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+--- Thread: We'll be counting (/showthread.php?tid=12184)
We'll be counting - Belvadair - May 04 2025
Belvadair waited only a moment. Once Zephiran had returned from his trip, he went on his own. Slipping past tunnels into another cavern. Granted, it took the one eyed wolf some time. Tiny paws only got him so far. But he wanted to explore, to see.
Anything he could grasp. Zephiran had a much larger hoard than he did. Belvadair wanted to prove he could find stuff too. But something better than glowing rocks.
So he went to a cave Zephiran hadn't. A cave that was past the location he had overtired to venture before. Yet before he entered too far in, he wished to clean himself. And perhaps on the way out. Cautious goes away long way in his mind.
Belvadair did not trust random caves. Especially ones he did not know. It was difficult enough seeing where he could go. And after nearly drowning… No thanks. He'd rather be comfy in the safety of his home.
GM - for item of the rift!
RE: We'll be counting - Game Master Dark - May 05 2025
@Belvadair
RE: We'll be counting - Belvadair - May 10 2025
CLANK!
As Belvadair made his way pastiche portal, something bounces off the ground at him. A sudden jolt to his side. He leaped up off the ground, tail tucked between his legs.
His mask scrunched, but he turned around to see it. A blade. Or well.. something. And it looked like he might be able to wear it..
Belv moved downwards, snatching it lightly in his jaws. Then pressed forward to head out of this gross cavern. He would see if Zephiran had any idea what to do with it. Ideas would soon gather though.
( Faded )
Anything he could grasp. Zephiran had a much larger hoard than he did. Belvadair wanted to prove he could find stuff too. But something better than glowing rocks.
So he went to a cave Zephiran hadn't. A cave that was past the location he had overtired to venture before. Yet before he entered too far in, he wished to clean himself. And perhaps on the way out. Cautious goes away long way in his mind.
Belvadair did not trust random caves. Especially ones he did not know. It was difficult enough seeing where he could go. And after nearly drowning… No thanks. He'd rather be comfy in the safety of his home.
"Speaking"
GM - for item of the rift!
RE: We'll be counting - Game Master Dark - May 05 2025
"Are you sure he was actually dead?"
The wagon jolted, and there was a soft curse as the driver readjusted herself. That was always jarring. Her butt was getting numb, even with the furs set on the seat below. "No."
There was silence. The young man fretted, studying the red leather scabbard. "It's just-..." He turned it over in his hands. The red ribbon with its many ticks sewn in-... "Uhh. Do you think this is... how many people this has killed..?"
"Stop worrying about it. Stow it if you're afraid it'll be seen. It's not like we took it off an actual body." The sword had been traded for. The trader in question had assured them up and down that the previous owner was long-dead, and would not coming looking for the clearly expensive blade. And if they wanted to trade it for other supplies further on, where it was even more valuable, that couldn't happen. Not to mention what might happen if someone got offended; this was clearly the blade of an officer or the like. It was ceremonial and functional; it had belonged to someone important. But they'd been assured that it was safe.
Here in the wagon, staring down at what must have been one of the most valuable weapons he'd ever seen in his life... the young man was not so sure. "...I might do that. Yes," he agreed. It was a relief to even consider it. He looked at the crates, pondering. Then the bags. No; if there were bandits, or a patrol-...
He glanced forward, then back. Left, and right. Then he picked up the sword, aimed carefully, and chucked it.
As Belvadair makes his way past the portal, something comes flying out and bounces off the stone at the pup's feet--or maybe the pup himself. Thankfully, the blade is sheathed, but now, it belongs to him.
It is a beautifully and expertly crafted sword, folded steel plated in brass. The blade shines bright gold from this plating; the entirety of the blade is etched with an abstract but flowing design. In shape, the sword is slightly curved; the longer edge is the sharpened one, and shines silver. The crossguard is short and ornate, curved and filigreed, brass and silver. The hilt is wrapped in alternating black and red leather.
A brass ring in the black steel pommel leaves a single red ribbon dangling down: this ribbon has, sewn in black thread, little lines ticking off numbers. The lines total thirty-four.
The blade is sheathed in a stiff, red leather scabbard, attached to a red leather belt tooled with black and golden thread. The buckle is brass-plated steel, and the belt is adjustable.
The wagon jolted, and there was a soft curse as the driver readjusted herself. That was always jarring. Her butt was getting numb, even with the furs set on the seat below. "No."
There was silence. The young man fretted, studying the red leather scabbard. "It's just-..." He turned it over in his hands. The red ribbon with its many ticks sewn in-... "Uhh. Do you think this is... how many people this has killed..?"
"Stop worrying about it. Stow it if you're afraid it'll be seen. It's not like we took it off an actual body." The sword had been traded for. The trader in question had assured them up and down that the previous owner was long-dead, and would not coming looking for the clearly expensive blade. And if they wanted to trade it for other supplies further on, where it was even more valuable, that couldn't happen. Not to mention what might happen if someone got offended; this was clearly the blade of an officer or the like. It was ceremonial and functional; it had belonged to someone important. But they'd been assured that it was safe.
Here in the wagon, staring down at what must have been one of the most valuable weapons he'd ever seen in his life... the young man was not so sure. "...I might do that. Yes," he agreed. It was a relief to even consider it. He looked at the crates, pondering. Then the bags. No; if there were bandits, or a patrol-...
He glanced forward, then back. Left, and right. Then he picked up the sword, aimed carefully, and chucked it.
As Belvadair makes his way past the portal, something comes flying out and bounces off the stone at the pup's feet--or maybe the pup himself. Thankfully, the blade is sheathed, but now, it belongs to him.
It is a beautifully and expertly crafted sword, folded steel plated in brass. The blade shines bright gold from this plating; the entirety of the blade is etched with an abstract but flowing design. In shape, the sword is slightly curved; the longer edge is the sharpened one, and shines silver. The crossguard is short and ornate, curved and filigreed, brass and silver. The hilt is wrapped in alternating black and red leather.
A brass ring in the black steel pommel leaves a single red ribbon dangling down: this ribbon has, sewn in black thread, little lines ticking off numbers. The lines total thirty-four.
The blade is sheathed in a stiff, red leather scabbard, attached to a red leather belt tooled with black and golden thread. The buckle is brass-plated steel, and the belt is adjustable.
@Belvadair
RE: We'll be counting - Belvadair - May 10 2025
CLANK!
As Belvadair made his way pastiche portal, something bounces off the ground at him. A sudden jolt to his side. He leaped up off the ground, tail tucked between his legs.
His mask scrunched, but he turned around to see it. A blade. Or well.. something. And it looked like he might be able to wear it..
Belv moved downwards, snatching it lightly in his jaws. Then pressed forward to head out of this gross cavern. He would see if Zephiran had any idea what to do with it. Ideas would soon gather though.
( Faded )
"Speaking"
@ no tag lol