He holds for the edge of the mirror ring, looks near to taking off himself. Lazar shifts, foot-to-foot, hefting the sack of Antivan liquor will serve a few bribes. He's not scared — truly, he's not; run into danger plenty, can hardly name the shape of fear. Only you get a sense for these things. Only he didn't, last time.
Doubt's a foreigner, don't know how to greet her.
ii | ANDERFELS
Dust's the worst part of it. No, the worst's the weather, louring with storm and the bright flash of lightning. Rough on the birds, makes them snappy, and that's really the worst part; the griffons. Mouthy shits.
Except that's not the worst at all. It's worsts far as the eye can see, and nothing for the grey sausage they've traded for. The villages are ugly as the pigs that range them, rooting sparse grass and rock gone black: Hurlock ripped a girl apart last month. Someone's grandfather is missing, went on his daily walk and over canyon edge.
"Hate this fucking place," Bent over a fire stinks of gurn chips. "Let the Vints have it."
iii | THAIG
He runs a finger along the wall. Licks, experimental. Salt,
Finds himself ducking for the work tunnels. Dwarven fashion's always been high ceilings, but the shelves, the beds, the old scaffolds into rock — it's all meant for a man at least two feet lower to the ground. Leaves him out with the nugs one night, eyeing a mushroom might be the kind gives funny dreams, or might just be its lookalike. The one makes you shit yourself to death.
Maybe chancing it'd be more fun than this. Place is picked clean.
Desperation or diligence finds him at one of the stone tombs, prying crowbar under edge. Necessary, you know. Make sure nothing restless waits down here.
"Figure we burn 'em?"
iv | QARINUS
Now this is a proper city. Shame about the people.
Enough got friendly faces, or what’ll pass – even if no one’s too friendly with the Walrus any more. Pirate to People to something near the Lucerni, and he’s playing the part he always plays: He’s playing the big guy with big fists, so don’t push it.
Gone fine so far. Got him here, holed up with their latest contact and tossing a fat grapefruit in hand. Gone fine right up until the guy's spied his face and gone red as citrus.
"I know you,"
Not happily. He snatches for Lazar, who weaves back with improbable speed, snatching for the silverware. This is about to escalate.
WILDCARD
[ game for whatever, hmu on plurk or discord if you've got any questions or want something bespoke ]
LAZAR | Scouting
i | CROSSROADS
He holds for the edge of the mirror ring, looks near to taking off himself. Lazar shifts, foot-to-foot, hefting the sack of Antivan liquor will serve a few bribes. He's not scared — truly, he's not; run into danger plenty, can hardly name the shape of fear. Only you get a sense for these things. Only he didn't, last time.
Doubt's a foreigner, don't know how to greet her.
ii | ANDERFELS
Dust's the worst part of it. No, the worst's the weather, louring with storm and the bright flash of lightning. Rough on the birds, makes them snappy, and that's really the worst part; the griffons. Mouthy shits.
Except that's not the worst at all. It's worsts far as the eye can see, and nothing for the grey sausage they've traded for. The villages are ugly as the pigs that range them, rooting sparse grass and rock gone black: Hurlock ripped a girl apart last month. Someone's grandfather is missing, went on his daily walk and over canyon edge.
"Hate this fucking place," Bent over a fire stinks of gurn chips. "Let the Vints have it."
iii | THAIG
He runs a finger along the wall. Licks, experimental. Salt,
Finds himself ducking for the work tunnels. Dwarven fashion's always been high ceilings, but the shelves, the beds, the old scaffolds into rock — it's all meant for a man at least two feet lower to the ground. Leaves him out with the nugs one night, eyeing a mushroom might be the kind gives funny dreams, or might just be its lookalike. The one makes you shit yourself to death.
Maybe chancing it'd be more fun than this. Place is picked clean.
Desperation or diligence finds him at one of the stone tombs, prying crowbar under edge. Necessary, you know. Make sure nothing restless waits down here.
"Figure we burn 'em?"
iv | QARINUS
Now this is a proper city. Shame about the people.
Enough got friendly faces, or what’ll pass – even if no one’s too friendly with the Walrus any more. Pirate to People to something near the Lucerni, and he’s playing the part he always plays: He’s playing the big guy with big fists, so don’t push it.
Gone fine so far. Got him here, holed up with their latest contact and tossing a fat grapefruit in hand. Gone fine right up until the guy's spied his face and gone red as citrus.
"I know you,"
Not happily. He snatches for Lazar, who weaves back with improbable speed, snatching for the silverware. This is about to escalate.
WILDCARD
[ game for whatever, hmu on plurk or discord if you've got any questions or want something bespoke ]