Forums / Roleplaying / Return of the Stormborn
Return of the Stormborn | ||||
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Right, so here's the sign-ups I promised! Now, we're going to be starting as a shipwrecked group of adventurers...please give your character's name, his description, and his position on the old ship. Also, the Homeland will vary. I'd prefer you be from the north, though it's really not required. It's been two hundred years since Cephorus Septim commanded the Stormborn's last adventure and beached the ship on an unknown beach. The Western Empire is still strong, though weakening from the inside. The north is settling down quite a bit, though adventurers are not unheard of. Can't remember much about the East and South. ;D The East had skilled sword-dancers, while the south is renowned for its spear-wielders. The Northmen are famed for their skill with two-handed swords and axes, while the Westerners are known for fighting in formation with one-handed swords and shields. Westerners will be more common in the north than Easterners and Southerners, and this expedition will start in the north. Good luck, and make me proud! Read back into the old Stormborns if you want. Positions Captain - Byrnjolf (Septim) Second in Command (1) - Navigator (1) - Surgeon (1) - Archery Master (1) - Quartermaster (1) - Huntsmen (2) - Cook (1) - Crew (6) - Name: Byrnjolf Eilifsson Position: Captain Age: 34 Height: 6'3" Gender: Male Hair color: Light blond. Eye color: Blue Build: Muscular Homeland: The North Weapon of choice: A steel waraxe and a large, round shield. Clothing of choice: A fur cloak along with a tunic and trousers made of fur and animal skin. He wears armor into major engagements. Description: Tall, broad, and with very northern features. He has a long beard, long, braided hair, and a deep, booming voice. Personality: He is incredibly brave, decisive, and is a quick-thinker. He has a strong code of honor inherited from his father, the great warrior Eilif Arfastsson. He leads his group fairly, yet firmly, and takes insubordination very seriously. Name: Position: Age: Height: Gender: Hair color: . Eye color: Build: Homeland: Weapon of choice: Clothing of choice: Description: Personality: | ||||
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Positions | ||||
(You have him down as navigator but you say he is 2nd in command) O_o Name: Alrik Eklundsen
Position: Archery Master
Age: 31
Height: 6' 3.5"
Gender: Male
Hair color: Black
Eye color: Hazel
Build: Athletic with muscular arms
Homeland: The North
Weapon of choice: A very plain yew longbow that takes great strength to use.
Clothing of choice: Animal furs that he personally made from animals that he personally hunted. A great head from a wolf has been fitted over his own.
Description: Alrik is a very strong and tall man from the fringes of the Northern society. It is said that his family is inbred with a family from the East because of his hair and eye color. He makes his living stalking predators that normally would hunt others. Because of his method of survival, his accuracy with his bow has to be perfect...or face painful and sudden death. While normally solitary, it has not hurt his ability to be around others and he is quite sociable.
Personality: Alrik is warm and very generous to friends and family. He is always quick to give a small gift to those he meets and is very humble when someone wishes to reward him. Loyal and dedicated, he is always a person to have at your side when the going gets tough. | ||||
Name: Varian Sturmcrahe Position: Surgeon Age: 33 Height: 6'3" Gender: Male Hair color: Bald, with runes tattooed on his head. Eye color: Black Build: He is of average weight. Homeland: The badlands located in the Red Mountains of the Western Empire. Weapon of choice: A gladius and a stiletto. Clothing of choice: A black tunic and black trousers. He wears an ankle length dark red cloak. A variety of bones, runes, and charms adorn his ears, around his neck, and on his thick belt. He wears a pair of thick black boots. Description: Varian has a black beard cut close to the jaw line. He has a scar running across his left eye to his lower right jaw.Tattoos and scars crisscross his body. Varian keeps a large crow perched on his shoulder, occasionally feeding it bread from a pocket. Personality: Varian was once a soldier of unknown rank in the Western Army. Rumour has it he was a spymaster, but Varian admits to nothing. The reasons for his expulsion from the army is also unknown. Varian comes from the prominent crow medicine clan in the Vigrid Badlands. As such, he has an deep knowledge of cures, remedies, spells, and charms. He rarely talks, unless he has to, and is often morose and glum. Despite this, Varian is known for his fierce loyalty to his friends and shipmates, often throwing himself in danger for them. | ||||
18:29:18 Jul 28th 11 - King Charley Who Deletes Dumb Posts: (You have him down as navigator but you say he is 2nd in command) O_o My bad...I posted second like a minute after Lorelei and had to change. Forgot to change title to Navigator. | ||||
Positions | ||||
give me until later today to post my full profile: Name: Jak Hornik Position: Crew Age: 18 | ||||
Name: Kan-Zil Asteban (Kan for short) | ||||
I might be interested. But not sure how exactly to go about roleplaying in these here forums? Also, any sort of summary somewhere I can read to get the backstory? | ||||
The backstory isn't even important, really, as our characters won't know anything about the Stormborn or its past. =P | ||||
If you want to know the backstory, you can find the old Stormborn topics in the RP Forum pages and just read the intros or first posts by Ragnarr :p Also, if unsure how to post on the RP forum, you can always just follow along. That was what I did for an era or two before I joined in. Most RPers just start off randomly posting in the Taverne. | ||||
Name: Arvlunk Vilhjalmer Position: Crew Age: 26 Height: 5'7" Gender: Male Hair color: Bistre, or dark-grayish brown Eye color: Hazel Build: Muscular Homeland: The West Weapon of choice: Rusty Cutlass and Wooden Buckler Clothing of choice: Whatever rags Arvlunk manages to find. At the moment, a torn fur coat, stained linen shirt, leather trousers and boots, a rucksack, and a remarkably untarnished flask, no doubt filled with some brew. Description: Pale Ecru skin. Hair to his ears. Has the beginnings of a beard. Otherwise unremarkable, although there are a couple scars on his backside that seem to belong to a whip. Personality: Arvlunk is an incredibly cynical, pessimistic, arrogant, untrusting and seemingly emotionless person. That being said, if he's given a task or believes he has to do something, he will see it through to the end. Also tends to drink... a lot. Best not to impart the location of the mead to him, else it'll be a sober ship. Oh yes I did. | ||||
Name: Jak Hornik Position: Crew Age: 18 Height: 6" Gender: Male Hair color: bald Eye color: sky blue Build: Muscular Homeland: The West Weapon of choice: double handed broad sword Clothing of choice: burlap like material folded to cover his upper and lower torso, waiste level is a tan rope tied around him Description: completely shaven except eye brows, medieval scenes tattoo crudelyup and down each arm Personality: very quite, never questioned about his motives for joining tyhe adventure | ||||
sorry double... lost power in a storm last night | ||||
Positions
Newest Update | ||||
Thanks Ohms. I think I'll wait until tomorrow to let people finish their sign-ups. Then we will commence the awesome. | ||||
Name: Nkkvi Grmsson Position: Huntsmen Age: 17 Height: 5' 11 Gender: Male Hair color: Blonde Eye color: Blue Build: Diminutive Homeland: The Far North Weapon of choice: Short Bow/Dagger Clothing of choice: Bearskin, self made. Description: Appears smaller than he really is, clean shaven. Has 4 parallel scars across his chest. Personality: Having grow up by himself since the age of 12, Nkkvi has learnt to fend for himself, he is known to be quiet and timid, due to his distrust of others he rarely talks and prefers to spend his time sharpening his dagger and practising his skills with his bow. | ||||
I feel like having so many people might make this a fuster cluck ;) but this should also be pretty fun. | ||||
Meanwhile, in an alternate Stormborn universe... | ||||
I'll be the cook, but don't have time to post description will do so tomorrow :P | ||||
*Kills Arvious until he draws* | ||||
We have to wait for Binh before we start. If he doesn't post by the time I'm done with work in six hours, then we'll start anyway. >> | ||||
Arvious also wants to know about how fast the pace of the RP will be so that he can post in time before you move things in. | ||||
...I was kinda expecting you to E-Mail or chat the question to him. OH WELL | ||||
I texted him :'( He hasn't replied for a few hours. He works you know? :o | ||||
Positions | ||||
I think he is giving it hours until it starts :p The longer it takes to start, the less likely our loyal crew will still be around :P :P | ||||
Aye Aye | ||||
Nah, Binh ain't coming it looks like! We're starting it now...was a bit too tired last night. RETURN OF THE STORMBORN A mid-sized longship forged ahead through the choppy and vicious sea, its sails torn and its oarsmen hard at work. Its captain, a mighty bearded northerner, roared out orders to the crew as he stood at the helm of the ship. The ship plowed over wave after wave, shaking violently and threatening to capsize. The captain turned his head back, roaring for the crew to keep up their work, then turned back to see a horrible site. An enormous wave cruised towards the longship, its face appearing as a great wrathful face. The captain roared a curse at it, and braced himself for impact as the wave crashed into the ship. *** The tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed young northerner woke as a small, freezing wave washed over him, and coughed up a great deal of water. Rolling over and pushing himself up, he coughed and hacked for several minutes. Finally, he raised his head to look at his surroundings. He was on a beach, with the treeline not far from the beach. It was high-tide, and it was a somewhat warm day for the north. Byrnjolf Eilifsson looked around behind him, and saw the shattered fragments of wood and sail that used to be his ship. He immediately wondered how his crew had fared, and managed to climb to his feet, shaking off his fur cloak and tossing it further up the beach. He was wearing a fur tunic and a pair of skin trousers underneath, along with a pair of leather boots. A waraxe hung at his side securely, having managed to stay with him during the storm, but the round shield that had been on his back was nowhere to be seen. Looking around carefully, he turned and began walking down the beach, calling out the names of his lost crew members. "Hildir!? Ohmlahoff!?! Oh, seven hells! Kan-Zil!?" he roared, walking down the beach. | ||||
For all his years at sea, Ohmlaholf had never seen such violence. Over the cacophony of wind and waves, he heard his captain barking almost unintelligible orders to the men. Such a gale blew that even with his massive arms and short, stable frame, he had difficulties holding course. Yes, he was a navigator. He usually gave the directions, made his soundings, checked a fix or two and went to the galley. But in a storm like this one, no one took the helm but him. Even the captain deferred to his experience at the wheel to feel the currents and guild his vessel to safety. Every muscle in his body flexed and strained to capacity as another massive wave buffeted the ship and crashed on the deck. Row like it was your last stroke, he heard his captain yell, and watched as the blond bearded man turned back to face the sea. Then it came, rising up to the top of the mast. Such a wave it seemed to have teeth and fingers, ripping at his hands. Vise-like, the digits crushed the around the wheel, willing it to stay the course. But all was in vein as the rudder twisted in the water and flung the wheel to port. .....Darkness ..Cold and wet The sea was wrapping him up to take him home. Suddenly a hand wrenched into his hair and forced him from his loves embrace and deposited him on a floating piece of decking. Who it was, he could not see as the waves rose and fell with too much force and carried the figure into the distance. He felt his head; the wolf head still was tied tightly and was dragging from the weight of the water logging it down. He removed it and tied it to his waist as another massive wave swept over him. Quickly, he removed a throng of leather from his waist and tied himself to the decking before he slipped off. He heard creaking behind himself and turned in time to see a piece of the mast hurl at him in the darkness. It struck sending him back into dream The song of a bird woke the sleeping man. Groggy, he lifted his head. His blond hair matted over his eyes, hiding his sight. He reached to push the mass of hair aside and found that he could not move his arms. He began to panic nly to remembered the nights happenings. Deftly, he unbound himself and sat up. Finally able to part his hair, he found himself on an outcropping of rock. He grabbed the throng still surrounding one of his wrists and used it to wrangle his hair into a ponytail that fell to the bottom of his leather vest. He surveyed his surroundings as he squeezed the water from his mustache. He was on an outcropping that jutted from the sea floor. About nine feet wide, it projected from the water some 15 feet. On a small notch in the rock, he saw a gray sea bird squawking. He looked around. To the North, he saw land. It would be an easy 3 mile swim to reach the shore. He looked about himself to see if there was anything of value he could salvage. No such luck. Apart from the many throngs of leather he kept tied around his waist, his seafarers knife and the wolf head, the only thing left on the rock was the decking he was tied to. He would leave that for the creatures of the sea to fight over for a home. With a mighty leap, he careened into the water and put his arms and legs to forcing him to the distant beach. This should wake up the senses and stretch out the tired limbs, he though as he pushed on to land. | ||||
"Row like its your last stroke" Those words echoed in Jak's head as his blistered grip weakened. His already groggy conscience (from sea-sickness) was put on end by the sharp crack of broken wood and the sudden change in orientation. The boat was splitting apart in the storm and Jak's position, near the rear was starting to lean back into the water. Being a weak swimmer, Jak scrambled to climb up the bodies and gathering debris against the flow of water. A massive body came falling into his and Jak was thrown into the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He roll the body off of him only to look up as an oar handle knocked him unconscious with a blow to the forehead. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Jak awoke with a sharp headache, laying half on his side, half facedown on a sandy beach. He looked around and saw pieces of the boats and a few bodies strewn about. They were not moving, as far as he could tell, and he didn't recognize any of them. He felt the swollen contusion on his brow and the intense pain caused him to faint. | ||||
Cold. . . Cold and wet. . . Cold, wet, and dry. She heard the sound of the sea, her mother. The gulls squawked above, and she heard a herd of Walruses nearby, their snorting and bellowing a distinctive sound she knew well. The cold was biting, and the sun was harsh; she could feel it baking the salt to her pale skin. Then she heard another familiar sound. . . a voice calling her name. . . She knew that voice, but it was so far away. Was it real? Or just a hallucination? How did she get here? A hand slowly reached up to feel her face; it was caked in salt. Her lower half was wet as the waves lapped against her. The salt was from evaporated sea water, she knew. Shipwrecked. . . That's right. . . She had barked commands alongside the captain, trying to save them but. . . Her eyes slowly opened to see the glaring northern sun. She held up a hand, also caked in salt, to block out the blinding light to look around. She saw the Walruses milling about, huffing, snorting, and grunting, their vibrisae mustaches twitching as their nostrils flared. She closed her eyes fror a long moment again before she slowly started dragging herself out of the water, not wanting to startle the three thousand pound, sharp tucked mammals near her, grunting slightly; her muscles felt like she had been beaten with warhammers for hours. | ||||
Varian saw the oncoming wall of water and quickly uttered a prayer of protection to the sea goddess under his breath. He and his crewmates had weathered storms before, but this one was different, as if the gates of hell had opened just for them. | ||||
Alrik had prided himself as being a competent sailor and an even more competent archer, but nothing had prepared him for the storm that had thrown the vessel around as if it was nothing. The gods must have been fighting amongst themselves, as it seemed like the sea was in great conflict. Still, the only thing the archer could do was hold onto his bow and the side of the ship with his powerful arms. His animal furs kept his body war even as the cool and powerful waves slammed into the ship. His vision was kept clear by the wolf's head that masked his own and his leather boots kept his feet dry and comfortable. When it looked like the ship would survive the storm, a few shouts brought a great wave to his attention. The first thing Alrik could think of was how he wished he was still on dry land. Then the wave tore him away from the ship and it took him in its grasp. Back and forth it thrashed him about before dragging him under.
"Is this it...?" he thought as his mind went blank; his vision dark. *** Alrik opened his eyes and found himself underwater still, yet somehow he was able to breathe. "Alrik...AWAKE!" screamed a voice inside of his head. Almost instantly, the northern archer opened his eyes for real and broke the surface of the water. Like a man returned from the grave, Alrik Eklundsen's hazel eyes burned brightly and his black hair shook off any water droplets that had clung to him. Wave after wave crashed into him, but it was as if they were striking stone because he did not budge an inch. Alrik's right hand still remained gripped to his bow, as if his body had gone rigid from death. He flexed his hand several times before scanning his surroundings. Alrik's eyes darted from the nearby beach to the treeline not far away. Feeling exposed, and his instincts taking over, Alrik took his bow and readied himself as he slowly moved out of the reach of the attacking waves. Then he turned around and saw the remains of the ship and some bodies that were not moving. "Damn...I hope there were some survivors," he whispered to himself. Surprisingly, he pulled off his outer layer of furs to dry and it was still warmer than expected. Alrik also began to hear shouting and soon realized it was the captain. "Captain Eilifsson! It is I, Alrik Eklundsen! Master Archer!" he yelled and waved his bow in the air so as to be seen. Then, feeling that he had announced himself, he marched towards the captain and hopefully other survivors. | ||||
Torn sails and a choppy sea, every spare man on an oar, this was a storm from hell. | ||||
The brief swim invigorated Ohmlaholf. All the knotted muscles were pounded free. His head began to clear. He was able to think. The sea had been his home since he was 5 and stowed away on a skiff full of adventurers heading for the unknown, having no family to care for him on land. He was discovered two days into the journey when he was trying to sneak into the lauder for something to eat. Too far from port, the captain kept him as his personal swab, teaching him the trades of the sea. The youth stayed aboard the ship for many years. The bawdy crew reveled at the young kids antics and he gave them someone to look after and pass their knowledge to. He became something of a mascot. He learned to tar the hull, work with wood, hunt, sail, and fight. He personally enjoyed the fighting the most, from the first time he hefted a hatchet like a mighty battle axe, to the attacking of trees for deck plank replacements, he loved the axe. The boy grew to a teen, large arms hefted a two handed axe with grace and destructiveness. One stormy evening, while securing the captains quarters, the young Ohmlaholf stood looking over the chart his captain left out and knew that his course was leading the ship to a set of deadly shallows. Rushing to the helm he convinced the captain to make a slight change in course, narrowly avoiding catastrophe. From that night, the youth studied how to navigate. Enough of this reminiscing he thought as he effortlessly glided through the waves towards the shore. It was a bright day, the warmth of the sun played on his face as he moved closer and closer to the shore. The briskness of the water was exhilarating as Ohmlaholfs mind pondered the day ahead. Hunt for food and water. Find the survivors of the storm. Locate any tools or equipment. Find transportation. Determine where you are. The list ran though his head as he reached the shore. Standing up, he surveyed the beach. The sand was white and warm on his feet. He wished he had a pair of boots. He always removed them on the ship, allowing himself to feel the vessels reactions to the sea. It helped him navigate. Feel the currents. Keep balanced and centered. Oh well, guess Ill have to fashion a new set he said to himself as he rang the water from his hair and beard. The day was warm. The great storm of the night showed no signs of itself this morning. He made his way towards the forest that was perched on the edge of the beach. This was a good spot to begin the first item on his list. Food. Just as he was reaching the edge of the trees, something caught his attention. He stopped and listened. One second. Then two.Nothingwas it in his head? He was about to continue when he heard it again. Was it a voice? Yes. It was. Ohmlaholf.Hildir.Kan-Zil.!!?? Ohmlaholf spun to the distant sound. Framed on the horizon was a figure, slowly making their way along the beach. He could not make out the figure, but the voice was all too familiar. The captian lives, Ohmlaholf screamed to himself as he bolted towards the calling figure. Wellthe second on the list was easier than he had hoped. Find survivors. There was more than just him. As he closed the distance, another figure became visible. Tall and strong, carrying a bow. Thank the seas, she gave up Alrik as well, he mused as his feet dug into the sand. He began waving his arms wildly as he ran. It was to be a great reunion. And it would make the hunting of food much easier with Alriks bow. With that thought, Ohmlaholfs belly began to complain of hunger. Soon, friend, he said, very soon. | ||||
The storm raged on, battering the ship on all sides. The rowers barely managed to hold on to their oars, as they traversed further into the tempest. Arvlunk saw a couple of the men jump ship. As much as Arv wanted to be somewhere other than where he currently was, somehow, jumping into the middle of the ocean didn't seem like such a sound plan. | ||||
Alrik had been marching towards where he heard the captain when suddenly he heard a noise behind him. As he turned around quickly, he saw a happy sight. It was good ol' Ohmlaholf running towards him. Alrik met the huge man with a happy embrace and a few slaps on the back. | ||||
Byrnjolf stopped his yelling and listened carefully. As if on cue, the northern winds halted for a single instant, and he heard voices further down the beach. He couldn't make out who exactly the voices belonged to, and they could have been his mind playing cruel tricks on him. No...he saw them; two men way further down the beach. He crouched, squinted, and saw that one was far shorter than the other...and that the taller one was holding a bow! "Omlahoff! Alrik!" roared Byrnjolf as he jumped to his feet and bounded down the beach. | ||||
Ohmlaholf reached Alrik first. The taller, slimmer man nearly fell as Ohmlaholf launched himself at his friend and seized him in a welcome embrace. A wave of relief crashed over the large northerner as the archer clapped his back a few times. He was not alone, and the steady hand of the man in front of him would mean food soon. But they must catch the captain, who seemed to walk away from the pair. Alrik, thank the seas you made it, the heavy man beamed. That has to be the captain, at least he swaggers in the same manner as the captain, Ohmlaholf explained. He knew the eyes of his friend were keen, but he was a hunter. Hunters eyes could distinguish many things; animals in the trees, accurate distances to targets, imperceptible movements of the wind. All traits needed to fell dinner or a foe. But distance.real distances.that was Ohmlaholfs world. The open sea is vast. He had trained his eyes to detect land, ships or creatures from great distances. Something a navigator must be able to do, to guild a ship to its proper course. Lets hurry, before he gets too far away, he called as his feet punched the sand and he careened towards his captain, Alrik following in the comfortable gate all hunters took when following their prey. Unhurried and methodical, never tiring, never wavering. Ohmlaholf refused to follow suit, too excited to reunite with his captain. The wind would have to catch him. Up the beach he ran, light of heart, even under the current difficulties. | ||||
Despite some confused directions and running around, Alrik and Ohmlahofl managed to close the distance between the captain. As they grew close, they could hear his calls and they returned many of them. Now that they were reunited with the captain, maybe others would hear their calls. Alrik also began thinking of ways to use his skills to set up a signal. He found that by taking some grass and placing it in just the right way on his arrows, they would make a high pitched whistling sound when fired. | ||||
Varain trudged along the beach, occasionally making marks in the sand marking his progress. "A regular gods damned perfect day" mutters Varian as he scans the shoreline for survivors. He notices sharp whistling sound off in the distance and quickens his pace, hoping it was a good sign. Looking off to his left, Varian noticed the rolling hills and wonders curiously what secrets they held. It was then he noticed a brief flash of light on one of the hills inland. "Well thats disquieting, Oneeye" Varian spoke to his pet crow. As he continued onwards, he could see three figures in the distance and breathed a sigh of relief. At least now he knew his friends were safe, he could do with some good news. He cupped his hands and yelled "Avast ye scabrous dogs, tis a good sight for me eyes!" | ||||
Byrnjolf looked up to see Varian approaching and raised his arm, drawing in breath to return his greeting. "Sturmcrahe, hurry your ass up and get over here!" roared Byrnjolf, laughing before turning his head to face Ohmlahoff. "Seems a lot of our oarsmen are dead in the water out there...wouldn't doubt that some of our officers are dead, either. The Gods were clearly enraged at us, for one travesty or another..." | ||||
The sea takes what she wants, Captain, Ohmlaholf lamented. It was true that since the tides had shifted, many of the crew began washing ashore. Ohmlaholf, with Alriks help in-between the incessant firing of those whistlers, was piling the bodies and making ready to cremate the poor souls. It was a gruesome task, but it was better than letting the buzzards peck them clean. In between gathering the bodies, he trekked to the wood-line and gathered fallen limbs and piled them next to the morbid stack. They would use the wood for cooking as well as sending the unfortunates to there maker. Captain, he said trying to sound nonchalant, wouldnt you think it wise to hunt down some breakfast. Weve prepared the funeral pyre and, frankly, now that Varian has arrived, he clapped the mans back and shot him a smile as the bald man and his bird strode into the group, returning his gaze to the captain, Ohmlahof said matter-of-factly, I think we should get to the task of survival. Ohmlahof hated for his lists to be rearranged. He was methodical when it came to his lists. But the captain always seemed to have a different priority than his. He thought the captain did it on purpose, just to keep his navigator guessing. They ribbed each other constantly and the two were quite close friends, but the Byrnjolf was the captain, and when it came to the decision making, the captains word is law. Ohmlahofs stomach began rumbling again as he stood waiting for the answer from the captain. Pshreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. That was getting really annoying. Ohmlahof thought as he turned to see Alrik looking straight at him as he notched another arrow with that god forsaken grass attached. A slight smirk and a mischievous glint in the eye occupied the face of the tall hunter. Ohmlahof had already mentioned the aggravation with the short length of time between signals, and Alrik never missed a chance to irritate the large man. He knew when enough was enough. Usually after the first fist was thrown. But right now, it was not yet to that point. Pshreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee | ||||
Alrik stopped shooting the signal arrows after a certain point. Between helping Ohmlahof with the pyre and shooting arrows, he was getting tired. Especially after barely surviving the ordeal at seal. Alrik had been shooting the arrows straight up the in the air so that they fell at his feet and well away from anyone else. Then he began collecting them and removing the grass strips because if others had not realized where they were by now, they might not be coming...or they somehow got washed up much farther away. The shrill sound should have gotten quite a bit of attention. After hearing Ohmlahof speaking about breakfast, he also began to think about how the group would need rations and clean water if they wished to keep alive. | ||||
Varian's smile was the first he had all day, it was good to be back among his comrades. | ||||
[[OOC: Okay, role-call! Who the hell is still hear besides Stormy, Deallus, Ohms, and I? =P | ||||
"Damn the world." | ||||
*Crickets* Guess we have a lot of lost crew members... | ||||
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