--Previous Message--
: : Zak suddenly realizes she HAS studied the
: armor of several ancient civilizations--
: or rather, the relics of it. Her quill
: darts quickly over the page and produces
: several copies of the strange,
: gladiator-type of armor that the children
: encountered in the Maze of Darkness.
: "Well.....it'll do...for those of us who
: haven't anything..." Zak is eying
: the pile with distaste, obviously not
: intending to wear any herself. "If
: you have something else in mind, I'll do
: my best!" She chuckles, trying to
: ignore the various orcs coming steadily
: closer. "Anyone want to dress like
: the Cavalier? Or the Ranger...?"
: She produces some chainmaile shirts,
: breastplates, gauntlets, and imitation
: sheilds, and some studded leather armor as
: well.
: To be amusing, she provides a
: Zena-Warrior-Princess-esque outfit as
: well.
"Cearst ma tha," Kryschenn said with amusement, though she didn't realize she was speaking in Scottish Gallic, which in itself was a pretty good trick because she had never learned that language. "No thanks, Zak, I'm set." As an afterthought, she reached into her boot and pulled out a small, flat, sheathed dagger about 8 inches long. "I even got a sgian dubh with the armor. This is the "hidden knife" that all Highland Scotsmen would carry in their sock." Shrugging, she hid it back in her boot and added, "Scots MEN carried it. Even whoever gave me this armor and persona thought I was a guy!"
All amusement aside, she looked again at the advancing orc army. "So, in all the hullablaoo of us being pulled into this world and given a quest, was there anything said about Yarfell being under siege?" She honestly couldn't remember, but it seemed like an awfully important thing for Dungeon Master to omit.
Fairalin was right about there being something strange about the orc army. The way so many of them mirrored and replayed each other's movements was simply unnatural. Were any illusions? How many were real? She hoped Cole could tell how many minds were really out there, and, if possible, who was in control of them.
The orcs were almost to the hill. Kryschenn readied her sword and looked around at the weapons her companions held, trying to gauge their own untested fighting force. What in the Universe was that thing that Zeo was wielding?! "I guess we'll find out," she told herself, "since the battle is coming to us." At the thought of facing a real, sword-swinging, bone-breaking, bloody battle, Kryschenn suddenly had the strange urge to fight like a true Celt, which would have entailed stripping naked and painting herself blue. That was a temptation she firmly resisted. Scaring the enemy to death just seemed too much like cheating.
"Well, Mentalist," she asked, not taking her eyes off the advancing army, "what are we really facing here?"
