Private Tales The Leviathan and the Smith

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Livyatan the Tempest

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The candlelit tavern was lively despite the weather, its patrons clearly grateful for the shelter from the harsh winds and rains beating down upon the sleepy port village. Seaborne storms were not uncommon here, but this particular one was unusually nasty, and the windowpanes of the little inn were being battered by the winds. It was weather like this that brought out the best stories, told around a warm crackling fire. And in the same vein, many a story had its beginnings in such a heavy storm.
The young man was strangely underdressed for such weather, his cloak covering his torso and pants covering his legs, but his head and neck exposed. His aquamarine hair was wet, but somehow not dripping, and but a few drops of water glistened on his pale skin. A sharp canine tooth protruded from his upper lip, which alongside his rough hair and piercing red eyes provided a slightly feral appearance, but he did not seem to mind the look or two of suspicion that this brought him as he approached the table.
The other man at the table was a merchant, short and stocky, with a thin mustache and ornate garments -- almost stereotypical in his image. The young man sat down, crossed his legs, and waited.
Bayde Foemarr
 
There was a sopping wet crash that broke the general peace of the tavern as the front doors swung open to the tune of a thunderbolt cracking across the darkened skies. A drenched stranger stepped into the room only to be mobbed by the maid with a bundle of dried clothe. Her banshee wails of wet floors subdued the man who kowtowed under her stern lecture, reminding Bayde of a mother hen- though she could not be beyond her 17th winter.

And so the rest of the tavern's diners returned to their fare of beef-and-carrot stew and watered ale. The newcomer did his best to dry his body under the iron supervision of the young girl who ran through two, and then three more bundles of clothe that was soaking wet by the time he was done. "Stew and ale- Aul' be seated wit those two ov'r there." Bayde spoke to the maid, pointing to the distinctively wealthier man in the entire room. She nodded stiffly and scurried away, yelling over the din to her father in the kitchen.

No longer assaulted by various patchwork cloths it was evident to the rest of the diners that Bayde was no simple traveler seeking refuge from the weather. Though he was dressed in a simple brown leather jerkin, trousers and knee-high boots he had a wicked looking lucerne hammer that he carried like a walking stick, a metal buckler hanging from the many belts around his waist. Unlike many adventurers he saw on the dusty roads, he had the good sense to keep his plate armor in a pack which he carried, giving him an impression of a hunchbacked figure. He took slow, heavy steps to the table of his employer and set his heavy pack down before sliding into the benches.

"Helluva rain," he said, addressing the merchant. He paused and glanced sideways at the man with blue hair and raised an eyebrow, but kept it to himself. "Sorry that took forev'r, getting supplies from the other side of town when it started tossing cats 'n dogs out there." Pausing, the mercenary gave the stranger another quick look over before returning to his employer.

"You two uh. . .spake on the job then? Mind running it back with m- thanks luv'" he thanked the maid who laid a trencher in front of him, before ladling in dollops of cold beef stew and setting a tankard of muddy brew to follow. He waited until the merchant replied before digging in to his meal with moderation.

Livyatan the Tempest
 
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The merchant nodded. "I am glad you are here. I am presently about to embark on a new trade endeavor...and I was hoping you both could escort me, for my path is through the well-known territory of bandits." His voice was high-pitched and squeaky.
"I am well-researched myself...and I have heard wind of your might, O Great Liv--"
The young man interrupted him.
"Lee Victor Atan...just call me Lee."
He extended a hand to shake the merchant's, and afterwards to the mercenary.
"Pleased to meet you, mister...?"
Bayde Foemarr
 
Bayde took the man's hand and shook it firmly. "Bayde, son of who cares, really. Listen," he said, leaning closer to the merchant. "you're not thinking of walking in the rain are you?" The mercenary continued to dig into his meal, stuffing his cheeks with stale bread dipped in gravy. He looked out through the tavern's windows at the flash of lightning before turning back to the fat man. "'s a little wet for a jaunt but don't let that stop you, I suppose, if you're up for the trip soakin' wet."
 
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The young man's hand was rough and calloused...it almost felt like lizard's skin...and it almost felt like it was sparking with electricity.
The merchant replied.

"I plan to make the journey as soon as the storm passes, though if it goes like this for much longer I might buy a waterproofing for my wagon..."
Lee nodded. "Whenever you wish to head out."

(Timeskip to next morning. Storm has cleared.)
The sun dawned bright and early. Outside the tavern stood the merchant and the teal haired boy.
 
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The dawn star dragged the shadows of the two men that stood in front of the tavern. A third man, clad in steel half-plate joined them in a short moment, whistling a folklore tune as he hefted a bulging rucksack over his shoulder. His hair was a ruffled mess and there were noticeable bags under his eyes but if he showed any other signs of fatigue, it wasn't easily perceivable. "G'morning." he said to his two companions, stifling a yawn.

He eyed the tavern's stables, looking around for the merchant's wagon, but saw little signs of it. He raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. "Aul' ready to make a march along then? Crack out that wag'n of yours, if we're to cross the plains before nightfall."
 
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And so the three set off, leaving the little port town and beginning the trek across the bandit-infested barrens. The morning went relatively uneventfully, with only a few animals in the road to worry about. At lunchtime, the caravan stopped and the three sat down to eat.
It was at this point that a rustling in the bushes could be heard, within a few fathoms of the caravan. The younger mercenary stood up, eyes trained in the direction from which the noise came, and the merchant looked at him confused before realizing what was happening.
"Get down."
The rustling came about a second before a crossbow bolt struck Lee in the lower thigh. Strangely, though, despite the lack of armor on his body, the bolt's head did not fully embed itself into his skin, and quickly fell out, the shallow wound gradually closing as the boy bared a feral-looking fang and drew a wicked, jagged-edged sword that somewhat resembled a bolt of lightning. Electricity crackled and arced off the blade.
"Show yourself, or that bush gets lit on fire."
 
For a trek through bandit-wrecked lands Bayde had an uneventful ride. His light morning meal of stale bread and cheese churned in his belly as he eyed the scenery, uneasy with the peace. It was not until early mid-day did the wagon stop its perilous trek in a small clearing for lunch, which was a poor affair compared to last night's comparatively extravagant meal.

His first mistake was to not set up a post watch while the rest of the group ate their food- when the blue-haired man stood up he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The loosed bolt was faster than Bayde, who threw away his sandwich and reached for his hammer. As soon as he slapped his kettle helm onto his head another bolt grazed the maile covering his left shoulder- broken chain links scattered away from him. In a quick flash he pulled the merchant with a single hand and lead him inside the wagon. "Stay here," he hissed furiously.

The merchant quailed and nodded frantically. He flinched when the mercenary passed him a sheathed dagger, clearly unused to wielding a weapon himself. "We will be back for you; lay low, do not make a sound."

He jumped out from the back of the wagon and quickly equipped his free hand with his buckler, standing guard by the wagon several meters away from Livyatan. "Blue!" yelled the warrior, thumping the butt of his hammer onto the dried soil. "Hold your own ov'r there, I'll discourage the curious here- we're surrounded!"

No sooner than he spoke did three bandits emerge from the shrubbery in leather-and-padded armor, wielding a variety of improvised weapons. The most dangerous wielded a chipped sword, flanked by a thresher flail bearing man and an elf with a quarter staff, nails hammered in to batter armor. He heard more footsteps from Livyatan's front, probably more bandits come to back their ranger up.

"Parley?" cried one of the bandits, his voice emanating from deep within the forests. "Name your terms!"

"Leave your arms, armor and valuables- we'll let you walk free!"

Bayde gave a short, barking laugh. "Come and get them!" he yelled back, and prepared himself for the battle.
 
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"Tch. Figures."
Lee thrust forward his hand, shouting a strange word in an ancient language, and loosing a bolt of bluish lightning into the crowd of bandits before him. The blast was narrow, but upon striking the first bandit, it split into several smaller bolts that struck other nearby bandits. This attack fried about half of the bandits it hit into a crisp and sent the other half staggering in pain, but from the beads of sweat on his brow it looked like the effort Lee had spent to use this ability (which was remarkably similar to a Chain Lightning spell) was significant.
The blast had an effect on the morale of his opponents, however; the thunderous strike certainly would not have gone unnoticed by even the ones who were not hit. The ones that were fearful, however, immediately received scolding from the leader, who was rather unfazed.
Lee gave the bandits no time to regroup, however, and immediately began to charge for them, sword in hand.
 
What tension left in Bayde left with the sound of crackling thunder nearby so loud that his soul nearly left his body. It was a blessing in disguise, because the same noise caught the bandits completely flat footed. Before they could recover the mercenary quickly shook the fear from his body and charged the nearest raider who swung wildly to ward the man away. With speed granted by the rigors of experience Bayde batted the staff away with his buckler before grappling the bandit. He kicked his knee, forcing the miscreant to the ground in a pained scream that was quickly muffled as Bayde shoved the butt of the hammer into his mouth.

A bolt quickly found its way and pierced his breastplate with a solid thunk! as it embedded itself comfortably there. Bayde grunted and rolled his shoulder, noting that it hadn't pierced through the rest of his armor. Their swordsman made a quick diagonal cut that forced him back, holding the shaft of his hammer in a defensive stance before halting at the base of the wagon's entrance. "Git 'im!" yelled the bandit to his compatriot who charged after Bayde, swinging his thresher flail with vengeful fury. It caught Bayde's armoured arm, although the flail swung around and smacked the back of his helmet, dazing the warrior. "Bastard!"

Sensing weakness the swordsman rushed him but Bayde recovered quickly, using the butt of his weapon to jab at the bandit's sternum, forcing him back. Not ignoring the thresher, the mercenary side stepped another strike of the flail and retaliated with a swift punch with his buckler, breaking the man's nose. Before he could stagger back Bayde tackled him aside and used the momentum to enter a wide swing that was barely caught by the swordsman guard. He turned to the other bandit on the ground and hefted his hammer in a two handed grip, taunting him to get back up.

When the bandit tried Bayde stepped into his guard and jabbed him down with this hammer's shaft. Rather than let him recover the mercenary quickly stomped on his throat and twisted his foot, snapping the raider's neck. A hard impact on his back got Bayde's attention, who turned to see the last remaining melee warrior with a broken sword, the remaining pieces shattered on the ground.

"Don't you know?" yelled Bayde as he smashed the bandit's jaw with a quick swing of his hammer, knocking the man to the ground. "Swords are overrated." He finished with a vicious downward strike that concaved the top of the bandit's skull in with a wet squish.
 
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Within a few swings of Lee's sword, the only bandit remaining before him was the leader. Surprisingly, he was standing his ground, with a large warhammer at hand and readied.
Lee pointed his sword at the bandit leader.
"Drop the hammer, and nobody else need be harmed."
The bandit captain laughed. "Me? Surrender? I'd rather die!"
"That can be arranged."
The mercenary shouted something else in that odd, guttural language. "Rai ko limatekh!"
There was another bolt of bluish lightning, and as it struck the bandit captain, there was a flash of greenish-blue light and a sound like a single beat on a gigantic drum, followed by a strong gust of wind and a cloud of billowing dust and smoke and steam that blew outward before quickly dispersing.
As the dust cleared, Lee stood, breathing heavily for a few seconds before catching his breath. All that remained of the bandit captain was a pile of ash.
 
"Blue-" cried Bayde, pulling his hammer from the corpse's skull. "That you?" The man was full of surprises, casting flashes of light and thunderous noises that was slowly starting to grate at his nerves. He barely had time to continue his sentence when another bolt skimmed past his neck- he cursed louder than any storm cast by the swordsmage and ducked.

Anger swelling in his chest, the warrior pushed against the ground towards the shrubbery that hid the offending crossbowman. He struggled through the blackthorns and roots before coming out from the other side into a small clearing, where two younger looking raiders were exchanging a crossbow between one another. It took him a brief moment to realize one of them was acting as the loader and the older of the two fired the bolt. "Bad timing." he growled, getting up to his feet, hefting his hammer in a two-handed stance.

The loader was first to charge him with a woodcutter's ax, but Bayde quickly parried the overhead blow with the shaft of his weapon. In a flash he twisted the man's arm, locking his shaft over and under his elbow. Bayde let no mercy come to him as he pushed the shaft down, and thus breaking the youth's arm in a sickening crack. He quickly kneed the man's exposed throat and dropped the body, leaving the bandit to choke on his own spit and blood.

His next foe was a little more devious, clearly the most experienced of the lot: he pulled out a hatchet from his belt and beckoned aggressively for Bayde to charge him. The slight provocation was enough to send the armoured warrior to attack him with a careful strike that was easily side-stepped. Instead of receiving the hammer the bandit performed a shallow cut aimed for Bayde's exposed armpit- the aim of the attack was spotted immediately and Bayde reeled back in a hurry, nearly tripping on the dying body he left behind. The two seasoned warriors faced off each other warily, unwilling to be on the receiving end of either's weapons.

When Bayde stepped on an errant twig, the snap broke the silence and sent both men against each other. Bayde's overhead attack was immediately caught by the underside of the bandit's hatchet, who ducked under his guard and immediately went to tackle Bayde's mid-riff.

"You choose poorly." Bayde grunted as he braced himself for the tackle, swinging the bandit's body aside, using his weapon's long shaft for leverage. Before the bandit could regain his balance Bayde immediately shoved him back, disorienting him further with a head butt that sent the rogue to his knees. When the bandit looked up, a dark shadow fell upon his forehead.


Crack!
"Think I nailed the point." quoted the mercenary. His breathing was heavy and ragged, the blood slowly leaving his head. The dull pounding was gone, leaving the silence of a forest in Bayde's ears.
 
The teal-haired mercenary walked quickly back over to the cart when all was said and done, breathing heavily and sweaty but relatively uninjured. Fortunately the cart had sustained but a couple stray crossbow bolts in the exchange, and the merchant was unharmed, albeit quite shaken, as the boy yelled back to his companion.
“Looks like we’re clear over here. You good on your end?”
There was a bit of fatigue in his voice, but he sounded otherwise fine.
 
The mercenary reappeared from the thicket bushes, none worse for wear minus his ragged breath as he dragged two more corpses into plain view. "Aul' fahne." His accent reverted to his countryside background, thick and more guttural. This did not come without his notice and he paused his walk to clear his throat. "All's fine. Five dead." With a grunt Bayde dropped the two bodies next to their compatriots. He gave his companion a quick glance before kneeling down and rifling through their inventories.

A coin pouch there, small daggers here- they weren't rich or they wouldn't be harassing travelers. Nonetheless any bit of riches they possessed was riches Bayde did not have- but rightly earned with their deaths. "We should start gathering wood, burn the bodies- how many on your end?"

Bayde paused as he clipped a dagger to his belt, standing up with a grim look on his face.