Posts from Sylvester Archipelago Auto-translated

That's right, women hinder the development of good and warm friendships between men.

Just look at the expedition: hundreds of horny men in steel box in the middle of the ocean for up to six months at a time... there has to be a reason that people volunteer for that, right?

Either everyone creates female characters at the same time, or no one does. It's a matter of public opinion, you know.

Oh, I completely forgot. For those who don't want to read this wall of text, just watch the video WARNING: the video features God Yoltir, who brings down a rockslide on the hero with his hammer and fills the cave with fire.

Dawn broke. Timid sunbeams had not yet disturbed the morning chill, and the forest dwellers were still lounging in their nightly shelters. A thin mist glided across the ground, tireless waves rolled steadily onto the shore, and it seemed as if a sanctuary kingdom of primordial peace stretched out all around.
The pleasant silence was broken by a sharp shout that echoed over the water:
— Ky-yk! — some birds fluttered up in fright and disappeared into the thick foliage.
— Ky-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-yk! — a stocky man with red spots on his face roared like a wounded mountain troll. — Come back, **kin son!
A bearded man in a boat was rowing diligently.
— Come back, I was joking!
— One does not joke with the Gods, — the bearded man shouted back. Clearly, he was not in the mood for conversation.
— Curse you and your Gods! — the red-faced man grabbed a stone and hurled it after the receding boat. The sound of the splash was satisfying, but the ripples spread across the water a good ten meters away from the target.
— How dare you... you... wet nurse! Rest assured, I'll dig you out from under the ground! If I weren't...
The boat turned beyond the cape; now the fugitive no longer heard the threats and curses directed at him. He looked at the rising sun and, without looking back, set course for the west.

Meanwhile, the red-faced man returned to camp empty-handed. In response to the questioning looks of his companions, he gathered his thoughts, stepped into the center, and began to speak:
— I have seen much in my time, of course, but this... He chickened out! This pup was lying at my feet, begging me not to go there, — the crowd buzzed with disapproval.
— A piece of bear shit, a coward! I drove him away... in shame!
— Right on, well done! — someone shouted. — We don't need people like that!
— Coward! Rag!
— But we'll manage without him; we have enough men. Right, boys? And everyone will get an increased share!
The crowd erupted in satisfied cheers.

Two days later, towards evening, in the small town of Sjyotouyukyur.
The only orc tavern in town was called "The Salted Head." It is unclear where the name came from, but it seems the orcs liked it. That was where the tired fugitive made his way.
Opening the heavy wooden door, he stepped boldly inside. The room was very stuffy. The smell of stale sweat mixed with the smells of fish and cheap lighting grease. Many patrons immediately began to cast sidelong glances at the newcomer, but the tavern keeper recognized him.
— Kyk! Brother, what brings you here? Haven't seen you for about two years! — the orcs returned to their business and no longer paid attention to the man. — Make yourself at home. Are you just passing through or staying long?
The Ryorvalian sat down at the counter:
— Hello, Mamhu. I won't make predictions, but I'll definitely stay for the night, — and placed several coins before the owner.
— You look exhausted, buddy. As if you've been loading fish for twenty-four hours straight.
— Well, how should I put it. You almost guessed right. I sailed alone from Cape Vrdin, — Kyk nodded toward a row of bottles behind the orc. — Pour me some to wake me up.
— Wow, — the tavern keeper began to wipe a glass.
— The job fell through.
— That happens, — Mamhu nodded understandingly. — Roughly the same story as with those Hamsters?
— Worse, — the man said curtly.
Genuine surprise appeared on the orc's face:
— Now that's more interesting.
— It involves a hammer. And there are many people there.
— Hm... thanks for the warning. I'll ask around to see what's what. Were any of ours there?
— No. Mostly southerners in general. And they're led by a red-faced man.
The Ryorvalian drained the glass in one gulp.
— Now you, tell me, what interesting things happened while I was gone?
The owner transformed immediately; he loved telling stories.
— Well, listen. There was this case, absolutely hilarious. A couple of months ago, some southerner missionary came to convert mountain trolls to his faith. Well, they accepted him, of course, and as a sign of respect for his religion, they offered him a festive dish called "laz-vkotel." And he agreed, — the orc and man laughed heartily. — The most interesting part is that this preacher even stayed alive. Lucky guy.
— Do trolls have any kind of religion in general?
— Well... you can't say off the top of your head. There seem to be some figurines, but whether they pray to them or wipe their asses with them, I don't know.

— And who won the last competition?
— Oh, that's a very interesting story. Everyone thought Hjarmod would win and marry Svanveig. They even prepared a corresponding dowry. But in the final, he faced the daring Ingvald. You should have seen that fight! He jumped like an enraged leopard and honestly defeated Hjarmod. Clearly, he had a huge crush on the girl. Rumor has it she's happy too.
— If he won honestly, without any throwing the match, then there are no complaints.

— By the way, remember that old man, Bilve Saddle-from-the-horse? In his house, he was indulging in love own pleasures with the young daughter of some miner.
— Well and what, on a stake?
— No, heaven forbid, they just condemned him; he's a respected person, he's allowed to.

The Ryorvalian thoughtfully combed his beard.
— And what about merchants?
— You know yourself, it's a quiet place here. Although six months ago one ship arrived, clearly from far away, strange people, all of them have their heads wrapped in some kind of rags. Probably afraid of baldness, — the orc chuckled. — So, they brought indescribable sweets. Simply finger-licking. Called Pah-Lava, or something like that. But they didn't take our money; we had to trade for walrus tusks... No-no, don't ask to try some, it was all eaten long ago.
— No, I meant regarding work.
— Ah, I didn't catch on right away. Well, I'll find out about that, rest assured.

The orc leaned closer and lowered his voice:
— And this. Between us, the winter will be very cold. Get ready.
— How do you know?
— Bjorn the Squint's bitch had puppies a week ago; all the puppies are white-white, with red eyes. An omen, that's what.
— Yes, I'll have to warn my own, — Kyk nodded understandingly.
— You can go and see for yourself. Just take some kind of gift.
— Well, you have a piece of dried meat?
— Anything at your expense, — Mamhu winked.

In the morning, the orc informed the Ryorvalian that the only suitable work right now was an offer from merchant Lutiel the Sly-faced. Kyk warmly said goodbye to the tavern owner and, on his way to the port, stopped by Bjorn's to see the puppies. They really were white and very cute.

[...........] Sound of a typewriter [...........]
Brief biographical reference.
Odd "Kyk" Bergström, 29 years old (picture)
Third child in the family (out of seven). His father was a respected warrior. He spent most of his life on long expeditions and collected a decent collection of weapons. Odd also wanted to be a warrior from childhood. Although the local priest said the boy had the makings of a healer, Odd firmly decided he wanted to be like his father. He learned to handle a spear and short axe, but his favorite weapon became a halberd, once brought as a trophy from southern lands.

A halberd is a polearm cold weapon with a combined tip consisting of a needle (round or faceted) spear point and the blade of a battle axe with a sharp fluke. Halberds were used to pierce all types of armor with the point, pull riders off horses, draw ships in during boarding, and deliver chopping-crushing blows with the blade or the axe fluke.

Origin: Ryorvalia: damage dealt by enemy spells is halved; free scouting skill.

Beliefs: Ryorthir: in battle, the enemy's strength is equalized with the character's strength if it was greater, and the character's agility is doubled.

Skills and abilities:

Polearms
I Proficiency with polearms.
II Chance to parry an enemy attack (agility).
III +13 to melee evasion.
IV Chance to perform a counterattack and paralyze the enemy for one turn (agility).


Healing Magic
has the makings, has no skills

Additional abilities
Battle Mage: +15 to strength, +15 to agility
Scout: (free) character gains the ability to promptly gather information about the nearby territory

Characteristics:
Constitution: 25
Intelligence: 10
Strength: 10 + 15 = 25
Agility: 30 + 15 = 45
Speed: 12
Will: 10
Perception: 18

(Nebo, please recount to make sure everything is correct)

Equipment:
Halberd
Light leather armor and helmet
Rope
Two different flasks with some herbal infusions - the result of his own trials in this field, and the result seems negative (since he knows nothing about it)
Amulet (religious attribute)

If no one else is going to sign up, then we'll probably start today.

Added 1 hour 6 minutes ago
It was mid-summer, but in Sjyotoayukyu, it was not warm as usual. A northwesterly wind drove cold, damp sea air inland. The climate is not the most pleasant, but the locals are used to it, unlike travelers who occasionally wander into these remote northern lands. The only desire they have after a short stay in the city is to leave as soon as possible.

So, players, you have a certain number of locations at your disposal that you can visit before the ship sails. I strongly recommend visiting Mr. Lutiel to get a job.
I've given a little money to everyone who didn't specify money in their inventory. And I've given a little more to those who did.

Available locations:

Lutiel's House.
Tower.
Sjyotoayukyu Market:
Alchemist's Shop.
Cartographer's Shop.
Blacksmith.
Harbor:
The Big Hook Tavern.
The Drunken Whale ship.
Fishermen's Bridge.

I thought Siever would create an Arabian pikeman. Ugh, they started without me. Couldn't they wait two weeks?

Ugh, they started without me. Couldn't they wait two weeks?

Were you planning on playing?

/gray/ We will find you in a cage among the barbarians /gray/
Before leaving, Gordian still gave his son some money (it's better this way, because who knows what he might come up with) and ordered the manager to pay him periodically, but within reasonable limits.
Upon arriving in the city, Bruttius first wanted to meet his friend Marius, but he had already left somewhere.
"I thought we would do this together. What's the point then? He suggested it himself and then disappeared." A little later, Gordian managed to find an explanatory letter from his friend: he apologized, saying that his mother was very ill.
"I know this type of old men, like Marius's mother. She's always sick, and then she easily outlives her son."
Be that as it may, Gordian went to see the employer - Lutiel.

Tiberius inhaled the cold air once more and shivered. During the journey, his mood had completely soured, and the weather only added to his gloomy thoughts. Dodging another gust of wind, the wizard muttered an unintelligible curse under his breath and set off to find Lutiel's home.

The elf had been in R'lyeh for quite some time and, as a result, had managed to adapt to the local climate, and he wasn't one to complain about the weather. And although this country had its own unique beauty, he no longer wanted to stay here. Lutiel's announcement seemed like a solid option for continuing his journey.
Sarrael is heading to Lutiel's house.

Be that as it may, Gordian set off to see his employer – Lutiel.

A few dozen meters later, the Madian encountered a patrol. Two guards, armed with one-handed swords, axes, and shields, were making their rounds. One of them had a large white dog on a leash. Smelling Gordian, the dog immediately rushed towards him, barking and growling.
- What is this! Down, Bjöstr! Down! - the guard shouted, but it didn't help; the dog wouldn't calm down.

As Tanasia approached Lutiel’s dwelling, he was equally tormented by doubts and curiosity. On the one hand, the generous payment and the promise of compensation for the disabled clearly indicated that the job would not be easy. And the employer’s nickname, as well as his experience communicating with local merchants, suggested that whatever the job was, it deserved a higher rate. On the other hand, Tanasia was curious to know exactly what this job would entail. Who knows, maybe it will lead Tanasia to fame and success? However, he tried to push these thoughts away, as it was very rare in life to get everything at once.

Tiberius inhaled the cold air once more and shivered. During the journey, his mood had completely soured, and the weather only added to his gloomy thoughts. Dodging another gust of wind, the wizard muttered an unintelligible curse under his breath and set off to find Lutiël's house.

Tiberius successfully reached Lutiël's house, which was located right at the entrance to the harbor. The house was two stories high, but not very large. It looked quite modest from the outside. The door seemed to be open.

Added 6 minutes later
You'll be standing in line, just like at a hospital.

Gordian frowned at the dog and continued on his way. "Don't they feed it, or what?"

Before Tiberius could reach the door, it swung open, and a rather tall and imposing woman rushed in, knocking him to the ground. "I apologize, sir. I didn't see you," she said in a emotionless and somewhat rough voice, extending a hand to help the mage.

The elf had been in R'lyeh for quite some time and, as a result, had adapted to the local climate, and he wasn't one to complain about the weather. And although this country had its own unique beauty, he no longer wanted to stay here. Lutiel's announcement seemed like a solid option for continuing his journey.
Sarael walks towards Lutiel's house.

Approaching the house, Sarael noticed a mage lying on the ground and a red-haired woman trying to help him up. Entering, he saw an elderly man sitting at a table, hunched over and filling out some papers. He noticed the elf but didn't react to his arrival.

Added 2 minutes later

Gordian frowned at the dog and continued on his way. "Don't they feed it?"

"Hold on!" the guard with the dog called out to Gordian. "You're not from around here, are you?"