Journal Posts

Tag: doh!

Have a drink on me...
Hokur, if ye would be so kind, please put me down,” Maeve’s voice dripped with velvety sweetness.

“Nae. I cannae do that darlin’,” the big mercenary shook his head and tried to keep the riot of the bard’s hair out of his mouth as he spoke. He had one arm wrapped around her waist tightly, pinning her right arm to her side below the elbow as he held her left wrist in his other hand.

Hokur, I realize just because that feller deserves t’eat a bag of dicks beginnin’ with his own nae means I’m the one t’feed it to him. Set me down.” The sweetness was draining from her tone.

The Aral shook his head again, “Nae gonna do that dove, an’ ye knows why. Put it back.” Under nearly any other circumstances having his arms full of Maeve would have been a downright enjoyable experience, but as the situation stood at the moment it was deadly.

“Whate’er d’ye mean? Put what back?” blinking innocence and butterflies replaced the mock sweetness in her tone and were exponentially more menacing.

“Th’ Dodger. Drop it. Just ‘cause I’ve an armful of spittin’ mad wildcat nae means I di’nae notice ye pinched th’ Dodger. Drop it or hand it t’Raylen, them’s yer choices an’ one or th’ other needs t’happen before I’ll leave loose o’ ye.” Hokur felt her tense all the way through her frame and steeled himself for another barrage of kicks against his shins. Spellcaster she may be, but she was stronger than she looked and had enough alcohol in her system to stagger a good-sized city. Raylen had tried to warn him that she was a mean drunk as the fighter stepped into the altercation between her and some jack-a-nape that would likely be dead if he had not. He agreed that the bloke needed a lesson, but somehow he thought his new employer might not appreciate the Captain of his retrieval team being held by some northern clan chief for murder.

Hokur, ye overgrow’d armor rack, Set, Me, Down! Last warnin’,” Maeve gritted through her teeth as the fighter flexed his grip and forced the air out of her lungs.

“Nae lass, I cannae do th-” the bard lashed back with her head in an attempt to smash his nose but he felt it coming and turned his head so he caught blow on his brow and left eye which was enough to make his vision swim for a few heartbeats but he held her fast. A quick shift of his hips kept him from being gelded with his own blade as Maeve reversed her grip on the Dodger. “Settle down lass! We’ll be havin’ none o’ that foolishment now!” he growled through clenched teeth. He hissed at the other two of his new comrades-in-arms, “Bit o’ help here if’n ye nae mind!”

Arcelli shook his head and took a leisurely drink of his ale as Raylen blinked, momentarily unsure of how to assist. Inspiration struck so he muttered a quick prayer and darted a hand in, touching Maeve’s pinioned arm. The wild light of ale-fueled rage cleared from the troubadour’s eyes instantly and she ceased her struggles to hang tense and panting in the fighter’s grip. “That should at least sober her up.”

Hokur put his mouth close to the bard’s ear and whispered so only she could hear, “Aye darlin’, that jake’s earned anythin’ ye cared t’dish him and more, I’ll nae dispute it. But look ‘round ye; ye’re nae in Salpia now – we’re deep in Turnbull lands and this is nae a blood feud ye want t’be startin’, ye’re a Lachlan, an allied clan, so’s it’d go twice-hard fer yer folk. We just come from yer brother’s handfastin’, d’ye really want t’cost him everythin’ he’s nae even had time t’enjoy yet?” Hokur felt some of the tension in the contora’s limbs relax; at least she was listening.

“Now, I’ve nae any love of these ignor’nt, braggart Turnbull bastards me own self but shankin’ one o’ their men at arms in one o’ their own taverns is suicide fer ye, and us, and a parcel o’ headache ye’d ne’er wish t’saddle yer clan with,” he could feel the muscle in her jaw jump against his moustache as she clenched and unclenched her teeth. “Bloody mayhem is th’ onliest thin’ a Turnbull’s any good fer since th’ gods only gifted ‘em with size and nae brains; I’ve served with enough of ‘em t’know. And I’ve broke bread with yer clan so’s I’m nae gonna let ye do somethin’ they’ll regret just because ye got too deep in yer cups.”

Maeve took as deep a breath as Hokur's grip would allow and nodded, “Aye, I did and it was stupid. My ire’s still fresh on one Turnbull in particular but since I cannae take it out on him I was goin’ for next best. Lemme down and we’ll make sure I nae sliced either of us.”
Session: Sail away, sail away, sail away... - Saturday, Jan 19 2013 from 3:00 PM to 11:00 PM
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Tags: Booze , Brawl , Doh!
Epic × 2!
In a white room...
We’d eat a bit and got movin’ and gone a league or two when someone spied pidgy little tracks in the snow. Arcelli hops down and does a little dance when he’s sure it’s gobbo feet what made the marks. At least now we were wanderin’ with a purpose. The tracks scuttled over hill and dale and through bush and twig until they lead right into a hole. Well, it was a hole in a hill so I venture it might rightfully be called a cave, but to my way of thinkin’ a ‘cave’ is somethin’ a bloke can stand up in and this was certainly nae the case. Standin’ next to it put the top of the openin’ somewhere just above the knee and I can see fer a certainty that it’s to be a right squeeze to get in there fer me and likely a straight impossibility fer Fearghus. Arcelli wandered around a bit lookin’ fer another way in but luck decided otherwise. So as to see if it were even worth the trouble I hummed up a little light and pitched it into the openin’.

Roughly five paces back the tunnel made a sharp-like turn to the left and nothin’ more was to be seen. Arcelli, bein’ a little feller like most Salpians, wriggles himself into the hole and gets to the bend where he chucks the light down the tunnel again t’find that it stretched on another five or so paces before turnin’ sharp again to the right. On the off chance that it’s a critter cave or that there’s forty score gobbos waitin’ fer him further in we tied a rope around his middle so Fearghus could haul him out if needs be. After a while he comes back and says there’s somethin’ furry at the end of the next section of tunnel what was about seven paces from the turn.

Says I it could be a bear or another weasel and Fearghus snorts like a bull bein’ of the mind that no bear could fit in the openin’. Says I that an Aral bear couldn’t but everythin’s smaller in Salpia which was good fer a snigger but got us no closer to the solvin’ of the issue. Raylen pipes in that it could be a curtain or somesuch and it is general agreed to that Arcelli needs to go back and look closer. Still nae feelin’ all there after havin’ his most personal property (if y’take my meanin’) gnawed on by a big-arse weasel in the middle of the night he gets double assurance from Fearghus that in the case of somethin’ undesirable happenin’ that the Aral will haul him out double quick. Says Fearghus that he will so Arcelli wriggles in again and is gone a good while with nothin’ happenin’ on the rope to give us any indication if he’s whole or chewed.

Eventually he crawls out a bit sheepish like and says it was a curtain – a fur curtain mind you, but a curtain nonetheless – that had afeared him. More interestin’ly however, says he right quick before we can ride him too much on it, behind the curtain was a gobbo sleepin’. He’d knifed the gob to make sure no alarm was raised and peeked in as best he could without settin’ the dread curtain afire (the light had gone out so he’d took a torch the second time in) and saw at least a score of gobbies sleepin’ like the righteous in a bowl-shaped cave. What he dinnae spy was the total number, the full size of the cave or any other way in that might fit Fearghus.

I’m nae too proud t’say that we stood there a bit scratchin’ thin’s that dinnae really itch tryin’ to think of a way aroun’ the puzzle at hand. I was gettin’ fair aggravated at me fer nae seein’ what had to be right before my face – a way to take four into a score without endin’ up with zero particularly when we could only take three in. Thinks I to me self that what we were in need of was a army of midgets to hie it in before us to even thin’s up and flush out the li’l blighters so we could get a good swing at ‘em. And like a straight bolt of lightnin’ I gets an idea that begins me to gigglin’. Now Fearghus, Arcelli and Raylen kinda stares at me fer laughin’ at a time when it would nae seem t’be quite apropos so I tell ‘em what it is that has me a-titter.

Says I that turn about bein’ fair play, we should conscript the Regulars and march ‘em up here to do our job fer us since we done their job fer them by way of finishin’ off their hobs. Fearghus grinned and said he that conscriptin’ the conscripts sounded like high fun but wondered how we were t’find ‘em. Raylen pulled a face and pointed to Arcelli bringin’ up the point that it weren’t like we couldn’t track sixteen men on foot in the snow. It was general agreed to that we were indeed equipped better fer the proposed task than fer clearin’ out a gob cave. Someone brought up the fact that there was a bled-out gob in the doorway what might raise an alarm. This was the first time since I left the Academé that I was regretted of a choice I’d made fer whilst I could clean up the mess of it, I couldn’t fix the hole. Aral luck bein’ what it is though, Raylen could. It was settled that Neguma’s man and I would shinny in and make it look like the unfortunate gobbo soul that Arcelli had assisted to the afterlife had left of its own accord whilst Arcelli and Fearghus would see to coverin’ our tracks in case any adventuresome gobbo actually made it outside after which we four would hoof it back toward the hobs that we bled out and see if we could pick up the trail of the Regulars. That all bein’ accomplished, well, rather me and Raylen’s part bein’ accomplished as Arcelli sniffed snow on the wind what would do his and Fearghus’ part of the work admirably and lit a fire under our collective backside to get some distance before the storm hit, we mounted up and tried to remember just where it was we left those hobs.
Session: Game Two Bizatch! ...or Get in that Hole! - Friday, Jul 08 2011 from 4:30 PM to 10:30 PM
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Tags: Doh! , Mad Plans