Quoted By:
Rolled 17, 8, 3, 18 + 5 = 51 (4d20 + 5)
The pirates warily regard you, and you them – there is a fragility to them; a savage, tremulous quality – they are sweating furiously, their eyes open too wide, mouths open and panting. They remind you of starving foxes.
And you are a wolf.
As a lone stalker, huge and with matted fur, might range down from the high foothills of Thessaly, letting the scent of rich flocks and yearling oxen guide its expert passage through underbrush and field to the warm coast, jaws slavering with hunger for the yellow marrow of cracked thigh-bones, you have followed your will to the salt sea. As the wolf might find a fallen stag gnawed upon by lesser creatures – barely worthy of notice - so too you find your path blocked by vermin. The wolf may idly growl in dire threat at this momentary inconvenience – the utter confidence of violence sublimated directly into the fluttering hearts of its inferiors, before the vermin scatter in all directions.
You stand as tall as you can, face exposed, glancing left and right at each group of pirates slowly. The scent of pitch is overpowering in the hold - sunlight streaming into the hold through the gaping wound rent by the galley. The pirates shift anxiously.
You are calm. Your youthful baritone ripples with utter self-confidence, the timbre of your voice conveying the very same promise of death that the ranging wolf delivers -
“Your captain is dead.”
“Your ship is dying.”
“Leave now, or I will send your shades to Πολυδεγμων, the host of many*.”
>players, I need THREE rolls of dice+1d20+3
*Based on my reading, Greeks of the Late Bronze Age preferred not to name Hades directly, using euphemisms such as these.
