A
Apocaric
Guest
Original poster
"I know sword-fu."
Eyvindr snorted. "And I have a hammer. What's your point?" he said derisively, flipping the warhammer handle-over-head with practiced ease before catching it again. Seeing everyone else go through their gear distracted him from the need to hammer someone, and he did a quick check of his own.
Armor? Check. Hammer? Check. Dagger? Check. Throwing axe? Check /Oh, is that what that is?//Reinforced gauntlet?/ Check. /Bandolier with potions of Cure Light Wounds?//Bandolier.../ Check. Backpack and bedroll? Check. /Everything's here.//I think that's it./
Shrugging, he maneuvered himself through the rest of the now-distracted champions to demand some answers. "All right, now what the FLYING RATFUCK......" he trailed off, suddenly confronted by no less than four gods.
Eyvindr snorted. "And I have a hammer. What's your point?" he said derisively, flipping the warhammer handle-over-head with practiced ease before catching it again. Seeing everyone else go through their gear distracted him from the need to hammer someone, and he did a quick check of his own.
Armor? Check. Hammer? Check. Dagger? Check. Throwing axe? Check /Oh, is that what that is?//Reinforced gauntlet?/ Check. /Bandolier with potions of Cure Light Wounds?//Bandolier.../ Check. Backpack and bedroll? Check. /Everything's here.//I think that's it./
Shrugging, he maneuvered himself through the rest of the now-distracted champions to demand some answers. "All right, now what the FLYING RATFUCK......" he trailed off, suddenly confronted by no less than four gods.