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Ederan

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About Ederan

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  1. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    @Jotnotes I actually liked the 'first come first serve' approach we took in order to select a leader. That way we can swiftly skip anyone lagging behind and keep a good speed, which (a slow pace, that is) is what I feel made interest fall. Maybe a time span of a week for everyone to post as they may, with the story moving forward at week's end, could work best.
  2. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    @Jotnotes I'm still here.
  3. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    @Jotnotes I'm not sure I understand very well what this special undead is. Are we dealing with an intelligent undead, apathetic to our presence? Or did he just not see us?
  4. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    I guess we make a copy of dialogue in here too? @roboblu Also, @Jotnotes, maybe I missed it, but I'm not sure how many men are down on the shoreline with us, or if we have any firearms, ammo and gunpowder count.
  5. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Barivam had chosen to carry nothing but his crossbow, sword and bolts. Death hung heavy in the air and he held no doubts that it would soon reach to meet them, and when the time came, he'd feel better without the cumbersome weight of added supplies on his back. He'd made good on his promise, too. As everyone unloaded the boats and stacked supplies for the taking, he'd gone ahead and onto the sand. The dreadful weariness of the deadly aura lingered in the air, despite the pills Pierce had given them; an afterthought, something that was only half-present, and still he could feel it trying to seep at his strength, at his will. His hands held his crossbow with a bolt loaded and the cord drawn back; the bow was tense, ready to unload the full punch of its projectile on the closest thing he saw that didn't seem alive enough to his liking. Eyes on the horizon, he kept a watch of sorts as the heavy labor was handled by the rest; someone ought to, after all, and he was happy to oblige. What he saw did nothing to ease his mind. The island was of the dead, but it too was a carcass; the tall, shattered spires that marred the skyline were taller than the greatest jungle trees of Hodra, and beneath their shadow he could only wonder at what manner of beasts might squirm within their corpses of wood and stone. He wrinkled his nose against the stench and heard voices from the beach, as the six-armed woman mustered the men. Now he frowned. Years of hunting for prey beneath the tall canopy of Hodra's jungles had made him wary of the mindless plunge into the unknown, where a twisted ankle, a critter's sting or a bite taken off the wrong fruit could render men dead within minutes. A guide, a route or bleeding maps were what they needed, but oh, how ridiculous it was to hope that any such things might exist that could help against an island of the undead. He gave one last glare at the spires, and stepped down from his vantage point. Long strides led him to the fore, where the woman that had taken command now led. "We ought to skirt the ruins," he said. "Keep a ways from the spires, down low where we can see something coming, if it comes. I can take a few men and get ahead and closer to the city, nice and quiet." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Barivam Sott, by the way."
  6. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    @Jotnotes If no one suggests a course of action, is it safe to assume the role of group leader is still up for grabs?
  7. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    That can't be right. I literally just posted.
  8. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Barivam watched the waves roll beneath the vessel, with his eyes on the distant horizon. Calmly the water rocked the ship, as a breeze gently brushed against his skin. He'd spent his time looking at the sea, at the crew and volunteers. With plenty of work to be done all around, he'd made sure to keep himself busy avoiding it. Buckets and mops, knots and sails were not his thing, he'd decided. 'We've all a part to play,' he'd told more fellows that had offered him a task than he could remember. 'You scrub that deck till it shines, and I'll see you from the landings. You'll see me. I'll be at the fore.' In his pocket his fingers rolled the pills Captain Pierce had given him. He'd not yet had one, and still wondered at them. 'What bleeding good could one of these do?' he thought as he remembered the terrible exhaustion that had weighed him down at the pier. How his bones had seemed like stone, and his every muscle turned to paper. 'When the dead wander the world of the living, and man's final hopes rest on a drunken captain, his ragtag crew, and little pills... how can one hope not to despair?' He popped one into his mouth and held it beneath his tongue for a moment. 'We're all dead meat,' he thought, as a chuckle threatened to push the pill from between his teeth. Then he swallowed, and stared at the distance some more, while some distant voice asked him to step aside so they could wash the spot where he stood. Distant, at least to him.
  9. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Barivam had stepped away from the others, as the remainder of the group dispersed to make ready for the trials to come. He had lost what little he owned in the struggle, and so he contented himself with a drink by the bar, paid for by the generosity of the people he'd fought for on the pier. Whether they were aware of the favor or not wasn't much his concern. He downed the liquor from the bottle and wondered what price might be worth his life if any. How much was the world itself worth? He made a face and drank some more. No answer came to him, but what selfish thoughts he could muster, he entertained as he ran the drink over his tongue over and over, until it had lost all flavor. Barivam had killed for gold, silver, and jewels. He'd risked life and limb over things as petty as animal pelts, insults, and perceived slights. Now some captain spat forth from the sea asked him to risk it all once again, for gold and silver, for jewels and glory, and life itself. Barivam pulled one of his bolts from his quiver. 'I suppose I've risked more over less,' he thought to himself, as he toyed with the enchanted projectile. In the end, he took a second bottle from behind the bar and was surprised to realize that the thought of saving the world slowly became less foreign in his mind.
  10. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Barivam emptied his drink and raised his eyebrows; his eyes were on the captain's, a mock grimace on his face. He shrugged. "How many hands do you reckon will do?" he asked, as a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. Yellowed teeth peeked from between his cracked lips. "Captain, you can talk money all you may, but it don't change this," Barivam pulled at his own cheek. "Fleshy, tender and chewy. I'd know. I've bitten myself often enough. You're talking islands of undead. You're talking more of those things out there, more of that bleeding 'aura'. "I ain't no scholar, but I was raised as no one's fool. Beg your pardon," he nodded to the ladies, to the gentlemen, "but I figure us few here won't do. Unless you've got yourself a plan, Captain?" Barivam asked. "Some reassurance that these hands will get to feel that gold you mention? That the proposed deed of valor won't become a cautionary tale for would-be adventurers?"
  11. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    I should be able to post Sunday night without too much issue.
  12. I'm a simple man. I see cultist-chan, I say hello xD

    1. Ederan

      Ederan

      Hwee kaptoored eet fohr kay-ohss!

  13. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Any doubts could still be cleared through this thread, so I agree. One post would be best.
  14. The Lich Isles: Necropolis Rising

    Barivam felt renewed, stronger, as though some terrible weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Gradually, slowly, but certainly he felt his strength return. His sword once more felt light, if still awkward in his grip, and his haubergeon no longer seemed as heavy. He smiled and drew in a deep breath. 'I'll be damned,' he thought. 'I just may have to return to the temple after all.' He raised his guard, with the edge of his blade aligned to the nearest undead skull. A woman, trailed by two more of the creatures caught sight of him and lunged. Barivam did not retreat, and where before he would have considered himself at a disadvantage, he felt so full of vigor the thought of flight made him physically repulsed. It was no longer the time to turn and flee for safety. It was high time to break some bones. He slashed at her, a downward strike that caught the beast between collarbone and neck; it tore through cloth, flesh, and muscle to splinter and break bone down to the marrow. The creature gave not to him so much as the courtesy to grunt in pain, but he no longer cared. Anger and excitement flooded him. The beasts had put him on the run, and by whatever it was that watched over him, his mother had raised no coward; so he kicked the undead woman to the ground as he yanked his steel free, and hacked at her again, and again, until her face was naught but red, dripping ribbons. The next two of the creatures tried to bite him, but the maille haubergeon did not let them so much as scratch him. He shoved one to the ground and caved-in the second one's face with the pommel of his sword. The woman was back on her feet, clawing at him, blind but determined. He kicked her down again and returned his attention to the one beast he'd shoved aside. With a savage sweep of his sword, he ruined the creature's forehead. Brains splattered the ground. Barivam sighed contentedly and pressed his boot down against the woman's chest. He'd asked for a minute, and to him, it seemed he'd been given a century. He raised his knee up to his chest and brought his heel down hard against the woman's bloodied face. Once, twice, until nothing was left but a pulp. He'd have to congratulate the fellow who'd made his boots, he decided. They were good stuff.
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