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Author Topic: Naldin  (Read 837 times)

Script Wrecked

1482-10-04*
« Reply #20 on: July 13, 2011, 09:06:37 am »
__Samantha: *nods* Brother Max, are you intending to apply to the Knights of the Wyrm?
Maxamilian: *flexes his fingers over the fire then pulls on gloves and the armoured gauntlets over the top*
Maxamilian: I am giving it considerable thought.
__Samantha: Which options are you considering?
__Samantha: If... I may ask of course.
Maxamilian: I do not mind.
Maxamilian: I have considered where my place might be within the structure of the faith for some time now.
__Samantha: And you have not come to a conclusion yet, then?
__Samantha: *rubs her fingers as the warmth finally seems to reach them*
Maxamilian: I do not think I have the inclination for the priesthood.
Maxamilian: Nor do I wish to spend my life protecting a temple as a Guardian.
Maxamilian: I want to be actively in the field and part of something greater, thus I sense that the Knights are more to my liking.
____Naldin: Ay were thinkin' o' being a temple guard.
__Samantha: *smiles easily* There are many ways to serve, sir, each of us are called in different ways.
__Samantha: Sometimes even in ways we do not expect.
____Naldin: But ay dinna think they let yoo work part toime, loike.
__Samantha: *glances back at Naldin* I think you'd be a fine temple guard, sir.
Maxamilian: *smiles at Naldin* As do I, but I think you would make a finer knight.
____Naldin: *snorts and grins*
Maxamilian: But we each must follow our heart.
Maxamilian: That is where the truth lies.

* out of chronological sequence
+ edited for punctuation
 

Script Wrecked

1483-04-05*
« Reply #21 on: July 14, 2011, 09:33:29 am »
Naldin had travelled with Maxamillian and Samantha on an increasingly regular basis. They were easy to get along with, for humans. They shared similar views, all three being followers of the Lord Protector. Over time, a camaraderie had developed.

When Max had initially suggested becoming a Knight of the Wyrm, he had caught Naldin totally off guard. For Naldin, the knights were something from the tales of Rofirein, something held up as an example, as a paragon, an ideal. Now, having stepped out of his life in Taur'en, he was being asked to be one.

A knight? Me? He thought to himself. He had had no training in knightly virtues or behaviour. He could see himself as a squire maybe, perhaps even to Max. But a knight? This was something well outside his paradigm of himself.


* out of chronological sequence
 

Script Wrecked

1483-06-12*
« Reply #22 on: July 15, 2011, 11:10:52 am »
Naldin pondered Maxamilian and Samantha's words again. Perhaps, if he showed himself worthy as a knight, the Temple would give his suggestion for patrolling the streets more weight. If he showed himself worthy as a knight, he could earn the respect of other knights and he could draw upon their aid to affect change, and they upon him. For a moment he envisioned himself in knightly golden armor, with Maxamilian and Samantha similarly adorned, surrounded by other such knights, bathed in a shimmering light. Together, they could stand against the perils of the world. Together, they would be a force for order and justice.

If he showed himself worthy as a knight.

Naldin pondered this solution unlooked for.

Or was it a solution sent.

But verily it would be a solution unrealised if he did not take it.


* out of chronological sequence
 

Script Wrecked

1483-09-07
« Reply #23 on: July 15, 2011, 11:04:59 pm »
Fttth. The arrow loosed from Naldin's bow. Almost without thought his knees buckled, his stomached tensed to curl his back, and together the action lowered him softly into the undergrowth of the wood.

Naldin had followed the men, the assailants from the warehouse, since they had set out on their hunting trip earlier that morning. Their initial enthusiasm when they had chased grouse into the bush had since worn off. They now had set themselves to their quarry, deer. Stalking deer was a slow process, and not without its challenges. Deer were skittish, and could bolt for no reason. Eventually, they had closed in on their target, and readied their bows for the shot.

This was the time a hunter was at their most vulnerable. Their focus was so tight on the prey that everything else melded away. Almost collectively they loosed their arrows...

"Oi!" came the cry as Naldin stared up at the vast canopy of blue. "Watch where you're aiming that thing!" The leader remonstrated one of the others, and there was some physical exchange.

Naldin let out a long breath. His arrow had missed, he had failed.
 

Script Wrecked

1483-09-16
« Reply #24 on: July 17, 2011, 06:14:34 am »
A week or so later, a merchant family in Fort Vehl were mourning the untimely death of their son. He had been out riding when his horse reared up and threw him to the the ground. He had the misfortune to crack his head on a rock projecting from the track.

Yes, it is a sad but true fact that horses can, on occasion, be very skittish, and might start suddenly at a snake or the like. And also true that a blow to the back of the head by a club or similar instrument might be indistinguishable from falling back and hitting your head on a rock.

Yes, yes, all very unfortunate.

Except for the beggars of Vehl, whom might rest a little easier in their sleep.
 

Script Wrecked

1483-10-01
« Reply #25 on: July 18, 2011, 07:53:37 am »
A knight, a knight, what it is to be a knight. This thought echoed around Naldin's mind.

He had killed a man, stove in the back of his skull as he sat up after being thrown from his horse. He wouldn't had known anything about it, unlike the terror the man seemed to enjoy spreading amongst the town's vagrants.

Yet, was this a knightly thing to do?

Knights. Always beacons of hope and honour, of rightful behaviour and virtue. Standing at the forefront to protect the weak and the vulnerable, the old and the poor, against... Against monsters and tyrants. Against the external threat. It seemed the scoundrels and villains within the society were outside a knight's reach. They were supposed to be held in check by the rule of law.

But what if that rule of law wasn't very effective? What if the execution of that law failed to too many "considerations"? To the lack of witnesses willing to attest because the rule of fear and retribution held greater sway?

It seemed this civilisation was a greater wilderness than that outside it walls. And yet a knight would be unwelcome kicking down doors and vanquishing its foes.

Perhaps this circumstance required a different sort of knight.
 

Script Wrecked

1483-10-25
« Reply #26 on: July 19, 2011, 10:21:40 am »
A ruckus from a store caught Naldin's attention. There was shouting and the sounds of breaking objects. He hurried to the store in time to see three thugs exiting the store. Inside, a somewhat dishevelled storekeeper was regaining his composure.

Naldin asked if he needed any help, but the storekeeper dismissed Naldin's concerns. One look around the store told the story. The thugs hadn't robbed the place, but broken wares; they were demanding "protection" money and the storekeeper had probably been unable to comply.

If Naldin had attacked the louts, likely he would be guilty of affray. If he arrested them, would the storekeeper be willing to testify against them? Without the storekeeper's testimony, it would be Naldin's word against the the thugs, and if the thugs presented a civil enough demeanor in court, likely it would be put down to a "misunderstanding".

Perhaps if he was a knight, he would have better standing, if the courts of Vehl respected such station. Or would they take the opportunity to put the Rofireinites in their place?

It was tempting to make war on these thugs, to attack them and wipe them out. But blood and bodies would make too many waves; someone would notice and come looking for the disruptor. If he made open warfare, he would be judged no better than the thugs he was trying to remove.

No, he would have to be patient.
 

Script Wrecked

1483-11-14
« Reply #27 on: July 20, 2011, 10:42:46 am »
Visiting the taverns of Vehl, the "watering holes" of this wilderness, proved to be beneficial. Sure, the regulars would treat you coldly initially, and might even start a fight just to set things straight, but eventually you would come to be accepted, at least on a superficial level. Once that ice was broken, there was usually someone willing to show how clever they were with what they knew, or, being last to be told, had noone else to tell.

And so it was that Naldin came to earn the fate of a waiter at one of the bars. He had accidentally split the ale he was carrying over some minor gangster he was serving it to. The gangster and his goons saw fit to pour ale down the unfortunate's throat until he drowned.

Naldin mulled over his ale after hearing the tale. How was he going to "rectify" that situation? To take on a gang? That could get out of hand very quickly. If he was going to fight them, he needed to be able to strike quickly, lethally, from the shadows, and begone before anyone noticed.
 

Script Wrecked

1483-12-04
« Reply #28 on: July 21, 2011, 12:00:33 pm »
It had been almost a year since Naldin had started taking poison. He had started off very diligently, adding the diluted mixed to hard tack and eating it almost every day. He had tried taking it with bread and a few other things, but this made for a soggy meal. He had tried drinking the diluted mix on its own, but that seemed to affect him adversely, so he stopped that. Soup or stew seemed to be the best way to take it, when he could get it.

After about six months, he had got a bit impatient, and he tried doubling the dosage, going from one drop of neat venom in the mix to two. This seemed to be fine for a while, but then he noticed some strange affects, including some very weird dreams. He tried cutting back the dosage increase, calling on all his alchemical skill to make the very fine measurement. In the end, he moved back to his original dose size.

He had also been quite diligent about avoiding anything that neutralised poison, despite some nasty spider bites.

A year on, he thought it was time to change the venom used. He would start taking the Aranea venom.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-01-11
« Reply #29 on: July 22, 2011, 08:35:31 am »
Naldin was a fair fighter in hand to hand combat, but he realised that he had no expertise at making targeted lethal strikes. He recalled that a few of the other tunnel runners had boasted some skill in that regard, but Naldin had not thought it was anything more than sneaking up on someone and waylaying them from behind. Now, he wished he had paid more attention to what they had said.

Shooting someone in the back of the head was an obvious, if ambitious, start, and the heart was also an obvious target. But how to strike at it past the ribcage? And how to strike at it past armor?

While he ruminated over this quandary, he recollected seeing a diagram of a person's body with various writing about it indicating the internals.

Gah! If he could only remember where.

...

It was some weeks later, after backtracking his time through Vehl, that he eventually came upon a simple abode. A crude plaque adorned the door.

"M. Aylomen, Physician"
 

Script Wrecked

1484-02-05
« Reply #30 on: July 23, 2011, 10:59:52 am »
The fellow inside the residence had initially treated Naldin circumspectly. However, when it became clear that Naldin was primarily interested in the anatomical diagrams that adorned the walls, he seemed to warm to Naldin. Apparently, the man, who introduced himself as Marrent Aylomen, had produced half of the charts himself. He seemed to welcome someone else's appreciation of the artistry and skill involved in producing such precise drawings.

To Naldin, it seemed that this man was doing his own research into an unknown field, and so briefly mentioned his own experimentation into poison. This garnered an unexpected level of interest from Aylomen, perhaps because Aylomen did not anticipate this somewhat rustic looking dwarf being a fellow experimenter. Naldin felt a bit of a charlatan at this, particularly has he hadn't done any real documentation. Aylomen softly scolded him, and explained that good record keeping was the fundamental basis of experimentation. Aylomen even offered to show him his own method for note making.

So it was that Naldin acquired an anatomical diagram for a reasonable fee. He even did some materials gathering for Aylomen from the local woods and swamps.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-03-20
« Reply #31 on: July 24, 2011, 09:52:03 am »
Naldin had got a response from the Temple. It seemed that, although the Rofireinite Temple was located in Fort Vehl, it didn't have the smallest mote of influence as to how things were actually run in the town. The temple might as well be up a mountainside in the Brechs as to the sway it held.

No, it seemed the people must chose Rofirein. And for that to happen, the benefits would have to be shown to them. A little bit of order and surety could go a long way towards that.

Naldin would seek out Protector Samantha Merritt about what it would take for the Temple to submit a proposal to the Vehl town council for the Temple to assist in patrolling the streets of Vehl.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-04-15
« Reply #32 on: July 25, 2011, 09:29:37 am »
After Naldin had done his best to memorize the anatomy diagram, he began to try using that knowledge in combat. Whenever he was assisting Max in the fight, he had a little more time to go for a critical strike; spleen when attacked from Max's right, liver from the left, kidneys from the rear.

This was all providing he could get past the armor. You had to be quick of eye and hand to strike at the weak points, the gaps, the joins. Or strong of blow to ignore the armor all together.

He tried fighting against a dummy wearing his old armor, but that turned out to be merely exercise. Instead, he moved to making aimed strikes against the weak points. He also became more observant of the armor others were wearing, looking at how the various parts came together and moved about.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-05-04
« Reply #33 on: July 26, 2011, 09:51:43 am »
The hawk sat comfortably on Naldin's gloved hand. Despite the heavy leather, there was no mistaking the tight clamp of the hawk's taloned feet. The hawk's head turned this way and that, as though pivoting about a point. Its eyes... its eyes always watchful, watching everything, and yet, inscrutable. It seemed to barely acknowledge Naldin's presence, but there was no doubt it was fully aware he was there.

Naldin laid a dead rodent upon the glove, the meal unnecessary, more of an offering, a thanks for coming to his call. For a while, the bird seemed uninterested. It then bend its head down to take the meal, juggling the morsel down its throat whole.

The wind lifted the hawk's feathers, momentarily disturbing their natural lay. Naldin ran his free hand over the bird's plumage, considering the amazing ability they granted. So soft and delicate, and yet bore the hawk so freely into the airs above. He made a soft sigh.

With that, it seemed, the hawk's weight shifted, the familiar push down and leaving lift as great hidden wings unfolded about Naldin's head, but never pummelling him, as the bird took to the air again. Naldin watched wistfully as the hawk disappeared high into the blue skies above.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-05-28
« Reply #34 on: July 27, 2011, 09:40:55 am »
The anatomy diagram also showed... ar-ter-ies, arteries. Cutting those could result in fatal loss of blood. The two on either side of the neck were perhaps the easiest to get to, particularly on a well armored foe, providing they weren't too tall above you. The other two were more opportunistic. The front of the shoulder tended to be covered by spaulders or pauldrons, but the inside thigh/inside groin could be vulnerable in inferior armor design.

The goblins Naldin fought against with Max and Samantha were lightly armored, and provided good opportunity for such practice. Still, this was no game, each encounter potentially lethal if wits were not kept.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-06-19
« Reply #35 on: July 29, 2011, 12:12:40 am »
He would be a knight. He would take the stand with Maxamilian and Samantha against the forces of destruction and self interest, he would show through unity and cooperation how things could be better. He would hunt down the destroyers, the underminers, the enemy within, and... remove them, exorcise their caustic influence; clear the weeds, the choking vines and allow the flowers to grow.

These were very innate dwarven values. Naldin grinned at the irony of how having lived in the outside world, he had learned to cherish the life he had back in Taur'en. And if he could martial his skill, become capable, he might yet be able to make a difference for his beloved homeland.

So it was that Naldin set about trying to learn the knightly values. He would attend the temple in Vehl, and speak to whomever had a moment to spare about such matters. He would visit the library and try to glean as much was available from the books and scrolls. He would observe the knights as and when he could to see how they conducted themselves.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-07-02
« Reply #36 on: July 30, 2011, 01:55:08 am »
Kidney-punch. Kidney-punch. The half-orc snarled at Naldin's blows, before turning and standing to his full height again. Naldin ducked as a great maul of a fist swoshed over head. Naldin was keen to keep his distance again. If the great half-orc was able to grapple him to the ground, it might go badly very quickly. The cluttered laneway didn't lend itself much to Naldin's cause, either.

The half-orc lunged, and lunged again, each time Naldin managed to evade and sidestep away. The third time, however, he stepped inside the half-orc's reach and punched into his throat with all his strength.

The half-orc's weight bore Naldin to the ground, but the half-orc was taken by a fit of coughing and choking. Naldin managed to squirm free while the half-orc struggled for breath.

Looking about the alleyway, he could see no sign of the woman the half-orc had accosted. He gave the half-orc a further kick in the stomach for his trouble, and melded away towards the far end of the laneway.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-07-17
« Reply #37 on: July 31, 2011, 09:31:24 am »
Studying the anatomy diagram had also shown further vulnerabilities that could be taken advantage of. Strikes to the head were less available to Naldin due to the size of his opponents, however they could still prove useful when striking with surprise. The base of the skull from behind, or, less available, over the throat from the front. Behind the chin, through the pallet into the bottom of the skull. Through the nose, into the skull. Through the eye sockets, into the skull. And any blow to the temples. All of these blows were likely to be fatal if the could be delivered correctly.

A series of pig's heads proved suitable practice targets, before being cooked up as stew or roasted over a fire.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-08-08
« Reply #38 on: August 01, 2011, 02:13:40 am »
Naldin had been tracing the movements of the [POST=1724745]gangster[/POST] about Vehl. He had become a bit more brash, a bit more open. His reputation had grown, and he was not adverse to using that to his advantage when he surfaced and mixed with the ordinary people of Vehl.

The gangster had also made rivals in that time, ruffled a few feathers, trod on a few toes. It was this that Naldin hoped to trade on. He had acquired a knife from one of those rival gangs, a fairly distinctive knife, that, with a bit of effort, would point in their direction.

Naldin waited in the nighttime shadows of the alleyway as he had several times before. The gangster liked to leave by the back way, and there was a brief opportunity when he could be alone, exposed.

The door opened, and his bodyguard went to check the alleyway. He would lose sight of the backdoor while he performed this duty. Naldin had arranged for a distraction to occupy his attention and time, something amiss, something that would turn out to be only some blood and calf guts further up the laneway.

Sure enough the gangster moved into the alleyway. Naldin edged closer, he just needed another moment to strike...

The proprietor stepped out after the gangster, exchanging pleasantries. Naldin froze; a witness. Naldin couldn't risk being seen. As much as he'd love to strike at this villain...

The bodyguard returned, Naldin shrunk back into the shadows. The moment was lost. He would have to try again, later, when an opportunity presented itself.
 

Script Wrecked

1484-09-14
« Reply #39 on: August 02, 2011, 10:31:34 am »
Further examination of the anatomy diagram revealed the vulnerabilities to the heart. Any strike to the heart had to bypass the ribcage (and whatever armor they may be wearing). Striking through the ribcage could be problematic, so the technique was to strike up from under the breastbone from the front, up from either side of the spine from the rear, or diagonally downwards from above. Striking upwards was particularly applicable to larger opponents, whose size would deny head strikes. Mis-aimed strikes were also still likely result in significant trauma to the lungs.

The minotaurs of Casein island proved a veritable challenge in this regard. Naldin would have to provide melee support to Max, and summon all his guile and courage to risk stepping inside their opponent's formidable reach to practice such attacks.
 

 

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