• PM To Join • When It Rains, It Pours

As expected, Max and Merces are out doing more heroic acts in Almund.

Almund is a thriving township with a dark side. With houses made from the wooden bodies of decommissioned ships, there are many opportunities here, coupled with many dangers.

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Max
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Sat Feb 10, 2018 4:22 am

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Cylus 20, Arc 717


The earth-rattling crash was enough to violently tear Max from Emea. The woman jerked awake into a sitting position, eyes dilated and heart thumping wildly in her chest as adrenaline flooded involuntarily throughout her body. If it weren't for lulling rumbles of thunder that occasionally invaded her dream, she might've mistaken the frightening sound for some great heathen busting down the damned door. The storm had started as most did. First came the ominous thunderheads rolling over the island. Next came the thick drops of rain which pinged like rapid-fire upon the roof in a soothing, sleep-inducing rhythm. The hail, however, had changed the game. Every once in a while a particularly loud thump had roused her from sleep, indicating the size of the ice chunks had increased. The last crash, however, was no massive piece of hail.

The bloodcurdling screams that followed had Max turning to look down at Merces with quizzical alarm. She threw off the covers and jumped from her paramour's bed, flitting about the room to clothe her naked figure. In less than a bit she was throwing open the shutters blocking her view outside the window. Her eyes widened. Panic urged her to turn back around, to shout out to Mercy a description of what exactly she was witnessing. Firelight had filled the room the moment she discarded their obstacle to viewing the outside world, however. There was no need to explain what was obvious to them both: Almund was on fire.

"Fuck!" Max let the curse slip with a mix of both awe and anxiety. At this point her conscious mind was not the one with the reins. She stared out toward the house down the street filled with shrieks and flames alike, turned with wide eyes to meet Mercy's stare, and threw open his door without warning. The Rusalka was out the door and down the street before even she knew what she was doing. Did she even feel the icy rain as it came to rest upon her skin?

"Please!" a little girl yelled into the night, collapsed just outside the blaze consuming her home. "Someone! Help!" Max came upon her quickly. Gods, she practically fell over as she tried to bring her sprint to a halt when she spied the child in the dark. The young girl reached out and clutched Maxine's hand, big eyes staring up at the Mixed Blood with an existential fright that was uncomfortably familiar. "Please, Miss! Me mother and me brother!" The Rusalka's brow furrowed until she followed the girl's pointing finger back toward the burning house. She bit her lip. She had a basic understanding on how fires worked. Worse, thanks to Merces, she understood how they could kill. With every trill she debated the flames were surely spreading. Her eyes glanced from the roof, the point from which the fire seemed to start, down to the door of the domicile.

It's not your problem, Max. Fuck it. It's not your problem. Go home.

The little voice of rationality failed, and the next thing she knew, she was busting through the door of the partially engulfed Almund home to race against the flames.



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Sun Feb 11, 2018 6:24 am

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Much like the deep seeded hatred which took root in the heart of the Sorcerer; fire consumed Almund without discrimination. The torrential inferno practically swallowed the small town whole and beckoned the Sorcerer from his slumber with screams. Words that were not comprehensible lashed out at The Sorcerer from every direction. The irises which danced with a cerulean inferno and intertwined with what appeared to be bright embers. Three words finally brought themselves to the surface and became discernible. “Destroy, Consume, Kill.” The words echoed loudly about the vicinity, and The Sorcerer rushed to the side of his companion. The earth itself seemed to rattle in the presence of such a large torrent of flames. He rose from the bed completely nude, and did not care about his lack for clothing. However at the mention of the city being in danger he rose to the occasion. The Sorcerer saw multiple opportunities for work.

The Sorcerer questioned several things simultaneously, and had become curious as to where the fire originated. Why did it continuously burn and spread; who set fire to the town and what was their motive for doing so? If the perpetrator were killed would the problem be solved, or were there a group of people responsible? Certainly he would be the first to find out the source of the issue and correct it before things got out of hand. If Almund were to be set ablaze; it would not be at the hands of anyone other than himself. Merces would be called responsible for the heinous acts of another if he did not act quickly. Thus rather than question why fire awoke him with screams of grandeur, and asked for assistance he moved. The Sorcerer darted to the opposite side of the room and slipped into his daily attire only to return black clad in his leather armor.

The extravagant idiosyncratic cloak of feathers hung atop a hook, and The Sorcerer grabbed that too only to throw it over his shoulders. The small strap across the V-line secured the cloak as it had no sleeves. Without hesitation he followed Max out the door, and caught up to her as she charged off toward the city. His heavy boots collided with the ground and echoed about the vicinity loudly. How could fire exist in the presence of this ice-rain? There were large chunks of hail scattered about the ground beneath his feet.

The Sorcerer searched with the infernos within his irises for an answer to the multitude of questions as he heard a plea for assistance. “My mother, My brother” Spoke the small person as she directed their attention to a home set ablaze. The Sorcerer inhaled and exhaled sharply as he marched toward the fire with both his hands within his pockets. People misunderstood fire; it feared people just as much as people feared it more often than not. As a result of such a thing fire lashed out, right? Wrong, the elements were not sentient and had no true voice. Defiance brought about delusions of grandeur to the mages who practiced it heavily. The Sorcerer approached the home, and stopped at the door step which too was on fire. There were two more people inside the home; the roof had been on the verge of collapse.

“Get the fuck out of my way..” Merces spoke aloud as he casually waltzed into the flame, and watched it gradually spread away from his circumference. He entered the home, and large portions of the roof continued to fall, beak, and crack. He did not charge until he noticed a large chunk of wood about to collapse atop the two, and grasped them both by the collar only to barrel backward. He narrowly avoided being killed for himself. The Sorcerer pulled both of the people out by the collar of their clothing, slowly.

Little did they know that in the process of rescuing them; he had stolen a blade from the hip of the mother, and a small coin purse from the brother.

“Now get out of here, or I'll kill you before anything else will.” The Sorcerer spoke aloud.
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Tue Feb 13, 2018 5:58 am

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The Rusalka knew that Merces would practically be at her heels the moment she fled his domicile. She hadn't thought to wait for him to enter the roaring flames and choking air within the engulfed home either. The moment she crossed the threshold, flames crashed down from the ceiling, making any subsequent entries inside all the more perilous for those who couldn't soothe the elements. The event naturally did little to pause her lover's advance. For him she only feared the ash in the air that threatened to asphyxiate them both should they overstay their welcome. There was little time to waste, and when she heard Merces' voice over the fire, she had no qualms about letting him lead.

The element's tendency to coddle the mage as he moved through the house meant that Max oftentimes couldn't follow the same route. She diverged to wander through flame-filled rooms to cover more ground, nearly falling backward each time she avoided embers made from the floor above spilling into her path. The stairs to the second floor were completely consumed. Tables, chairs, and sofas alike were falling victim to the lightning strike's aftermath one-by-one in quick succession. Even with her shirt pulled over her nose and mouth, there was no preventing the coughs that choked from her chest. The Rusalka ducked into what appeared to be a bedroom. It was almost too smoky to tell.

Flames began to lick at the legs of a small desk in the room's corner. Upon its worn surface, however, set a peculiar little box. Its wood was nicked and scarred as though its handler didn't take good care of it over the years. Curiosity piqued, Max couldn't help but scoop it up and pop it open. All that rested inside was an odd little pin. She dropped it into her palm and then slipped it into her pocket for safe-keeping. Perhaps if she made it out alive she'd return the keepsake to its rightful owners waiting outside. Maybe. She around to find her precious entrance was now blocked by rising flames.

Oh. That's bad.

Maxine turned wildly about, trying to regain her bearings and searching for a new way back toward the door. Unlucky for her, the way she entered the bedroom seemed to have also been the only exit. The ceiling above her head creaked ominously. Time was running out. Her eyes flickered everywhere and another cough racked her chest. Finally she spied the window. She grimaced at the thought, but there was little choice to be made. It was now or never. Do or die.

Max charged and dove shoulder-first through the glass. Shards flew in every which direction, spreading across the ground that soon after served as her rough landing point. She groaned and rolled over her back. Her lungs sucked for clean air and her bright eyes blinked toward the sky. She didn't rest long. Within a couple bits she willed herself back to her feet to jock to the other side of the home, desperately hoping Merces have escaped unscathed.


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Thu Feb 15, 2018 1:30 am

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Merces waited outside patiently as Max entered the veil of bright orange flame. Dark clouds similar in color to obsidian filled the vicinity, and would likely asphyxiate those who dared enter. The Sorcerer entered, and exited swiftly although Max decided to stay and rummage the wreckage. Scavenging for useful resources like some sort of animal. However, The Sorcerer knew that she did so rightfully; she no longer had a job, and needed to turn to crime to stay afloat. They would kill, steal, plunder and destroy in the name of Nel. Survival was no different in the wild as compared to civilization; only the strong who preyed on the weak got to sink their teeth into the most abundant resources. They were predators, and Scalvoris had become their new jungle. The homes much like the vegetation that flourished in a jungle biome were sources of food, water and shelter. The three basic needs of survival existed everywhere, and with each trial that passed the pair became more aggressive. The storm of flame had been nothing more than an opportunity for the maleficent duo to seize. The open flames drew themselves to Merces, and under typical circumstances one could not see the “Guardian” alongside him.

However, in this case the flame screamed and had been so abundant that a thin sheet of flame gathered around him wherever he traveled. Fire had become his closest companion despite not being sentient in the slightest of fashions. Why did defiance make the mages who used it delusional; The Sorcerer did not want to know although in the back of his mind the question festered. The elements were not alive, and they were not capable of speech; they had no tongues. Water may roar, crash and flow, Fire may crackle, consume, devour and destroy, Earth may rattle, fissure, and become soft, Wind may flow, blow and tear things in half with force, but they were all incapable of speaking. How could an element without a thought process as it lacked sentience take on such a personification?

The questions ran rampant, several bits passed and Merces felt an urge to turn away only to leave. He felt compelled to abandon the people who burned alive. Screams of terror, and the loom of destruction were all that would be left of the citizens. The Sorcerer did not care about their lives however, but wanted to understand why people fought so valiantly to live. If he were consumed by flame, and knew he would certainly die; why would he bother to fight a battle that cannot be won? Death would come to all things alive, and everyone had to meet death some trial. Merces became lost in his thoughts as a choked scream erupted from the esophagus of a male off in the distance.

The pathetic male reached for Merces, and screamed as the flame consumed his body. The mans flesh converted into a thick layer of distorted, partially melted mush. The bones of his visage had been exposed, and a combination of blood and charred flesh oozed from his structure. His right eye had been consumed entirely, and white fluid lit aflame drained from his corpse. The screams came to a halt as he watched the entirety of the body be covered. Merces could not even speak; he could have helped the man recover. Yet, rather than choose to save a life he watched the man meet his demise, and be eaten by the flame. The Sorcerer continued forward, and did not bother to look back at the man who left behind a small dagger with a hilt burned to the crisp, and a blade darkened by the charred flesh of his remains.

“The next time someone runs out at us, and looks for help.. I will kill them, as it is no good to leave the suffering alive. Why treat those who are so injured that they might as well be dead. Leaving them alive would be brutal; why live when you can die peacefully as opposed to suffering the remainder of your life?” Merces spoke aloud as he paced toward another nearby home.

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Thu Feb 15, 2018 4:21 pm

"Why steal from those that have already lost so much?"

The source of the voice came from an alley between the houses. It was soft, unmenacing, analytical, male. The alley was dark, obscuring all within its grasp. The alley offered shelter from the storm. Then out of the darkness, a short, slight of a man stepped toward Merces.

"But then you mages never really care about how us more mundane types do things. You ignore the laws of the land, which we can get behind. You look down on the weak, not an unreasonable sentiment. But you come into another man's house? Drink his wine, eat his bread, fuck his wife? No, that is not something we can let slide."

The man stepped forward some more, leaving no prints in the snow, his hands never leaving the pockets of his trousers, his cloak billowing out in the wind. His eyes were playful, a cat staring at a mouse it knew was trapped. He was human. The type of face that could be forgotten immediately.

"You might be strong, but boy, you are stupid."

The man shrugged, and a half dozen twangs echoed out simultaneously, but with the winds as harsh as they were, they were unheard. And as the nondescript man turned away from Merces, the six steel crossbow bolts found their marks. One crashed through the top of his right foot, pinning it to the frozen ground below. Another bit into the mage's left thigh, striking the bone. Two more struck him from behind, burying into his forearms. And finally, one impaled him in each shoulder, the right striking from the front, the left from the back. All bolts struck in the same instant.

The man was thrown to the cold ground from the force of the impacts. And the cloaked man, stopped, as if he'd forgotten something, turned back. "Oh you'll live, probably. If you're strong enough. Do not return to our town. This is our territory. Remember that."

The man nodded once, and Merces would be able to feel the flames that coated the bolts that flew toward the shelter he and Maxine had started their day in. The flaming ammunition found their marks within, and the structure was quick to burn, like every other structure here in Almund. It wouldn't be long until every possession within was consumed.

And that's when the silver-blonde haired woman presented herself to Maxine. "You have two very clear choices to make. Save your lover. Save your possessions. Either way, be out of our town in one break, or you'll not run free ever again. Have fun darlin'." The woman turned on heel, and disappeared into the storm, allowing Max to now see her skewered lover and burning abode.
 ! Message from: Aegis
Congratulations! You've gained the attention of the powers that be in Almund. This is a one off modbomb post, so feel free to continue the thread as you see fit (within your rights as PCs of course). So please, have fun :D If you have any questions, shoot me a message.

Merces, watch the overplaying of skills please.

"Little did they know that in the process of rescuing them; he had stolen a blade from the hip of the mother, and a small coin purse from the brother. "

With no pickpocketing, no stealth skill, he managed to steal from people who had the items on their person, without their knowledge? Seems unlikely.
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Mon Feb 19, 2018 4:25 am

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Max paused as she rounded the corner of the house. A harsh wind had blown the smoke from the nearby fire across her path ahead, shrouding her path to Merces in a thick black plume. Only once did she think she spied a silhouette that matched his figure. Within a trill the shadow went from standing to collapsing to the ground, and the sounds that echoed beyond the wall of airborne ash turned her face white.

Was that Merces that had been struck down by some force? It couldn't have been. She'd seen him drop bodies before his victims even managed to draw their swords from their sheaths. Once she'd even tried to strike him herself only for an element force to drive her back. As far as history had led her to believe, the man she shared a bed with was invincible. Surely that hadn't changed. Not here. Not now. And yet...

Max was about to charge through the hot smoke when a new arrival prevented her immediate advance. His silvery hair provided a fantastical contrast against the dark ashes that spewed behind her. The Rusalka took a defensive step back and let her hand linger toward her sword hilt. Oddly enough, the expression on the woman's face wasn't combative or threatening. Her voice was very matter-of-fact despite the chill of her words.

Save my lover or save my possessions?

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Maxine responded with a tilt of her head, face contorting with dubiety. She never got an answer. Much to her vexation, the peculiar blonde merely vanished from her presence without another word. Little balls of light soared overhead. The wind broke for but a few trills but that was all it took. With the smoke aimed more skyward, the plight of her reality was in full view for her to behold. Her heart fell to her feet and panic took its place. Merces was grounded with bolts. The words of the blonde ricocheted in her mind.

"Save your lover. Save your possessions."

Maxine turned her head to find a new blaze had started to consume the home she and Merces shared. Her eyes went wide and her jaw began to unhinge with surprise, fists balling in fury. Inside were the few things she owned. Furniture, her warmer weather clothing, waterskin, and utensils. All were to be swallowed by the flames. The orphan had come from absolutely nothing and her feet began to move to save what little she'd ever been able to call her own.

She only managed to get about four steps in before her heart strings were torn in a completely different direction. The panic had pulled her rational mind out of control, but even on the most primitive operating level her brain knew which choice she truly wished to make. Materials were just that. She'd lived with them for only a short time, and had survived without them for majority of her existence. She could do it again. With no house, no job, no purpose, Merces was the thing in her life she couldn't so easily go on without. When this life had robbed her of everything he had remained by her side. That loyalty alone was worth more than anything she'd ever possessed.

Maxine sprinted through the smoke and dropped to her knees beside her man. Her panicked hands hovered over the various bolts in his flesh, anguish filling her wide eyes while uncertainty flooded her expression. She'd no reason to doubt any of the woman's threats so far, and according to her, that had but a break to vacate wretched Almund. "You have to get up," Max pleaded. "We have to go. They didn't give us much time!" Against her better judgement, she slung one of his wounded arms over her shoulder and snaked her arm behind his back. "Please, please! We have to go!"

If Merces had the strength to lend help in the endeavor, she'd strain herself getting him to his feet and holding him upright. Adrenaline would be all that fed her muscles now, and even she knew that supply would be finite in its ability to sustain this miraculous feat. The first thing she'd look to do would be to find a horse or some sort of drawn wagon to commission or hijack. They needed to get out, but more importantly, they needed to find a safe place with a healer.



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Thu Feb 22, 2018 3:37 am

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Merces carried on with his plan for the trial; Murder, espionage, thievery and a lack of sympathy for those he rescued. However, he did not so much as receive a warning when a voice spoke in a manner that had been entirely too calm. Why had the area suddenly become silent outside the snap, crackle and pop of open flame and the collapsing of homes? Nothing but the voice remained, the people that he rescued disappeared from his sight. Perhaps they had been lost within the veil of smoke which seemed to mercilessly asphyxiate its victims. Death had been all that was to come of this trial, as The Sorcerer directed his attention in the direction of the voice; he had been stricken. Six simultaneous puncture wounds to various areas of his body. His heel had been pinned to the ground with a large bolt that penetrated it. The guardian did not even so much as attempt to react to the sudden feat of violence inflicted upon The Sorcerer.

A band of cowardly “mundane” individuals chose to lash out against him and seek vengeance. Finally someone worthy of his attention had come to reckon with the monster of a man called “Mercy.” The effort could have been appreciated had they not attacked from the shadows. Never before had The Sorcerer experienced so much pain simultaneously. They did not kill him when they had the opportunity, but much rather elected to run him out of Almund. His home had been destroyed alongside Max's, but they wanted her to make a choice. Whether or not she should save him or her own possessions. Tears welled beneath tightly shut eye lids; Merces came to accept the reality of the situation. Who would elect to save a man that has abused them, and nearly killed them several times? Who would remain loyal to someone who had been so unfaithful to them, and showed them no compassion when they needed support?

His eyes snapped open, and labored breaths followed the contact of his partner.

Max

She hoisted him into a position that she could use to assist him in moving. Every motion had been painful, and muscle spasms followed his every move. The trickle of warm crimson aqua de vitae filled his leather trousers, and blouse. The blood went as far as to begin filling his boots, and they had only been given a short amount of time to flee the city of Almund. Merces was no coward, and had he not been in such a weak state he might have turned to fight.

“Why did you save me?! You should have left me for dead, Max!” He spoke in the loudest tone he had been capable of. However, with his arm slung over her shoulder. She supported his ability to carry forth and find a healer before too much time elapsed. They threatened not only Merces, but his lover and partner in crime.

“Save yourself Max! You can leave me.. I am the one who should die, I dragged you into this, I cost you everything you own! Why did you do this!?” He spoke aloud in a feat of confusion as he continued to march with a trail of blood at his heels.

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Mon Feb 26, 2018 8:17 pm

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"Shhh," Max tried to soothe her babbling partner as she moved him along. "Don't talk." The bolt placements in his body had been strategic. Whoever attacked him had been a gifted bowman, and clearly intended to send a terse message rather than fatally spill Merces' blood. Still, the mage needed every ounce of energy he could spare and then some. Time was ticking away but for him and their chance to get away.

They didn't get far through the storm before she spied a grey-haired man driving his horse-drawn wooden wagon toward shelter. Her eyes lit up and she surged the pair of them ahead in his direction. "Hey!" she shouted above the sound of hail striking the cobblestones beneath their feet. "Hey!" The second shout seemed to get the man's attention. His eyes were quick to spot the blood trailing in the puddles behind them, and dismounted to meet them swiftly.
"Shite!" the man huffed as he approached them. "What happened?!" The good samaritan made the well-intentioned mistake of getting too close. In a moment Max had drawn her short sword from her hip and placed it menacingly beside his neck. The man froze with wide eyes.
"Put him in the back of your wagon," she commanded firmly. "Now! Carefully!" The sword remained until he had gently taken Merces from her. She followed with the sword pressed to his back until the mage was placed as kindly as possible upon the thick stack of wet hay. Max could feel the time wasting away. Perhaps she could've simply asked the kind man to borrow his possessions in their obvious need. The Rusalka couldn't bear the thought of explanations and possible refusals. She swung the flat side of her blade as hard as she could against the side of the man's head, hoping she managed to maybe not kill him. The moment he dropped, Max jumped into the driver's seat and roughly flicked the reins.

The horse stirred into a quick trot down the streets of Almund. She was no skilled driver, but it was easier to direct the horse from the wagon rather than it had been from horseback. Only a few bits had passed before Max managed to conclude the sloppy ride at the doorstep of Durkahrn's. The dark-haired woman jumped down from the seat and slammed her fists upon the door until a long-haired Biqaj man appeared with a rattled expression.
"Help!" Max implored him, defaulting to her broken Rakahi in hopes the request in his own language might elicit sympathy. "Him! Wagon! Bolts!" The Head Doctor followed her pointing finger to where Merces laid before he rushed inside, gathering supplies and recruiting his staff to stretcher the mage into the safety of the building.

Max ran her bloodied hands through her soaked black hair, pressing her heels against her temples as she looked on. She hated watching other hands tend to him. She hated herself more that she didn't somehow manage to protect him, to kill those that would fill him like a pin-cushion before they had. Try as they might, none of the healers could manage to separate Max from Merces' side. They quickly gave up on that hope after Max punched one of the nurses that tried unconscious. So long as she didn't interfere with the actual process of their work, it seemed they were content to let her remain.

"No time," Max tried to explain further to the Head Doctor in Rakahi. "Must move. Scalvoris Town. No break." The Biqaj nodded, likely used to the shadiness of the business that happened in Almund. They were likely not the first that arrived seeking medical attention while on the run. They likely wouldn't be the last. Right before the Head Doctor finished putting on his gloves to behind his work on Merces, Max left him with one Rakahi-spoken threat she knew by heart.

"If he dies, I'll fucking kill you."


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Sat Apr 21, 2018 6:37 pm

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Your Thread Review is Here!
This was a fun read, apologies for the delay of the review here. Totally spaced it. It's nice seeing the realization in Merces that he'd treated Max like garbage and the surprise of when she came back. Additionally seeing Max struggle at first with her choice was wonderful. Well done the both of you. If you have any questions, let me know.
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Requirement Fulfillment Comment+
Solo or Collab Collab +8 Skill Knowledges
How many posts? 4 +1 Skill Knowledge
How many requested? 9 --
Are all posts greater than 250 words? --
Is the thread greater than 1500 words? --
Knowledges appropriate? X Your "Mount" skill needs a subset. Mount (Cart) is what I would recommend
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Below is your well deserved loot. If you have any questions, please PM me. Also please add the provided stamp to your review request found here and please update your CS with all of this information.

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      [center][img]http://standingtrials.com/gallery/image.php?album_id=39&image_id=12064[/img][/center]
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Skill Points +15 --
Magic Points available? N/A --
Renown +5 --
Injuries N/A --
Loss of home and all belongings not on person in thread -- Make sure to remove all items not on your person in this thread, which appeared to be clothing and weapon.
Element Pin (Earth) 1
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Skill Knowledge:
  1. Acrobatics: Diving Through a Window
  2. Detection: Screams Indicate Danger
  3. Discipline: Moving Toward a Goal Despite Danger
  4. Intimidation: Threats of Death to Get What You Want
  5. Intimidation: Motivating Success with Threats of Death
  6. Mount (Cart): Driving a Cart Forward
  7. Resistance: Working in a Smoke-filled Room
  8. Strength: Half-Carrying an Injured Man
  9. Deception: Stealing Under the Guise of Heroism


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Merces
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How many requested? 8 --
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Knowledges appropriate? X Larceny is not a skill. Please select another and PM and I will update.
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Renown appropriate? --
Injuries appropriate? --
Below is your well deserved loot. If you have any questions, please PM me. Also please add the provided stamp to your review request found here and please update your CS with all of this information.

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Loot
Reward Amount Comment
Skill Points +15 --
Magic Points available? --
Renown +5 --
Loss of home and all belongings not on person in thread -- Make sure to remove all items not on your person in this thread, which appeared to be clothing (now with additional blood stains and bolt holes)
Crossbow bolt wound - Top of Right Foot -- --
Crossbow bolt wound - Left Thigh -- --
Crossbow bolt wound - Left Forearm -- --
Crossbow bolt wound - Right Forearm -- --
Crossbow bolt wound - Left Shoulder -- --
Crossbow bolt wound - Right Shoulder -- --
Knowledges
Skill Knowledge:
  1. Detection: Spotting Weak Points of a Burning Building
  2. Endurance: Taking Multiple Bolts to the Body
  3. Intimidation: Threats of Violence
  4. Leadership: Barking Orders
  5. Strength: Pulling Someone Out of a Fire
  6. Larceny: Stealing Off Someone's Person
  7. Discipline: Moving On in Spite of Pain
  8. Discipline: Refusing to Succumb to Injuries


Non-Skill Knowledge:
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