Canonizing...
Canonizing...
275 quotes (275 spoken, 0 mentions)
“Damn.”
“Fat chance of that happening with all those skeletons and zombies guarding it.”
“What about Ceria and Sostrom? Why the hell aren’t they taking this thing out? We are a disgrace of a team.”
“Horns! Move up and support Marian! Ceria, take out that spellcaster! Shields up!”
“Status?”
“We have to.”
“No clue. Shut up—give that Runner covering fire! Everyone up!”
“You’re joking. She’ll never make it.”
“Do you have half a potion left, Gerial? Give it to me. I’ll yank this out and charge. Everyone who can move goes.”
“I hope you’ve got our delivery, Miss Runner.”
“Calruz of the Beriad, Captain of the Horns of Hammerad. Son of Minos, at your service.”
“Thank the Runner. Ceria, how’s your mana?”
“That’s me.”
“Let her go if she wants. Runner—thanks for the assistance. Not many of your lot would do this. The Horns owe you a debt.”
“Stop bickering. We’re at full strength again, thanks to that Human. Speaking of. Did anyone catch the Runner’s name?”
“You idiot. She’s Drathian.”
“You heard her. Horns of Hammerad—covering fire! Potions have arrived!”
“We must take the monster down. No Runner can get to us with it here, and no other adventuring team can bail us out. I am Beriad of the House of Minos. It would be a disgrace for me to let my team down.”
“She told you.”
“We take a page out of the Runner’s book. Did you see how she escaped it? We moved in too slow. This time, we spread out. No shields, just run from cover to cover. Gerial, you’ll take one group left. I’ll head right. Put Marian and the other archers up and tie it up. Force it to shield itself, and give me an opening. Ceria, can you tag it at least once?”
“Who? What’s happening?”
“Horns! Did you hear that? We’re going in. The Runner’s bought us our moment, and we’ll all buy her a drink. But I’ll be drinking it out of that Lich’s damned skull. Advance!”
“Hah! Spirited! It is good to see that in a Human at last!”
“I am Calruz of the Beriad. We have met before. I lead the Horns of Hammerad, an adventuring party in these parts. I am in your debt, Ryoka Griffin.”
“You. Runners. Your presence is clearly not wanted or needed. Leave.”
“Instead, we managed to break that damn skeleton’s head in. The treasure we recovered more than made up for the expedition. And while the rest of our group is still healing from the battle, we’re here to repay the debt we owe.”
“Of course. What does distance matter? But let us introduce ourselves properly. Ceria, introduce yourself.”
“Enough of this.”
“We didn’t come here to chat. We’re honor-bound to repay our debt, which is why we’re here. And you’re injured. How’d that happen?”
“Explain, please.”
“What a pathetic, cowardly lot. I’d challenge them all to an honor duel in a moment if I had cause. Didn’t you call for the Watch, at least? That’s how you do it in Izril—what about truth spells?”
“This is intolerable. A good Runner shouldn’t be crippled. Ceria, Sostrom. Can’t you do something?”
“I like her.”
“She reminds me of females of my kind. Fiery. The ones who would stab any male that offends. Much better than the simpering Human ones I keep meeting.”
“Bah. All that’s needed is courage and spirit to win her over.”
“Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you at the Guild later.”
“Strong. I like her quite a lot.”
“So? What about a healing potion? How good was that [Healer]? We have [Bone Healers] in the House of Minos well above the grade of local ones. Although even I can set a broken bone.”
“She seems—odd. What spell did you cast?”
“In that case, get out. And consider yourself banned from the Horns of Hammerad while you’re at it.”
“I fear no [Mage], especially not a weak one who practices cowardly magic like necromancy.”
“Rabble. Not worth dirtying a blade over. Not a single Hob in sight.”
“Bah.”
“Not a challenge.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“That little runt of a Human was mocking us the entire time. We travelled all this way and paid all this coin for a spell that any one of you could have done? Explain yourself, Ceria!”
“Honor and duty above all. Without it, we are animals.”
“We can cover the cost.”
“We don’t need cowards! Jump off and run back into the city!”
“The House of Minos has a lot of experience with bone injuries, and our [Healers] are the best as I said. But—that was instantaneous. And the solution is a [Necromancer]? I should report this to home. If that really does mend bone that fast…”
“Worthless nags.”
“Hold it.”
“I assure you, it’s merely practicality.”
“What?”
“We’ll have to dump it over the wound. Ryoka Griffin, do you need something to clench with your teeth?”
“Ceria—now.”
“Enough words. Run already!”
“Fast. But that’s why she is worthy.”
“Bah, it doesn’t look that inviting anyways. It’s got holes in the roof, and if the [Necromancer]’s a customer, I shudder to think what the rest of the guests are like. Let’s go!”
“Not without a full-fighting party. There’s a reason none of the cowards around here have dared breach the upper levels yet. If we come back, it will be after we know what monsters have been sighted there and our wounded have recovered.”
“I’m no fool, and the Horns of Hammerad aren’t Gold-ranked. Not yet. A proper strike force will take setting up. Let alone the provisioning. We will wait. Now, let us follow the quick Ryoka Griffin.”
“Why? Because I am a Minotaur?”
“Nonsense.”
“We must clean the wound first. A healing potion can accelerate an infection—”
“We’ll give the horses a stamina potion, don’t worry.”
“We’ll follow in the wagon and pick you up when you slow down. There’s over a hundred miles between here and Celum. Even I—you couldn’t run that far.”
“If we don’t get in there first, some Gold-rank team is going to organize an expedition and grab everything before we do!”
“If you’re with us, I’ll want your full commitment, not uncertain promises. My team has heard my decision, and they are with us. If you lack their spirit, we do not need you.”
“You coward, Gregor. Where’s your sense of pride as a warrior?”
“She will survive. She is a Human worthy of my admiration and respect. She will survive.”
“Ceria does not lead the Horns of Hammerad. I do.”
“Bah. She wanted to stay in Celum. Now she’s pacing around the Runner’s Guild.”
“We don’t need cowards. If they lack the courage to risk their lives, we were better off without them to begin with. Such weakness would only drag us down.”
“I told her it would not matter. This Runner is no coward like the others. Mistake or not, she will survive the journey. And meanwhile, we have an expedition to prepare.”
“Ryoka Griffin is here?”
“Her business is her own. If Magnolia Reinhart seeks Ryoka Griffin, she should either respect her privacy or seek her outright.”
“Have you no spines? Here is the opportunity of a lifetime, and you all hesitate to step forwards! Grab your axes, and let’s enter these ruins already!”
“She was waiting for a Runner to come back. She made a mistake and gave her mana potions instead of healing potions right before she ran into the High Passes.”
“The very same. Her name is Ryoka Griffin, and she is fearless.”
“I’m defending the integrity of—”
“You. Runner. Move.”
“Cowards.”
“Is it not the truth? Humans are weaker than Minotaurs by birth. So too are you women weaker than men.”
“I am merely stating the truth. Your fists would do little against most monsters my team faces. Less, since you are female and thus weaker.”
“I’m not saying you’re inferior in technique. But size matters, and so do Skills. Do you have any in hand-to-hand combat? I thought not. You see, Runner Garia, it’s all commendable. But a warrior is a warrior, a Runner, a Runner. Even Ryoka Griffin would do well to run from any monsters she encounters. Her fists would not be enough to allow her survival in Liscor’s ruins.”
“You. You, Ryoka Griffin, wish to fight me?”
“As you wish.”
“What you are attempting is folly, Ryoka Griffin. There are some things that cannot be surpassed.”
“You tread on Ceria’s honor. For that, I should challenge you to a duel with real weapons.”
“You are not worth the time it would take.”
“I was mistaken about you. You are no warrior. You are just a bully who wants something to hit.”
“Honor is for those who earn it. I don’t know this Runner’s character.”
“She is no warrior. This place is reserved for adventurers, not mere Runners.”
“The Horns of Hammerad.”
“Upon my honor, I promise. I will not attack any of your guests unless provoked.”
“Those creatures are scum. They should be exterminated.”
“I can eat beef.”
“We’re not bulls. Or cattle.”
“A Minotaur.”
“I don’t know what kind of Minotaurs you’ve heard of. But I accept your mistake.”
“What?”
“What did you think I looked like, then?”
“This was not warrior’s work.”
“What do you mean, wait?”
“Also, Innkeeper. My name is Calruz, and I lead the Horns of Hammerad. Any title is fine, but—‘Bull Guy’—I would prefer you not call me that.”
“We know what’s in there. And the Ruins are less than an hour’s journey from the city! We don’t need supplies or scouts!”
“Who says I’m going to catch her? The child needs a second for a proper death duel.”
“After the innkeeper. Where else?”
“Honor is at stake. You will not stop me.”
“You.”
“You. Why did you not fight? When you were being tortured by your own kind—why did you not resist? Are all of your kind cowards or do you not have any pride?”
“So. You would allow death and dishonor to befall you because of mere rank? The House of Minos respects rank—but even Prince Khedal or our King would expect to be challenged if they spoke or acted madness. Have the Antinium no such sense?”
“Answer me something, insect. Why did you not fight?”
“All that I should have expected from a slave.”
“Food. Drink. I will have both.”
“That is immaterial.”
“You should have fought.”
“But you should have. It was a matter of honor. If you cared for the one called Pawn, you should have fought to protect him.”
“You did not.”
“She looked like—it is nothing. You would likely not know her as an Izrilian.”
“Those who believe they will lose before battle begins have already lost.”
“You. You should have fought.”
“Last night. You went out to avenge the insect. You did not. But you should have fought.”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes. It is my sole Skill.”
“Activated skills. Combat skills.”
“I refer to Skills.”
“Observe. This is my Skill.”
“[Hammer Blow]!”
“Follow me.”
“I have decided this. I will teach you starting tomorrow. There are two days remaining before I go into the Ruins. I will have you learn to at least fight properly until then.”
“There is more to strength than mere levels.”
“No.”
“Weak.”
“I will rest now. My party will come soon. They must have food. See to it.”
“You…do not know?”
“If you are not a warrior, you should become one. It is unbefitting for a female to be alone and not be a warrior.”
“That is what you should learn. Skills. If you must be alone, you must not be unprotected. You must fight.”
“Immaterial. Classes, levels, these are just additions. What you lack is the soul of the warrior. You must have it. A female must not be alone without the power to defend herself. The singer must not be silenced. You must be stronger.”
“That is not what I meant. I mean Skills for combat.”
“It is worthless. Weak.”
“Gazi the Omniscient. It would be inconvenient if she were to trouble us now. I will go with you.”
“There is no need to waste any more time with useless chattering and polishing weapons. Tomorrow, we fight. Tell the others I will be ready when the time comes.”
“What are you worried about?”
“I’ll break its shell.”
“Impossible.”
“That is a boulder. What of it?”
“I don’t see it. Is it hiding in the ground?”
“Mm.”
“Go, then. I will remain here.”
“No. Teaching.”
“Your form is terrible.”
“Do you not even know how to punch properly?”
“Give me your strongest punch. I wish to feel it.”
“If you can injure me, I will hang up my axe and cease living as a warrior this instant.”
“Try again.”
“It is not a compliment.”
“Never?”
“Someone who cannot even punch properly would never learn a Skill.”
“Nevertheless, we respect the art of war in magic, engineering, and all forms. We understand honing one’s techniques, learning systematically. And this—we understand the flow of combat. To learn and use such Skills, you must forget your frailties and strike with heart.”
“Like this. Strike with your knuckles here and here. And keep your thumb outside your fist.”
“You are painfully slow. Move faster! Don’t strike where he is, but where he will be.”
“Again.”
“Fast. Faster. Pull back your arm quickly.”
“The House of Minos learned from [Martial Artists] to create the basis of our hand-to-hand training. I am surprised you know of it. Most Izrilians are ignorant [Brawlers]. What do you know of such things?”
“She lacks vision. I will make her understand that.”
“That…proves you know what it is, if nothing of it.”
“Try to strike it.”
“You. Thing. Dodge her.”
“Now, the skeleton. Punch it.”
“I know a Human who fights with her fists. She is…skilled. But wild. And she does not understand. She fights with cunning and grace, but she only fights at her limit. She does not think she can go further. Thus—she never will.”
“Not just desire. It is the refinement of a single strike into a moment of perfection. But that is something far beyond you at this moment. For now, you must learn to punch.”
“Strike my palm. I will show you how to attack properly.”
“And then when you strike, step forwards and move your hips like so.”
“This is the last resort I speak of. Someday, you will surely be alone and without anyone to protect you. Will you die then or fight?”
“Striking a downed opponent may be wrong.”
“If you break your fingers or cut your skin, there are potions. Keep attacking.”
“That doesn’t mean strike like a pathetic weakling! Hit harder!”
“Perhaps—yes. There is more honor in you than I thought. Very well. I have little time, so I shall simply teach you to fight. If you practice against your creature, you may learn the basics quickly enough.”
“Now—a spar.”
“What does that mean?”
“The skeleton will block. Simply strike at him. He is dead, so it matters little what you do. Forget death and battle for the moment. Simply know the purity of combat.”
“Your king. In times of need, even he defends himself, does he not?”
“You must. You must learn to fight.”
“Don’t stop! Press the attack! Your goal is to defeat your enemy. Hurt him. Mercy is a luxury only the strong can afford. Attack until he lies in pieces.”
“It was underhanded.”
“I will teach you. If you are to protect her, you must fight better. Come. Strike at me.”
“Running away will not solve anything. She must hone her instincts. I will let her rest after she lands a proper hit on me. Now move—”
“That—was a dishonorable blow.”
“She must learn to fight an enemy stronger and larger than she is.”
“Go. Rest.”
“At least she was able to strike at me, even by surprise. That is good.”
“I was. But she showed me that she had more potential than that.”
“No.”
“You have potential. But if you are attacked now, what I have taught you will not suffice. You must practice. Train. Remember that for now you are still weak.”
“To honor and glory.”
“It is rare, but I have heard of it being done. Never seen it on one’s first day of training. Erin Solstice has a sense for battle. I have met others like her. She is gifted. Talented. It is a shame she never trained before this.”
“I am not one for speeches. But tomorrow we go into new ruins, and we may find treasure beyond our dreams there or the greatest of enemies. Regardless, we go together. The Horns of Hammerad shall return triumphant.”
“Not like that. You will break your fingers if you strike unevenly.”
“Move aside, Ceria. I am teaching her to fight.”
“It is the act of exceeding one’s limits.”
“I am teaching you a basic truth. You must know how to fight without weapons, or it will be a weakness others will exploit. Besides, you understand nothing of the flow of combat. You must learn to strike your opponent before you are worthy of using a blade.”
“That neither you nor your—pet know how to defend yourselves is a shame. Were you never taught how to fight?”
“There is art in this. My kind practices little magic. There are war mages, and we do study in places like Wistram—but we respect martial ability more often.”
“What about your creature? Surely it knows how to do battle.”
“Very well. We shall try something else. The skeleton shall guard, and you will break through. Punch him, kick him. Destroy your opponent.”
“No. Consider this a final test. Both of you—spar with each other. You are a good match. Equally weak. Well, the skeleton knows how to fight, but it should be good practice.”
“She is—talented. Very talented. Ceria. In the course of a few hours, she was able to overwhelm that skeleton in a fist fight. And then she unlocked a Skill. She learned one in the heat of training.”
“…Can you do that again?”
“Stop running! Don’t—don’t crouch like that. If you must retreat, do it quickly and without wasting motion. Never turn your back to the enemy!”
“I am no mage. That was a Skill. It allows me to transcend my hardest strike and turn it into something even stronger.”
“Mm. We’re all set. Time to head out?”
“We have to go. Follow us, but don’t lag behind.”
“Enough talk.”
“We’re going.”
“The Horns of Hammerad are all here.”
“Why waste time waiting?”
“Are you done?”
“No markings on the walls. Why didn’t they double back and warn us?”
“Hendric. Coward.”
“There’s Yvlon. Move up.”
“To me, Horns of Hammerad.”
“Yes. Let us begin.”
“Hold, damn you! Fall back in order! Warriors, hold, and mages retreat to the chamber!”
“The spell is about to run out! Mages, buy us some time.”
“You. [Tactician]. Do you have any skills that would turn the tide of battle?”
“Pathetic spirits of the dead! I am Calruz, leader of the Horns of Hammerad! By the House of Minos, I challenge you. If there is any honor left yet in your defiled corpses—face me and meet your end!”
“I will lure them out. If one of you possesses a [Loudness] spell or something similar, I will provoke them into attacking.”
“No. Wait. We will recover a while longer. And then we will go and destroy those who would take our own.”
“The dead do not like sound any more than you do. It is an intrusion. I have challenged their honor. And so—we begin!”
“I do not need a Skill. Be ready. When they attack, we will crush them.”
“Gerial! Back me up!”
“Move!”
“Not every Skill or spell must be shouted.”
“Ceria. It is good you are well. The lighting spell was well-timed, as was the fireball.”
“We should face them all at once.”
“You speak of seeking them out in their homes, but that is foolish. We are adventurers. We are stronger than they are. If we remove the element of surprise and cowardly attacks from behind, we stand a better chance of wiping them out at once than fighting with our backs to the walls every five minutes.”
“Pah.”
“With me?”
“I have a plan.”
“Or more could be inside. Wait for us.”
“We’ve found nothing of worth so far. Give us a few minutes to gather everyone, and we’ll follow you.”
“Is this important?”
“But you cannot read it.”
“Fool. Drathians have their own language. And to read any tome, no matter how old, is a valuable ability. You uncultured Izrilians.”
“We are not mewling Human children. Speak.”
“Agreed. We will hold off opening them until we are prepared. And perhaps—”
“—Perhaps we should send word to the surface. Ask if any know of this ‘Skinner’ creature.”
“Ceria!”
“On your feet! What’s happening?”
“Can you slow them down?”
“Fools!”
“The door!”
“What’s happening? Where are Gregor and the others?”
“Let us regroup with Yvlon. With speed. [Warriors], form up, and mages, follow close behind. Prepare for—”
“They opened them? The fools!”
“Have you sent anyone down there?”
“What of Gregor and the others?”
“So it was written. And his awakening woke the other undead too. There is a horde approaching from behind.”
“A message. Too long to explain. Know that we most likely face Skinner, the guardian of this place. He—steals skin.”
“What is?”
“Why were the doors opened? Gregor was told to wait! Who—”
“I do not want to run without seeing the enemy’s face.”
“Horns of Hammerad. If you have any pride, turn and face your enemy.”
“We must fight.”
“They’re dead. But what caught them? This Skinner—”
“Retreat!”
“Do not run. You are the Horns of Hammerad. This thing has slain our own. We must avenge—”
“Who is? Skinner? Is it an undead?”
“I am Calruz of the Beriad. I challenge you.”
“Cast it! The rest of you, follow me!”
“If you did not open them, then who—”
“Honor. We must not run. Face your death with pride.”
“Horns of Hammerad—”