Hiro
Rogue
I love stealing, I love taking things.
Posts: 216
Profession: Professional ladies man
OoC Alias: Hal
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Post by Hiro on Nov 4, 2013 16:59:29 GMT -6
'A town out for Eturian blood' was like music to Hiro's ears, even if it wasn't completely true. Hiro gave Irmo a nod as he hastily made his way towards the inn. He gave the crowd one last look before entering, it had seemed as if most people either left to their homes or started to converse in small groups hopefully about joining his cause. Most of these men and women looked like the could fight at least decently, or hopefully well enough to keep him alive. While a few did look promising for his plan he did not count on them joining to avoid getting his hopes up. Hiro went to the desk to pay for a room for the next couple of days, he was greeted by a man staring a hole into his head. Exchanging as few words as possible Hiro handed over the gold and quickly made his way to his room, to tired to think he had left the door unlocked as he shuffled towards the bed and just fell upon it. His heavy eyelids began to blink more slowly as he started to fall into an unconscious state.
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Post by Butorega on Nov 4, 2013 18:27:37 GMT -6
Butorega had had enough lurking. The duo had given him some good information, but none of it was useful. He did find out that Kaft was involved with the arena attack, a fact he did not know before. He had very little knowledge about the incident as bandits in the mountains get very little new.
"I wonder if there is any good figurine shops", spoke Butorega to himself. He wanted to make an effort to buy his sister a gift while he was out of Bern. He though of her a lot lately. Even more now since he was going into a deadly battle soon.
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Post by Jya on Nov 5, 2013 17:43:26 GMT -6
Jya remained silent, listening, watching and beginning to understand. She was unsure of what to do, whether to approach the man but considering the interest, she didn't feel like appearing out in the open. Attention, she wanted none of that anymore. After the whole arena incident, showing her face was just plain dangerous. Of course her self conservation instincts had kicked in. It was better for all her friends if she traveled alone. A regretful and rather lonely decision on a whole. Even when she heard their names, she chose to ignore it. Was it redemption she was searching for? If so, what had she done wrong in her life?
When the man finally left, she chose to shadow him from a distance. She took careful note to be silent and decided that it would be best not to lockpick the door of the inn. She took what she considered the easier route and unlocked his window before stepping in. It troubled her that she didn't recognize his face. As she stepped in. she lifted the folds of her snowy cloak, revealing the green underneath. She wanted to be in position in case she needed to strike.
"Umm, excuse me, about what you said..." she asked, only loudly enough to be heard in the room.
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Wein Lowell
Sniper
The Noble Arrow
If you're a glory hound, then I'm king of the glory hounds
Posts: 268
Lycia Fame: 2
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Post by Wein Lowell on Nov 5, 2013 22:10:33 GMT -6
Wein chuckled softly to himself as Valcrist suggested the job. Bodyguard, huh? He'd drawn his boy for money before, but the Ostian had never thought of himself as a bodyguard. Bodyguards were supposed to be big, burly men with bald heads and grand looking beards, wearing fearsome swords on their waists, not bookish sons of privilege with a knack for adventure and a head and eye for archery. In addition to that, he could also clearly imagine his father turning his nose up at the thought of one of his beloved sons resorting to such work. There was honor in the life and discipline of a soldier, but a hired sword? Not a chance.
And years ago, Wein would have been inclined to agree, but if anything, this encounter with Valcrist reminded the Ostian just how far he had come from his comfortable mansion home in the heart of Lycia. He hadn't been comfortable sitting at home doing what was dignified or honorable. He'd needed a life of meaning. He'd raided bandit camps, defended towns from pillaging, fought beasts never before seen, and had grown acquainted with people from all walks of life, both good and bad. Wein might be a stuffy noble by birth, and still style himself as one in casual conversation, but Ostia had been gone for years. There would be no grand return. This was his life now, and he was glad to realize that he was happy with it.
So, Wein found himself stroking his beard in contemplation as he briefly mulled over the smith's suggestion. He wasn't particularly strapped for cash, but he was always looking for work. After all, if he was always working, even when enjoying a surplus, it was rare he'd ever find himself wanting for spare change. But work as a bodyguard for a caravan didn't sound very exciting, nor did it strike Wein as being particularly heroic in nature. Lots of diligent late night watches and long days of travel. Nothing like serving as a bodyguard to a noble dignitary or lord, the archer figured, though he had little more than some minor secondhand experience with the latter.
"Perhaps," replied the Ostian, taking his hand off of his chin. "It sounds enterprising enough, but its been so long since I've seen a familiar face, and since it sounds like won't be accompanying them, would you mind if I tag along with you instead?" It may have seemed a bit forward, and in many ways it was. After all, ultimately, Wein and Valcrist weren't much more than familiar acquaintances, but Wein enjoyed having a traveling partner of sorts, and from what he knew, Valcrist was the trustworthy sort. "If you say no, that's fine, but unlike a bodyguard, I don't require pay, just good conversation and the knowledge that comes from hundreds of books and years of adventure."
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Post by Valcrist on Nov 6, 2013 4:48:22 GMT -6
Valcrist's gaze drifted off and followed the man who was (poorly) eavesdropping on the two. Not sure of who he was, but Valcrist was entirely sure he was no thief with the ungainly way me moved and carried his self. A brutish look, not at all unlike a bandit or a pirate. The swordsman's eyes narrowed as he was tempted to do something, but was talked out of it rather indirectly by Wein as the archer posed a question that broke the blacksmith's concentration. "Eh?" Was all he could say as his gaze was returned to the man, albeit slightly confused. "That's rather sudden." He wasn't sure why Wein would want to travel with Valcrist, of all people. He was none too interesting, and didn't exactly have a lot to offer in ways of conversation. He only stopped tripping over his own words just recently, but he wasn't sure he had enough of them for long period conversing. The thing about Valcrist was that he never traveled with people, he always traveled alone. Usually by choice or tricky bits of fate. He couldn't the times he has had a traveling companion or an entire group, only for the swordsman to leave with little word said to them. Or the times he's had someone that was interested in his company, only for them to leave suddenly as if they never existed in the first place. So to offer to travel with Valcrist it was almost like Wein was offering to buddy up for a while and then split whenever it's convenient for either of them. Not exactly the kind of partnership one dreams of.
The was another issue as well, one that was just a tad bit more important, the whole suicidal mission that was probably going to be the end of Valcrist's tale. That wasn't really something you bring a friend for. Nor was it entirely proper to drag someone along some fool's errand with you. "Actually I don't think you wanna come with me." Valcrist had a crooked, somewhat pitying smile. Letting out a small dry laugh that was mostly just air. He reached up to his scarf and began to awkwardly fidget with the way it laid around his neck. It was something he did when he was nervous, and he realized he was doing, so he put a conscious stop to it and brought his arms down to his sides. Rather unnaturally really as he kept them unusually stiff and lifeless. "I'm about to embark on a journey that isn't really one that could be classified as 'safe' or 'fun' or 'rational'." He laughed that nervous laugh again.
"Did you hear what that man was speaking about before, his mission to find and kill Kraft? Well I was planning on accompanying him." He shrugged, he didn't realize how reckless it sounded until he said it. 'that man' He didn't even know who the person he going to be working for was named. "I know it sounds dumb, and reckless, and will probably see me dead in an unmarked grave... But..." He could really justify it. If he said it was for the gold, he sounded greedy. If he said it was to kill Kraft, he sounded like a warmonger. If he said it was just business, he sounded cold. Finally if he said what he really felt, he would just be a loony then wouldn't he? "It's just something I gotta do. I can't just hear about something like that and not do anything."
"As you can imagine, this really isn't the sort of thing to be dragging a buddy with no interest along for. You'll probably die as well, buried next to me in another unmarked grave. Hardly the person you want to spend buried next to for all eternity, am I right?" He chuckled at that one. "You're young, go out, find a girl, get hitched. All that good stuff that you're told you're supposed to do." He shrugged, Valcrist was entirely one thousand percent positive that 'finding a girl' was something he was never gonna do. Honestly it was something he didn't want to do anymore either, they were just confusing pains in the chest. "You don't have to die with this glory hound."
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Irmo
Priest
"Bah, people."
Posts: 120
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Post by Irmo on Nov 7, 2013 17:44:13 GMT -6
Irmo muttered to himself as he awkwardly limped down the street. Already several people had attempted to sell him useless things, and more than once he had almost dropped the staves he was hiding under his cloak as they tried to pull him over or show him this or that. Blasted people, he thought, giving a glare to another merchant before he had a chance to move. The more he thought of what the man had said, the more he grew bothered with it. Which bothered him even more because he had told himself not to think about it. What did he care if a bunch of people died because people finally got fed up with Kraft? And yet he did care, which bothered him even more.
"Blast Kraft and the stupid buffoons following him!" Irmo muttered to himself. He eyed the two men idly chattering as he passed but then saw the meat stand. He muttered to himself about stupid ideas and then walked up to the butcher. He had a feeling there was no inn outside of town and he'd like to at least not be cold and hungry later.
"How much for that one?" Irmo questioned, gesturing toward a rather small piece. He moved for his belt pouch and suddenly one of the staves was sliding from his grasp. "Blasted-" He muttered the rest as he snatched the purple topped staff from the ground, the other's yellow end poking from his cloak as he bent. The next few moments were a blur, coins tossed onto the table, meat wrapped and in his bag as he strode away as fast as he could while still trying to hide his staves, muttering as he went.
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Wein Lowell
Sniper
The Noble Arrow
If you're a glory hound, then I'm king of the glory hounds
Posts: 268
Lycia Fame: 2
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Post by Wein Lowell on Nov 7, 2013 22:26:45 GMT -6
"Young?" asked Wein, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed the younger man with a mix of curiosity and indignation. "Young? I'm into my thirties, Valcrist. You, however, can't be any older than twenty-five." The archer tossed an accusing finger in the smith's direction. "I'm an old man, at least compared to you, and I don't need anyone telling me who I can and can't spend eternity buried next to."
The Ostian's face twisted into a contemplative scowl. His interest had been piqued by the initial mention of Kraft, but Nabatan's next couple of sentences had just made him kind of mad. Valcrist had successfully managed to combine a casual lack of concern, total self-devaluation, and annoying aloofness into a truly artful brew. But despite that, Wein was now definitely curious. So they were going to kill Kraft, eh? The Prophet of Elimine? Valcrist was right, that was a dangerous task, with a very low rate of survival. In fact, unprepared, such a job meant almost certain death. However, it also sounded like just the task the archer was looking for. Indeed, the blonde swordsman could be aloof and indirectly condescending if he wanted to, but if he thought that rushing into likely death was something that he just had to do, then the same went for Wein in spades.
"You do realize that the Prophet and his armies turned my home, Ostia, into a smoldering ruin, right?" asked the archer raised an eyebrow as he asked to obviously reproachful question. "To this day, I do not know if my family is alive, or if their incinerated corpses are going to lay forever in former Ostia. Same goes for everyone I ever knew before I left home." Wein took a small step forward and lightly jabbed a finger into the smith's chest. It was an aggressive motion, but it wasn't meant in anger. The archer just thought that if Valcrist was going to go get himself killed, he needed to at least learn what conviction was before he died. Walking into death's maw because you just had to do it was a terrible reason. "I'm not about to be told that I don't get a shot at putting an arrow right between Kraft's eyes by some kid who barely has a reason to go himself."
"If you're a glory hound, then I'm the king of glory hounds," Wein continued. He kept his voice level. He wasn't one for emotional outbursts, but he did want to make his point known. He had spent near a decade looking for some way to prove himself a man of worth, and right now that way was staring him right in the face. He'd be damned before he passed up this opportunity. "After all, I'm the one who left everything I had to go be a hero, and ended up with not a lot to show for it. But that's alright, because I enjoyed every step of the way, and if I die now, I'll have no regrets. So if you want to go kill Kraft, then I'll come with you, and we can be glory hounds together." Wein looked down, then back up, extending his hand to Valcrist. "Deal?"
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Hiro
Rogue
I love stealing, I love taking things.
Posts: 216
Profession: Professional ladies man
OoC Alias: Hal
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Post by Hiro on Nov 8, 2013 16:12:43 GMT -6
Hiro was in between being awake and asleep, he heard the window open as a breeze of cool air rushed in as he heard sounds of a person entering the room. Oh god, did one of Kraft's assassins finally catch up to him and find him? Wasting no time Hiro shove himself off the bed, drawing his dagger in the process, and creating distance between him and the intruder. Or at least that's how he envisioned it, as his eyes opened and he tried to get up his arms and legs began to flail wildly as he fell off the bed face first into the floor. It took him only a second to get to his feet. "Who are you and what do you want?"
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Post by Valcrist on Nov 9, 2013 11:12:08 GMT -6
The swordsman took a small step back as he was jabbed in the chest by the older man's finger. He seemed rather offended at what the blond man had said. Well now how was Valcrist supposed to know something like that? He wasn't a mind reader, nor did Wein walk around with a giant Kraft shaped chip on his shoulder. He rubbed where the finger had been thrusted absentmindedly, it didn't hurt but there was a certain weight behind the gesture that stuck with him. He'd say he was sorry to hear that, but Valcrist knew that they'd probably just end up being empty words he's heard countless times before. While it would also be easy to get angry at Wein calling him a kid with no reason, he knew that it probably wouldn't lead anywhere. Still after hearing about what happened to his family, and countless others undoubtedly, did you really need a personal vendetta against a man like that? Sure Valcrist had never felt the iron grip his self, but he had seen it in the eyes of the countless folk in his travels. Those that struggle, those that are crushed, Kraft was no holy man. If 'justice' could ignore such a cruel person, then he'd have to take justice into his own hands. What was the point of laws and rules if they let someone like Kraft to be heralded as a saviour and twist them however he wants? He was nothing but a monster hiding in plain sight.
"My reasons are my own. I told you, I can't just hear about something like this and stand on the sidelines. Even if it kills me." The smith furrowed his brows and wrenched his face into a sort of frown. He gave a small shrug before replacing that with a crooked smile. "I never said you couldn't come, I just said it wasn't a good idea." He followed with a small chuckle. "I guess if you're as foolish as I am for deciding to go in the first place, well there's nothing that can be done now is there?"
Valcrist took the man's hand and shook it with a wry grin. "Deal. If we're both going to go down, might as well try to keep each other alive and enjoy the ride." Empty words were worthless, but actions spoke countless times louder than Valcrist ever could.
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Post by Butorega on Nov 10, 2013 11:56:43 GMT -6
Butorega immediately stopped in his tracks. His ears had picked up a piece of interesting information. The conversation between the two men just went from boring and uninformative to must hear. This Kraft fella just jumped to the top spot on Butorega need to know list. He had heard the name before, but knew very little of the man. He knew people wanted him dead, but in truth did not completely know why. When it came to foreign matters Butorega was not well informed, mainly thanks to his choice of occupation, bandit.
Butorega took his position once more back on the post. He wanted to hear every bit of the conversation. The blonde man began to talk about dying in an unmarked grave. The thought of going into a battle that one might not come back from excited Butorega. A certain fire began to burn in the brigand. Battle, it was the one thing he sought more than glory. For the sake of Battle he became a brigand. For the sake of Battle he left home, and for a good fight he was willing to bet his life. The whole expedition to kill Kraft began to excite him more and more. He began to imagine the legions of enemies they would have to face.
Then the archer mentioned how Kraft had destroyed Ostia. Butorega almost screamed like a girl, but keep his composure as he did not want to be noticed. Exciting, thought Butorega. Here was a man with enough political power to turn a whole city into ash. He had the ability to destroy a nation, and he was going to hunt this man. Glory and Fame were always on Butorega list to achieve, but he was sure it would come in his later years of life. If he was to slay this man his name would be spoken on every tong in all of Elibe. Butorega the slayer of Kraft, the name had a good ring to it. It was something that sounded as if it came out of a legend. Even if Butorega did not actually kill Kraft himself just having his name attached to the legend was enough for him. To slay such a man was the dream of every brigand, or at least the bloodthirsty ones like Butorega. Butorega was literally shaking with excitement. Alexander may have not planned for it, but his grandson had inherited his blood lust and his appetite for killing.
The wolfish grin that usually crossed his face suddenly widened as the brigand walked around the post. No point in lurking anymore. These two men were going to be his comrades on this new challenge. It was best to see what information he could gleam from them in a direct conversation.
“Excuse me”, spoke Butorega as he walked up to the two men. His wolfish grin was in full swing as he stared at the two fools. “Can you tell me about this man named Kraft, or rather about the men that guard him?” With higher ups like Kraft and noblemen it was there men that provided the real challenge. They themselves were usually weaklings and not worth the blood spilled in their name. That was another reason Butorega became a bandit. The man giving him orders was just as tough as the man he gave the order to; no sometimes he was even tougher. Men like that were the people Butorega could follow. He could not stand weaklings tossing out orders. Only the strong and the brilliant should order men.
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Post by Jya on Nov 10, 2013 12:38:36 GMT -6
Jya gave a slight sheepish smile, waiting for the man to get back up. After a close look at the man's face, she definitely recognized him. A name still escaped her however, but she felt at ease that she didn't have a need or urge to cause him any harm. It might have been nicer of her to offer to help him up, but she thought that would only alarm him more.
"I'm Jya," she responded, moving closer out of view. She didn't want to be seen from the window side. It made her feel like a target.
"I just thought I knew you that's all. I' glad you're not someone I have to kill. Too many assassins out and about lately for my head."
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Wein Lowell
Sniper
The Noble Arrow
If you're a glory hound, then I'm king of the glory hounds
Posts: 268
Lycia Fame: 2
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Post by Wein Lowell on Nov 13, 2013 14:31:28 GMT -6
Wein's face lit up in satisfaction as Valcrist agreed to his deal of companionship. Once again, he had a friend, someone to watch his back. Wein valued such companions most of all. They were hard to come by, and even harder to ensure they weren't the type to stab you in the back. The Ostian didn't worry. He had known Valcrist to be a bit of a coward, sure, but never a traitor, judging by the smith's resoluteness and more confident demeanor, Wein figured the coward phase had passed as well.
"Well, now that we're partners in crime, we should draft up a battle plan..." the archer began, pulling out a rolled up piece of blank parchment out of his satchel. "If we're going to be diving headfirst into the castle of one of the biggest warlords Elibe has ever seen, we'll need to-"
"Excuse me. Can you tell me about this man named Kraft, or rather about the men that guard him?”
Wein looked up from his satchel, only to see a very rough, wild looking man with a wolfish grin staring right at he and Valcrist. And to compliment his very animal-like grin, with the look on his face, the man almost seemed to be salivating, as if he was very, very hungry. Hopefully he wasn't planning to take a bite out of either of them. Wein had never encountered such men before, but he recalled reading in a book that cannibals avoided population centers, favoring remote locations, lest their peculiarity be found out. And supposedly if one ate human flesh long enough, they began to change into horrific, demon-like forms. The archer looked the man up and down once more. That didn't seem to be the case with this one, which either meant he had only recently begun to consume, or he wasn't a cannibal.
"I know he's a brute who commands men far stupider than he to commit disgusting acts of war in the name of a kind, healing saint," responded Wein, placing his parchment back into his satchel. They could plan later. "And I'll have you know..." He leaned in close to the man, wagging a finger in his face, and continued with a whisper, "we don't taste very good, so if that's what you're thinking, I'll have none of it."
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Post by Valcrist on Nov 13, 2013 15:37:23 GMT -6
Wein seemed genuinely happy. It was odd, Valcrist never thought that someone would be happy for him to join along. Oh how times have changed. Whatever it was, it made Valcrist happy as if it was splashing off the archer and onto him. "We have to talk about that bow too." The smith brought up a finger with a grin. Wein was talking about making a battle plan, which was a good idea. It might be a better one to wait until they had a better grasp on what exactly the one leading this mission was planning on doing, however. Still, thinking of ways they two can work together effectively would be a grand idea. Also there was a certain thing on Valcrist's mind that he wanted to talk to Wein about... Well that was before they were interrupted. Valcrist would have normally greeted the strange with a, admittedly probably fake, smile but this man got no such thing. He recognized the man from before, he was the one who was eavesdropping on them. Usually Valcrist probably wouldn't be aware enough to notice a thing like that, but this guy just did it so poorly. He wasn't particularly quiet, he was built like a brute, and he wore clothing that made him stand out in stark contrast to the bundled up citizens that were around them.
It seemed that he was eavesdropping again, and while nothing they said was particularly personal or incriminating, it still rubbed the smith the wrong way. "I can tell you that if you are wanting to pursue a life as a spy, you should really think of a change in occupation." Valcrist crossed his arms and looked at the man with an arched brow. He was, as Valcrist noted before, a big brute of a man. Now then Valcrist was aware enough to not judge a book by it's cover, he's been on the receiving end of such judgements many times before in the past, but the look on his face was not exactly helping.
"Kraft's men are probably incredibly skilled, he's lived this long right? He undoubtedly has legions of loyal zealouts and people on his payroll to boss around, not to mention the entire Etrurian military that torched Ostia to the ground." He continued with crossed arms, looking generally stoic until he realized what he just said. Cringing and cursing at his self, he let out a nervous chuckle. "Er... Sorry Wein."
He collected his self again and shrugged. "Etruria is also known as the magic capital of the world, there's bound to be countless mages and acolytes, probably shamans too. Kraft puts on a holier-than-thou act, but he's not above stooping down to dirty tactics to get what he wants. Have you heard about how he tried to burn the Ilian hero Richter alive in a church? Or how he executed the great Crowley right there in the streets."
He looked at Wein being a little, well, odd. He silently rolled his eyes. "You should probably get that look out of your eyes, people are mistaking you for a cannibal."
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Post by Butorega on Nov 13, 2013 16:18:37 GMT -6
“Cannibal”, chuckled Butorega. “Well they would not be far from it. Though I do not consume corpses I do, how could I say it devour my prey.” Before the two men could respond to his off comment Butorega began to speak again. “Let me give you a more formal introduction. My name is Butorega of Littlerock a small village located in Bern. I am what you might call a, let’s see what is the better word for my occupation, a mercenary. I go where ever the coin be the greatest, but preferably where there is a good fight. As I stated before I have an appetite for flesh, but not in the sense of eating. I like to fight. I like to kill, but I don’t like killing weaklings. I prefer my prey to be strong, and for that very reason I suck at sneaking.”
“No offense to you gentlemen about my earlier actions”, spoke Butorega as he waved his hands in protest. “I have just picked up that habit while on my travels. I have found many a good pieces of information just by simply hanging around. Not many people are very private about were good fight is, or where they got some good medicine from. One must always be prepared when one steps on a battle field never know what information might save your life, or the lack of might kill you.”
“But I digress”, spoke Butorega as he shifted his posture. He attempted to make himself look less…aggressive, but his wolfish grin still remained on his face. “I asked you about Kraft because I wanted to know my prey before I joined the hunt. I too have decided to hunt down this “prophet”, but had very little knowledge of his guards. Such a man must have soldier’s worth of my axe, but I figured it would be better to get the information from someone who knew directly than to assume. The last time I assumed there would be a challenge I ended up fighting off wolves.”
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Wein Lowell
Sniper
The Noble Arrow
If you're a glory hound, then I'm king of the glory hounds
Posts: 268
Lycia Fame: 2
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Post by Wein Lowell on Nov 13, 2013 18:00:34 GMT -6
Wein merely shrugged when Valcrist mentioned the torching of Ostia. Talk of Kraft may have incensed him into joining this little mission, but the deed itself was done, and not talking about it wouldn't change that fact. He wasn't about to let the topic become a spot so sore people couldn't mention it without it effecting his emotions. It wouldn't be very heroic of him, and if anything, it would just mean Kraft had won, and he wasn't about to allow that to happen. "No need to apologize," the archer replied with a shake of his head. "What's done is done."
He then remained quiet and listened to Valcrist and the other man, revealed to be Butorega of Littlerock, speak. Valcrist was, expectedly, a fair bit more helpful with his response than Wein had been, actually mentioning something of import, but the Ostian was particularly taken aback by how honest this self-proclaimed mercenary was. Most people, when trying to introduce themselves, didn't come right out and mention how much they enjoyed killing. It tended to have the opposite effect than what an introduction was typically supposed to have. He did, however, make a very good point: one could learn much from just hanging around. It was a very good, if not necessarily reliable, way of obtaining information.
"I appreciate your honesty, I guess," said Wein, still a little uncomfortable. The man seemed straightforward enough, but sometimes those were the ones you wanted to watch out for. "I can also tell you that Kraft is also a fan of large scale deception, if the massacre back at the arena means anything. He had former Ostians working for him, posed as Bernese wyvern riders. I imagine if when we do plan our means of attack, we will want to take that into account."
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