you get more than a stone's throw out, but the current will be running strong."
'By the powers that be,' Swearing silently in her head, she refused to let her frustration be noticed. Instead, she nodded at him and offered a hesitant smile. At least someone else was level-headed enough to offer information to them. Although she understood the fear and panic, a small part of her took issue with the local's behavior. 'As if acting like a chicken with it's head cut off ever helped anyone,' That ugly part of herself sniped. Ignoring it, she addressed him.
Fighting these drowners for the first time would be hard enough without any nasty surprises; thankfully, this villager had been there to warn them. "Thank you!" Shouting back at him, Alma awkwardly made as if to salute him, doubting he would be up to joining them in the hunt, "You wouldn't have any experience with drowners...? Would you?" Instead, she wondered if maybe she could pry more information out of him. They lived by a river and this boy had recognized a drowner by name; it was unlikely that they hadn't heard of these awful creatures before.
(OOC: Sorry if this is out of turn, but I figure it'll be okay because it's mostly expository?)
Aribald's ears perked up.
So she wants payment for drowners, yet knows little of them? Curious...
"We don't see many around this stretch of the river. The last time we had a problem with them was... a decade back? Sounds right. Back when there were river pirates. They'd dump bodies overboard... that draws them like flies to carcass. My grandmother told us the safest place was inside, that they wouldn't try to get in. Not much help out here."
He paused and stretched his arm in a windmill motion, shoulders still sore from hauling the wheelbarrow.
"Someone from the city came then, wanting to buy their heads. Something about their brains being valuable. I don't know. It didn't make sense to me, but I was only a boy. They're fast, though, and it's hardly ever just one, if the stories are to be believed. They don't understand us, they don't try to speak, only to pull you in."
Aribald struggled to catch up, feeling winded already from the morning's labor. He didn't get many opportunities to talk about local history. Nobody ever seemed to care.
"They're not smart. Last time they came ashore it took a bleating goat to lure one into a goat pen. Took every man and weapon in town to bring the three of them down. Lost a good dozen men to them, too.
Nasty, nasty creatures."
Aribald's ears perked up.
So she wants payment for drowners, yet knows little of them? Curious...
"We don't see many around this stretch of the river. The last time we had a problem with them was... a decade back? Sounds right. Back when there were river pirates. They'd dump bodies overboard... that draws them like flies to carcass. My grandmother told us the safest place was inside, that they wouldn't try to get in. Not much help out here."
He paused and stretched his arm in a windmill motion, shoulders still sore from hauling the wheelbarrow.
"Someone from the city came then, wanting to buy their heads. Something about their brains being valuable. I don't know. It didn't make sense to me, but I was only a boy. They're fast, though, and it's hardly ever just one, if the stories are to be believed. They don't understand us, they don't try to speak, only to pull you in."
Aribald struggled to catch up, feeling winded already from the morning's labor. He didn't get many opportunities to talk about local history. Nobody ever seemed to care.
"They're not smart. Last time they came ashore it took a bleating goat to lure one into a goat pen. Took every man and weapon in town to bring the three of them down. Lost a good dozen men to them, too.
Nasty, nasty creatures."
(I think it's fine... Um do you think I should reply or wait a bit?)
(I'd say go for it)
(Alright.)
His story seemed to add up with what she'd read and been told, though she wasn't sure that taking refuge in houses would really steer the beasts away. However, the procurement of their brains sounded familiar. She had heard of strange alchemists experimenting with them to find what brought these waterlogged corpses back to life, if the witch's tales were to be believed. Maybe if she survived this endeavour, she could see what all the fuss was about... That is if it didn't look too suspicious to the locals. She didn't want to look any stranger than she already seemed.
It also laid to rest her doubts concerning the truthfulness of the boy's tale and confirmed the type of beast she had in mind. Alma's eyes slid to the boy before darting back to the fisherman. It seemed that the boy had recognized them correctly, judging from the way he shirked back from the villager's short summary. However, that wasn't all that intrigued her, 'They have successfully fought off drowners before, but not without consequences.' Maybe it was possible to fight off these animals in the same way. It would be easier to lure them into a trap and have a go at killing them then. Trying to fight them on their own turf was a risk she'd rather not take.
Motioning for him to join the small troupe, Alma nodded at him before taking a few steps on the road and pausing, "Are there any areas where we can separate them from the waters? Or, can we try the goat pen again?" She spoke quickly, an awful feeling eating away at her stomach as the risks settled in. Although the cost was heavy for them last time, they had managed to kill them. That was more than could be said for most.
Tinkering with her ring, she added truthfully, but without emotion, "Fighting them by the riverside will be treacherous, at best."
His story seemed to add up with what she'd read and been told, though she wasn't sure that taking refuge in houses would really steer the beasts away. However, the procurement of their brains sounded familiar. She had heard of strange alchemists experimenting with them to find what brought these waterlogged corpses back to life, if the witch's tales were to be believed. Maybe if she survived this endeavour, she could see what all the fuss was about... That is if it didn't look too suspicious to the locals. She didn't want to look any stranger than she already seemed.
It also laid to rest her doubts concerning the truthfulness of the boy's tale and confirmed the type of beast she had in mind. Alma's eyes slid to the boy before darting back to the fisherman. It seemed that the boy had recognized them correctly, judging from the way he shirked back from the villager's short summary. However, that wasn't all that intrigued her, 'They have successfully fought off drowners before, but not without consequences.' Maybe it was possible to fight off these animals in the same way. It would be easier to lure them into a trap and have a go at killing them then. Trying to fight them on their own turf was a risk she'd rather not take.
Motioning for him to join the small troupe, Alma nodded at him before taking a few steps on the road and pausing, "Are there any areas where we can separate them from the waters? Or, can we try the goat pen again?" She spoke quickly, an awful feeling eating away at her stomach as the risks settled in. Although the cost was heavy for them last time, they had managed to kill them. That was more than could be said for most.
Tinkering with her ring, she added truthfully, but without emotion, "Fighting them by the riverside will be treacherous, at best."
"We... we could try."
Aribald was hesitant, carefully chewing over his words.
"It's no good until we know how many there are. Two or three? We could figure something out. Five? Six? No hope there. Might as well hope some of those royal monster hunters or whatever they call themselves stumbles across the town."
He again rotated his arm, trying to work out the kink in his shoulder, still clutching his knife.
"Old wives tales say they don't like fire, but who knows how true that is. That's just word of mouth from generations back. I certainly don't know anyone foolish enough to try to experiment. Maybe those madmen with the flaming roses on their shields are right. We had one come by a couple months ago, Novigrad accent as thick as I've ever heard, babbling on about..."
He stopped himself. No time. As much as he'd love to share the story, the most exciting thing to have happened in the village since... this... there was simply no time. Isaiah was in trouble.
He's dead already, I'd wager...
He looked towards the young lady and her strange comrade in arms.
They've got spirit, that's for sure. Maybe more spirit than brains, rushing off towards these drowners...
"Treacherous? Fighting them at the bank would be suicidal. But we may have no other option. When the boy shows us exactly where Isaiah was taken we can send him back to the town, have the men gather what weapons they can."
As the sound of the river grew louder, Aribald felt fear beginning to grip him.
Killed by a drowner, would you believe it? That's how I'll die. Not the pox, not falling overboard, not wheezing away my breath as an old man. Some damned drowners.
Aribald was hesitant, carefully chewing over his words.
"It's no good until we know how many there are. Two or three? We could figure something out. Five? Six? No hope there. Might as well hope some of those royal monster hunters or whatever they call themselves stumbles across the town."
He again rotated his arm, trying to work out the kink in his shoulder, still clutching his knife.
"Old wives tales say they don't like fire, but who knows how true that is. That's just word of mouth from generations back. I certainly don't know anyone foolish enough to try to experiment. Maybe those madmen with the flaming roses on their shields are right. We had one come by a couple months ago, Novigrad accent as thick as I've ever heard, babbling on about..."
He stopped himself. No time. As much as he'd love to share the story, the most exciting thing to have happened in the village since... this... there was simply no time. Isaiah was in trouble.
He's dead already, I'd wager...
He looked towards the young lady and her strange comrade in arms.
They've got spirit, that's for sure. Maybe more spirit than brains, rushing off towards these drowners...
"Treacherous? Fighting them at the bank would be suicidal. But we may have no other option. When the boy shows us exactly where Isaiah was taken we can send him back to the town, have the men gather what weapons they can."
As the sound of the river grew louder, Aribald felt fear beginning to grip him.
Killed by a drowner, would you believe it? That's how I'll die. Not the pox, not falling overboard, not wheezing away my breath as an old man. Some damned drowners.
Hearing the fisherman prattle on was actually kind of relaxing. She figured it was probably borne from fear, but hearing another's voice helped her focus. Trying to shake her dread, she imagined what awaited her afterwards: a warm bed free of parasites with plump pillows made of downy fluff and soft sheets of cotton. Sharp cruel laughter almost rose in her throat at the thought, 'Can you imagine, going off to fight drowners solely because maybe you'll make enough gold to spend on a night sleeping on an actual bed.' It was probably the sense of impending doom, but the thought seemed a lot funnier than it ever had the right to be. A strange expression appeared on her face as she held back the laugh, an odd mix of a half smile and concern which manifested itself in her creased brows.
'This. This is why your family sent you away,' Alma suppressed a snicker at the dark thought; her humor never seemed to amuse others. Probably because she had a horrible sense of humor, often too stupid or gruesome for most. Blinking away memories, she glanced up at the river ahead, taking note that they were nearing the site.
Sniffling a bit, the air's chill making her nose runny, she thought about the situation. She didn't like the idea of inviting other strangers out on their dangerous escapade. However, this would be her first time in combat without her mentor... It would be good to have more company. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow, dismissing the thought, 'And if they realize that I'm not really a witcher? Oh hell no. It's bad enough with these strangers about to realize that I'm a hoax.'
Calmly she glanced at the fisherman, her expression once again becoming passive, "I don't think that's wise. Already they've barred their doors; it's unlikely they'll open them unless they believe the coast is clear." She paused, a retrospective look on her face, "Besides I think that we should avoid more-," From the side of her vision she saw the boy suddenly look up at her, distraught, "I mean, any deaths."
She didn't voice her last thought for fear of sounding arrogant, 'Besides, they'll only get in the way.'
"There!" A voice barely audible came from the youngest of them, his hand pointing towards a spot on the river bank a little ways away. Through a sparse amount of trees and foliage, splotches of crimson coloring the rocks and saturating the sand was visible. Upturned earth and clawed stones marked the presence of the monsters. Even though it was largely obscured by a bush, Alma could make out the shape of a boot on the bank. 'No body and no drowners,' She noted as she pulled the boy in back of her. He didn't need to see anymore than he already had. Maybe the creatures had taken Isaiah somewhere more hidden to feed, than the open bank before them. All the possibilities captured her thoughts. Although she held the boy to her side, she slowly became too captivated with trying to see other clues from the distance.
'This. This is why your family sent you away,' Alma suppressed a snicker at the dark thought; her humor never seemed to amuse others. Probably because she had a horrible sense of humor, often too stupid or gruesome for most. Blinking away memories, she glanced up at the river ahead, taking note that they were nearing the site.
Sniffling a bit, the air's chill making her nose runny, she thought about the situation. She didn't like the idea of inviting other strangers out on their dangerous escapade. However, this would be her first time in combat without her mentor... It would be good to have more company. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow, dismissing the thought, 'And if they realize that I'm not really a witcher? Oh hell no. It's bad enough with these strangers about to realize that I'm a hoax.'
Calmly she glanced at the fisherman, her expression once again becoming passive, "I don't think that's wise. Already they've barred their doors; it's unlikely they'll open them unless they believe the coast is clear." She paused, a retrospective look on her face, "Besides I think that we should avoid more-," From the side of her vision she saw the boy suddenly look up at her, distraught, "I mean, any deaths."
She didn't voice her last thought for fear of sounding arrogant, 'Besides, they'll only get in the way.'
"There!" A voice barely audible came from the youngest of them, his hand pointing towards a spot on the river bank a little ways away. Through a sparse amount of trees and foliage, splotches of crimson coloring the rocks and saturating the sand was visible. Upturned earth and clawed stones marked the presence of the monsters. Even though it was largely obscured by a bush, Alma could make out the shape of a boot on the bank. 'No body and no drowners,' She noted as she pulled the boy in back of her. He didn't need to see anymore than he already had. Maybe the creatures had taken Isaiah somewhere more hidden to feed, than the open bank before them. All the possibilities captured her thoughts. Although she held the boy to her side, she slowly became too captivated with trying to see other clues from the distance.
Pint was a dwarf that liked to fight. Nay, it was more than just a hobby for him or even a profession. It was an addiction, the thrill and of steel clashing against steel, the smell of blood as his blade skewered his latest victim. Be it beast or man, elf or fellow dwarf- he did not care. As long as they were good, as long as they struggled.
People put a lot of stock on the making of a weapon. 'Oh you gotta use silver for beasts and steel for men' Bah! Amateurs. It was all about technique, they can't hurt you if you dodge and if it's beast or man all you gotta do is push in a little harder. Why, he'd say that made things more interesting.
Had he been born a human he would have been a Witcher for sure, at least a sword master to train noble fighters. But as a dwarf, Pint was little more than a sell sword. Hell, he wasn't even that since he often didn't get paid. He was a brawler, a thug. In reality, a madman was more accurate. Only insanity would keep some one so focused on a single and arguably meaningless task to not realise in how much danger he was.
That's why, when the dwarf who was sitting by the river all bundled up and smoking a pipe trying to stay warm saw a dozen armed villagers coming his way the first thing he thought was that there must be a fight brewing.
"Oi! You humans looking for a brawl??" The voice of a dwarf was heard as Pint shot up from his sitting position and drew a wicked looking spear axe to then walk menacingly towards the villagers.
Indeed, there were more dangers in the river than just drowners. Crazed dwarves being one of em.
People put a lot of stock on the making of a weapon. 'Oh you gotta use silver for beasts and steel for men' Bah! Amateurs. It was all about technique, they can't hurt you if you dodge and if it's beast or man all you gotta do is push in a little harder. Why, he'd say that made things more interesting.
Had he been born a human he would have been a Witcher for sure, at least a sword master to train noble fighters. But as a dwarf, Pint was little more than a sell sword. Hell, he wasn't even that since he often didn't get paid. He was a brawler, a thug. In reality, a madman was more accurate. Only insanity would keep some one so focused on a single and arguably meaningless task to not realise in how much danger he was.
That's why, when the dwarf who was sitting by the river all bundled up and smoking a pipe trying to stay warm saw a dozen armed villagers coming his way the first thing he thought was that there must be a fight brewing.
"Oi! You humans looking for a brawl??" The voice of a dwarf was heard as Pint shot up from his sitting position and drew a wicked looking spear axe to then walk menacingly towards the villagers.
Indeed, there were more dangers in the river than just drowners. Crazed dwarves being one of em.
edit: (oops, didn't see the other reply)
(Quick question Mordos, you aren't referencing Ari, Alma, and the gang are you? I just want to make sure before replying.)
(I am, yes.)
(Alright, sorry thanks!)
Everything seemed almost too quiet. Too peaceful. It was unsettling, considering the view of the bank.
An unruly voice pierced the air, disturbing the unholy quiet and waking Alma from her observations. Whipping her head to glance at the dwarf, she was taken aback. First, because this was the first time she had ever seen a dwarf decked out and ready to fight. She had always seen them at forges and in mines, working metals like no other race could.
Secondly, because she hadn't realized how focused she had been. How could they have missed him? He was rather tall for a dwarf, and besides that, very imposing. The addition of the strange axe and his first impression didn't help his case. Even from her position, energy sang from the weapon in a way she had never felt before. Why would a mercenary (she guessed from the weapon) be out here relaxing with a potential threat going on and with such a thing? She tilted her head as she watched him, awkwardly silent for a few seconds as she studied him, brows furrowed.
Finally she spoke, her eyes betraying her curiosity as they lingered on the weapon, "A boy's been taken by drowners." She motioned to her other companions, palms facing the sky, "We're here to kill them."
"And save Isaiah!" From behind them, the boy had found the courage to speak. Startled slightly by the boy's participation, Alma raised a hand to her chest before smiling faintly and nodding at him. Sympathy flooded her thoughts, 'Nothing like the faith of the young... Ugh, I sound old.'
Still looking at the boy she slowly turned to watch the newcomer, wondering if he really was going to risk fighting with monsters about, "And save Isaiah." As she finished the sentence she wondered if it really was wise to try and be reasonable with the agitated dwarf.
Everything seemed almost too quiet. Too peaceful. It was unsettling, considering the view of the bank.
An unruly voice pierced the air, disturbing the unholy quiet and waking Alma from her observations. Whipping her head to glance at the dwarf, she was taken aback. First, because this was the first time she had ever seen a dwarf decked out and ready to fight. She had always seen them at forges and in mines, working metals like no other race could.
Secondly, because she hadn't realized how focused she had been. How could they have missed him? He was rather tall for a dwarf, and besides that, very imposing. The addition of the strange axe and his first impression didn't help his case. Even from her position, energy sang from the weapon in a way she had never felt before. Why would a mercenary (she guessed from the weapon) be out here relaxing with a potential threat going on and with such a thing? She tilted her head as she watched him, awkwardly silent for a few seconds as she studied him, brows furrowed.
Finally she spoke, her eyes betraying her curiosity as they lingered on the weapon, "A boy's been taken by drowners." She motioned to her other companions, palms facing the sky, "We're here to kill them."
"And save Isaiah!" From behind them, the boy had found the courage to speak. Startled slightly by the boy's participation, Alma raised a hand to her chest before smiling faintly and nodding at him. Sympathy flooded her thoughts, 'Nothing like the faith of the young... Ugh, I sound old.'
Still looking at the boy she slowly turned to watch the newcomer, wondering if he really was going to risk fighting with monsters about, "And save Isaiah." As she finished the sentence she wondered if it really was wise to try and be reasonable with the agitated dwarf.
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