06-07-2014, 11:01 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-19-2014, 07:20 AM by WyvernSlayer.)
GM POST
It was, for once, not raining in Araphen.
It was certainly cloudy, of course, because like it or not, they were in Lycia, which had as much audacity as a nation could to have completely insufferable rainy seasons and humidity. So it was humid, and the grass was wet and there were clouds in the sky, but for the moment, there were no clouds blocking the moon or the moonlight from hitting the ground.
That was the exact reason the small force of bandits were forced to hide belly first in the grass and behind just-large-enough rocks instead of standing like normal people.
At the head of the group, belly and tunic and cloak soaked in dew and hopefully just dew from the grass beneath him, Thestle the Toughneck just barely kept from grumbling. Despite his Toughneck nickname, Thestle bore the upbringing and dignities of a former noble's son with typical exiled grace, marked with bitter complaints and laments of his current station.
At the moment, that station was getting his stomach wet waiting for the Elimine-damned signal!
"When our scouts give the signal," Thestle whispered behind himself again. Again, because after being asked when they could go for the third time, he had simply resorted to repeating himself every so often. "We will spread out and sneak into Khaltet from the four main directions. When we get the signal."
--
NIKANG POST
"Tch. We heard you already, dumbass. Shut up already..."
Hunched down on his bear-fur wrap so his ass wouldn't have to get drenched in grass-dew, Nikang leaned back against his hiding-rock and grumbled. Beyond a doubt, the wait before an easy job was the worst thing, and having to listen to some loser who was barely a bandit, and was only in control because his ex-noble daddy paid for it was even worse. He steadfastly refused to even think on how Thestle's old man could pay bandits to get his son to lead something.
Nikang wasn't ready to understand that level of stupid.
Instead, he crossed his arms, rolled his eyes at Thestle, and continued to lean against a large rock in wait for the signal to get going. He'd left behind going back to Etruria for this—as a favor to the Djute, even! Tribe loyalty!—even if Etruria was currently swamped with Lycia's bulk of their military. The least that could happen was the scouts Thestle had sent ahead could hurry the hell up and give the signal!
"Anytime now..."
It was, for once, not raining in Araphen.
It was certainly cloudy, of course, because like it or not, they were in Lycia, which had as much audacity as a nation could to have completely insufferable rainy seasons and humidity. So it was humid, and the grass was wet and there were clouds in the sky, but for the moment, there were no clouds blocking the moon or the moonlight from hitting the ground.
That was the exact reason the small force of bandits were forced to hide belly first in the grass and behind just-large-enough rocks instead of standing like normal people.
At the head of the group, belly and tunic and cloak soaked in dew and hopefully just dew from the grass beneath him, Thestle the Toughneck just barely kept from grumbling. Despite his Toughneck nickname, Thestle bore the upbringing and dignities of a former noble's son with typical exiled grace, marked with bitter complaints and laments of his current station.
At the moment, that station was getting his stomach wet waiting for the Elimine-damned signal!
"When our scouts give the signal," Thestle whispered behind himself again. Again, because after being asked when they could go for the third time, he had simply resorted to repeating himself every so often. "We will spread out and sneak into Khaltet from the four main directions. When we get the signal."
--
NIKANG POST
"Tch. We heard you already, dumbass. Shut up already..."
Hunched down on his bear-fur wrap so his ass wouldn't have to get drenched in grass-dew, Nikang leaned back against his hiding-rock and grumbled. Beyond a doubt, the wait before an easy job was the worst thing, and having to listen to some loser who was barely a bandit, and was only in control because his ex-noble daddy paid for it was even worse. He steadfastly refused to even think on how Thestle's old man could pay bandits to get his son to lead something.
Nikang wasn't ready to understand that level of stupid.
Instead, he crossed his arms, rolled his eyes at Thestle, and continued to lean against a large rock in wait for the signal to get going. He'd left behind going back to Etruria for this—as a favor to the Djute, even! Tribe loyalty!—even if Etruria was currently swamped with Lycia's bulk of their military. The least that could happen was the scouts Thestle had sent ahead could hurry the hell up and give the signal!
"Anytime now..."