Min/Max Boards

Calder Ivarsson, Storm Giant Sniper



Civilized Storm Archer, Go!

Madoc narrows his eyes. There's a good chance his prey is within this building after all, but the frame seems more rickety than he'd hoped. Climbing up and down frequently, let alone stealthily, didn't seem to be a wise move.

Maintaining his position but also trying his best to stay out of view of the interior inhabitants, Madoc gestures in the affirmative that the biyou is inside. He then holds up two fingers to signal that there are at least two figures. He only hopes that he's not inadvertently misleading them.

Madoc sneers at the frightened locals as they retreat. They know death looms over this place, yet they flee from it as though it should be feared rather than embraced. Drancedigaeth will welcome them to his domain regardless. However, it wasn't yet their time.

"I'll scout above; if the building crumbles beneath me, be ready to chase our quarry as he scrambles from the rubble."

The Yn Gyntaf trusts the resiliency of the building about as far as he could throw it. Of course, given his skillset, perhaps he should trust it more than he does.
He hoists himself up around the corner of the building, using makeshift handholds to reach the roof, and cautiously scouts from above.

Because money alone isn't enough to grease the wheel:

Madoc looms nearby. He had been quiet for days, which is characteristic of him, but it seemed exaggerated by recent events. Mistakes had been made. Not by Madoc, of course; his skills are flawless, or so he tells himself. He harbors his guilt for losing their prey, whether he earned that guilt or not.

He scans the nearby surroundings for anything of notable interest.

Regarding my character, I think I like Razor enough to stick with them. I can see where I'll want to guide their sphere talents more in the future, as I'm not sure I did the best job initially, but they're in serviceable shape for now.

Madoc Stealth:

Comedy legend Carl Reiner, dead at 98.

Madoc's brow remains settled in its constant, furrowed state. The townsfolk had already resigned themselves to the reality of their circumstances. They would not be helpful, at large.

He stalks into the ruined land, looking for clues, and investigates the remaining buildings for anything of note.

"Might be something to go off of... but I am not optimistic."

I feel like Slake was the only one voting to stay, even if Ceir seemed to want to study the bulette if it shows up. Razor isn't yet hungry and doesn't know anything about the creature, so they don't particularly have any reason to stay.